Lola, 85, is single parent to seven kids in EJK case

A year since the death of her youngest son, Juancho, Lola Trining (not their real names) still cannot understand how she and her seven grandchildren had become victims of a war they know little about.

Juancho was killed and his wife, Lea, arrested within months of each other in what the 85-year-old woman said were fabricated drug charges.

Trining is one of 11 women under the care of Baigani, a women’s advocacy group critical of extrajudicial killings (EJKs), the result of the government’s ruthless war against illegal drugs.

Bagaini member Kristina Gaerlan said the widows and mothers that the group is helping out are from the parishes of Payatas and Bagong Silangan in Quezon City, and Bagong Silang in Caloocan City.

Baigani recognizes that women are a vulnerable sector in the war on drugs waged by the Duterte administration, Gaerlan said.

There may be debate over the real number of casualties since the antidrug campaign was launched last year — 3,800 killed, according to police; 13,000, say human rights groups — but there’s no disputing that most of the victims killed are men, the family breadwinner.

“[The war on drugs] is no different from conventional warfare as it, too, has created a nation of widows and orphans,” Gaerlan said.

Arrest

During the Church-organized “Padasal Para sa mga Pinaslang: Undas ng Kababaihan” event in Caloocan City, Trining told the Inquirer that they had moved from Manila to Payatas, Quezon City, in the ’90s in hopes of finding greener pastures, even if it meant living amid mountains of trash and putrid air.

She lived with youngest son Juancho, a garbage truck driver and scavenger. The family also ran a small junk shop for additional income.

The money trickled in, but it was an honest living, Trining said. Which was why she couldn’t understand how they suddenly got caught up in a swirl of drug-related allegations that ended with her son’s death last year.

It was about 1 a.m. on Aug. 10 last year, she recalled, when they awoke to the sound of police breaking into their home while Juancho was at work.

In what later became known as “palit-ulo” (literally, one head for another), the police arrested Juancho’s 34-year-old wife, Lea (not her real name), then eight months pregnant, when they could not find him.

“I wasn’t really that scared, only surprised. They said they found marked money and ‘shabu’ on (Lea),” Trining recalled. “But how can that be? We were all sleeping, and even when they turned the house upside-down for evidence, they found nothing.”

Later, their neighbors tried to dissuade Juancho from visiting Lea in prison.

“‘Huwag ngayon, mainit ‘yung pulis, baka ikaw ang isunod  (Not now, it’s too risky. The police might arrest you, too),’ they would say. But I told my son not to let this pass. The police should at least investigate because we know (Lea’s) innocent.”

Begging for life

In September last year, while in detention at Camp Karingal in Quezon City, Lea gave birth to a baby boy, the couple’s seventh and last child. Mother and son have met only twice since then.

But the worst was yet come for Trining and her family. On Dec. 6, around 9 a.m., Juancho was shot dead by police from Batasan, Quezon City, during what they described as a buy-bust operation.

It was Juancho’s first day home after days at work, Trining recalled. He had missed his 10-year-old daughter’s birthday and had promised to cook spaghetti for her.

The grandmother had stepped out of the house to buy ketchup for the festivities, when she heard gunshots coming from the general direction of their home.

Nearly hysterical, she rushed back and was relieved to hear her youngest son imploring police: “Sir, what did I do? Please, if I did something wrong, just put me in prison, don’t kill me!”

Through the window, Trining said she saw her son kneeling, face-down, in front of the sofa. He was begging for his life. When the gunshots started, two policemen quickly whisked the old woman away.

Life after death

Seven men, including Juancho, were reported killed that day in Barangay Payatas-B after alleged shootouts with the police.

“It was like I died as well. I kept asking the police why they killed my son without investigating him first. They told me my son died because I was a “kunsintidor” (enabler), when I know for a fact that my son was a good son,” Trining said.

Before she could even process her grief, the woman found herself suddenly responsible for seven children. The eldest, a 16-year-old deaf-mute, took her father’s death the hardest and refused to eat for three months.

It has been a long and grueling year of rebuilding their lives, Trining said.  At first, she tried to pretend that everything was alright, telling the younger children that their dad was just “away.”  But she could hardly keep up the farce.

At the same time, what she initially viewed as a burden turned out to be her rock. Trining said she draws her strength from the children.

“My grandchildren are the only reason I wake up in the morning,” she said. “Without them I have no more reason to live.”

Through the help of Baigani, members of the Catholic Church and other private individuals, Trining was able to send the children to schools in Payatas.

Priests and nuns have been chipping in for the kids’ allowance, while others have been donating rice and food for them, the old woman said.

Despite her age, Trining said she tries to supplement the financial help they’ve been given by selling sweetened fried camote and banana, while Lea’s freedom still hung in the balance.

Remembering Juancho

As All Souls’ Day approaches, Trining wonders when she could fully get over her son’s death. Whenever the children missed their papa, she would tell them, “He’s in a better place. Let’s just stay strong so your mama can return home, OK?”

She said she’s frustrated over the sluggish pace of her daughter-in-law’s case. She was told the complainants, the arresting officers, have stopped attending the hearings.

“I leave it up to God to help us resolve this case … I also ask forgiveness from Him for wishing that the (police), too, would experience the hell we’ve gone through,” she said.

Asked whether she believed Juancho was at peace, she said, “Of course … even if his life was cut short, my son led a good and honorable life. I’m sure he is in heaven, but that he would be more at peace once his wife comes home to their kids.