Justice for Kae

The story chills me, because it sounds like my own, and all the twenty-something girls I consider my close friends. The story of Kae Davantes’ last Friday night hits hauntingly close to home.

Kae was around my age — she was 25. She worked as a senior accounts manager for the digital group MRM under McCann Philippines. I used to work as an accounts manager for more than a year in an advertising agency, but I continue to surround myself with friends who still do, and the lifestyle paints a picture that is niche, specific and familiar. I do not know Kae, but I find it easy for me to slip into her everyday shoes.

Her last Friday night, as time-lined through the details obtained by police investigators, would actually look exactly like mine. Hers would begin with a late clock-out from the office at 9:36 p.m. I would leave mine at around 7 p.m. Kae would proceed to enjoy Friday’s hot nightlife in the city, probably enjoying a few rounds of drinks with officemates, a weekly cap-off that is normal behavior in the advertising industry. I waited that same Friday night for my friends (girls still working in advertising as account managers) to finish their work, so we could catch up. Her Friday nights, I would imagine, included shared sentiments about agency life: frustrations about clients, rants about workload, lots of witty inside jokes. Her officemates said that Kae spent a night with them in a bar at the Fort Strip. I met up with my friends at a small restobar in a side street in Makati, one of our favorite after-work places.

At around 1 a.m., three of her friends reportedly escorted Kae to her car in the Fort parking lot. She would drive off in her metallic beige Toyota Altis at exactly 1:06 a.m., according to police. I would leave with my friends from the restobar at around 2 a.m. We would first see my friend off to her condo unit across the street, and then separate to our respective cars parked somewhere at a view’s distance. The last Kae’s family would hear from her that night would be via text message that she was on her way to their home in Las Piñas. Meanwhile, mine didn’t even hear from me. I received a text message from my father asking me to come home that night, but I didn’t reply. Ninety-eight percent of my father’s texts to me ask, “Where are you? What time are you coming home?” I only reply to him about 50 percent of the time. The rest of the time, he would go to bed without hearing from stubborn old me. But he should find me safely in my bed the following morning, as he would that Saturday, the morning after.

But that Saturday morning, Kae’s parents would not find her in bed. She would not come home that night, and her family would frantically be filing a report at 10 a.m. on Saturday, looking for signs of her from the Bonifacio Global City Police Community Precinct.

Instead, her body would be found somewhere else, under a bridge by the riverside in Silang, Cavite; her mouth gagged with a “branded” handkerchief that didn’t belong to her, her hands tied using a car seatbelt. Police believe she was strangled with an electric wire, and stabbed with a six-inch kitchen knife, which lay beside her body. Autopsy results show no signs of sexual assault, and her clothes are reported to have been intact. Her possessions were nowhere in sight.

I can imagine that there would be countless beautiful stories to tell of Kae. She seemed young, promising, fun, and her officemates speak of her passion and hard work. It is disheartening that we will have to highlight only the last few brutal minutes of her life, forced to scramble pieces together to obtain, at the bare minimum, justice for Kae, for the peace of mind of those who knew and loved her dearly. 

Her family has asked for privacy in this time of bereavement via the Facebook page they have put up, calling for justice. Kae’s plate number is PIM 966. Her car is still missing.