20 Years Today

20 years!!! That's how long it has been since you walked out our door, kissed me goodbye, and promised to see me later. You never did. 

That night 20 years ago, you went out with Philip Lam and his friend, Dr. Farouk Lu, for what was supposed to be an ordinary boys' night out. It should have been nothing more than laughter, stories, camaraderie. But none of you came back.

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For years, the details of that night were shrouded in mystery, whispers and silence. Then, piece by piece, the truth began to emerge. According to accounts, Philip Lam was targeted because of a business rivalry- nothing more than a general merchandise store, NOT DRUGS OR CRIME. You and Dr. Lu were nothing more than "collateral damage." The lives of good, innocent men reduced to a cold, heartless term.

How can someone's life, someone's love, be reduced to two cold, empty words? How can anyone justify taking three lives as if they were nothing, as if their laughter, their dreams, their families didn't matter?

I remember pleading for James' life, begging for his safe return. In my desperation, I made a promise to stay silent if only they would let him come back to us alive. But silence didn't save him. It didn't save any of them. And here I am, two decades later, still waiting for the truth, for answers, for justice. 

They tell you time heals all wounds, BUT THAT'S A LIE! Time doesn't heal wounds like this. Time only deepens the ache of knowing that those responsible walk free, that promises of justice remain empty, that the world continues to turn as if their lives didn't matter. But they mattered. JAMES MATTERED.

It doesn't dull the ache of an empty chair at the dinner table. It doesn't soften the weight of unanswered questions or the LONGING OF ONE MORE EMBRACE, ONE MORE SMILE, ONE MORE MOMENT. Time doesn't heal when justice is denied. 

For 20 years, I've been WAITING. WATCHING. HOPING. Everyday, I've held onto the belief that someday, the truth would fully emerge, that someone, somewhere, would care enough to bring justice for James, Philip and Dr. Farouk. The prescription period may have passed, but God's promise to me has not.

I have not forgotten. I can't forget. And I won't stop telling this story because their lives deserve more than silence.

James was not just collateral damage. He was my first love and childhood sweetheart for 11 years, my husband for another 11 years, and the father of my three children. He was kind, generous to a fault, and full of life. In fact, that year in 2005, we planned a grand celebration - for the first time in his life- of a birthday party in September - his 40th. But alas, we lost him in January. 

To those who think time erases accountability, I want you to know: JUSTICE HAS NO EXPIRATION IN THE HEARTS OF THOSE WHO LOVE. I will keep remembering. I will keep speaking his name - JAMES LAO YAP - until the world recognizes and remembers what was taken from us. 

A pocketful of sunshine and 

Collateral Damage

 

Sometimes the hardest battles to survive are the ones you never signed up to fight. 

𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓮: caught in a war that was never mine, bearing scars I didn’t deserve.

A pocketful of sunshine and 

The Waiting Grief

 

Image credit: sun_art

The truth may take time, but it will eventually come, as long as you keep your heart open to it.

There is a grief that never quiets,

not with time, not with tears.

It sits like stone within the heart,

waiting patiently for years.

A life left empty, words unspoken,

truths that hide behind the dark.

I carry memories, frayed and broken,

and bear this hollow, aching mark.

They call it “moving on”—but I remain

rooted in moments left unclear.

Though I’ve forgiven, though I’ve grown,

the echo of injustice lingers here.

I wait for answers, watch and listen,

as shadows shift, as truths arise.

For what goes around returns again,

and all that’s hidden meets the light.

There’s no revenge in this quiet strength,

no joy in watching others fall.

Only a hope that peace will come,

and lay its hands upon us all.

A pocketful of sunshine and 

The Untiring Quest For The Truth

 

In the late hours of January 24, 2005, James Yap, along with his close friend, Philip Lam, and an acquaintance (Dr. Farouk Lu), disappeared from Davao City without a trace. As time passed, hope dimmed, but it never truly vanished for those of us who loved them. Nearly two decades later, we are still chasing that hope, driven by an unwavering need to unearth the truth.

In the days following James’s disappearance, disbelief cloaked reality. I remember each morning’s surreal blend of dread and anticipation, waiting for the phone to ring, for any word to bring us closer to him. But days blurred into months, and in that space of silence, I felt as though a piece of my soul had been carved out and taken with him. I quickly realized that if I wanted answers, I’d have to seek them myself.

The search has not been straightforward. Countless late nights have been spent poring over files and chasing tenuous leads. Conversations with former investigators and local officials frequently run in circles, as though everyone remembers but no one wants to say what they know. Even after all these years, details of that night remain clouded, guarded by a wall of silence that seems built to last a lifetime.

What strikes me most in this journey is how solitary the search for justice can feel, even when surrounded by people who understand your pain. It’s as if I’m on a narrow path, one only I can walk, the weight of my questions a constant reminder of James’s absence. But alongside the heartache, I’ve discovered a well of strength I didn’t know I had—a determination forged in the love I hold for James and a resilience shaped by the depth of his loss. This quest has become my compass, pointing me forward no matter the challenges that lie ahead.

