Postcripts To A Bloodbath, The first hand account of a Chinese survivor: Truth or Fiction?

“Postcripts To A Bloodbath: First hand account of a Chinese survivor of the Quirino Grandstand hostage-taking incident” is circulating around the web and many people have already read about it, however the question remains is it truth or fiction?

The said account was allegedly found online or written via a Facebook note “,” however this link is no longer available. The owner of the link Eric Po ( states in his Facebook account that he is from National Taiwan University. However, we have not yet asked if he made the note or who is it from.

Another source linked to the account was,, however this same blog post seems not to be the original source as well. In a comment posted at The News Around Us article on this which also posts updates on the authenticity of the account, someone said that the story was labeled as “Fiction” when it appeared on a blog. The blog post is no longer available and can only be seen thru the Google Web Cache (View here.)

According to The News Around Us and also as confirmed from sources, there was no survivor with the name Bang Lu Min, however the truth to the account is yet to be determined and analyzed based on the investigation being conducted by various authorities.

Here is the complete text of “Postcripts To A Bloodbath: First hand account of a Chinese survivor of the Quirino Grandstand hostage-taking incident”

“Mr. Mendoza was already upset even before he saw on television what the policemen did to his brother. The other tourists who remained inside the bus were complaining. Wei Ji Jiang wanted to go to the bathroom. Dao Chi Yu was hungry and the rest were just groaning and whining like they have forgotten that our lives rest in Mr. Mendoza’s hands.

The hostage taker, as you know him was really nice. He treated us okay and even let the elders and the children leave the bus. He said your policemen treated him unfairly. He was a policeman too and was accused of doing something he had no knowledge of. But your government didn’t listen so he used us to get everyone’s attention.

Things would have never turned for the worst if he didn’t see how his family was dragged out of their house and taken into custody. He was watching the news all the time as we huddled around each other behind the bus. He shouted some words in your language then started shooting in the air.

A girl about my age started screaming. Mr. Mendoza demanded her to stop but she didn’t understand English. God, he had to slash her neck with a knife just to put her to rest. Her boyfriend who tried to hit him was shot in the head. Tension was rising. You can see in his face how scared and confused he was. The bus driver ran away leaving him alone with strangers from a distant land. I can see him walking across the aisle, sometimes pointing his machine gun to one of the tourists. But he tried his best not to hurt us, especially those who really cooperate.

I guess its in your nature not to inflict pain on others unless it was necessary. I remember him saying that he will free us before sundown and implored us to forget everything when we return home. But his words don’t matter now.

The policemen were trying to force their way in, while we all lied down to shield ourselves from bullets. Mister Mendoza blindly shoots at his enemies which I think kept them from rescuing us. I hear sobs under the chairs. Some were even shouting the names of their loved ones even when the air merely eat their words. Kevin Tang tried to escape when the glass door was was shattered, but one shot and he slumped on the floor with blood gushing from his mouth. Heavy rain pitter-pattered on the rooftop. In old Chinese saying, it means an end to a struggle.

Finally, somebody was able to open the escape hatch at the back of the bus. Freedom. But I knew Mister Mendoza was still alive. I knew he was just waiting for a chance to strike back at his enemies. So I told those around me not to escape. Let the authorities come for us instead. Then there was gunfire. He was firing at his enemies with a machine gun.

Those who were at the escape hatch fled abandoning us once again. It’s like a nightmare with no end and to wake up means a certain death. Then somebody from outside the bus threw a canister. It forced out a black smoke that is so painful to the eyes and putrid smelling to the nose. People started screaming. We cannot breathe. Some ran in front of the bus but Mister Mendoza warned them of stray bullets.

It was too late. One was hit on the head, the other was hit on the shoulders. Bullets were now flying. Its like the authorities thought we were all dead.

Mister Mendoza finally admits his mistake and said sorry to everyone, dead or alive. He then ran towards the front of the bus where he would meet his maker. As he passed by my chair with bullets whistling overhead, I clutched my hand on the velvet curtain and wrapped it around my face. All I could think of was to stay alive – for my child who is waiting for me back in Xinjang.

“I know I will survive, I will come home.”

Bang Lu Min
Survivor, Quirino Bloodbath


Also in:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *