At a local computer shop, three siblings stare at a YouTube video. It wasn’t a cartoon but CCTV footage of their father running towards a bank with a gunman chasing after him. In unison, they shouted, “Babarilin ka, Papa, huwag ka dyan dumaan!” believing they still had the power to save him.
Noel Villaflor Sison, a tricycle driver from Bagong Barrio, Caloocan City, was a man of routine, providing for his family and sharing everything with his wife, Marlyn. Together, they worked long hours, with Noel backriding behind her during late-night trips to make ends meet. Despite hardships, Noel was a typical father who made sure his children were safe. Marlyn remembers how strict he was, ensuring their children were always home by the afternoon, never letting them roam the streets at night.
But everything changed on the night of September 15, 2016. Marlyn had spent the day doing laundry and decided to rest for the night. She and Noel had agreed that he would pick her up later in the evening so she could join him on his tricycle rounds, as they often did.
However, Noel returned home around 1:00 AM. He asked her, “Kumain ka na ba?” She answered yes, and instead of inviting her to join him, he told her, “Huwag ka nang sumama, magpahinga ka na lang”. Marlyn was grateful for the rest that night, not knowing it would be the last time she would speak to her husband.
Less than an hour after Noel had left, there was a knock at the door. It was a fellow tricycle driver, with blood on his shirt, telling Marlyn that Noel had been shot. At first, she couldn’t believe it. The man showed her the blood on his clothes, saying it was from Noel, who had been shot while waiting for passengers near the corner of their neighborhood.
The tragic events unfolded on a CCTV camera, which later became part of the evidence. The footage showed Noel running towards the nearby bank, being chased by two gunmen on a motorcycle. The bank’s glass windows allowed onlookers, including taxi drivers, to witness Noel’s final moments.
As per the witnesses, it was clear that Noel had begged for his life, kneeling in front of the gunmen and pleading that if he had done something wrong, just arrest him and don’t kill him because he has children who need him. But his pleas were ignored. The gunmen, masked and wearing hoods, shot Noel multiple times, hitting him on his nape, side, and arm. The force of the gunfire caused him to fall face down.
What happened next was equally disturbing. Marlyn recalls the strange timing of another tragic incident happening simultaneously nearby; her neighbor’s house was also raided and attacked. It seemed as though no one was willing to help. When the crime scene investigators (SOCO) arrived, they were almost immediately followed by a funeral home crew, as if they had been expecting a death to occur in that area at that hour.
The confusion and shock were overwhelming for Marlyn. She couldn’t understand why the funeral home was already on-site when they hadn’t even been notified of Noel’s death yet. It felt as though the authorities and the funeral home were already prepared for what had happened.
The police report that never came
After Noel’s death, Marlyn never got a police report about what happened. She said she was told to go to the Sangandaan Police Station around 6 p.m., but she didn’t go because the office would already be closed by then. She was also scared that something bad might happen to her, just like what happened to her husband. Out of fear, she decided not to get the report, and even after all these years, she never got one.
In 2024, while Marlyn was at De La Salle University, where the Silingan Justice Van, a coffee shop where she currently works, was parked, a police officer arrived looking for her. She was told that a new investigator from the Bagong Barrio Police wanted her to sign a paper.
The document said she would not file any complaint or case related to her husband’s death. Marlyn found it strange—why ask her to sign something after almost eight years of silence? She told the officer she would only sign if they gave her a copy of the police report about her husband’s death. The officer promised to come back with it, but he never returned.
Marlyn believes this might be connected to the investigation of the International Criminal Court (ICC) against Duterte. She thinks the authorities are trying to clear cases quietly by making victims’ families sign waivers. But for her, even if she wanted to file a case, she knew she couldn’t. She had no strong witnesses, and even the CCTV from the bank was never given to her. All she ever saw was the footage from the street showing her husband running before he was shot.
Struggle for survival after death
Noel only had one dream in life: to give his children the education he never had. He and his wife supported President Duterte in hopes of genuine change. But when he was killed in the drug war, those dreams were shattered.
