The man came out smelling like a rose when he presided over the Corona impeachment trial. His “guilty” vote and the adeptness on how he conducted the trial were some defining moments of his political life—earning him some laurels that added luster to his credentials.
That was Juan Ponce Enrile then. Barely 18 months later, he would see that glory blown away by a plunder indictment like a 300-million-kilo sword dangling over his head. Now the man stinks like seaweed—garbage if you will—and is desperately struggling for a Houdini-style of escape that could get him off the hook quickly. He went as far as, according to someone, bringing back home Ruby Tuason, his co-accused, at all costs, to talk at the Senate committee hearing and pin down his girl Friday, Gigi Reyes. Which Tuason did, short of saying that she delivered the loot personally to him.
Enrile was shielded by Tuason, fine, but the ploy turned out to be a super flop because her testimonies and deportment at the hearing clearly appeared to be those of a coached, controlled and couched witness whose main objective is to sanitize an “unholy cow.” Tuason exposed half of the whole truth, while the other half is tightly shrouded in secrecy. Her taciturnity with respect to Enrile’s role in the scam is worthless as a discarded toothpick because of and by virtue of other high-quality forms and sources of evidence which are gospel-truth credible and can prove guilt beyond reasonable doubt; and among which are the testimonies of Benhur Luy, et al., and their records.
But at 90, does JPE care? With our legal system’s chronic tardiness, it will probably take another 10 years before a verdict could be delivered. And if the man kicks the bucket before the verdict is due, the whole ordeal would be “consummatum est” for him, unless all he wants is seal the cracks on his name and burnish them for posterity. Which, by all measures, will never happen because the cracks are too wide and long as the eyes can see.
If he outlives a guilty verdict, and I were his lawyer, I could argue that the law must be soft on him, and must serve his jail term at home or at a hospital for humanitarian reasons. Poor health and senility are my best bets. A crying judge may, out of leniency, be prompted to grant the request for a hospital or house incarceration, either of which is a slice of heaven for a man who should be in Iwahig. Then he can tinker with his candy crush where he, according to a spy, has already garnered 300 million points.
I will flatly deny his lawyer’s request for leniency, if I were the judge.
—MANUEL BIASON, mannybiason@verizon.net