An open letter to SAF 44’s relatives
To the wives, mothers, sisters and relatives of the 44 Special Action Force commandos, I am sorry for your loss. I am sorry that you, the SAF and the public had to see a video that exposed in full, graphic details how your loved ones died. I am sorry that the death of your loved ones and the attending circumstances are now seemingly being swept under a grand cover-up to save those responsible from accountability.
I can imagine how painful all these are to you. Like you, our family recently lost Recca, a sister most loved, in war. She was with the New People’s Army.
There are similarities and there are differences. You see, they were enemies—my sister Recca and your loved ones. But I am with you as you cry for justice.
Our family, Recca’s friends and her comrades went through and are still going through much pain every time her autopsy report or the manner of how she died at the hands of government forces is discussed or recalled. Recca’s autopsy details showed she bore no bullet wounds, how her skull and limbs were crushed, that she died from traumatic injuries caused by blunt blows. She could have been taken in as a prisoner of war but she was tortured to death. Six other NPA rebels and two civilians died in the same military operation conducted on Sept. 4-7, 2014, in Lacub, Abra. All of them also bore marks of desecration and torture.
The Mamasapano video showed how your loved ones, wounded and already unable to fight back or defend themselves, were finished off and desecrated.
The story of the Lacub martyrs is not rare. The death of the SAF 44 in an operation done in the name of the US war on terror is not new.
The war that rages between soldiers defending their government and revolutionaries seeking to install a people’s government, or secessionists that see an unjust government incapable of recognizing their rights, is inevitable. That’s why even war is governed by laws, so that those engaged in it are not reduced into callous, inhuman and barbaric troops.
We cry for justice because we know that war should not be a killing spree, that troops are human beings and not mere pawns, that no one, not even those who die in battle, should die the way the SAF 44 or Recca and the Lacub martyrs did.
But when we call for justice, to whom do we address the call? From whom do we expect to get justice?
I cry for justice and I hold the Aquino administration responsible for the death of my sister and her comrades. After all, they did not die in a simple encounter. Who do you hold to account for the deaths of your kin?
I have long realized that I cannot expect justice from this administration. I do not ask justice from Mr. Aquino or from any of the institutions that represent and perpetuate the social injustices that Recca fought against.
But I have high hopes that there is another government that is willing to take on our call. Recca often told us how they were implementing agrarian reform, how they were providing education, health services, potable water sources and even electricity in far-flung barangays; how they were breaking the bonds of injustice, slowly but surely.
When I cry for justice I direct my call to you, to myself, to the people. When I cry for justice, I am asking you, myself and the people to do what we can, in ways big or small, to help create a government that is just.
Yes, I am with you as you cry for justice.
—JANICE LEE M. MONTE,
