Pastor Danny Urquico (left) with Ferdinand Mascuñana, one of the first drug addicts he visited in jail and inspired to change. PHOTO BY JODEE A. AGONCILLO
Danny Urquico started smoking at the age of 9. A year later, he discovered alcohol and took his first hit of marijuana. At 13, he was into cough syrup and tablets like Dormicum and Lagaflex.
A dropout and a “shabu” user at 17, he went in and out of jail for car theft and robbery in San Juan. Later, he made it to the front page of a tabloid for being a gang rape suspect.
Urquico married and became a father, but the addiction, the violence and the infidelities never stopped. A gun, acquired in his reckless years, offered a tempting solution.
“I was high on shabu. I was hearing voices. I and my mistress at the time were always fighting. We wanted to get married. I was confused. And there was this voice telling me I could end all my problems by killing my (estranged) wife. I hurriedly went to her house in Kamias, where I pointed a gun at her and our two sons.”
Nowadays, Urquico would always include this narrative as part of his talks as a religious pastor—one whose target audience must be steered away from the path he once took.
As head of the Christ’s Commission Fellowship (CCF) church in Eastern Manila, Urquico also currently oversees a faith-based rehabilitation program for drug addicts who had surrendered under Oplan Tokhang, the controversial antinarcotics campaign of the Duterte administration.
The program dubbed Simula ng Pag-asa (Sipag) was launched in October last year by the Dangerous Drugs Board (DDB) for the more than 5,000 Tokhang surrenderers nationwide. To date, 12-week Sipag sessions have been conducted in 635 barangays in Metro Manila, Rizal, Cavite, Quezon, Zambales, Bataan, La Union, Sarangani, Cagayan de Oro, Aklan, and Capiz.
Around 830 participants—including Muslims—have already “graduated,” according to the project head, Lawrence Tugaoen.
Pastor Danny Urquico and Ferdinand Mascuñana now give talks in a drug rehabilitation program run by the Christ’s Commission Fellowship. PHOTO COURTESY OF SIPAG PROGRAM
Through drug hell and back
Behind those numbers is the oft-shared story of Urquico and his journey through drug hell and back.
“I grew up in a dysfunctional family and lacked guidance because my father was part of the so-called ‘Big Four’ syndicates in the 1960s and was jailed for about 15 years. After his release, he only stayed with us for a few years and left us to be with his mistress,” Urquico said in an interview.
The episode left him traumatized, the hurt turning into hate, then smoldering into anger and rebellion. At 18, he got his girlfriend pregnant. They got married five years later but still “I was not prepared emotionally, financially and mentally to raise a family. My life was in shambles even after the birth of our first child; I got drunk every night, continued taking shabu, and had different live-in partners,” he told the Inquirer.
It got worse after they had a second child. He wanted his marriage to end, but something darker entered his drug-addled brain.
“When I was about to shoot my second son, who was then 2-years-old, I told him to go inside this collapsible tent we had at the house. He laughed in excitement because he thought we were going to play.
“It was his laughter that stopped me from pulling the trigger,” he recalled. “I rushed out of the house, drove off, and had an accident; the car was a total wreck and I suffered bruises on my knee.”
In 2000, during his third year of separation from his wife Dawn, Urquico was charged with frustrated homicide. He was 28.
With no one else to turn to for help, he found himself returning to Dawn, whose love proved unconditional despite everything he had done.
It was also Dawn’s love that, one day, placed Urquico in an unfamiliar scene: a prayer meeting in January 2001.
“‘Please help me. I’m too tired,’” he said, recounting how he prayed in silence. “I started talking to God as if He was just in front of me. I admitted that I was tired of living my life selfishly that I confessed my sins and my anger toward my father. I asked God to help me start a new life. I call it my ‘Road to Damascus’ experience just like what happened to the apostle Paul. Everything just happened in a blink of an eye.”
Having never undergone a drug rehab program himself, Urquico said a renewed faith in God brought about his transformation. He took this as a sign that he was being given a mission: to spread His message of hope to those who have experienced the same trials.
Four years after his “surrender,” Urquico was cleared of the frustrated homicide charge after the family of the complainant—who had learned that the suspect was serious about becoming a pastor—withdrew the case.
In July last year, during the first month of the Duterte administration, another incident further defined his role as a pastor. One of his cousins, Zaldy Carinio, was shot dead by the police in an antidrug operation in Bocaue, Bulacan.
“He was really into drugs,” Urquico said of his cousin, whose death pains him to this day. “It hurts me more because the Sipag program is already in place and our relatives were already reaching out to him (before he was killed).”
Urquico is not alone as an addict-turned-pastor in CCF. Tugaoen said the religious group had more than 20 pastors who were once hooked on drugs or gambling, including one who nearly killed a sibling.
The road to recovery is not easy and there would be many stumbling blocks, Tugaoen said. The relapse rate is high and a faith-based approached is recognized by the DDB and the Department of Health as one of the most effective intervention programs, he said.
It was not uncommon for some participants to still test positive for drug use while undergoing the 12-week program, he said. “They were not arrested but were monitored. A week after (testing positive), they returned and attended the program. The goal really is for them to finish the program and be integrated into their local church and experience real transformation,” Tugaoen said.
‘Consequence of sin’
“Drug addiction is a decision. Dying from the drug war is a consequence of that sin (of) disobedience,” Tugaoen said, when asked about his views on the rising death toll attributed to the government’s so-called war on drugs.
He noted that the poor had been the most affected by this war. “There have been many intelligent people pointing that out already. It is important to point that out, but if I add to that discussion and complain about it, nothing will happen. I’d rather do something about it. This is the proper response, I think; there should be balance.” Tugaoen said.
Urquico said he could very much relate with the Tokhang surrenderers. “I can see how their loved ones and the surrenderers themselves are suffering from being enslaved by addiction.”
One can sense when a drug addict who enters a rehab program is unresponsive, he said. He or she hardly participates in discussions or gives all sorts excuses for missing sessions.
But those who really want to change and complete the program are both eager to “entrust” their stories and hear those of others, he said. “They are excited to see you (as their speaker) because you were able to establish a relationship with them. They look forward to the next session.”
An addict would show signs of recovery first in his or her physical appearance. They would have a “lighter aura,” a clearer manner of speaking, and a willingness to be guided and mentored as part of a larger group, Urquico said.
The last thing they want is to be judged or condemned, the pastor added. “They should feel love and care, the very things they lacked in their families.
“And it’s not yet too late for them, because God’s love is not selective. I want to tell drug addicts that change is possible and there are lots of opportunities waiting for them.”