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Writer's pictureThe Communicator

Maguindanao Massacre: A Long Lost Justice

Umalis silang buo, bakit katawang walang malay ang umuwi? 



A place where guns are firing and bullets are flying is a place where peace ceases to exist. Years have passed, but the dark nightmare always haunts them—a nightmare that will never be forgotten—the Maguindanao Massacre. 


On November 23, 2009, 58 people were killed, including one whose body has never been found. Of the victims, 32 were journalists and media workers. These lives were taken by more than 100 private armed men loyal to the Ampatuan family, the masterminds behind the tragedy. The massacre was globally recognized as the deadliest attack on the press in history, with the highest number of journalists killed in a single incident.


The Beginning: A Bloody Rivalry 


The routine of filing a political candidacy took an unexpected turn in 2009. Esmael "Toto" Mangudadatu, the gubernatorial candidate running against the Ampatuans, instructed his wife, Genalyn Tiamzon-Mangudadatu, along with his sisters, to file his candidacy on his behalf. He believed that filing it himself would bring bad omens. Guided by his faith in Islamic traditions, which hold that women should not be subjected to physical harm, he entrusted the task to them. Mangudadatu, accompanied by a convoy of journalists, lawyers, and media workers, felt confident that his loved ones would be safe during the filing process. Little did he know that this seemingly simple act would lead to a tragedy, even before it had begun. 


The core of the tragedy lies in the political rival between the two families. The Ampatuan family, known as the long-ruler over the Maguindanao during that time, sees Mangudadatu’s candidacy as a threat to their long-standing dynasty. Andal Ampatuan Sr., Andal Ampatuan Jr. (also known as Datu Unsay), Zaldy Ampatuan, and Datu Sajid Islam Ampatuan all hailed from the Ampatuan clan, one of the most influential families in the province. During the day of Mangudadatu’s filing, the Ampatuans sent their armies to block the convoy, and later on, shot their bullets nonstop at every person they could kill in that area—even the journalists who wished to cover the event, the people who did their job until their last breath. 


The Ampatuans committed this heinous crime to ensure that no witnesses could testify about the incident.


The Aftermath: A Nightmare to the Victims’ Families 


The massacre wasn’t merely a clash between Mangudadatu and the Ampatuans; it was the devastating toll of a bitter political feud that claimed innocent lives in its wake. For the families of the victims, the tragedy was not just a loss, but a relentless search for the justice that had been stolen from them.


“Kagabi pa lang, pinigilan ko na siyang umalis pero sabi niya, kailangan niya, kasi wala siyang pambayad ng eskuwela, pampa-aral sa kapatid ko,” the daughter of one of the slain journalists cried out. This proves that every life taken leaves a deep wound in a family’s heart. 


On January 5, 2010, the first hearing took place, although some suspects remained at large. Later that year, in June, a potential witness, Suwahid Upham, admitted that he was one of those who had killed the victims. After he revealed his confession, he was silenced to death. Upham also said that Datu Unsay himself was the one who shot Genalyn multiple times, ensuring no chance of survival. 


By early 2013, 81 out of the 98 arrested suspects had been arraigned. Two years later, in January, Datu Sajid Islam Ampatuan was granted bail after the prosecution failed to present sufficient evidence to justify his continued detention during several trials. Later that year, in July, their father, Andal Ampatuan Sr., died of a heart attack while still in detention.


The Verdict: A Ten-year-old Case 


Delays, threats, and countless frustrations—the families of the victims didn’t just endure challenges; they faced an unrelenting sea of uncertainty, clinging to hope while justice seemed ever out of reach. Ten long years, marked by endless dusks and dawns, passed before the court finally delivered its decision. On December 19, 2019, Judge Jocelyn Solis-Reyes of the Quezon City Regional Trial Court Branch 221 convicted 28 individuals, including the masterminds—the Ampatuan Clan—sentencing them to reclusion perpetua, or life imprisonment. For the families, it was not just a ruling; it was a bittersweet moment of justice after years of heartache.


Although Sajid Islam Ampatuan was officially found not guilty in 2019, allowing him to continue his family's political influence by running for vice mayor in Shariff Saydona Mustapha town, his power was short-lived. This year, the Sandiganbayan convicted him in a P393 million graft case, marking another chapter in the ongoing struggle for justice in the Ampatuan family's legacy.


The Protest: An Unrecognized Victim 


While the verdict brought some measure of peace to the victims’ families, one journalist remains missing. Reynaldo “Bebot” Momay, a veteran photojournalist for Midland Review, left behind nothing but his dentures at the crime scene. Tragically, this solitary piece of evidence was deemed insufficient by the court, and he was not included in the initial count of victims, leaving his family still searching for closure.



To this day, Momay’s family continues their fight for justice. Ma. Reynafe Momay-Castillo, his daughter, has become an unwavering advocate for her father’s memory. With relentless determination, she demands recognition for Reynaldo “Bebot” Momay as the 58th victim of the massacre, refusing to let his name be forgotten.


“To forget is not an option, what I’m doing now is to fight forward,” said Castillo, a nurse working in the United States. 


This case stands as a stark reminder of how the justice system can fall short. Momay’s absence from the official list of victims serves as a painful testament to the truth that, even in one's final moments, some slip through the cracks, unseen, and excluded from the justice they deserve.


Momay’s family has never been able to light a candle for him, trapped in the torment of not knowing what truly happened—whether he is dead or alive, they are desperate for the truth, for the closure that still eludes them.


As we mark the anniversary of the Maguindanao Massacre today, let us also remember that no cruelty should ever be allowed to take root in our hearts or our systems. Whether driven by political rivalry or power, no gun or bullet should ever silence those who speak the truth. Let this day serve as a reminder that it is our responsibility—this generation’s duty—to shine a light of hope for all, ensuring that truth prevails and that no one is forgotten in their quest for justice.


The killing of them is the killing of our hopes, our dreams, and everything we stand for.

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