Prove your case

It cannot be gainsaid that the House prosecutors in the impeachment trial of Chief Justice Renato Corona, along with the private lawyers assisting them, have the world on their shoulders. In the season’s current blockbuster, more than the collective weight of their academic background and legal experience, their court smarts are what will matter in their avowed goal of convicting the Chief Justice of betrayal of public trust, culpable violation of the Constitution, and graft and corruption. The defense, with its de campanilla lawyers touted to have accumulated more than three centuries of legal experience among themselves, cited the supposed advantage of its opponent in the realm of public opinion in describing itself as an underdog. Still, as the trial covered live by the major TV networks plays out by the day, the prosecution is hardly a stranger to the term.

But with the prosecution’s bold move of letting the public in on its arsenal—documents concerning properties said to be in the names of the Corona couple and their children and in-laws—even before the trial could begin, it is imperative that it prove that these are owned by the Chief Justice and his family without being listed in his statement of assets, liabilities and net worth (SALN). What is the use, after all, of telegraphing its punches if it will not, or cannot, follow through on them?

To be sure, ownership of private property, the bedrock of capitalism, is a natural right of every person, and the Chief Justice has pointedly said that his family is not exactly of ordinary means—the implication being that it is perfectly conceivable for it to own, for example, what he calls an “apartment”—a 303.5-square-meter penthouse unit in the high-end The Bellagio—or even, as documents from the Land Registration Authority indicate, five properties in the posh La Vista subdivision in Quezon City. Nevertheless, the accusations would acquire resonance particularly among quarters who would contend that the man has conceivably amassed more than his just share. And valid questions have been raised, requiring answers: Were these properties listed in Corona’s SALN, as the law requires of every employee and official in the three branches of government? More important, were these properties ill-gotten?

It was not difficult for the prosecution to whet public interest in the impeachment of the Chief Justice. His “midnight appointment” by his patron has marked him, so to speak, and his acceptance of it suggests a general indifference to high principle, an insensitivity to the importuning of his better angels. But it behooves the prosecution to make good on Article 2 (which refers to Corona’s alleged failure to file his SALN) more than the other seven articles of impeachment, considering that it has indulged an overly eager tendency to disclose its purported evidence to the public despite a procedural rule stating that no party in an impeachment trial should make public comments or disclosures on the merits of a trial.

It is imperative that the prosecution prove its case on Article 2 beyond reasonable doubt, and not merely because prevailing political considerations make the numbers possible. It is imperative that nonpartisans (meaning neither of the Corona camp nor of the contending side) attentive to the necessity of resolving this controversy be convinced of Corona’s supposed questionable behavior in this aspect, which would make him unfit to continue as the highest magistrate of the land.

What if the prosecution is unable to make Article 2 stick even in the political arena of the impeachment court? The result would be a vindication of the man at whom everything including the proverbial kitchen sink has been thrown, and it would be back to a dismal square one for his accusers.

It would render worthless the stinging irony posed by Bayan Muna’s Neri Colmenares, himself a member of the prosecution, who, musing on the estimated total area of 5,880 square meters of 19 properties in prestigious addresses allegedly owned by the Chief Justice, offered the details of his personal circumstances: a 59-sq-m, one-bedroom house in a low-cost housing area in Sauyo, Novaliches; a 13-year-old second-hand 1998 car; a net worth of P700,000.

And we’re not even beginning to talk of the destitute families who live in the streets.