For every other household, the newscast of May 12, 2017, might not have been out of the ordinary—the president’s assets doubled, a celebrity’s drug den was raided, policemen were accused of planting fake evidence of drug use, and the United Nations clamored to stop the killings. But for Llore Pasco and her family, the newscast that day delivered their worst tragedy.

Hardly any notice from the police was given to Nanay Llore about her sons until she, herself, saw their corpses shown on her television screen. She lost not only one, but two of her children that day. 

A year into the drug war, Nanay Llore had already been apprehensive of her children’s safety as news on the administration’s violent war on drugs had pervaded the airwaves. That time, Aaron Aquino, chief of the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency, had proudly declared the monthly quota he imposed on regional drug operations. An average of 34 drug-related casualties per day back then was reported by human rights organizations. 

In those days in Barangay Batasan Hills, mothers like Nanay Llore slept with one eye open, wary of the trouble stirring in their congested streets at night. Individuals from impoverished families like them were often the ones targeted in questionable police raids.

Five years since her sons’ killings, Nanay Llore wills to pick up the pieces of their deaths by supporting the families her children have left in their passing. And now a volunteer and core leader for Rise Up for Life and Rights, she struggles to seek the truth along with the families of other victims affected by the onslaught of Oplan Tokhang. 

Rodrigo Duterte’s term has ended, yet little to no decisive action has been made to pursue accountability for the victims caught in his drug war’s crossfires. Duterte’s legacy of blood and terror seems far from over with Ferdinand Marcos Jr. determined to carry on his predecessor’s unfinished deadly project.

Stolen Lives, Shattered Families

On May 12, 2017, news outlets had reported that Nanay Llore’s sons, Crisanto Antonio and Juan Carlos, were accused of a robbery, chased to UP Arboretum, and shot to death by the police on claims of self-defense. The headlines wrote, “Suspects found dead behind UP Arboretum.” But for Nanay Llore, there was much more to this than the police would reveal to the public. 

Originally stationed in Batangas, Crisanto, the elder of the two sons, had come to Manila to renew his security license at Camp Crame. But Crisanto never returned home on the night of May 11. Already anxious about his whereabouts, Nanay Llore scrambled to file a missing person’s case. Six police stations turned them away, saying it had not been 24 hours since Crisanto was last seen. It was only at this point that they realized that another one of the siblings, Juan Carlos, also cannot be contacted and reached.

“Puno ako ng kaba at takot kaya hindi ako makatulog noong kinagabihan ng May 11. Dasal ako ng dasal na sana makita sila. Pero ayun, sa balita na lang namin nakita na wala na sila,” said Nanay Llore.

The first eight days after finding out were the hardest, said Nanay Llore. Still grappling with the fact that her two children were indeed gone, the police would also continuously deny them their request to retrieve the bodies and perform their own autopsy. Nanay Llore’s brother, who was then chief of Crisanto’s security unit, had to slip into the morgue just to peak under the body bags. Under the grey plastic sheets, her brother found the remains of her children, bloody and sullied by multiple gunshot wounds.

Nanay Llore does not deny the fact that her sons used illegal narcotics in the past, but she is proud that they had turned over a new leaf for the future of their families. Crisanto had regularly been tested for drugs to continue his job as a security guard, while Juan Carlos had promised to turn away from bad crowds.

When Oplan Tokhang, Duterte’s anti-narcotics campaign, came in full swing, she even urged her sons to enlist before the barangay to verify their sobriety. After all, they had nothing to be guilty of, said Nanay Llore. However, the barangay officials gave them an unfair dilemma for their past inhibitions: choose between expensive rehabilitation or return to the province. Both choices were impractical for the family who could not afford any of the options. Reflecting on the incident, Nanay Llore believes that the verification process just seemed like a facade to identify and track drug users. 

After her sons were robbed of their lives due to a policy that targeted the poor, even the process to retrieve their bodies and grieve properly also seemed to work against them. The funeral home charged their family with a bill of P112,000, an amount they did not have. Her voice would crack while recalling Rise Up’s help in compromising for the funeral expenses, “Kinailangan naming maglagak ng P50,000 para sa puneraryang iyon pero ang mahalaga ay nabigyan naman namin sila ng maayos na libing.”

Accountability for the Aggrieved

Despite the blatant human rights violations incurred during drug war operations, many affected families remain silent about these injustices.

