If the reasoning of some of the lawyers in the Corona impeachment trial is to be taken seriously, then one could actually argue that our bank balances may not be believable unless the actual clerk who inputted the data personally assures us in court that they are so. Otherwise, the cash balance that’s flickering in front of you on the ATM screen is just hearsay and therefore inadmissible! This is but one example of how lawyers, from both the prosecution and defense, seem to be using technicalities to muddle the whole affair. As I aired my exasperation, my children asked why I was bothered by it all. Isn’t that supposed to be the job of the lawyers, they queried. They then proceeded to opine which of the “scary” lawyers and senator-judges they would want to be on their side should they get into a legal tussle. I was aghast as I realized that my children were apparently treating the whole impeachment process as if it was a game. Just like a basketball, football, or baseball game where the goal was only one thing: to win. I calmly tried to explain that while it might appear to be a contest where there are two contending sides and a “referee,” it was not a game. The ultimate goal was not winning or losing but arriving at the truth and dispensing justice. I don’t know if they got my point inasmuch as their attention was quickly captured by yet another schizophrenic antic by a colorful senator-judge.
Indeed, the ongoing impeachment saga is so frustrating that it reminds me once again why I decided not to take up law despite being the son of the best lawyer I ever knew. My father was a brilliant lawyer and at one time was the dean of one of the best law schools in the country. But while he believed that everyone should strive for excellence, he often wondered why it was the main preoccupation of many law schools to produce bar topnotchers who would eventually become justices of the Supreme Court and/or become senators, and so on. He questioned if that was the proper objective of a law school. He argued that it was far more important to produce lawyers who would promote justice in Philippine society and make themselves available to defend the defenseless even if they do not become justices. Perhaps unless more lawyers heed his call, we will all eventually have to teach our children to follow the same advice he once gave to one of his clients on how to survive the Philippine judicial process...
One hot afternoon when I was Dean, came a man, barefoot. He had very dusty feet. His toes were gnarled. He had eyeglasses made of wire and there was only one lens. And he appeared to be shedding tears all the time…some kind of disease. He was sweating all over.
And then he said, “Are you Dean Montemayor?”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I have a problem,” he said, “they are driving me out of my land.”
“Where is your land?”
“In the forest area of Tanay, Rizal.”
I thought that it was public land. “Do you have any evidence for you to occupy that land?”
“Yes sir.” He then slowly pulled out his wallet and took out a mimeographed sheet of paper that was almost torn into four parts, especially by his sweat permeating the paper. He gave it to me and I read it. I noticed that it was a tree farm permit that had already expired. I had no heart to tell him. I just told him to come back after a few days. So he left.
I called up the Director of Forestry. I inquired about it and he said it had expired. “Now can you not renew it immediately for my sake?” He agreed.
When the man came back, he had a kind of root crop, one meter long. He said that it was a special kind of root crop and it grew very deep inside the earth. He gave it to me. I had the renewal ready. But he said, “Even with this I still have a problem. They have sued me criminally…a doctor from Manila.”
So I accompanied him to the fiscal of Pasig and of course I was a little self-conscious. Deans are supposed to be paid in checks. The man carried a basket full of bananas and vegetables. But I was happy to help him. After about three hearings, he told me that he could not afford it anymore. He said the bus fare back and forth plus the lunches in Pasig, he could no longer afford. And I thought about the future hearings and the appeals in the upper courts. I understood. He could not last.
And so I said, “How far is your farm from the town center of Tanay?”
He replied, “If I leave the town at 10 am, I may reach my farm at 10 pm.”
“Now let me ask you another question, do you think there is a policeman in Tanay who will be patient enough to serve you your summons in your farm?”
He answered, “No, because they only wait for me in the town to serve me the legal processes.”
“Okay, here is the solution! Keep away from civilization and you will survive the judicial process! Don’t appear anymore in civilization!”
He followed my advice. So many years later, I saw one of our common acquaintances. I asked if he was still alive and he answered, “Oh yes, but he is much deeper now in the mountains of the Sierra Madre!”
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