[Inside the Newsroom] An appeal to sources of investigative leads

Over the weekend, a younger reporter messaged me in exasperation: “Are people really this tight-lipped when it comes to this story?” 

I replied: “Hehehehe, yes.” 

My response may have come off as if I’m the kind who cruises through the challenges of a hard story. In fact, it is a coping mechanism — I am deeply frustrated, but have to carry on. So here’s an appeal.

First, an introduction. Hi, I am Lian Buan, Rappler’s investigative reporter and minder of the editorial cluster for justice and human rights. Let me tell you more about sourcing, verification, and my gripes about transparency in government, past and present.

A few weeks ago, I got a message from a source. I needed this source and they found me, not the other way around. They said they were eager to tell their story, and I said I was eager to tell it for them. I asked for a meeting and to see some documentation. I offered protection — I could keep the source anonymous, we could agree with the wording and broaden some terms to make identification hard. I appealed that I just needed to see some documents and ask some follow-up questions, so I could verify what I was about to report. The source got cold feet. Honestly, I understand, it’s their lives and careers on the line, and I am but a journalist who stands to gain reputational benefits. 

But I cannot write an investigative story based on whispers. So, that story remains in my draft.

I am honest to my sources if I think they could be identifiable, and I am confident when I say they won’t be identified. It’s an estimation that comes with experience. My first appeal to sources: Please provide proof or other actionable information. Most of these documents and information would probably not appear as is in the story — that’s the level of protection I can offer for very sensitive issues, but, as I’d like to say, I need them so I could be more confident with the story I’m reporting.

The second appeal is for their patience and understanding. It took me months to write an investigation about the increasing deaths inside the New Bilibid Prison during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic. A source had come through with a list of people who died, but it was an unmarked document. The Bureau of Corrections would not confirm (they wouldn’t even entertain my questions at first). For weeks I’d get these lists on a bond paper photographed from inside prison. Because I couldn’t confirm it top-down, I worked from the bottom up. 

I searched for the names on Facebook, thinking that Filipino families have the tendency to post every landmark moment in their lives, even death. I wanted to confirm from the families themselves that the name existed, and the person was an inmate in Bilibid, and that they had died. This was no easy task. First, I had to make sure that the families already knew — I couldn’t be the one to break the news of death to a stranger. Then I had to make the difficult conversation — an intrusion to their grief — so I could make sure what I was about to write was correct.

This process took a long time and the source was growing impatient, asking why I could not just upload the documents I was given. The source said they’d give it to another reporter. I said they were welcome to do that, but I wouldn’t be pressured into publishing something I had not vetted. 

My pet peeve in investigations is hearing the phrase “you can easily get this right, this is public record.” Well, Ma’am and Sir, there’s no such thing as public record these days. Public records are only those they want you to see. I’ve tested and strained the e-FOI database, and I’d put my neck on the line to say there is no freedom in Philippines’ “freedom of information” (FOI).

To write this story about the non-collection of the P125 million in the Bong Revilla plunder case, I had to write many requests to the Sandiganbayan. They were all denied, citing exemptions to FOI. The exemptions, by the way, are an annex drawn up by the current Marcos administration. I dream of going back to the day when the Sandiganbayan was as open as it could be — we got access to case records on demand. Nowadays, we have to source these things out. 

Did you know that I was already looking at the issue of the ill-gotten Paoay complex of the Marcos family months before the Supreme Court ruled that it was illegally obtained by the dictator’s family and must be returned? My lead then was that the Marcos family had already been getting titles on some parcels of land, as if to secure the properties. It turned out I was right, because the decision discussed that part. But I was not able to write the story prior to the decision because I could not get the records from the Supreme Court and Tourism Infrastructure and Enterprise Zone Authority (TIEZA). TIEZA denied my FOI requests, even on appeal, again citing the Marcos Jr. annex. “That’s public record, right?”

Pahirapan na talaga. That’s my job, I know, but my appeal to sources is to help us make this process more efficient. If you already have access to those documents, we would appreciate it if you could provide them to us to cut through the bureaucracy that does not favor transparency.

This investigation into the conflict of interest of the audit chairperson who’s married to a big fishing operator also took months. We thank our sources for this piece. When they gave us access to documents, it led us to more leads that they didn’t even know were there. The story went from 1 to 10, and it’s a perfect case study of the journalism that could come out when sources are cooperative, and reporters take their time to vet.

When I was working on this story on the extensive network of Alice Guo and her business partners, I was amazed at the FOI of other countries. I was getting corporate records from Hong Kong, Cambodia, and the United Kingdom within minutes — and for free! All I had to do was log in. That’s impossible in my own country. My appeal to the new Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) leadership: Please bring back the original fees for getting corporate records. Did you know that three documents can cost P5,000? Because we’re blind to the contents of these documents, sometimes we end up paying for useless documents. That, for me, is a chilling effect.

Make no mistake about it, I let down sources too. I have unpublished stories just because I cannot verify them yet, or I am not 100% confident of it yet. This is disappointing to them too, and for that I truly apologize. I will pop in and out of your messages to update you of the progress I’m making (some are painfully slow), and, if not, please message me. It’s embarrassing to say it, but some stories just land low on my task list — not because they’re not important (all stories are), but sometimes it just boils down to which stories have the most leads, and which stories are in their best timing. 

Timing, in journalism, is also crucial. Timing can dictate impact. When you publish a story at a bad time, sometimes the story goes to waste because changemakers are not interested. I do not claim to be the first, or the best, in having told the story of how bad PrimeWater has been servicing Filipinos. But I can claim my story had one of the best timing — right smack in the middle of a contentious election among feuding families. The result? An investigation ordered by the House of Representatives, the Senate, and Malacañang. To think that many interviews fell through in the fieldwork of this story because they were apprehensive about going against the Villars. To the sources who trusted me, I’m glad your risks paid off.

All that being said, please email me at lian.buan@rappler.com for leads and tips. We need your help so we can tell the stories that matter.