08/03/2025
Shared from the Philippines by Hexa. Sounds a lot like the deporting of the undocumented in this country
THE IRONY OF INJUSTICE:
(Flooding, Gambling, and the Death of a Young Man)
See Filiipino Version below. Please spare 10 minutes to read this.
It was one of those nights when the streets of Malabon and Navotas seemed to have merged with the rivers and the sea. The heavy monsoon rains had returned, and with them the familiar fear of floodwaters slowly creeping into homes. But that night, it wasn’t just floodwaters that disappeared—it was also a father.
On Tuesday, July 22, the father of six children did not come home. The children were used to floods but not to this mysterious disappearance of their father. The whole family began to worry. The eldest, Dion Angelo—known at home as Gelo and among his fellow altar servers at Señor de Longos Mission Station as Dion—searched the streets with his mother Jennylyn, who is disabled (blind in one eye). They asked around, wading through filthy waist-deep floodwater in some areas, filled with fear and anxiety.
They had no idea that Gelo’s father had been arrested without a warrant and was detained for allegedly violating PD 1602—accused of engaging in illegal gambling. He was supposedly caught playing kara y krus. This law against illegal gambling, passed during the time of the late father of the current president of the Philippines in 1978, was said to be a protection for the poor against the vice of gambling. Yet decades later, not a single major gambling lord has been arrested. The poor remain the only victims of this law—just like during the Tokhang days, when quotas on drug suspects became the ticket for promotion.
Here lies the painful irony: while the poor are being charged for playing kara y krus, we are powerless against the biggest operator of the gambling business today through online gambling: the government itself, through PAGCOR. In the past, the government was strict about the public accessibility of gambling. By law, slot machines were not allowed in supermarkets and crowded places. Casinos even had to hire bouncers to check minors and those who could not prove that they earned at least 50,000 pesos a month. Now, gambling can be accessed on every cellphone. Anyone can gamble in their bedroom, on a jeepney, or in bed—24/7. One can even borrow gambling money from GCash.
Why would the police even bother arresting someone playing kara y krus when even children can gamble on their phones before they learn how to multiply? If gambling is addictive, then the biggest pusher of gambling addiction today is none other than our own government through PAGCOR—supposedly to generate extra income for public spending.
We had just released a pastoral letter from the CBCP against online gambling entitled “A Statement on the Moral and Social Crisis Caused by Online Gambling.” A few days later, I released another pastoral letter for the Diocese of Kalookan about flooding and corruption in public works entitled “When the Waters Rise and the Truth Drowns.” I did not know that in the tragedy that would befall Gelo’s family, the twin problems of corruption from flooding and gambling would intersect.
Gelo, 20 years old, a third-year college student, was the family’s hope. Quiet, dependable at home, and a faithful altar server at the church. As the eldest of six siblings, he was determined to finish his Human Resource Services (HRS) course at Malabon City College so he could help his family rise out of poverty.
After 24 hours of no news about his father, Gelo urged his mother to continue the search despite the floods. They went around all the police stations in Caloocan, Malabon, and Navotas, but no one could give them an answer.
The next day, Gelo even separated from his mother to cover more ground and ask more people. He was accompanied by his grandmother, and there they finally found his father in a police station in Caloocan. His heart broke at what he saw: in a small room at the back of the station, his father and five other detainees were handcuffed together. He had gone missing on July 22 and was reported in all the police stations (which routinely share information with each other). But it was only on July 25 that the police admitted they had him in their custody and that he had already been charged on that same day.
From the first day, the father had pleaded with the police to inform his family of his arrest, but they refused. Bail was set at 30,000 pesos—an impossible amount for a family barely surviving their daily needs and school fees. Even the fees for visiting at the precinct weighed heavily on their already meager budget.
So Gelo repeatedly visited his father to bring food and to work on the case. He waded daily through the dark floodwaters until he began to develop a fever on Saturday night. He even apologized to his mother on Sunday morning for not being able to accompany her to the precinct because of his body aches. He also sent word that he would not be able to serve at the Sunday Mass at the new Longos Mission Station church.
His mother told him to take paracetamol and rest. That night, not only was he feverish, but he was also shivering. Yet his main concern remained his father and how they could raise the money for bail. His three-year-old youngest sibling was traumatized when she was the first to discover later that her Kuya Gelo had already died. On Sunday night, July 27, the young man who had been the pillar of hope for his family passed away. The cause: leptospirosis, a disease caused by rat urine in the dirty floodwaters he had waded through in search of his father, who had been arrested for kara y krus.
