Where’s the Story?

By Joey Salgado

The prosecution scored a major win Tuesday, with private prosecutor Lorna Kapunan delivering a masterclass in methodical litigation. But was anyone watching? And if they were, did they even care?

The Senate gallery, once filled to capacity, now has empty seats. Thirteen days into the impeachment trial, and viewership, we are told, has declined. And the ones watching are hyperpartisans, ready to pounce on every misstep, wayward statement, even a drop of spittle.

Meanwhile, the presiding officer, given another shot at redemption, preens for the camera, showing off a demeanor fit for a black robe and the gavel (a future in the higher courts perhaps), unless the flood control scandal brings him to court as a defendant and not a judge.

Someone should dig up the old tapes of the impeachment trials of former president Joseph Estrada and former chief justice Renato Corona and have the prosecution and defense teams, and yes, even the preening presiding officer, sit down, tie them down if you must, and watch these tapes until they understand that this is not a purely legal proceeding but a political one. Strict adherence to the rules on evidence should yield to the public’s right to know why the impeached Vice President is unfit for public office.

Then again, all this is working in the defense’s favor. They want to keep it technical and arcane, beyond the comprehension of the ordinary taxpayer. The prosecution, sadly, is playing their game.

Contrast this with the Estrada impeachment trial when an envelope and a bank account name, Jose Velarde, turned into artifacts of corruption, and the refusal to open the envelope triggered another military-backed revolt by the middle class. Or when Corona’s dollar accounts became breakfast-table fare for housewives and taxi drivers.

Those trials had drama, with heroes and villains and a cast of memorable minor characters. This one has objections on procedural grounds so arcane you’d need a law degree to recognize if these are insults. And yes, there are heroes, villains, and memorable characters in this trial, but they’re the ones wearing the robes. Frankly, the legal teledrama “Kapag May Katwiran, Ipaglaban Mo!” does a better job connecting with the public.

But that is not an accident. It is a defense strategy, and it is working precisely because the prosecution keeps mistaking the Senate floor for a courtroom. The prosecution can out-argue, out-cite, and out-maneuver the defense on the merits every single day of this trial and still lose the war for public attention because the public is not interested in the merits.

The public follows narrative. Tell them a story. Show them the lie and deceit. Show them the disgraceful conduct, the betrayal of public trust that makes the Vice President unfit for public office. Argue over technicalities, authentication, and jurisdiction later, preferably outside the Senate floor.

What we are seeing is an impeachment trial where the counsels behave as though they are presenting their arguments before a trial court judge and not the Filipino people who will render the final verdict. The senator-judges who are supposed to vote are not bound strictly by the rules of evidence. They are politicians bound by political loyalties and their own ambitions. And some of them confuse the robes with moral and intellectual superiority. Remember the adage, “a little learning is a dangerous thing”? Robes can be as deadly.

Thirteen days in, with the seats emptying and the partisans hardening into their social media trenches, the prosecution team should ask themselves not whether the arguments were airtight, but whether anyone outside the chamber was still listening when they were made.

This article also appears in Rappler.