Until now, the impeachment trial of Vice President Sara Duterte continues, with the nation still watching a constitutional process whose outcome could alter the political landscape leading up to 2028. I once wanted this trial to proceed because I believed Sara deserved the chance to answer her accusers in the proper forum. Now I can see that the proceeding risks becoming less a search for truth than a march toward a politically desired verdict.
My original position was simple: let the trial happen. Allegations as serious as those brought against a sitting vice president should neither be dismissed by supporters nor accepted as gospel by critics. The House-approved case contains allegations involving confidential funds and other accusations against Duterte, and those matters deserve examination rather than resolution by slogans, rallies, Facebook wars, or political loyalties. I wanted witnesses questioned, documents examined, accusations tested, and the defense allowed to answer. If the evidence proved wrongdoing, then let accountability follow. If the evidence failed, let acquittal follow with equal courage. That, to me, was the whole point of a trial.
But watching the process has made me much less comfortable with where it appears to be heading. I cannot honestly say that there is “no evidence at all,” because evidence has, in fact, been presented, and the prosecution itself maintains that it has evidence supporting its case; whether that evidence is sufficient, credible, and strong enough to justify a conviction is precisely what the senator-judges must determine. Indeed, a prosecution adviser recently argued that all four articles should still be presented rather than ending the prosecution case early, which itself shows that the evidentiary process is not yet complete. What’s bothersome is something different and, in a democracy, equally dangerous: the growing impression that political arithmetic may eventually matter more than evidentiary weight. A courtroom should have scales, not a scoreboard.
There is history behind my uneasiness. The earlier 2025 impeachment effort was declared unconstitutional by the Supreme Court, which held that it violated the Constitution’s one-year bar and due process requirements; the Court later denied the House’s motion for reconsideration in January 2026. That episode should have taught everyone an important lesson: removing a high official is not merely about reaching an end considered desirable. The rules governing the journey matter. The Supreme Court put the principle in unusually plain language: “the end does not justify the means.” Those words should hang over this proceeding like a bell that rings whenever political impatience threatens fairness.
The present case has since moved onto different legal ground. On August 5, the Supreme Court dismissed challenges to the current House proceedings as moot because the House had already approved and transmitted the Articles of Impeachment to the Senate, which had begun the trial. That ruling did not decide whether Sara Duterte is guilty of the impeachment charges; it allowed the constitutional process already underway to continue. This distinction matters enormously. Permission to hold a trial is not permission to manufacture a conviction. Clearing the road for the ambulance does not mean declaring the patient dead before reaching the hospital.
This is where my suspicion of the Marcos Jr. administration comes into play. I cannot present as established fact that President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. has secretly ordered senators to convict Sara Duterte “at all costs”; without solid evidence, that would turn commentary into accusation masquerading as fact. But I can judge the political landscape before me, question the motives of powerful actors, and say plainly that I dislike any appearance that impeachment is becoming an instrument for eliminating a formidable political rival. Sara Duterte is not entitled to immunity because she is popular, because she is a Duterte, or because she may have presidential ambitions. But neither should those very things make her a convenient political target. Impeachment is supposed to protect the Republic from unfit officials, not protect politicians from dangerous opponents.
What disappoints me most is how easily principle disappears once politics puts on its team jersey. Some people seem prepared to believe every allegation against someone they hate and doubt every allegation against someone they love. I refuse to play that game. I supported a trial precisely because I wanted evidence to speak louder than Sara’s supporters. For exactly the same reason, evidence must also speak louder than her enemies. If prosecutors have a strong case, they should prove it patiently and completely. If the defense can dismantle that case, senators must have the independence to acquit her. The dignity of an impeachment court rests not on whether it produces conviction, but on whether Filipinos can look at the verdict afterward and say: That conclusion came from what was proved.
So, my position has changed, but the principle behind it has not. I still believe public officials, including Sara Duterte, must answer credible accusations; what I no longer accept is the idea that an impeachment trial is worthwhile if its destination has effectively been chosen before all the evidence has been weighed. Let the prosecution finish presenting its case, let the defense answer fully, let the senator-judges interrogate both sides, and then let every vote be defended before the Filipino people on the strength of the record. Sara should not be acquitted because she is Sara Duterte, and she should not be convicted because powerful people want her gone. If this proceeding truly seeks justice, there should be no need to drag the scales in either direction. Put the evidence on them—and keep political hands off.