“Sa totoo lang, mag-asawa kami, Duterte kami. Binoto namin talaga si Duterte kasi ang sabi niya sa pagbabago daw. Kaya binoto namin siya kasi umaasa kami sa pagbabagong sinasabi niya. Paano magbabago ang isang tao kung pinapatay mo na? Paano niya mabibigyan ng magandang buhay yung mga anak niya kung pinapatay mo?” Marlyn lamented.
Left behind were three young children who were too young to understand the weight of their father’s absence. His wife recalls how difficult it was to even claim his body; she had to beg for donations just to pay the funeral parlor’s P5,000 fee. It took nearly three weeks before they could bury him.
Noel’s death pushed the entire family into deep economic hardship. With no stable income and mouths to feed, Marlyn was forced to take in laundry despite never having done it before, bringing her toddler with her because no one else could care for him.
Wounds that never heal
What happened to Noel left deep wounds on his children. Their daughter, who once dreamed of becoming a flight attendant, now wanted to become a police officer—not to help people, but to seek revenge.
“Pulis daw pumatay sa tatay niya,” her mother said. She thought that if she became a cop, she could have the power to kill, too. Meanwhile, their eldest son, who used to want to join the police force, gave up his dream completely. He said he would rather stop studying than be like the ones who killed his father.
Marlyn also recalled how her kids would ask for coins so they could go to the nearby piso-net shop. At first, she thought they were just playing or watching cartoons. But soon, she would hear them shouting from the shop, “Babarilin ka, Papa, huwag ka dyan dumaan!”
They are watching the CCTV footage showing how their father was killed, and they thought that if they screamed loud enough, their father would hear them and be saved. It became so painful that Marlyn had to beg the piso-net owner to stop letting them watch, worried they would get stuck reliving that memory every day.
The pain didn’t end there. The kids started refusing to go to school because their classmates bullied them, saying their father was killed for being an addict. Marlyn said the most painful part was hearing her own children tell her about the hurtful things others said and feeling powerless to defend them.
Even now, the effects linger. Marlyn said that her youngest, who was only a toddler when Noel died, has recently shown mild signs of trauma. Other times, when they were at the park, he would suddenly hide whenever he saw someone on a motorcycle wearing a bonnet. It is a small but painful reminder of a tragedy they could never fully escape.
Plea for accountability and justice
For Marlyn, one of the many who lost loved ones during the Duterte administration’s war on drugs, the news of former President Rodrigo Duterte’s arrest is a long-overdue step.
“Ito na nga kami, saksimbuhay na nga kami, kami na nga yung mga kamag-anak ng pinapatay nila eh,” Marlyn said, pointing out how impossible it would be for all of them to be lying. The pain of being dismissed for years only deepened their wounds.
When Duterte publicly claimed responsibility for the killings, it only confirmed what Maryl and other victims’ families have long believed. “Kasi sa akin, ang isang tao kasi, hindi naman niya aamin kung wala siyang ginawa,” she said. For Marlyn, Duterte’s admission was not an act of courage, but of survival — a sign that he knew he could no longer deny what had been laid bare by the countless deaths.
Marlyn also emphasized that justice cannot end with Duterte alone. She urged that others who carried out the killings must also be held accountable, mentioning figures like former police chief Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa. For her, true justice means not sparing anyone, no matter how powerful or how close they are to those still in government.
To those who may feel sympathy for Duterte’s fall, Marlyn had a powerful message. She recalled her daughter saying she would ask Kitty Duterte, “Ano yung mas masakit? Yung nakita mo yung tatay mong papatayin, o yung nakita mo lang na ikukulong yung papa mo?”
Almost eight years later, the silence that followed Noel’s killing still echoes through the lives of those he left behind. His children have grown, but the trauma also has grown with them. For Marlyn, justice has never knocked on their door. No police ever came back, no clear answers, and no one was held accountable.
What was left to them was not just grief, but a heavy truth: Noel was killed by those who are supposed to serve the people. And like so many others, their story remains unheard, forgotten in a country that promised peace but delivered violence.
