The words of Marissa Lazaro, a grieving mother of a drug war victim, cut straight through the political noise: "Hindi lahat ng biktima ng war on drugs ay mga adik. At kahit mga adik, hindi naman tama na patayin na lang sila."
That simple, devastating statement dismantles the entire barbaric premise of the past administration's flagship campaign.
The state was never given the mandate to act as judge, jury, and executioner in our streets. Yet, thousands were slaughtered under the tired, bullet-riddled excuse of "nanlaban."
For years, the enablers of this bloody era hid behind the banner of national sovereignty, insisting that any investigation should be handled exclusively by Philippine courts.
Let’s stop kidding ourselves.
The reason Rodrigo Duterte is facing trial at the International Criminal Court is fundamentally simple: our domestic justice system was, and in many ways still is, severely compromised.
The political machinery that enabled the extrajudicial killings still holds tremendous sway over the local judiciary. If you want definitive proof of this terrifying influence, look at the recent timeline.
A church-led Truth Commission was formed only after Duterte was finally in ICC custody.
Think about what that means. It exposes the harsh truth of his enduring grip on our institutions. Even years after these crimes against humanity were committed, our local courts and agencies were too paralyzed by patronage, intimidation, and political debt to hold him accountable on their own.
You cannot expect impartial justice in a house where the accused's machinery still controls the levers of power.
When domestic remedies fail, international intervention isn't a breach of sovereignty — it is the absolute last resort for the victims.
This is why it is ironic that the architects of this so-called war on drugs are now clamoring for "due process." It is a right the Republic now affords them — a right they ruthlessly denied others when they were in power.
The Hague is the only viable path left.