A CRY THAT REACHES HEAVEN
The father was inconsolable when he heard in the precinct about Gelo’s death. Despite his wife’s comfort, he blamed himself. He felt abandoned by God. He did not even know what to do to post bail and return home so he could mourn and bury his eldest son.
Meanwhile, his wife, who is disabled (blind in one eye), and his five younger children kept vigil over the wake that was literally held on the street because they could not afford to rent a commercial funeral chapel for Gelo.
How could this happen? How could a young man’s life be lost due to one misfortune after another? And what choice did they have but to continue wading through the floods when the flood control gate remained broken despite a fresh allocation of 281 million pesos for its repair?
On the other hand, the police continue to meet quotas on arrests under an old anti-gambling law now being used to bully the poor, while rampant online gambling quietly destroys families. How have we become so accustomed to this culture of abuse of power by some law enforcers, who have normalized warrantless arrests and who even pressure detainees to simply admit the charges in court so they could be “absolved” and pay only a 1,000-peso fine—instead of languishing in jail and repeatedly attending court hearings while paying for a lawyer? I wondered: how many thousands of people admit to crimes they did not commit because they have no defense under the law? What has become of the principle popularized by the late President Magsaysay: “Those who have less in life should have more in law”?
The senseless death of Gelo is a parable of our time. His story cries out to heaven—and to all of us. It shouts the question: how many more Gelo’s must die before we confront the systemic injustices that not only destroy livelihoods but also take the very lives of our fellow citizens?
HOPE AND RESOLVE
As a Church, we cannot close our eyes. We cannot simply be sad and mourn at the wake. We must be the voice of those who have been buried in poverty, ignored by institutions, and silenced by fear.
The life and death of Gelo will not be meaningless. His father has been temporarily released thanks to a kind soul who provided bail money; but he still faces the case. Where will families like theirs turn to? How can they live freely, earn a living, and feed Gelo’s five younger siblings? Who will care for the dignity of his family and work for the change in the justice system that our nation has long awaited, especially for the poor? Heaven will not have mercy on us until justice flows like a river and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream (Amos 5:24).
For now, let us pray for the family. But let us also pray for ourselves—as Christians and as citizens—that the floodwaters of injustice will stop rising and that no more young people like Gelo will be robbed of a future because of the irony of a system that punishes the poor and protects the powerful.
Filipino Version:
Ang Kabalintunaan ng Kawalang-Hustisya (BAHA, SUGAL, AT ANG KAMATAYAN NG ISANG KABATAAN)
Isa iyon sa mga gabing ang mga kalsada ng Malabon at Navotas ay tila naging isa na sa mga ilog at dagat. Bumalik na naman ang malalakas na ulang dala ng habagat, at kasama nito ang pamilyar na takot na unti-unting pumapasok sa mga tahanan ang baha. Pero sa gabing iyon, hindi lang baha ang nawala—kundi isang ama.
Noong Martes, July 22, hindi nakauwi ang ama ng anim na anak. Sanay na ang mga bata sa baha pero hindi sa ganitong misteryosong pagkawala ng kanilang tatay. Nagsimulang mag-alala ang buong pamilya. Ang panganay, si Dion Angelo—kilala sa bahay bilang Gelo at sa mga kapwa sakristan sa Señor de Longos Mission Station bilang Dion—ay lumibot sa mga kalsada kasama ang kanyang nanay na si Jennylyn na may kapansanan (bulag ang isang mata). Nagtanong-tanong sila, lumusong sa maruming tubig-baha na abot-baywang sa ilang lugar, puno ng takot at pag-aalala.
Hindi nila alam na na-aresto pala nang walang warrant ang hinahanap na tatay ni Gelo at nakakulong dahil diumano sa paglabag sa PD 1602—pagkakasangkot daw sa illegal gambling. Naaktuhan daw siya na nakikipaglaro ng kara y krus. Ang batas na ito laban sa illegal gambling, na ipinasa noong panahon ng yumaong ama ng kasalukuyang presidente ng Pilipinas, noong 1978, ay sinasabing proteksyon daw para sa mahihirap laban sa bisyo ng sugal. Pero makalipas ang ilang dekada, walang naaresto ni isa sa mga malalaking gambling lord. Ang mahihirap lang ang biktima ng batas na ito—katulad noong panahon ng Tokhang, kung saan quota sa mga drug suspect ang naging tiket para sa promosyon.
