In a world that demands so much, Sarah K. Mendo and Maria Jennifer Jusette Onate were women who gave their all. One was an artist, her hands bringing beauty to canvases, shoes, and hats to support her family in Romblon. The other was a healer, a respiratory therapist on the front lines of care, working far from her own husband and child to secure their future. They lived miles apart, their paths never crossing, yet their lives were tragically bound by a chilling parallel: they were both extinguished by the secret, deadly obsessions of men who watched them from the shadows of their daily lives.

The Artist Silenced in Cavite

Sarah Mendo, at 29, was the vibrant heart of her family. As their breadwinner, she balanced a demanding job as a customer service representative for a bank in Taguig with a burgeoning passion for art. On social media, her talent shone through. She was a painter, her custom-designed shoes and hats fetching a price that helped support her grandmother and relatives. Her apartment in Estrella Homes, Cavite, was her sanctuary and her studio, a place where her dreams of travel and a better life were taking shape, one brushstroke at a time.

But that sanctuary was violated in the pre-dawn hours of February 21, 2020. Around 5:00 AM, a neighbor heard a woman’s desperate screams for help. He dismissed them, a fateful decision that would haunt the community. Later that morning, after realizing Sarah hadn’t been seen leaving for work as usual, neighbors grew worried. They gained entry through the back of her home and walked into a scene of pure horror. Sarah lay lifeless, her body bearing the marks of a brutal struggle.

The police investigation painted a grim picture. Sarah was still in her work uniform, suggesting the attack happened as she was preparing to leave. She had been sexually assaulted and bore an almost unthinkable 20 stab wounds. Her wallet was missing, a flimsy attempt by the killer to stage a robbery. The community was left reeling, questioning who could commit such a monstrous act against a woman known for her kindness and creativity.

The answer was closer than anyone imagined. A witness saw a man fleeing from the back of Sarah’s home, identifying him as Regie Boy Stabilo, a 26-year-old security guard for the very subdivision meant to keep residents safe. Everyone knew Regie had a crush on Sarah; his admiration was an open secret. Police theorized this infatuation curdled into rage when he was rejected. The murder weapon, a knife, was traced back to the guard barracks.

Three days later, on February 24, Regie was arrested. He quickly confessed to the murder, admitting he went to her home before dawn to profess his love. According to him, Sarah turned him down and revealed she already had a boyfriend. In a fit of jealous rage, and under the influence of drugs, he killed her. He vehemently denied the sexual assault, a claim directly contradicted by the irrefutable evidence from the autopsy report.

The legal system began to turn its gears. Regie was charged and imprisoned, and Sarah’s family braced for a long fight for justice. But that fight was abruptly cut short. On March 9, 2020, just weeks after the murder, Regie Boy Stabilo died in his cell after complaining of difficulty breathing. The case was officially closed. For Sarah’s grieving family, this wasn’t justice. It was a cruel escape. The man who stole their beloved breadwinner would never face a judge, never serve a sentence, and never fully pay for the life he so brutally destroyed.

The Healer Betrayed Across the Hall

Hundreds of kilometers away in Tuguegarao City, Cagayan, another dedicated woman was making a similar sacrifice. Jennifer Onate, 27, was a wife, a mother to a young daughter, and a skilled respiratory therapist at Cagayan Valley Medical Center. To avoid a grueling daily commute, she rented Room 10 on the third floor of the Pamiitan Apartment building, living apart from her husband, Ren, and their child during the workweek. Their life was a tapestry of video calls, weekend visits, and the shared promise of a future her hard work would help build.

On the night of April 23, 2022, Ren and Jennifer shared their customary video call. He planned to call back before bed, but she didn’t answer. He assumed she had fallen asleep. The next morning, his texts and calls went unanswered. A sense of unease turned to panic when Jennifer’s colleagues texted Ren, asking if she had gone home because she hadn’t shown up for her shift.

Ren rushed to Tuguegarao, his heart pounding with dread. He forced open the door to her apartment, Room 10, only to find it empty. After filing a missing person report, he took to social media, pleading for any information. The next day, April 25, a foul odor began to permeate the third floor of the apartment building. The caretaker called the police, who traced the smell to Room 5, directly across the hall from Jennifer’s.

Using a master key, they opened the door to a messy, disheveled room. Under the bed, hidden beneath a blanket and cardboard, they found the source of the smell: the body of Jennifer Onate. She had been dead for days. Her personal belongings were found packed in her suitcase inside the same room, a twisted effort to suggest she had simply left town.

The occupants of Room 5 were Jennifer’s co-worker and her live-in partner, Philfred Carodan, a 31-year-old truck driver. The couple was nowhere to be found. An immediate manhunt was launched, and police quickly located and arrested Philfred in Gonzaga, Cagayan.

His confession was chillingly simple. On the night of the murder, his partner was at work on a night shift. He saw Jennifer in her room across the hall and was, in his words, “aroused.” He found her door unlocked, entered her room, and overpowered her. He sexually assaulted her, then strangled her to death to silence her struggles. He then moved her body and her belongings into his own room to conceal the crime.

Unlike Sarah’s case, this one saw its day in court. On July 23, 2025, after a three-year wait, the verdict was delivered. Philfred Carodan was found guilty of rape with homicide and sentenced to reclusion perpetua, life in prison without the possibility of parole. While the verdict provided legal closure, it could do nothing to mend the shattered heart of a husband who lost his wife, or a daughter who will now only know her mother through photographs.

These two stories, separated by distance but united in tragedy, serve as a harrowing reminder that evil often wears a familiar face. For Sarah and Jennifer, the monsters weren’t strangers in a dark alley; they were a guard at the gate and a neighbor across the hall. Their lives, rich with purpose and love, were stolen by men who could not accept “no” for an answer, turning their obsessions into a final, fatal act of possession.