Seventy years ago, at 2 p.m. of May 7 (some historians say May 2), 1942, the fifth chief justice of the Philippine Supreme Court, Jose Abad Santos, was shot to death by Japanese occupation forces for refusing to swear allegiance to the Japanese flag. At that time, he was acting president of the Philippines, having been appointed by President Manuel L. Quezon who left for the United States via Australia. On April 11, 1942, he and his son José Jr. were captured by the Japanese in Cebu and were taken to a concentration camp. When asked to cooperate with the Japanese, he refused to do so. The Japanese took him and his son to Parang, Cotabato, now in Maguindanao. The next day they were brought to Malabang, Lanao. Before he was shot to death, he was able to talk to his son. His poignant parting words were: “Don’t cry Pepito, my son. Show these people that you are brave. It is an honor to die for one’s country. Not everybody has that chance.”
Segue to the present. Incumbent Chief Justice Renato Corona is in a precarious position of being removed from office for betrayal of public trust. Corona is ostensibly supported by the still well-oiled political/PR machinery of former President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, whose survival skill is legendary. Corona is propped up by the politico-religious sect of Iglesia ni Cristo, privately wishing that “Noynoying” and “planking” and China’s “might-is-right, bullying tactics” would continue, if only to divert news, if not destabilize the government. In his media blitzes Corona would grandiloquently say “Para sa sambayanan ’tong laban.” (This is for the country.) He would tell gathered crowds with a hint of belligerence, thus: “Lahat ng kanilang mga paratang ay aking sasagutin ng buong tapang at talino.” (I will answer all their allegations bravely and intelligently.) At the oath-taking of this year’s youngest new lawyers, he asked them to volunteer for his defense instead of asking them to help ferret out the truth. He would rather blurt out the truth in his tired cliché: “in due time.”
His testimony is overdue. It is interesting to find out how he would refute his nondisclosure and dishonest disclosure of statement of assets, liabilities and net worth vis-à-vis the strict mandate of the Code of Judicial Conduct, Rule 5.08, Canon 5 that all judges “shall make full financial disclosures as required by law.” Republic Act 6713, (otherwise known as the Code of Conduct and Ethical Standards for Public Officials and Employees to Uphold the Time-Honored Principle of Public Office being Public Trust) states: “Public officials and employees have an obligation to accomplish and submit declarations under oath of, and the public has the right to know their assets, liabilities, net worth and financial and business interests including those of their spouses.” The filing of a SALN under oath shall contain (1) real property, its improvements, acquisition costs, assessed value and current fair market value; (2) personal property and acquisition cost; (3) all other assets such as investments, cash on hand or in banks, stocks, bonds and the like; (4) liabilities; and (5) all business interests and financial connections.
Corona neither declared his wife’s work with Camp John Hay Management Corp., a government-owned and -controlled corporation in his SALN prior to 2007, nor correctly disclosed his peso and dollar accounts in the banks as required by law. In fact, he got a lousy “hometown decision” from his Supreme Court colleagues in the form of a TRO enjoining the banks from disclosing his foreign currency accounts.
During the melodramatic impeachment trial of former President Joseph Estrada in 2001, little did I know that the controversial second envelope which came from the bank, and which I alone kept inside the well-guarded Senate vault would contain so much—and yet nothing. That was the devastating truth and political gobbledygook.
Incidentally, that infamous second envelope containing Equitable PCIBank Savings Account No. 016062501-5 was finally opened in full view of some witnesses at the Senate on Feb. 14, 2001. This is the same bank account under the name of Jose Velarde, in whose name Joseph Estrada signed one foot away from star witness Clarissa Ocampo. It had a zero balance. But Velarde’s total deposits amounted to a whopping P3.2 billion, repeat, P3.2 billion, which was all withdrawn and the account had been closed on Nov. 13, 2000, the very day the Articles of Impeachment were delivered to the Senate.
Not unlike Estrada, Corona closed three accounts amounting to P36.648 million at the Philippine Savings Bank on the same day that he was impeached by the House of Representatives on Dec. 12, 2011. The same Philippine Savings Bank was also the depository of Laarni Enriquez, one of the “mistresses” of Estrada whose deposit, in the words of then Rep. Joker Arroyo ranged “from a 3-million-peso balance … to 63, then 249, that is millions.” (“A Nation on Fire,” Tatad, p. 416)
In memory of the martyred Chief Justice Abad Santos, whose uprightness and heroism make Filipinos proud, and those who were dismissed from service for failure to submit their SALNs, including jilted students and lawyers who heretofore held Corona as their role model, we ask the senator-judges: If Chief Justice Corona is unfit, you must not acquit!
Lutgardo B. Barbo is currently president of Taguig City University. He was the Senate secretary during the impeachment trial of President Joseph Estrada, and thus concurrently served as the clerk of the impeachment court then. Before that, he served as Eastern Samar governor.