Ito ang matinding kabalintunaan: habang kinakasuhan ang mga dukhang nagsusugal ng kara y krus, wala tayong magawa sa pinak**alaking operator ngayon ng negosyo ng sugal sa pamamagitan ng online gambling: ang gubyerno sa pamamagitan ng PAGCOR. Dati, napaka-istrikto ng gubyerno sa public accessibility ng pasugalan. Ayon sa batas, hindi pwede ang slot machines sa mga supermarket at mataong lugar. At kailangan pa ng bouncer sa mga casino para sitahin ang mga menor-de edad at mga walang katibayan na kumikita sila ng higit sa 50k kada buwan. Ngayon, may access na ang pasugalan sa bawat cellphone, pwede nang magsugal sa silid, sa jeep, sa k**a, ang kahit na sino, 24/7. Pwede pa ngang umutang sa Gcash ng pansugal.
Bakit pa pag-aaksayahan ng panahon ng kapulis lan na arestuhin ang naglalaro ng kara y krus kung kahit mga bata ay pwede nang mag-sugal sa cellphone bago pa man sila matutong mag-multiply? Kung addictive ang sugal, ang pinak**alaking pusher ng adiksyon sa sugal sa kasalukuyan ay ang walang iba kundi sariling gubyerno natin sa pamamagitan ng PAGCOR—para daw kumita ang gubyerno ng pandagdag gastusing pampubliko.
Katatapos lang naming maglabas sa CBCP ng isang sulat pastoral laban sa online gambling na may pamagat na “Isang Pahayag Ukol sa Moral at Panlipunang Krisis Dahil sa Online Gambling”. Pagkaraan ng ilang araw, naglabas naman ako ng isa pang sulat pastoral para sa Diocese of Kalookan tungkol sa pagbaha at korapsyon sa public works na pinamagatang “Kapag Tumataas ang Tubig at Nalulunod ang Katotohanan”. Hindi ko alam na sa trahedyang sasapitin ng pamilya ni Gelo ay pagtatagpuin ng kapalaran ang magkatambal na problema ng korapsyon ng baha at sugal.
Si Gelo, 20 years old, isang third-year College student, ay siya sanang pag-asa ng pamilya. Tahimik, maaasahan sa pamilya, at tapat na sakristan sa simbahan. Panganay sa anim na magkakapatid, determinado sanang makatapos ng kursong HRS Human Resources Services sa Malabon City College para matulungan ang pamilya na makaahon sa kahirapan.
Pagkalipas ng 24 oras na walang balita tungkol sa kanyang ama, hinikayat ni Gelo ang kanyang ina na ipagpatuloy ang paghahanap kahit baha. Nilibot nila ang lahat ng police stations sa Caloocan, Malabon at Navotas pero walang makapagbigay ng sagot.
Kinabukasan, naghiwalay pa sila ng kanyang ina para mas marami daw silang mapuntahan at mapagtanungan. Sinamahan si Gelo ng kanyang lola sa paghahanap, at doon nga nila natagpuan ang kanyang ama sa isang Police Station sa Caloocan Parang nadurog ang kanyang puso sa nakita: sa isang munting silid sa likod ng police station kabit-kabit ang mga posas sa tatay niya at lima pang mga arestado rin. July 22 nang mawala, ipina-blotter sa lahat ng police stations (na sanay namang magpalitan ng information sa isa’t isa.) Pero July 25 na nang aminin ng kapulisan na nasa custody nila ang pinaghahanap ba ama, at nasampahan na daw ng kaso noong araw mismong iyon. Unang araw pa lang nakiusap ang ama na ipaalam ng pulis sa pamilya ang pagkakaaresto sa kanya pero hindi siya pinagbigyan. ₱30,000 daw ang bail—isang imposibleng halaga para sa pamilyang halos hindi na makasapat sa pang-araw-araw na gastusin at bayarin sa eskwela. Pati nga bayad sa bawat dalaw sa presinto mabigat sa bulsa nila.
Kaya binalik-balikan ni Gelo ang ama para dalhan ng pagkain at lakarin ang kaso. Inaraw-araw ang paglusong sa maitim na tubig-baha hanggang magsimulang lagnatin nang Sabado ng gabi. Humingi pa ng paumanhin sa ina nang umaga na ng Linggo na hindi siya masamahan nito sa presinto dahil masakit ang katawan. At ibig pang magpasabi na hindi rin muna siya makakapag-serve sa Misang Linggo sa bagong simbahan ng Longos Mission Station.
