Tuesday 30th March

There’s something extremely powerful about men singing in union. The strength of their words is magnified and purposeful. On both today’s trips into jail I felt a tingle of pins and needles down my back as groups of prisoners counted their blessings and sang to their God.

We set off early, taking the bus from Subic through the city of San Fernando and onto Angeles. Once inside, Mandy and Ian joined a group headed for the women’s area while mum and I went to visit the men. The worship group was made up of one guy with a deep voice, a guitarist who kept getting the chords wrong and two other rather camp prisoners who shared a third microphone. Once again, the service took place in the shade of a videoke machine. We sat on thin backless planks of wood under a tarpaulin cover that protected us from the heavy sunshine.

The singing got started. “This is the day that the Lord has made”. Two verses, second verse, “This is the place that the Lord has made, We will rejoice and be glad in it.” If it was a joke, no one was laughing. And although the song wasn’t punched out, mum and I agreed there was meaning in those voices. A man stood up to give his testimony. He was new to jail, a pastor himself. He’d tried to report several troublemakers to the authorities, but the gang had started rounding on his family. His wife was killed and his son was left fighting for his life. The pastor welled up as he described the situation he had faced. He continued pushing for a prosecution against the men, even though he was the only witness. But he said the men came after him. So he armed himself with a gun and killed them first. Now he was figuring out his new life in prison.

The men sang again, “I’ve got spirit in my head and it’s keeping me alive, keeping me alive, keeping me alive. Jesus is keeping me alive.”

Later in the day, we visited a second prison in San Fernando, the Pampanga County Jail. A well-dressed man with modern looking glasses led the service. He had charisma and style and a large audience. “God is good,” he cried, “All the time,” they roared back. “God is good.” “All the time.” “All the time.” “God is good.” The applause seemed to be carried by the majority of the jail. Hundreds of men watched the man lead a worship group through a string of well rehearsed songs. Wifes and girlfriends of the inmates had been allowed in for the service and many had brought their children with them. Some of the female prisoners from the women’s area had also been given permission to go and they sat on plastic chairs just behind us. There must have been 400 people watching the service. And although the majority didn’t have a choice, most seemed willing to take part.

I hadn’t seen the man in charge before, unlike the other worship leaders who usually travelled to the jails with us. This guy was so confident, I wondered whether he was from another prison ministry, or some kind of guest speaker. After the service, he invited us on a tour of the prison and I wondered whether he might be the prison governor. But it turns out Pastor Gerry is himself a reformed prisoner.

Around 18 years ago, Gerry was involved in a fraud for which he was caught and sent to Pampanga County Jail. At that stage, he wasn’t a Christian. But he was converted whilst in jail and began to preach to the other prisoners. Years later and his case is still to make it through the Philippines’ congested and problematic justice system. He told us that the papers have sat on the desks of various judges but have continued to move as the justices themselves have retired or moved on. His case is so minor that it never reaches the top. So he still shares a cramped cell around the size of an ordinary British living room with around a forty other men. He’s lucky. After a year, he was given use of one of the box-sized sleeping quarters. Others have to make-do with the floor. The cell next door is a similar size. That one sleeps more than a hundred.

Gerry gave the impression that he ran the jail - real-life Red in a real-life Shawshank. Spiritually, he has played a part in its redemption. Chrissie told us around 80 percent of the inmates have converted to faith since entering. Even the prison governor turned to Christ after coming through a near-death experience. Gerry says he’s happy doing God’s work but he wishes his case would be resolved. He wants to be free.

On the way home, Alan was choked up by his situation. He asked me what I thought as a journalist. Who would run Gerry’s story? What else could Alan do to help him go free? It was the forth time that he had been into the jail. Each time he left feeling helpless for a man who’d touched so many people’s lives but whose own situation seems needlessly untouchable. Gerry’s just another prisoner serving endless unforgiving years for a crime for which he’s never been convicted. And until the day he’s able to plead ‘guilty’, he won’t even begin the process of being set free.