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English Language Courses | Harrow House gives a really good answer. Here it is.

This is what happens:They get thrown into overcrowded jails to await trials that can take years to even begin because of a huge backlog of cases. The facility shown above, Quezon City Jail, houses 3,800 inmates, which according to the article is “nearly five times more people than it was designed for.”Source:Harrowing pictures betray the brutal truth of the Philippines' war on drugs

My parents didn’t marry owing to religious differences, and then my father had to go out to Assam on a job, and died in a car crash there. So that she could be at home with me, my mother went into service as a live-in cook-housekeeper, and we ended up moving from place to place and job to job until I was 11, when she went in for office work instead. By that point we were on our 15th or 16th home.My mother’s employers when I was small included a General French who lived in Nether Wallop, the Nobel Prize-winner Sir Peter Medawar and a pair of Catholic priests in an old house at Harrow-on-the-Hill. Then we spent several years at a riding school where she looked after the live-in stable girls. Her final employers before the shift to office work, near Nantwich in Cheshire, were a very nice American Jewish business tycoon and his abusive cow of a wife.When she first got an office job, we were living in a bed-and-breakfast hostel on the edge between Harrow and Wealdstone, but her job was in Bushey. During the summer before I started at secondary school, I was too young to be left on my own in a hostel all day, but we were too poor to afford a bus, or much in the way of food. We used to save part of the breakfast to have for lunch, and then walk four miles to mum’s office. I would spend the day at the library, reading science fiction, join my mother for lunch, and then walk four miles back in the evening.I actually mostly enjoyed this, except that there was no lavatory at the library, so if I needed to pee I had a half-mile walk to a public lavatory in Bushey. If the weather was fine I used to spend hours watching minnows in the village pond there.Later she got both an office job and a council flat in Rayners Lane, and after that life was comparatively normal, except that the flat had a ridiculous heating system, in the *ceiling*, which made the place very expensive to heat. When I was 18 I came home from university at Christmas to find she’d been evicted for spending money on electricity instead of rent, and we ended up moving our belongings up the road to stay at a friend’s house, in thick snow, dragging the packages on my childhood sled. I remember saying “Do you ever get the feeling you’re living in a third-rate Russian melodrama?”[NB - please nobody else suggest editing “General French” to “French general”. He was a General, named French, OK? And no, the village isn’t called Bottom Spanky, as some wag suggested.]