by Majella Arago
Time and again, the justice system has always been selective on the implementation of its judgment. Its judicial powers have been lenient to the affluent and tenacious to the poor and powerless.
In 2015, the Supreme Court allowed Juan Ponce Enrile, a former senator to post bail for the non-bailable plunder charges he had faced in relation to the P10-billion pork barrel scam. In a 16-page decision, associate justice Lucas Bersamin cited Enrile’s age (91), his supposedly fragile health, and his “social and political standing” as adequate reasons to grant him bail.
In 2018, Imelda Marcos, a former first lady, who was convicted on seven counts of graft in connection with at least $200 million channeled into Swiss foundations that she and spouse, former dictator Ferdinand Marcos, had created under aliases.
Despite the final graft conviction that had earned her at least 40 years in prison, then Philippine National Police (PNP) director-general Oscar Albayalde cited the Marcos widow’s age of 89 in his wariness to arrest her. “Baka magalit sa atin ang matanda. May edad na kasi. Unang-una, we have to take into consideration the age—in any arrest or anybody for that matter, that has to be taken into consideration, the health, the age,” cautioned Albayalde.
However, that certainly was not the case with Elmer Cordero, 72, who remained in police custody for an entire week after he and five other jeepney drivers belonging to the transport group Piston were arrested by the Caloocan PNP for allegedly breaching quarantine protocols on June 2.
The group protested at the Bonifacio monument regarding the government’s decision to continue the ban on jeepneys, although the enhanced community quarantine (ECQ) has been lifted, and call attention to their plight through a street rally called “Busina Para sa Balik Pasada.” Although they had worn face masks and practiced social distancing, the Piston 6, as the group came to be known, were arrested and hauled off to the Caloocan jail where they had to sleep on cardboard in overpopulated cells. Their lawyer said he had information that the jail’s congestion had produced a positive case, hence the a rapid-testing was conducted.
On June 8, four of the drivers were finally released after posting bail, but two remained in custody, including Cordero, because of an alleged old crime under his name that couldn’t be immediately verified. The police refused to consider humanitarian grounds to release them. The two regained their freedom only late Tuesday, but not before Malacañang dismissed concerns about the case by claiming that charges have to be faced “regardless of age.”
In contrast with the Piston 6’s plight, Overseas Workers Welfare Administration (OWWA) official Mocha Uson, was seemingly exempted from the said “charges”. On April 25, Uson initiated a gathering in Batangas of some 300 overseas Filipino workers who were supposed to be on a mandatory two-week quarantine after coming home from work abroad. The police, who were very strict when ordinary citizens perceived to be defying quarantine regulations, took no note of Uson’s blatant violation of the ban on mass gatherings. There were even photos of the event posted on Uson’s Facebook page. Instead of reprimanding his subordinate, OWWA administrator Hans Cacdac excused her action as “well-intentioned,” said her services were needed at this time (“for instance, she can bring food to stranded seafarers”), and delayed any investigation of the matter to “after quarantine.”
The intention was certainly the last thing considered in the case of Piston 6, if at all. Instead, despite their advanced age, disproportionate punishment was inflicted on this group of hapless drivers driven to the streets by hunger and need. The law is harsh but it is the law, as administration apologists love to claim. However, this blatant inconsistency in the implementation of the law says otherwise. It is harsh only on individuals with no social and political influence and no power to defend themselves.
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