By: Zabrina Hong
Members of ALPAS-KP hold photos of their late family members lost to extrajudicial killings. Photo courtesy of Julia Iris Eguillano | The LANCE
“Killings without legal and due process.”
For Sam, a first-year psychology student at Colegio de San Juan de Letran, these words define what extrajudicial killings (EJK) mean. The reality of EJKs came sharply into focus during the Munting Salu-Salo: Film Viewing and Kwentuhan Session with the Families of EJK Victims on February 5 at Del Pilar Hall, where stories of loss, grief, and unanswered questions unfolded firsthand.
Through a collaboration between the National Service Training Program (NSTP), Letran Community Volunteers (LCV), and the Institute of Communication (IComm), the event showcased a mini-documentary series by IDEALS, Inc., portraying the lived realities of families left behind by victims of former President Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs.
More than a film viewing, the gathering created a safe and intimate space for families of EJK victims, members of Alyansa Para sa Karapatang Pantao (ALPAS KP), to recount their experiences, grief, and ongoing pursuit of justice.
When Duterte assumed office in 2016, he launched an aggressive nationwide campaign against illegal drugs. By 2018, the “war on drugs” had expanded beyond Metro Manila, reaching Bulacan, Laguna, Cavite, Cebu, and General Santos.
Data from the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA) show that 4,948 suspected drug users and dealers were killed during police operations between July 1, 2016, and September 30, 2018. Thousands more deaths were attributed to unidentified gunmen, many of which remain unresolved. Additionally, Philippine National Police (PNP) records classify 22,983 deaths linked to the campaign as “homicides under investigation.”
Limited government disclosure has made it difficult to determine the full extent of the death toll, leaving families, human rights groups, and the public grappling with contested numbers.
By July 2018, Duterte doubled down on the campaign, promising it would continue until his term ended in 2022—“as relentless and chilling as on the day it began,” he said. He also vowed to shield police officers and agents carrying out the campaign from prosecution, a pledge that drew sharp criticism from human rights groups and legal observers.
For the families left behind, these assurances offered little protection. Their lives were upended, their loved ones lost, and their stories of grief and resilience became a stark reminder of the human cost behind the statistics.
“Namatayan na ‘ko, pagkakaperahan pa ako,” said Nanay Susan, a member of ALPAS KP. Her son, a call center agent, was killed on his way home from work. She recounted how police officers had taken his body to a funeral home, promising assistance.
But when she arrived, there was no one waiting—only the staff and her son’s lifeless body. “May commission po ‘yan sila, Nay, kaya sila mismo nagdadala sa punerarya,” the staff told her, explaining that the police had financial arrangements with the funeral home, leaving her to navigate her loss alone.
The loss of her son—both a child and the family’s breadwinner—hit Nanay Susan hard, pushing her already fragile economic standing further down the social ladder.
Alpas KP was formed by surviving family members of human rights victims who have transformed their grief into advocacy. Refusing to remain “victims,” its members have embraced the identity of human rights advocates, working toward the justice they have long sought.
The organization provides education on legal rights and access to legal services, aiming to empower communities and amplify the voices of those affected by extrajudicial killings and other human rights violations. In partnership with IDEALS, Inc., ALPAS KP made Colegio de San Juan de Letran - Manila its third school stop on its awareness caravan.
“Gusto namin mangyari na hindi lang isa [o] dalawang school. Gusto namin na mapalawak pa… mamulat namin ang kabataan sa EJK at sa mga na-violate ang karapatang pantao nila,” Katherine Bautista, Vice Chairperson of ALPAS KP, said.
For families, Alpas KP has become a safe space to heal and continue the fight for justice. Arlene, a member, recalled how it offered her a helping hand during the gravest nights.
“Nagtulak sa akin [sumali] ay ‘yung adbokasiya namin na umagapay kami sa katulad namin at imulat namin ‘yung iba sa naging karanasan namin; na totoo kami, hindi lang basta kuwento, totoong tao kami,” Arlene remarked.
Sharing these stories is an act of courage, but not without challenges. Some members of the public, seeing the war on drugs as a way to “clean” the country, often judge families harshly.
“‘Wag silang manghusga ng tao. Kesyo sasabihin na ‘adik ‘yan kailangan talaga mamatay ‘yan’. Tingnan din sana nila ‘yung mga pamilyang naiwan. ‘Yung mga buhay na tinanggalan ng karapatan. Kung talaga pong may kasalanan, idaan sa batas… i-proseso. Swerte nga ni Duterte e, na-proseso, may magandang higaan s’ya, naka-aircon, may doktor. Asawa ko, hindi… pinatay na nila. Tinanggalan ng kumpletong pamilya ang mga anak ko,” Arlene expressed.
“‘Yun po ang importante sa amin, ‘yung makikinig nang ‘di kami kukundenahin kasi nung mga 2016 po 2018, napakahirap po magkwento dahil nabubusalan ‘yung mga biktima,” Bautista added.
Truth was central to telling these stories. NSTP Instructor Arnel Galgo explained how veritas—truth—became the guiding principle for organizing the event. For Galgo, it was not enough for students to watch a documentary or hear stories; the goal was to foster understanding rooted in honesty, empathy, and reflection.
“Sa Letran bilang dominican institution, mahalaga ang veritas. ‘Yun din ang tinuturo natin sa eskwela: na malaman ‘yung totoo, ipaglaban ‘yung totoo. Hindi lang [rin] ito learning, kundi formation; paghubog sa mga kabataan,” Inst. Galgo said.
He emphasized that truth goes beyond facts and figures; it is about recognizing the lived experiences of those affected by extrajudicial killings, validating their grief, and inspiring students to engage with society responsibly.
For Alyaned Ephie Bayocot, a first-year psychology student, the event was an eye-opener. Hearing firsthand accounts from victims’ families sparked in him a desire to stand alongside them in the pursuit of justice.
“Napaka-importante na magkaroon ng ganitong event kasi marami pang kuwento ang dapat pa nating marinig, kasi ang hustisya na para sa kanila ay ‘di pa rin nakakamit… Huwag rin tayong maging reactive lamang sa social media, sana rin ay maging proactive tayo sa pagtindig sa paglaban ng hustisya na dapat ay may managot dito,” Bayocot emphasized.
“Sa mga estudyanteng nakikinig, sana ‘di matatapos sa pakikinig. Kailangan po namin dito ng sympathy at empathy. Gusto rin namin sana na matanong ng mga estudyante [sa sarili nila] na ‘yung napakinggan ko, paano ko s’ya maisasapuso’t maisasabuhay… isang malaking tulong din po sa amin ‘yung maikukwento namin ay napakikinggan at maikukwento rin nila [estudyante] sa iba,” Bautista added, underscoring the reciprocal power of listening and understanding.
By placing truth at the center, the organizers created a space where students could confront difficult realities, question assumptions, and reflect on the human cost of policies often discussed only in headlines. The event became not just a lesson in awareness, but a formative experience in moral and civic responsibility.
“Mahalaga yung mag-aral. Mahalaga ‘yung mag-basa. Pero higit sa lahat, mahalaga ang makipagkwentuhan at makipag-ugnayan… Marami pang ibang kwento, marami pang ibang sektor, na naghihintay lang pakinggan. NSTP is a venue towards that kwentuhan. Sana makapagbukas pa kami ng maraming venue para makapag-inspire ng mga estudyante na tutugon sa sitwasyon… para sa bayan,” Inst. Galgo highlighted, leaving a lasting reminder that education is not only about learning facts—but about listening, connecting, and answering the call to justice.