And Justice for All

Here’s someone who has rewritten Philippine history, quietly, without much fanfare. Senior Supreme Court Associate Justice Josue Bellosillo works the way he lives–quietly, self-effacingly. Bellosillo, who has the longest career record–30 years–in the judiciary, avoids media interviews and when cornered by this writer, was a reluctant subject.

Few know that Bellosillo authored the Supreme Court decision that upheld the constitutionality of the Plunder Law. By that decision, actually a dissenting opinion on Bellosillo’s part which the majority of the court concurred with, the detention without bail of former President Joseph Estrada was justified.

In the final pages of his decision, the Capiz-born justice wrote, "Drastic and radical measures are imperative to fight the increasingly sophisticated, extraordinarily methodical and economically catastrophic looting of the National Treasury. Such is the Plunder Law, especially designed to disentangle those ghastly tissues of grand-scale corruption which, if left, unchecked, will spread like a malignant tumor and ultimately consume the moral and institutional fiber of our nation."

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Last March, Bellosillo marked his 10th year in the Supreme Court. It was a long way from his days as a barrio lawyer, who, if he didn’t handle cases pro bono, would be willing to take on a case for a dozen eggs.

"Minsan, kambing ("Sometimes, goats")," Bellosillo recalls with a smile. Those were memorable times. He had a flourishing practice in Manila after his graduation from the University of the Philippines College of Law in 1957. He had an office at the Metropolitan Theater, not far from Escolta, the most prestigious business district of Manila.

But he returned to Roxas City, nevertheless, where one of his most celebrated cases resulted in the acquittal of a woman from adultery charges. Her defense? The witness claimed he saw by the light of the moon at around midnight the act of adultery taking place. Bellosillo showed that on the day of the purported midnight liaison, the moon had set at 8:42 p.m., thus casting doubts on the witness’ claim and on the very act of adultery itself. The woman, who had delivered a baby while in prison, was acquitted. Years later, she and her husband reconciled.

Cases like these are as memorable to the justice as the Plunder Law.

In 1971, he was appointed judge in Iloilo, marking the beginning of a career in the judiciary that eventually led to the High Court. "I am proud to say I have never been influenced by politicians," says Bellosillo. "I am lucky that I was able to decide cases the way I should, with truth, honesty and dedication."

A good judge, he adds, is one who can spot truth even under a bed of lies.

"A good judge," he believes, "can also tell the difference between lies and half-truths."

In his years as a judge, Bellosillo was noticed because the wheels of justice were well-oiled in his sala. He had no backlog of cases, and was always a nationwide topnotcher when it came to the disposition of cases.

His secret then, as it is now, is the amount of time he spends at work–an average of 12 hours a day, six days a week.

"The hardest thing is to send a man to jail. But the worst of all is when you send a man to death," he says.

But Bellosillo believes that though it is hard to condemn a man to death, "some people deserve the death penalty. Like fathers raping their daughters."

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Bellosillo was appointed to the High Court by then President Corazon Aquino. He is due to retire next year.

These days, he tries to fly to his hometown, Roxas City, for an overnight visit during the weekend "to recharge."

"When you are nearing your retirement, you do want to go home," he says.

Then Mondays will find him at his desk by 7 a.m., trying to uphold the majesty of the law, regardless of whether the petitioner is a former president or a farmer, or whether the reward is just a good night’s sleep or a place in history.

Jeannie smiles again

To bury her child is a woman’s worst nightmare. Jeannie Goulbourn lost her daughter Natasha ("Tasha") last May, and the struggle to rise above her grief was sometimes impossible for her.

Her faith was the lifeline she held on to whenever she felt she would drown in sorrow, Jeannie said at a lunch she hosted for friends one Thursday in her residence.

"Thursday is my ‘Tasha Day’," she says "Because Tasha went to heaven on a Thursday." So Jeannie would host get-togethers in her home on Thursdays, "to celebrate Natasha’s life."

Jeannie was in high spirits, even if her eyes where a little puffy. She had gone to a concert the night before, and some songs reminded her of her late daughter. She couldn’t finish the show and cried for two and a half hours.

"Tasha was both a daughter and a mother to me. When we were abroad, she used to do my laundry. She would take care of me. If there is such a thing as the next life, I pray that she would come back as my mother," says Jeannie.

In the meantime, she busies herself as wife to Sid Goulbourn and mother to Katrina, with her work as a designer, and with projects for charity. During the Thursday lunch in her place that I attended, a special place in her table was reserved for two sisters from the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary, Sister Enri Agamon and Sister Asuncion Borromeo.

These sisters live in a depressed community in Pandacan, and Jeannie and some friends have been quietly supporting their candle-making cottage industry called Kapitbahayan Candles (tel. no. 563-30-70). Kapitbahayan Candles provided the candles that lit the aisles during the funeral Mass of Tasha.

Shortly after Tasha’s death, Jeannie told me she tried to hold back the tears because someone told her every soul is welcomed by a procession of candles in heaven, and whenever someone on earth cries for that soul, the teardrops would douse the flames. So Jeannie is trying to hold back the tears, so the candles would burn bright for Tasha, in heaven and on earth.