From Day 1 of his impeachment trial, Chief Justice Renato Corona had declared his willingness to face the charges against him head-on. “Haharapin ko lahat,” he promised. Since that time, he has delivered about three major speeches on the topic before various groups; spent a whole day doing the rounds of TV and radio to comment freely on the evidence laid out against him so far; and has even found time to meet a group of bloggers, ostensibly to chat about non-impeachment-related stuff but obviously to win more sympathy votes for himself.
The one thing he hasn’t done is appear before the impeachment court, swear that he would tell the whole truth and nothing but, and be cross-examined on his statements.
Today is Day 33 of his trial. The impeachment court is about to go on recess, to resume only in far-off May. So far, Corona’s defense team has not indicated with any certainty when it would put the Chief Justice or his wife on the stand, despite its assurances that it would do so and the repeated entreaties by the senator-judges to hear the story directly from the man himself, unimpeded by lawyerly smoke and mirrors.
Last Monday, while wrangling over when the Coronas effectively claimed ownership of a condominium unit in The Columns in Makati, Sen. Sergio Osmeña III asked defense counsel Jose Roy III how the couple had paid for the property. Roy hedged: “The only thing I have in my possession is the deed of absolute sale but I suspect that this was also…” “No, don’t suspect,” Osmeña shot back. “You’re supposed to know and I presume you’re not telling us the truth. Did he pay cash? I’m asking you, did he pay cash?” Roy pleaded ignorance, saying the arrangement would have been between the Coronas and Ayala Land.
Either Roy was being cagey in an effort to protect his client, or he really didn’t know, which would be rather inept of him. In any case, imagine how much easier eliciting pertinent information would be had Corona himself been made available to provide or clarify it. He could, for instance, enlighten the court on his definition of property ownership, since his justification for some of his assets seem to tread on contradictory grounds (and we’re not even talking of the dollar deposits yet).
On one hand, his lawyers earlier said a deed of sale, and not a transfer of title, is enough to prove that the Coronas had sold a Marikina Heights property to the Chief Justice’s second cousin, Demetrio Vicente, hence its noninclusion in Corona’s SALN. On the other hand, when it came to the Makati condo unit, the defense reversed gears and said the Coronas’ possession of the deed of sale—what Roy referred to in his exchange with Osmeña—was not yet proof that the Chief Justice had acquired the property. The unit was bought in 2004, but was reflected in Corona’s SALN only in 2010. Mrs. Corona allegedly had complaints about the unit, so it was “deemed accepted” only in 2009, whatever that phrase means.
Sen. Miriam Defensor-Santiago has also questioned the presence of bad faith in judging the apparent omissions and misrepresentations in Corona’s SALNs. “You have to show there was an intent to commit dishonesty,” she said. Defense counsel and spokesperson Rico Quicho piled on that by saying that the gaps were all unintentional, because Corona, in effect, was merely befuddled by vague Civil Service Commission guidelines on filling out the SALNs: “There was no clear-cut indicator on how to enter or fill up all the entries in the old SALN form.”
Again, imagine if Corona himself had manifested and stood by this argument. Then the judges could at least determine how the country’s highest magistrate—with a pre-government background as a highly paid tax and corporate lawyer for the Philippines’ largest auditing firm and two major banks, plus a master of laws degree from Harvard University specializing in the regulation of corporate and financial institutions—could make such basic errors. And, more disturbingly, how he could now claim, through his lawyers, that he—the top administrator of justice in the country, and one of the few impeachable government officials under the Constitution—shouldn’t be held to a higher standard of conduct and probity (“shouldn’t be put on a higher pedestal” was how they put it) compared to other public officials charged with the same obligation.
These questions strike at the very heart of the Chief Justice’s character and moral fiber—and who better to vouch for them, under oath, than he himself? It’s high time he took the stand. The public is waiting.