Before calling for international investigations with Rise Up and National Union of People’s Lawyers, Nanay Llore was also reluctant to share her sons’ stories. “Wala naman akong testigo at ang lumabas pa sa balita ay ligal na operasyon daw ng pulisya ang naganap kaya sila napaslang at tila walang saysay kung kakasuhan ko pa sila,” she said. The fear of taking a stand against the police has not left Nanay Llore. But by uniting her case with that of other victims’ families, she has found hope to pursue accountability from those who took the lives of her children.

However, initial domestic efforts to investigate the extrajudicial killings have not been enough. Out of over 6,252 drug-war casualties acknowledged by the government itself, only 52 of these cases have been reviewed by the Department of Justice (DOJ). As of January 25, only four cases have reached trial courts, while only a small number of police officers have been found guilty.

Probes conducted by the Philippine National Police and DOJ would only affirm the misplaced premise of accountability within internal proceedings. Current administrative efforts led by the Internal Affairs Service, an advisory body auditing the police, focuses on rogue policemen rather than the bigger picture of the Oplan Tokhang.

“Kulang na kulang yung investigation ng DOJ and I think it’s coming from the wrong perspective. Nobody is looking into the policy, nobody is looking into if the Tokhang killings were murders,” said Kristina Conti, legal counsel from NUPL.

Without much hope for local institutions, victims’ families and human rights groups turn to the International Criminal Court’s (ICC) interventions to serve justice where it is due and further probe the issue at hand. “With the ICC investigation, their goal is to find out who is the ‘most responsible’ [for the killings],” said Conti, who is also an assistant counsel before the drug war petition in the ICC. The chain of culpability will directly point towards those who have enabled the murderous Tokhang policy—including Dutere himself.

Given an expansive reach, the ICC investigation offers a better perspective into the policy behind the drug war while pursuing the due process that victims’ families had sought for. The investigation’s foremost objective is to uncover the violence and state-led impunity brought by the brutal anti-narcotics campaign.  

Despite the apparent target it puts on her back, Nanay Llore continues to assert her right to know the truth from the police operations in question. “Mayroon talagang takot sa dibdib mo dahil pati ang mga tumetestigo at naghahanap ng hustisya ay nanganganib sa kanilang puwersa. Pero sa kabila nito, igigiit natin iyan upang mabigyang linaw ang katotohanan,” she said.

While pushing for the ICC’s investigations, Nanay Llore struggles to make ends meet for the four children that Crisanto had left with her. Like her situation, the killings have brought irreversible damages to the families of drug war victims who are further plunged into poverty. This is why the last premise of justice comes in the form of reparations which would work towards rebuilding the affected family’s socioeconomic vulnerabilities.

Their Stories Remain

Marcos has inherited the dehumanizing drug war spurred by the Duterte administration. It is difficult to believe that a change in leadership would truly improve the project’s implementation given that he is adamant on pursuing a bloody legacy that mirrors both his father and his predecessor’s. Absent any plans for human rights and accountability, his first State of the Nation Address made it clear that ceasing the death toll is not his priority. Nonetheless, Interior Secretary Benjamin Abalos Jr. recently affirmed Marcos Jr.’s intentions for a drug war campaign that is as “intensive” and “unrelenting” as Duterte. 

When asked about her outlook on the government’s violent undertakings, Nanay Llore tells me, “Hindi lang ito usapin ng droga, usapin ito ng kahirapan.” Likewise, the problem of drug use would not be deterred by the death of petty drug dealers and users. 

“Ang mga mahihirap talaga ang siyang dayuhan ng mga nangyayaring ito dahil sila ang mabilis na ma-engganyo kasi madaling kumita dahil isang abutan lang may pera na,” said Leah Valencia, community coordinator of Rise Up. Poor communities become more vulnerable to drug abuse because of the inaccessibility of education, healthcare, and decent work—policy areas which were least prioritized by the past administration.

As for pursuing accountability through the ICC, the Marcos administration will not rejoin the court and will rely on pending domestic investigations. Conti said that even if there is not much to hope for from the state, civil society organizations are more than willing to supplement the information that the ICC requires. The opposition that has galvanized against the Marcos-Duterte alliance is also capable of setting these democratic actions into motion. 

For Valencia, calls for accountability must not solely depend on the ICC, but the streets where the masses continue to fight for their rights. “Mapapanagot lang natin sila kung maihahain ang due process sa lahat ng mga sangkot sa krimen. Hindi lang ang mismong nagpisil ng gatilyo, pero ang mismong sistema na nagpapanatili nito ang mapapanagot natin kung mas maraming pamilya at biktima ang tumindig para sa hustisya,” she said.

In entering another grim administration, the stories of drug war victims like Crisanto and Juan Carlos will live on as a reminder of the injustice that will prevail so long as oppressive policies remain unaddressed. ●