Sinabihan siya ng nanay niya na uminom ng paracetamol at magpahinga muna. Nang gabing iyon bukod sa nilalagnat, nanginginig na rin siya. Pero ang ipinag-aalala pa rin niya ay ang kanyang ama, at kung paano makahabap ng pambayad sa piyansa. Na-trauma pa ang tatlong taong gulang na bunsong kapatid niya dahil siya ang unang nakatuklas kalaunan na wala na palang buhay ang kanyang Kuya Gelo. Linggo ng gabi, July 27 nang pumanaw ang binatang naging haligi ng pag-asa ng pamilya. Ang dahilan: leptospirosis, isang sakit na dala ng ihi ng daga sa maruming baha na nilusong niya sa paghahanap sa kanyang ama na inaresto diumano dahil sa kara y krus.
ISANG SIGAW NA UMAABOT SA LANGIT
Abot-abot ang paghihinagpis ng ama nang mabalitaan mula sa presinto ang pagk**atay ni Gelo. Kahit anong pag-alalay ng misis, sarili pa rin ang sinisisi. Pakiwari ba niya, pinabayaan na sila ng Diyos. Ni hindi alam kung ano ang gagawin para makapagbayad ng piyansa para makauwi, para maipagluksa at maipalibing ang panganay niyang anak.
Samantala, ang asawa niyang may kapansanan (bulag ang isang mata)—at ang lima pang nakababatang anak ang nagbantay sa burol na literal na nasa kalsada, dahil wala silang pambayad sa komersyal na memorial chapels para sa burol kay Gelo.
Paano ito nangyari? Paano mawawala ang buhay ng isang kabataan dahil sa sunod-sunod na dagok ng kapalaran? At ano bang magagawa nila kundi ang patuloy na lumusong sa baha kung sira pa rin ang flood control gate sa kabila ng bagong buhos na namang 281 milyong piso para ma-repair ito?
Sa kabilang banda, patuloy na kumokota ang kapulisan sa pag-aresto sa bisa ng lumang batas laban sa sugal na ginagamit ngayon na pambully sa mahihirap habang tahimik na winawasak naman ng talamak na online gambling ang mga pamilya. Paano tayo nasanay sa ganitong kultura ng pang-aabuso ng kapangyarihan ng ilang mga alagad ng batas na halos ginawa nang normal na kalakaran ang pag-aresto nang walang warrant, pati ang panghihikayat na aminin na lang sa korte ang paratang para daw ma-abswelto at isanlibong piso lang daw naman ang penalty. Kaysa nga naman manatili sa kulungan at magpabalik-kalik sa husgado at magbayad pa ng abugado. Naisip ko: ilang libo katao ang umaamin sa hindi nagawang kasalanan dahil walang kalaban-laban sa batas? Ano na ang nangyari sa prinsipyong pinasikat ng yumaong presidente Magsaysay “Those who have less in life should have more in law.”?
Ang walang katuturang k**atayan ni Gelo ay isang talinghaga ng ating panahon. Ang kanyang kwento ay sumisigaw sa langit—at sa ating lahat. Isinisigaw ang tanong: ilang Gelo pa ba ang kailangang mamatay bago natin harapin ang mga sistemikong kawalang-hustisya na hindi lang kumikitil ng kabuhayan kundi ng mismong buhay ng ating mga kababayan?
PAG-ASA AT PANININDIGAN
Bilang Simbahan, hindi tayo pwedeng pumikit. Hindi tayo pwedeng basta malungkot lang at makipagluksa sa burol. Kailangan nating maging tinig ng mga taong tinabunan na ng kahirapan, binalewala ng mga institusyon, at pinatahimik ng takot.
Hindi magiging walang saysay ang buhay at k**atayan ni Gelo. Panandaliang nakalabas ang ama ni Gelo dahil sa perang pampiyansa galing sa nagmagandang-loob; pero haharap pa rin siya sa kaso. Kanino tatakbo ang mga katulad nila? Paano mabubuhay nang malaya upang maghanapbuhay at mapakain ang lima pang mga kapatid ni Gelo? Sino ang magmamalasakit sa dignidad ng kanyang pamilya, at kikilos para sa ikapagbabago ng sistemang pang-hustisya na matagal nang hinihintay ng ating bayan, lalo na ng mga dukha? Hindi tayo kahahabagan ng langit hangga’t hindi bumuhos ang hustisya na parang ilog na dumadaloy at ang katuwiran na parang umaagos na sapa (Amos 5:24).
Sa ngayon, ipagdasal natin ang pamilya. Pero ipagdasal din natin ang ating sarili—bilang Kristiyano at bilang mamamayan—para matigil ang pagtaas ng pagbaha ng kawalang-katarungan at para wala nang kabataan na katulad ni Gelo ang mapagkaitan ng kinabukasan dahil sa kabalintunaan ng sistemang nagpaparusa sa mahihirap at pumoprotekta sa mga makapangyarihan.
