Crowbars and Contracts: The Legal Crisis Brewing at Camp John Hay

Baguio’s famous pines can’t muffle the echo of crowbars prying open doors inside Camp John Hay. What began as a lease dispute between CJH Development Corporation (CJHDevCo) and the Bases Conversion and Development Authority (BCDA) has turned into a demolition job—this time not of buildings, but of legal boundaries and public trust.

At the heart of the issue are private unit owners who were never part of the original 2015 arbitration between CJHDevCo and BCDA. These are individuals and families who bought properties in good faith, with lease terms set to run until 2046. Yet despite never being named in that arbitration—or in the subsequent writ of execution—these homeowners are now being forcibly evicted under a blanket “Notice to Vacate” addressed to “all persons claiming rights under them.” That phrase, as reckless as it is imprecise, has been used as a battering ram against law-abiding sub-lessees who were not party to any of the legal proceedings that led to this point.

Worse, the writ being brandished is dated April 14, 2015. On paper, it’s a relic. While the Supreme Court reinstated the writ in 2024, no ruling has declared that such reinstatement grants BCDA the right to stretch its enforcement to third-party purchasers. And yet, sheriffs have reportedly broken into units not even listed in the official break-open order dated January 31, 2025. If this isn’t grave abuse of discretion, what is?

The arbitral award itself emphasized restraint. It directed BCDA and CJHDevCo to revert to their original positions “as far as practicable” and ordered the maintenance of the leased properties in “good and tenantable condition.” It even acknowledged the existence of sub-lessees and left their rights to be governed by the Civil Code. That’s not a blank check for eviction—it’s a warning to tread carefully. Court records now confirm what many observers already suspected: the legal pushback is real—and it’s not against CJHDevCo. It’s against BCDA.

At present, at least twelve homeowners have filed Petitions for Quieting of Title, asserting that their leasehold rights—executed through government-approved programs—remain valid until 2046. More petitions are expected to be filed in the coming days. And in a broader legal challenge, a class suit has been filed by golf club members, challenging BCDA’s broad cancellation of thousands of memberships.

So let’s be clear: the courts are now being asked to weigh in not on the old developer dispute—but on whether the state has trampled on the rights of citizens who were never supposed to be part of the crossfire. 

Rule 39, Section 16 of the Rules of Court demands that sheriffs respect the rights of third-party claimants. But respect has been hard to come by. In a bitter twist, the very government that once encouraged public-private partnerships is now seen padlocking its own promises.

Some critics dismiss the homeowners’ plight: “You knew the lease was with BCDA. You assumed this.” But even risk has rules. No one lined up for a decade-old writ to be used like a crowbar against families and retirees who put their trust in state-backed contracts. This isn’t just about legal enforcement. It’s about the sanctity of agreements—and the danger of government forgetting where its power ends and private rights begin.

Camp John Hay is now a proving ground. It is testing whether courts will protect those who did nothing more than believe in a government program. It is testing whether a reinstated writ can be applied without discrimination, without excess, and above all, without violating basic due process.

Investors are watching. So are ordinary citizens who wonder if their own homes could one day be subject to the same kind of sweeping state action.

If BCDA is truly acting within bounds, let it demonstrate that—unit by unit, case by case, writ by writ. But if the state continues using a single, expired legal instrument to justify mass enforcement against people it never even sued, then it is not just doors that are being forced open in Camp John Hay. It is a dangerous precedent—one that threatens the credibility of every public-private partnership the government has ever championed.

Because in a nation built on law, a contract is a promise. And a writ, no matter how old or revived, cannot give cover to breaking faith with the very people government was meant to protect.