In the sprawling, sun-scorched metropolis of Dubai, the story of Maria Normita Dalima began like that of countless other Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs): a story of sacrifice and hope. A former business owner in the Philippines who had fallen on hard times, the 46-year-old mother of two made the difficult decision to work abroad to support her family. But her journey ended in a nightmare.

On May 25, 2016, her dismembered body was found stuffed in a plastic bag by a street sweeper. What followed was a four-month media blackout, a shocking arrest, and a fierce battle between two completely opposite narratives: the police’s story of a simple murder over a debt, and a family’s desperate claim of a forced confession, torture, and a high-level cover-up.

Normita arrived in Dubai in December 2015, initially staying with her nephew, Glen, while she searched for work. She soon found a job as a domestic helper in Abu Dhabi and began sending money back to her husband, Salvio, a police officer in the Philippines, and their two children.

Her last contact with him was on May 22, 2016, when she promised to send funds for the upcoming school year. The money never came. When Salvio contacted Glen on May 25, the nephew claimed his aunt had run away from her employer. It was a lie. That very day, her body had been found, though her identity remained unknown to the public.

For four agonizing months, her family knew nothing. Then, on September 21, 2016, the news exploded: Normita was the victim of a brutal slaying, and the prime suspect, according to Dubai police, was her own nephew, Glen.

The official police narrative was chillingly straightforward. They claimed Glen owed his aunt 10,000 AED (about $2,700). Annoyed by her repeated requests for him to repay the loan, he “lost his vision” in a fit of rage and killed her. They presented a signed confession in which Glen allegedly admitted to the crime, stating that he dismembered her body in his apartment, rented a car, and dumped her remains in the Al Warqa area.

To bolster their case, police claimed that Glen had experience as a “butcher,” which explained his ability to commit such a gruesome act. His initial hesitation to report his aunt missing was presented as a sign of guilt, though Glen claimed he was afraid to go to the police because he was an undocumented worker.

To the Dubai police, the case was closed. But for Glen’s family, led by his brother-in-law, Raf, it was the beginning of a desperate fight for what they believe is the truth. They launched a massive social media campaign, insisting on Glen’s innocence and accusing the Dubai police of framing him to quickly close a difficult case. Their campaign centered on a series of explosive counter-arguments that cast serious doubt on the official story.

The most damning piece of their defense was a harrowing video of Glen, recounting his alleged ordeal with investigators. In the video, he describes being taken to the desert, handcuffed, and brutally tortured. “They pulled me to the middle of the desert… they started… they didn’t stop,” Glen states, his voice trembling. “My head was in the sand… they kept slapping me… They wanted me to confess to my aunt’s case… I screamed ‘no’ again and again. They wouldn’t stop.” He claims he was told by his interrogators that if he just said what they wanted him to say, the abuse would end and they would help him.

The family systematically dismantled the prosecution’s other claims. They questioned the motive, asking how Normita, a domestic helper who had only been working for five months, could have possibly saved enough money to lend Glen such a large sum.

Raf, Glen’s brother-in-law, vehemently denied the police’s assertion that Glen had ever worked as a butcher. “I am ready to have my head cut off if they can prove that Glen was ever a butcher,” he challenged in a public post, urging investigators to go to their hometown in Cavite and find a single person who could corroborate the claim.

Most explosively, the family presented an alternative suspect: Normita’s powerful and allegedly abusive employer. According to Glen, his aunt had been mistreated by her employers, and the family believed the real reason she “ran away” was to escape this abuse.

They pointed out that her male employer was a high-ranking police general in Dubai.

They argued that the brutal method of the crime was not typical of Filipino criminals but was more common in the Middle East as a form of punishment.

They believe the police general’s influential position protected him from any real investigation, and Glen, an undocumented worker with no power, was the perfect scapegoat.

The family’s campaign for “Justice for Glen” gained significant traction in the Philippines. Hundreds of people attended a vigil in Cavite, and the family even went to the presidential palace in Malacañang to plead for government assistance. Their efforts were successful in securing a lawyer for Glen.

Meanwhile, Normita’s husband, Salvio, found himself caught between his loyalty to his wife’s family and his training as a police officer. While 40% of the family believed Glen was innocent, Salvio, after observing the investigation, came to believe in his guilt. He noted Glen’s suspicious hesitation to report Normita missing as a key factor.

The case has been mired in legal delays, including a jurisdictional transfer from Dubai to Abu Dhabi, which delayed the repatriation of Normita’s body. As of the last reports, Glen remains in a prison in the UAE, steadfastly maintaining his innocence. The case leaves behind a trail of unanswered, deeply troubling questions.

Was Glen a cold-blooded killer who callously betrayed his aunt’s trust over a simple debt? Or was he an innocent man, a victim of a brutal interrogation, tortured into confessing to a crime committed by someone far more powerful and well-connected? In this tragic story, there are two potential victims: the woman who lost her life so brutally, and the man who may lose his for a crime he claims he did not commit.