I’ve had days where doubts clawed at me, days when exhaustion felt almost unbearable, and the words “let it go” seemed to echo from every corner. But my heart refuses to forget. I believe that somewhere, somehow, the truth is waiting to be uncovered, and each unanswered question is a thread connecting me to that elusive answer.

If this journey has taught me anything, it’s that truth has a way of surfacing. Time may have attempted to bury the events of that day, but the weight of all that’s hidden doesn’t fade. Until I find the truth—until I can bring justice to James’s memory and peace to my heart—I will continue to search. For in seeking answers, I honor him. And for as long as I draw breath, I will keep seeking, letting my love for him guide me through the darkest nights.

⚖️⚖️⚖️

James wasn’t just a name in a case file or a statistic lost to time; he was a person—someone who laughed, loved, and had a future filled with dreams. He was a father, a husband, a friend, a son, a brother. His presence filled a room with warmth, and his absence left a silence that still echoes through the lives of those who loved him. Behind every step I take on this quest for answers, I carry the memory of his face, his voice, his laugh. I do this for his orphaned children, for those of us who shared our lives with him. To truly honor his memory, we must remember that justice is not about solving a mystery; it’s about giving voice to the person we lost, to his life and the love he left behind.

A pocketful of sunshine and 

Related post:

In Remembrance of James Yap

In a world that failed to see the truth, you were taken from us too soon. Today, I remember you 👼 not only with love but with a promise—that your story will not be silenced, and your memory will live on in our hearts. May you find peace in a place where justice is no longer a battle, and know that we carry your light forward, honoring every part of you they tried to overlook. 

Rest knowing that we hold you close, and your story still matters to those who loved you. 🙏🕊️✨

A pocketful of sunshine and 

Related post:

When The Truth Takes Its Time... Two Decades Later

Philip Lam, as mentioned above, was the companion of James Yap that evening of January 24, 2005. They are still missing up to this day.

At timestamp 28:57 to 30:05, Philip Lam and the circumstances of his disappearance were mentioned by self-confessed hitman Arturo Lascanias, a retired police officer of the Davao City Police Office. Again, James Yap was with Philip Lam at the time of the abduction and they were never seen again.

My Journey Through Injustice and Unfolding Answers After 20 Years

Almost twenty years have passed, and I can still feel the ache of that day as if it were yesterday. I lost my husband, not to a natural tragedy or a known fate, but to a quiet, haunting injustice. For two decades, I have carried questions and an emptiness in my heart that words barely convey. The absence of answers felt like a void, a missing piece of the puzzle that not only changed my life but also left an open wound that time alone couldn’t heal.

When he first disappeared, there was confusion, fear, and an unshakable hope that somehow, we’d find him. I held on, thinking that the truth would emerge quickly, that this was just a terrible mistake that would soon be corrected. But days turned to months, months to years, and silence followed every question. The world around me seemed to move on, but I remained, suspended in a state of waiting, clinging to whatever fragments of faith I could muster.

The world doesn’t wait for your pain. Bills need to be paid, responsibilities mount, and life insists on carrying forward, even if your heart feels stuck in place. I’ve had to rebuild, to find strength not only for myself but for those who rely on me. Yet every step I took was shadowed by an incomplete truth, a feeling that I was living in someone else’s story—one in which the ending remained hidden, a chapter unjustly ripped away.

Every memory, every memento, felt like a question that could not be answered. And while I tried to piece together what might have happened, the absence of facts left me caught between memories and doubts, hope and despair.

Now, after almost twenty years, bits and pieces are beginning to surface. I’m learning more about the circumstances surrounding his disappearance, the details that were hidden, whether through oversight or deliberate choices. As these facts start to unfold, it’s a painful process, as if each new detail reopens the wound, forcing me to reprocess the loss and the betrayal of trust I had in the institutions meant to protect us.

There is anger, of course. Anger at a system that failed, anger at those who might have held answers all along. But beyond that, there is a profound sadness. I’ve come to realize that while the truth is finally starting to emerge, it can never give back the years that were lost or replace the moments I needed him most.

Living through this has taught me a resilience I didn’t know I possessed. I have learned to carry the weight of unknowing, to find strength in my own heart, even when answers were elusive. As much as the truth unfolding is a relief, it also brings a fresh wave of grief and a reminder of what might have been if justice had been swift.

I’ve learned that sometimes, all we can do is keep walking forward, to trust that even if the answers are late, they will come. It is not the journey I would have chosen, but it has made me who I am. And if there’s any comfort, it’s in knowing that while he may be gone, his story isn’t over.

For anyone else waiting for answers, for those carrying unresolved pain: I see you, I understand you. It’s a hard road, and while no words can erase the loss or the injustice, I hope you find strength in knowing that even though justice may be slow, truth has a way of finding its way to the surface. Hold on to hope, even if it feels distant; there is a unique power in patience, a kind of strength in refusing to let go of the quest for answers.

As these truths continue to emerge, I know that this journey will continue to change me. And as I step forward, I carry his memory, knowing that while the truth took time, his story will always endure.

A pocketful of sunshine and 

Related post:

https://pinklady-bing.blogspot.com/2008/10/we-were-not-ready-to-say-goodbye.html?m=1