Hindering Factors Affecting Their Desire to Seek Accountability

Nanette Castillo, mother of Aldrin who was shot to death by two unidentified men on motorcycles, had been part of the forum “Rise, Resist, Unite against Tokhang and Tyranny,” a forum on human rights implications organized by MANLABAN sa EJK. She also participated in the Rise Up for Life and For Rights. Although she has been repeatedly told by some people that it is futile to find justice for her son since the suspects were unidentified, it did not stop her from being vocal about her story of victimization. In the interview with Lopez (2018), she said:

Other victims are scared. I want them to be empowered, I want mothers to be enlightened. You have to stand up because you are victims, you have nothing to be afraid of. And even if you aren’t a victim, you should speak up.

Marissa Lazaro, mother of one of the victims of EJK, started joining mass actions when her son Christopher Lazaro was gunned down after being mistaken as a robber and drug suspect. Before, she believed that fatalities in police operations were only drug addicts, but this personal experience changed her views. Two years later, she still has not claimed justice for her son. Still, she believes that if she does not speak up, the killings will only continue to get worse (Valenzuela, 2019).

With all these efforts, rallying, human rights advocacies, and even filing of petitions, it is still unknown how and when justice will prevail for the thousands of WoD victims. Like Jose Manuel “Chel” Diokno said, the justice system in the Philippines is decaying, as the conviction rate of the Department of Justice (DOJ) is only 30 percent. There is also no assurance if these limited number of cases will serve their sentence because of the country’s inefficient justice system (Lopez, 2018). However, there are some who are not losing their hopes that the justice system in the Philippines can still be fixed regardless of how flawed it is; there are still EJK survivors who are trying to be heard and hope that justice will be served.

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Given the number of EJK victims in the country, the victim’s families cannot help but ask how they can get justice for their lost loved ones. Since justice has been elusive and the killings were mostly inhumane, the fight for it is a big leap of faith for them.

According to Jimenez-David (2018), the Baigani, a women’s group composed of survivors of EJK like widows, mothers, and daughters, opened up about their resentments. They believe that calls for justice for their loved ones are more elusive since they belong to “the poor, the ignorant; those without power.” They also condemn how “the abuse

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of power and impunity” were mainly directed at them rather than the “masterminds” behind the drug trade.

Rubbing salt to their wounds, these survivors often find themselves further burdened by grave issues that arise from the deaths of their loved ones. They practically have no choice but to prioritize the facilitation of the burial and look for ways to pay for the additional expenses it entails, instead of focusing on the investigations and contemplating over the fairness of the situation. The families of EJK victims are charged with unreasonable fees from morgues and funeral houses, with amounts ranging from PHP 50,000 to 75,000 (USD 1,027 to 1,541). Another issue that aggravates the situation is the hospitals that often cite “cardiac arrest or respiratory failure or pneumonia,” as the reasons behind the deaths of their loved ones, which the families thought were done to “hide the real reason for the deaths of their husbands” (Jimenez-David, 2018).

Even though these survivors want the courts to progress in the investigations of the anti-drug operations and effects on families left behind, many of them hesitate to participate out of fear. There were scenarios where the families who witnessed the EJK violations also experienced some forms of violation themselves. For instance, “two common-law wives and one daughter were illegally arrested and detained after the victims were killed during police operations” (Philippine Human Rights Information Center [PhilRights], 2018).

In most of these cases, policemen use “self-defense” to justify the killings. Commonly known as the “nanlaban” narrative, police would say that the victims initiated the gun fight. Families, instead of seeking for justice, choose to stay silent for fear that one of their members will be at risk, since they see firsthand that policemen are able to manipulate the narrative (PhilRights, 2018). One of the Baigani women said, “Natatakot kami, baka kami balikan. Baka habang naglalakad ako ay basta na lang akong patayin. Paano na ang mga anak ako?” (We are afraid, they might retaliate against us. Who knows, while I’m strolling, I might just be killed. What about my children?) (Jimenez-David, 2018).

As a result, the survivors are content to demand for mere livelihood assistance and scholarship for their children, thinking it is the last thing the government can do for them (Jimenez-David, 2018). However, even the application process for these is difficult for survivors. For example, Sarah, mother of four children aged four to 13 years old, suddenly became the breadwinner of the family after the death of her husband. She was not able to access the government’s assistance for new breadwinners like her because, given her low income, she cannot afford to sacrifice a day just to line up and process the provision of government aid. She then has no choice but to face the longterm challenge of earning while providing care for her young children (PhilRights, 2018). Sarah is among the alarming number of increasing EJK cases over the years of Pres.