This happened in February 2014, in a small community known as Purok Bantog, part of Barangay Kamasi in the town of Ampatuan.

One day, neighbors began to hear disturbing noises coming from a nearby house—shouting, stomping, screaming—but no one acted. As time passed, the screams stopped and the house fell silent. Concerned, the neighbors reported the matter to the police, pleading with them to enter and investigate.

When police arrived and entered the house, what they discovered shocked everyone—even veteran officers. On the floor lay the lifeless body of a middle-aged woman, covered in blood. Her eyes had been gouged out—not with precision, but brutally. Bruises and scars were visible on her body. Her throat was slashed, her abdomen was cut open, and her internal organs were missing. The worst detail? Her internal organs had been eaten.

The victim was 56-year-old Akrima Amil, known in the village as Musala—a mother of three. The main suspects? Her own children: 35-year-old Dante Amil, 21-year-old Paroy, and 18-year-old Ibrahim.

Who were the Amil siblings, and how did this happen?

They lived in a wooden hut surrounded by trees on the edge of the village—a quiet life in a quiet place. Their home was isolated, far from neighbors and relatives. Their father had left them years ago, and Musala had raised them on her own. The family belonged to the indigenous Moro Muslim community and lived off a small piece of farmland.

People began to question whether the siblings still followed any religious teachings. Weeks before the murder, some reported seeing Dante and Ibrahim behaving strangely, with glassy eyes and slurred speech after drinking an unknown substance. Others suspected drug use. Some believed something darker was involved—rumors spread about a family curse and an inhuman presence in their home. Others claimed the family had performed rituals to drive away spirits.

But to the siblings, there was nothing strange.

They claimed they were ordinary people, working in the fields, living quietly. They said the real problem was their mother. When asked, they insisted she was possessed by an evil spirit. They spoke of demons inside her. Rumors claimed they sought help from a local shaman (babaylan), though no record confirms this.

Whatever they were told or believed led to one of the most disturbing crimes the region had ever seen.

It began with a decision: they believed their mother wasn’t healing.

So they acted. They dragged Musala by her arms across the floor. Though sick and weak, she resisted—kicking, scratching, twisting with what little strength she had. One of them tied her hands to a wooden post. She collapsed to the floor, helpless. Then, one by one, they kicked and punched her, repeating, “Everything we’re doing is to free you.”

Witnesses later claimed the torture lasted for days—not just physical abuse, but prolonged agony. Initially, neighbors thought it was a family argument. But the sounds changed—moans, cries of pain. Still, no one intervened. Their home was remote, and many in the village preferred not to interfere.

They told the barangay captain, who dismissed it as a possible domestic accident. Then came the silence.

The screaming stopped. The house fell quiet. The neighbors knew something was wrong. They pushed the barangay captain to call the police.

What the police found was horrifying.

They broke down the door and discovered Musala tied to a wooden post. Blood was everywhere. Her clothes were torn, exposing a massive wound on her throat and chest. Her throat was slashed so deeply her head nearly separated from her neck. Her chest was opened. Her eyes were gone. Her stomach was empty—every internal organ removed.

Even seasoned officers vomited—not just from the sight but from the words used to describe what they had found. Police searched for the father, who denied any involvement and claimed he hadn’t seen his children in years.

As the news spread, whispers grew louder. Some said the Amil family had long been cursed—that this was the work of a spirit or demon. Others called the siblings monsters. The three were taken into custody. At first, they denied everything, pleading innocence.

But eventually, one of them confessed.

Why? He trembled and wept as he said, “We just wanted to heal our mother.” They claimed it wasn’t meant to hurt her—they only wanted to save her. She’d been very sick, and they had no money for treatment. So they turned to old beliefs and a healer’s guidance.

They insisted she wasn’t just ill—she was possessed. And to them, violence was the only way to drive it out.

Still, no one imagined it would end this way.

The injuries told the story. Senior Inspector Ronald de Leon confirmed Musala had been tied up for a long time before she died. Marks on her wrists showed she was bound tightly. Near her body, they found a machete stained with blood—likely used to slash her throat and chest and remove her organs.

And then came the most chilling question of all:

What happened to the organs?

Rumors became accusations: had the siblings eaten them?

Eventually, the police received confirmation they didn’t want to hear. Yes—they did. According to officials, and later confirmed by the siblings themselves, they had eaten their mother’s internal organs—directly from her body.

Their deep belief in superstition and twisted logic drove them to this act. They said they did it to heal her—but how could torture and mutilation lead to healing?

They claimed they weren’t killing their mother but the evil spirit inside her. But even that couldn’t explain why they removed her eyes or ate her insides. When asked, they gave no clear answers—just vague mentions of a ritual, with no details, no witnesses.

Was this true belief—or a desperate excuse to avoid punishment?

People who knew the Amils described them as close-knit, loving. They had no history of violence or threats. The siblings always said their mother was the most important person in their lives. Perhaps that’s what made this so terrifying—they didn’t see it as betrayal but sacrifice.

Maybe, in their minds, they were doing good—cleansing her soul, even if it meant killing her.

Usually, in cases this gruesome, suspects undergo psychiatric evaluation. But in this case, there are almost no reports of any formal mental health assessments. Speculation arose—some believed the siblings suffered from psychosis or schizophrenia, triggered by extreme poverty or cultural pressure.

Others compared the case to India’s infamous Burari deaths, where a family’s shared delusion led to mass suicide. Some wondered if the Amil siblings experienced shared psychosis, worsened by drug use—two were previously caught using illegal substances.

To this day, there’s little public information about what happened next. A few articles remain online, repeating the same horrific details. The last confirmed report was in 2014, stating the siblings were sent to a detention center while awaiting trial.

No records of court proceedings, verdicts, or family statements have since surfaced.

We do know that parricide is a serious crime in the Philippines—punishable by reclusion perpetua, or 40 years in prison. The law mandates arrest, formal charges, no bail, and a full trial. But in rural provinces like Maguindanao, justice moves slowly. Media access is limited, information is scarce, and the region faces instability.

Cases involving mental illness or spiritual rituals are often buried from public view.

We may never fully understand what happened.
Whether it was belief, madness, or desperation—Musala Amil, a mother, met the most tragic end at the hands of the children she raised.