THE other morning, I had to leave early for Lemery, Batangas to assist a client who had just flown in from abroad and could stay only for a short period. The trip conflicted with the Senate necro service for Tocayo Rene Espina. I arrived in the Senate at 1:30 p.m. — tttrrraaafffiiiccc — but was told his remains had been moved out shortly before I came. Rene, I remember in our few occasional TV exchanges after EDSA ‘86. Passionate we could be, but we never ad-hominemed each other, which generates heat, not light; we shunned the blunt tool of invective cherished by the new powers-that-be, with no one whispering “you are mortal.” Compañero Rene, a true caballero.