Do We See a Calibrated Balance?

Posted on Jan. 26, 2026 at 12:33 pm

The court just handed down prison sentences to Frenchie Mae Cumpio and Marielle Domequil for financing terrorism. The case appears on the surface to be a legal victory against extremism. Yet a closer examination reveals a troubling narrative of prolonged detention, collapsed evidence, and a judicial process that critics see risks conflating dissent with crime.

The two were arrested alongside three others in 2020 after a raid on a community newspaper office. Police claimed they found weapons and cash. For nearly six years, Cumpio, a journalist, and Domequil, a humanitarian worker, remained in jail as their cases wound through the courts.

The court itself acquitted them of the illegal possession of firearms and explosives—the very charges that justified their arrest and initial detention. The cash seized was later ordered returned by an appellate court, which found no link to terrorism. Murder charges were dismissed due to a misspelled name.

Their eventual conviction rested not on physical evidence, but on witness testimony from former rebels, alleging they provided funds to communist insurgents at an event in 2019. The defense presented digital evidence placing them elsewhere; the court deemed this insufficient for definitive proof. The ruling stated the standard is “moral certainty,” not absolute certainty—a legal threshold that human rights lawyers argue is perilously subjective in terrorism cases.

Supporters see a pattern of repression. They point to the women’s work: Cumpio reported on farmer killings and militarization; Domequil aided rural communities. To them, this is “red-tagging”—a practice of branding critics as communist sympathizers—codified into a legal verdict. International press freedom groups have condemned the outcome as a blow to journalism.

Conversely, security officials and some segments of the public argue that combating a long-running communist insurgency requires robust legal tools. They contend that terrorism financing is a complex, clandestine crime often proven by intelligence and testimony, not paper trails. The state has a duty, they say, to use laws like the Terrorism Financing Prevention Act to disrupt support networks, even if some cases appear circumstantial.

Both positions contain elements of truth, which is what makes this case so consequential. The state’s imperative to ensure security is legitimate. However, the means used must withstand rigorous scrutiny to preserve public trust and prevent abuse. When individuals are held for years on charges that are subsequently dismissed, and are then convicted on separate charges based on contested testimony, it fuels perceptions of a system where process is weaponized.

The unintended consequence is the erosion of the very rule of law meant to protect society. If detention becomes a prolonged pre-trial punishment, and if laws designed for terrorists are applied to activists and journalists based on disputed associations, the definition of a threat expands dangerously. This chills legitimate civil society work and investigative journalism, which are vital for addressing the social grievances that fuel instability.

The takeaway from the Tacloban 5 case is not that the defendants are certainly innocent, nor that the state’s security concerns are invalid. It is that justice must be both sure and swift. A legal process that takes six years to resolve, that discards its original premises yet arrives at a severe conclusion, may fail a test of credibility.

The path forward requires reflection from all branches of government. The judiciary must vigilantly guard against the dilution of evidentiary standards in complex security cases. The legislature should review whether anti-terror laws contain sufficient safeguards against arbitrary application. And the executive must ensure that its security agencies operate with precision, recognising that overbroad enforcement undermines long-term public safety.

For now, two young women remain behind bars, their appeal pending. Their case is a stark reminder that in the balance between security and freedom, the scales must be calibrated with utmost care. The integrity of a democracy is measured not by how it treats the popular, but by how it judges the accused.