The administration’s volte-face on Antonio Sanchez’s early release from prison for purported

good behavior showed what public outrage could do. After blithely citing the necessity of paying
obeisance to the law despite the convict’s barbaric history, within a couple of days responsible officials
were talking from the other side of their mouths and declaring no way will this former town mayor walk
out of the national penitentiary under the aegis of Republic Act No. 10592. Shortly, President Duterte’s
longtime personal assistant, the newly minted senator Bong Go, announced his boss’ indignation at the
prospect of Sanchez’s early release—and the hemming and hawing ended. As though the big guy had
saved the day. As though, and perhaps it is, his word is law.

This clear demonstration of the potency of protest vis-à-vis Sanchez’s case should reinforce the truth
that power lies in recognizing injustice and pushing back. If the Malacañang mouthpiece Salvador Panelo
thought he could get away with glibly waving away incredulous questions of how on God’s green earth
Sanchez could be deemed eligible for early release, he was quickly disabused of the notion. Perhaps the
former lead counsel of the man convicted of the 1993 rape and murder of Eileen Sarmenta and the
murder of her friend Allan Gomez has been too steeped in the juices of his current job that he believed
it was possible to pull off the inconceivable, or that responsible officials would not have to reckon with
public anger?

At any rate, it’s remarkable that Justice Secretary Menardo Guevarra initially talked about Sanchez’s
then impending freedom without including in the discussion the fundamental aspect that recidivists and
those convicted of heinous crimes are not entitled to good conduct time allowance and therefore
ineligible for early release on the basis of supposed good behavior. Incredibly, Guevarra was quoted as
saying that the former mayor “may actually be released already,” suggesting that the very official
holding the justice portfolio was ignorant of the coverage of RA 10592—or, more repugnant, that the
rapist and murderer was being sprung for certain considerations.

Now it turns out that there was more than met the eye in the breaking news of Sanchez’s early release.
According to his children, he was bathed, packed and quite ready to go on Aug. 20 as No. 187 on the list
of prisoners for early release, but that it was no go when they arrived at the New Bilibid Prisons to
collect him. They cited a release order supposedly signed by Bureau of Corrections (BuCor) chief Nicanor
Faeldon, as well as the supposed fingerprinting of their father that occurred the night before as part of
the release process.

Guevarra said he would have the matter checked, in effect claiming cluelessness. He also said Faeldon
had denied signing a release order. A BuCor press conference held yesterday was noteworthy for
Faeldon’s absence.

The public having vigorously registered outrage over Sanchez’s attempted abuse of RA 10592, the logical
next step is that it be informed as to what—or, more to the point, who—started the ball rolling. Perhaps
the rot in the prison system that has long defied cleansing can begin to be addressed. Harriet
Demetriou, who, as then judge of the Pasig City Regional Trial Court, found Sanchez and six of his
subalterns guilty of the Sarmenta-Gomez rape-slays, is correct to call on the President to have the
matter investigated so as to ferret out and punish those who had “twisted” and “made a mockery” of
the law.

Because an unfortunate offshoot of this controversy is that progressive legislation such as RA 10592 has
now been blocked from implementation, laying waste to efforts to free prisoners who had committed
minor offenses and had truly exhibited good behavior while incarcerated, and who were too
impoverished to come up with the amount necessary for bail. It must be pointed out to another rookie
senator, Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa, that it is these persons deprived of liberty who should benefit from
the law that was also envisioned as a means to ease the brutal congestion in Philippine prisons, and who
deserve a second chance—and not the likes of Sanchez. It bears repeating: Panelo’s former client was
also convicted of the 1991 murder of the father and son Nelson and Rick Peñalosa, and thought nothing
of hiding a stash of crystal meth in the base of a statue of the mother of God that he was perversely
keeping in his air-conditioned prison quarters.

What exactly is going on? As Demetriou has trenchantly pointed out, Panelo, Faeldon and his
predecessor Dela Rosa should provide answers at a congressional inquiry.