MOTHER’S DAY IS THE WORST DAY of the year for Carmencita “Carmen” de Castro.

Since her two sons were killed in a robbery almost five years ago, De Castro has spurned Mother’s Day greetings by politely saying: “I’m sorry, I’m not a mother anymore... I’m not a mother anymore.”

The once gracious and generous woman turned into a Mother’s Day scrooge after her sons Ariel Real and Albert Gutierrez were robbed and gunned down in 2003.

The suspect, who remains at large, has a P5-million bounty on his head, one of the biggest rewards put up by his victims’ relatives, concerned citizens and the Philippine National Police.

“I’ve been going to Camp Crame, NBI (National Bureau of Investigation) and Camp Aguinaldo seeking help for the capture of [my sons’] killer, Jose Maria Sarmiento Panlilio,” says De Castro in an interview with the Inquirer. “Ginagawa ko ang lahat para mahuli itong mamamatay tao na si Panlilio. Dalawang anak ko ang pinatay (I am doing everything so the murderer named Panlilio would be captured. He killed two of my children). I love them very much.”

Records showed that on July 15, 2003, Real, who was then 28, and Gutierrez (De Castro’s son from a previous marriage), then 31, met with Panlilio after the latter offered to sell them his Kia Starex van which he had pawned to a friend for P250,000. The three were supposed to redeem the Starex, but Panlilio reportedly led the half-brothers to the Palacio Real Subdivision in Barangay Makiling, Laguna, where he allegedly killed them.

According to witnesses, Panlilio allegedly disembarked from the brothers’ Mitsubishi Pajero and fled from the crime scene.

Maximum bounty

A lawyer by profession, De Castro, 70, decided to handle her sons’ case. She offered a P300,000-reward for information leading to the arrest of Panlilio in 2004, months after the Calamba prosecutor’s office found probable cause to try Panlilio, a son of the late socialite jeweler Fe S. Panlilio.

“But a judge-friend called and told me that the reward was too small and I should increase the bounty,” De Castro says.

In mid-2005, the bounty was increased to P500,000 with contributions from De Castro’s relatives abroad and concerned citizens. The PNP offered another P500,000 through its rewards system.

At the end of 2006, the reward totaled P4 million—P2 million from the PNP and another P2 million from De Castro’s counterpart fund.

The police had given her the maximum bounty allowed in the system. Financial support from family members and citizens continued to pour in and by 2007, the counterpart fund reached P3 million, upping the reward to P5 million.

This amount is equal to the bounty offered by authorities for Galib Andang, also known as “Commander Robot,” wanted for the 2000 Sipadan hostage crisis and that of Sen. Gregorio Honasan, then wanted for coup d ‘etat charges in 2003.

Losing two sons

De Castro recalls the pain of losing two sons at once.

Eyes misting and voice breaking, she says her boys showered her with affection. They did all the chores in the house, there was no need to hire a maid.

“Ariel fixes my bed and cleans my room every morning,” De Castro says. “He tells me ’Si Mama ayaw mag-ayos ng kama niya (Mom doesn’t want to fix her bed).”

Gutierrez was single while Real was married with a kid when they were killed. Both were living with De Castro and husband Romeo Real in the family home in Quezon City.

The Promise

De Castro says her sons made her a promise she would never forget.

“Ariel and his wife had plans to move out but they promised it wouldn’t be soon. Albert also used to tell me, ’Ma, hinding-hindi kita iiwan (I will never leave you)...Tapos ngayon iniwan nila ako (And now they’ve left me),” she says, holding back tears.

De Castro admits that she envies some of her friends when she sees them with their children. In March, during the retirement party of her law school classmate, Justice Angelina Sandoval-Gutierrez, De Castro says she couldn’t hold back her resentment.

“I told her (Justice Gutierrez) how jealous I was, seeing her kids who are now lawyers. Her children are with her,” she says. “I should have had a [lawyer] by now.”

Her son, Gutierrez, a law graduate of Philippine Law School on Taft Avenue, was set to take the bar in September 2003.

From dawn to midnight

Instead of spending their twilight years traveling and seeing the world, De Castro and her husband devote their time meeting with informants and checking with the police for any developments on the manhunt. They leave their house at the break of dawn and return usually before midnight.

Just last week, they were in Baguio meeting with an informant.

“I feel uneasy… guilty when we don’t leave the house and check out places where Panlilio could be hiding,” De Castro says.

“We leave the house every day and go around town because if we don’t, she (Carmen) cries,” says her husband, a retired airline employee.

Not a joke

The couple hand out flyers in public places. They even put flyers under the windshield wipers of parked cars.

“Sometimes, people look at the flyer, turn to their companion and then joke: ’Oh no, you look like him (Panlilio),’” De Castro narrates.

“I tell them ’Sorry hindi ho biruan iyan (This is not a joke). Please help me. Anyone can be the next victim. This man is armed and dangerous,” she warns them.

De Castro also mails flyers to residents in different provinces, hoping to get a tip that would lead to Panlilio’s arrest. She gets their addresses from the phone directory.

Never giving up

In February, she put up tarpaulin streamers of Panlilio’s picture and a number to call at the MMDA’s Billboard ng Bayan along the busy thoroughfare of Edsa. The streamers are also on C-5 and along Ortigas Avenue.

Since then, they’ve received dozens of calls. Cops follow up saying they may have Panlilio in their custody. Civilians leave information about Panlilio.

“We check each and every piece of information we receive,” De Castro says. “We’re not taking any chances. We can’t afford to make mistakes.”

Her face mirrors her weariness and her resolve: She’s not going to give up.

“I am very, very exhausted but I won’t stop [looking for Panlilio],” De Castro says. “I’ll only stop when I die. [My sons] need justice.”