At San Jose National High School in Tacloban City, the morning of June 22 began like any other. Pupils filed into their classrooms. Instructors recorded attendance. Nobody anticipated that three teenagers would be dead in a matter of hours and that the 250,000-person city would be attempting to comprehend an unprecedented event.
Two 14 and 15-year-old students entered a classroom and started shooting. No cautions. No words were spoken. Only gunfire. By the time the mayhem subsided, three students had died, three more had been shot, and four more had been hurt while trying to flee. From the scene, about forty shell casings were found. The length of time it lasted is indicated by that number alone.
Police claim that a grudge stemming from bullying was the suspected motivation. It’s a term that’s frequently used in these contexts, and maybe it’s become too simple a shorthand for something much more complex. Bullying is widespread in schools worldwide. It is not appropriate to act on it with a 9mm handgun and a revolver. Whatever the grievance was, it had been developing silently and covertly until it wasn’t.
The source of those firearms is what makes this case especially concerning. Police claim that a policewoman who is related to one of the suspects owned the 9mm handgun. She is currently being held. “I’m asking that the gun owners be charged, because the guns wouldn’t have ended up in the children’s hands if it weren’t for them,” the mother of one of the victims stated bluntly while standing outside the school hours following the shooting. The weight of that statement is difficult to ignore. A licensed firearm intended for law enforcement ended up in a schoolbag.
Videos of one suspect firing a gun were also discovered by investigators on his social media accounts. The national police spokesperson, Colonel Allen Rae Co, described these as “very obviously red flags.” He took care to avoid placing blame on any one individual. However, the implication was obvious. This could have been seen by someone. It could have been said by someone. Before anyone could see through the window, it closed.
In the Philippines, gun violence is nothing new. Although the number has been dropping recently, the nation recorded close to 5,000 gun violence cases in 2024 alone. However, school shootings fall into a different category; they are so uncommon that this seems to be the first in Tacloban’s recent history. Devastation is nothing new to the city. In 2013, Super Typhoon Haiyan devastated Leyte Island, killing 6,000 people. From that, Tacloban rebuilt. This type of wound is distinct. slower. More confusing.
The education ministry expressed “deep concern,” and President Marcos’ office described him as “saddened.” These are the expected reactions, and they have some significance, but there’s a feeling that the real work lies in what transpires after the statements fade. A review of student behavioral monitoring systems, bullying policies, and school security procedures has been announced by the education department and police. The more difficult question is whether that review results in actual change or is shelved after six months.
Whether the intended targets were in that classroom at the time of the shooting is still unknown. That particular detail is significant because it raises the possibility that the violence was more rage than strategy. which, oddly enough, makes it more difficult to prevent.
There have been school shootings on almost every continent. By now, the names—Columbine, Sandy Hook, Beslan, and Dunblane—are all too familiar. Now, the Philippines is included in that dismal record. Every one of them takes place in an unexpected location. Every one of them leaves a community attempting to comprehend something that is difficult to comprehend.
Tacloban is in mourning. In the midst of that grief, there is a question worth considering: what would have been necessary for one adult to step in at the right moment if there had been videos, the behavior was evident, and the gun could be traced?
