Too many tactics, too little truth on Week 5
Throughout the four days of trial last week, the only explosive testimony actually relevant to Article 2 in the impeachment complaint was that the Chief Justice closed three bank accounts on the day he was impeached. The rest were the nitty-gritty of authenticating documents (easily done in pretrial).
The other important revelations pertained to the Senate’s indignation over being hoodwinked over a leaked document: One, it turns out to be phony. Two, there was no “small woman.” And three, another congressman also got a copy.
The week began with a bang, and didn’t let up until the end. It even began early.
On the night of Feb. 12, Chief Justice Renato Corona’s defense lawyers called a press conference with an exposé: Malacañang had supposedly dangled P100 million before each senator in exchange for their vote.
The contending parties had been gearing for battle since Feb. 9, when the Supreme Court issued a temporary restraining order blocking the Senate’s subpoena on Corona’s dollar accounts. The senators were scheduled to decide on Feb. 13 whether to respect or defy the high court.
Marikina Rep. Romero Quimbo, lead spokesperson of the prosecution, called it a “hostage-taking” not just of the senators but of the impeachment trial itself and the larger quest for accountability. Bayan Muna Rep. Neri Colmenares called it “blackmail” and “a declaration of war on the Senate.”
The air was rife with talk of constitutional crisis, but the dreaded showdown did not happen. On Monday morning, the Senate voted 13-10 to respect the TRO on the dollar accounts but stood firm that the high court could not go further to stop the trial altogether, pursuant to its “sole power to try and decide all cases of impeachment.”
Gag order
Even after the trial week ended on Thursday, there was more action: The Supreme Court announced a 28-page resolution that judges—no different from executive and legislative officials—may refuse to testify on privileged information.
The timing was telling. The prosecution will soon present evidence on the articles of impeachment in which Corona’s own shenanigans are the high court’s as well: flip-flopping on final verdicts, the watch-list order on former President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, the Judicial Development Fund, and the plagiarism involving the “comfort women” case.
The high court’s gag order will suppress the evidence for all these charges.
This resolution was not meant to protect Corona alone but the other justices too. It should remind the Filipino people that, despite the impeachment charges arising from Corona’s statements of assets, liabilities and net worth and the public outrage at the high court’s lack of transparency, the other justices are standing pat on their 1989 resolution guarding the secrecy of their own SALNs.
The high court, after issuing a carefully nuanced TRO on Corona’s dollar accounts, now seems emboldened by the Senate’s deference and is poised to be feisty on the remaining impeachment articles.
This is a total disregard for public opinion, and for the constitutional norms of public accountability.
The Senate should be put on alert, lest its sobriety be taken for surrender.
‘Name your source’
When the trial opened on Feb. 13, the senators pointedly asked the defense to explain the previous night’s accusations. Said Sen. Jose “Jinggoy” Estrada: “I challenge you … to name your source.”
The defense just as soon retreated, “groveling with apologies” (in the words of a report).
Midway through the hearing, it was reported that Corona had filed a supplemental petition questioning the partiality of five senators, the exact same sin with which the prosecutors had charged the Chief Justice.
Corona impugned Senators Franklin Drilon, Alan Peter Cayetano, Francis Pangilinan, Teofisto Guingona III and Sergio Osmeña III for acting more like prosecutors, “propound[ing] questions more akin to cross-examinations and loaded with veiled threats, securing for the prosecution what [the latter] failed to do for themselves.”
Osmeña would later say the defense was merely setting the stage to claim a mistrial. Senate President Juan Ponce Enrile then assured the nation: “There is no mistrial in an impeachment. If you say guilty, it’s guilty. There’s no appeal. If you say not guilty, there’s also no appeal.”
But the day was not over yet. When the Senate resumed the actual presentation of evidence (in contrast to the fireworks on side issues), the prosecution’s own witness, the branch manager of Philippine Savings Bank-Katipunan, declared as outright fakery the account opening card that the prosecution had filed to lure the Senate to issue a subpoena.
So by the time Monday ended, it was the prosecution’s turn to be berated by the senators for using supposedly bogus documents.
Fruit of poisonous tree
The next days would “meander” (quoting Sen. Joker Arroyo) into twists and turns over the bank documents. Indeed, the bank officers ended up being grilled not on whether Corona is innocent or guilty, but on whether the prosecution had tricked the Senate.
Were these indeed forgeries? Can we see the originals? If these papers were all a sham, what happens now to the evidence extracted on the strength of a deceit? Shouldn’t they be discarded too, inadmissible in evidence as the “fruit of the poisonous tree”? That would put to waste three weeks’ worth of the testimony from bank officials! And if the prosecution had blundered, shouldn’t they be punished for the ethical lapse?
The Senate asked the counsels to submit their positions.
Before the “false” papers were found out, remember that last week, the big brouhaha was how in the first place the prosecution got hold of confidential documents covered by the Bank Secrecy Law.
Their most innocent account was that an anonymous “small lady” handed it over to Rep. Reynaldo Umali at the Senate building. But security videos subsequently showed no such “small lady.”
This triggered off repeated questioning by the senators to determine how the documents could have been leaked. Were these documents kept in a vault? How many bank personnel had access to them? Is there a logbook that they sign? And what about government regulators, the Anti-Money Laundering Council and the Bangko Sentral?
In another vein, Senator Estrada inquired about the possible family connections of the PSBank branch manager with Rep. Niel Tupas, the lead House prosecutor.
Banal’s visit
In a final twist, the PSBank branch manager testified that Quezon City Rep. Jorge Banal had personally visited her bearing a document similar to the allegedly false papers being investigated.
The Senate initially subpoenaed and then invited Banal to testify. That day ended outside the trial chamber, with Banal explaining at an impromptu press interview that he found the bank documents stuffed in an envelope left at the gate of his home.
He said he visited the bank (located in his congressional district) just to inquire, and did not report it to his colleagues lest he “make things worse.”
