Raising the Banner of Hope: The Story of Jessie and the Calling Behind BANDILA

Just beyond the walls of the Manila City Jail, a quiet revolution is taking place—something that whispers of hope and second chances. It’s not the kind of story that makes headlines, but it is the kind that moves hearts.

This is the story of BANDILA—short for Bagong Buhay ng Dating Inalisan ng Laya—a faith-driven aftercare program that helps persons formerly deprived of liberty (PDL) rebuild their lives with dignity.

In January 2025, BANDILA was born—the dream of Sr. Tammy Saberon of the Missionary Sisters of St. Columban, in partnership with Mr. Derek Santos of PRESO, Inc., a nonprofit dedicated to prisoner support. Together, they believed God was calling them to extend His mercy beyond bars—to help former PDL become better versions beyond bars. Through prayer, persistence, and God’s providence, they found a partner in Jail Superintendent Lino M. Soriano, Warden of the Manila City Jail Male Dormitory. He transformed an abandoned building into the Carcel de Manila Multi-Purpose Hall—now home to the BANDILA Aftercare Program.

And this is where we meet Jessie.

Jessie Sapno used to wake up with the weight of the world on his shoulders. A father of three, with a fourth child on the way, he was arrested in September 2024 for a crime he insists he didn’t commit. He was caught in a sweep targeting illegal gambling and was charged with illegal possession of firearms.

But long before the arrest, life had already been slipping through his fingers. “I wasn’t living right,” Jessie confesses. “I was hooked on drugs. I lost my way. I lost myself.”

His choices—some his own, some imposed by circumstance—had already created distance between him and his family. His relationships with his siblings had crumbled. His partner, Rina, struggled to hold their family together. The laughter of his children—Princess Rian (14), Paula Yassi (9), and Luke (6)—had become more like echoes of a life he feared he’d never reclaim.

Even Rina’s family had long given up on him, unable to accept a man who had spiraled into substance abuse and seemed to have no direction in life. At his lowest point, Jessie had nowhere to go. At night, he slept in the back of the e-tricycle owned by his brother—his only shelter from the world he had fallen out of.

But when BANDILA was launched in January 2025, Jessie was among the first to sign up. And something shifted.

For the first time in a long while, someone wasn’t asking what he had done, but who he wanted to become.

Through counseling, spiritual sessions, life skills training, and vocational workshops, Jessie began to believe in the possibility of a different life—a life with purpose, integrity, and love. Upon his release through plea bargaining on February 10, 2025, he didn’t go back to the streets.

He came back to BANDILA.

Rina, several months pregnant at the time, saw a flicker of hope. She chose to join Jessie, believing—if only faintly—that maybe he was ready to change. Through the help of PRESO, Inc.’s compassionate partner, Bro. Gerry Reyes, they were offered temporary shelter at a small apartment near the BANDILA Office. It was the first stable roof over their heads in months.

At BANDILA, Jessie became part of the sewing livelihood program. He also became the very first beneficiary of the Padyak Para sa Pagbabago (Pedal for Change) initiative—a small livelihood program that provided him with a bicycle, a thermal bread bag, and a new beginning.

Each morning, Jessie pedals through the city selling Pandelino bread, baked inside the very jail that once confined him. He spends the rest of his day sewing bedsheets and pillowcases for the BANDILA livelihood project.

“These hands used to destroy things,” he says quietly. “Now, they create something I’m proud of. Every bread I sell, every sheet I sew—it's for my children. It’s my promise to them.”

And his family? They see the difference.

“He’s changed,” says Rina, watching Jessie teach Luke how to ride a bike. “He’s softer. He talks about the future now.”

His children are slowly coming back into his life, each visit stitched together by trust, honesty, and a father trying—really trying—to be better.

BANDILA is more than a project. It is a calling. For Sr. Tammy, for Derek, and for everyone who believes that no one is beyond redemption.

BANDILA believes that responsibility to PDLs doesn’t stop at the jail gate. We must walk with them as they build new lives.

That is what BANDILA does. It walks beside people. It lifts the banner of hope, stitched together by belief in transformation, by love stronger than shame.

Jessie’s story is just the beginning. There are more men and women waiting—aching—for someone to believe in them.

And perhaps, God is inviting you, too.

To be part of this story. To raise the flag of second chances.

To believe that a better version of every person is possible—beyond bars.

Support BANDILA. Share hope. Be the reason someone gets a second chance.