S1L37 - Grilling Lessons from Deema: How to crossexamine without tricks

ister Cabo Buhan, are you alive?” This is my only student with a premed background. He comes from Dagupan City, Pangasinan.

“I am over here sir, quietly metabolizing glucose…”

He also has a reputation of being some kind of class clown who loves to play pranks. One time he stood in front of the building, looking up at the sixth floor. He just fixed his gaze at nothing in particular. People passing by wondered what he was gazing at but he spoke not a word. After a while, he had gathered a sizeable crowd of people gazing up with him, nobody knowing what anybody else what looking at, but everybody not willing to admit they don’t know what they’re all looking at. That’s when Cabo slipped out from their midst, walked a short distance away then ran back into the crowd saying excitedly, “Tumalon na ba? Tumalon na ba?!” Pandemonium followed, culminating in a SWAT unit sending a hostage negotiator to the site. They never found a jumper, of course.

I heard about twenty versions of a suicide jumping story the next day. Only his classmates squealed on him, “Sir, si Cabo kaya yung nagpasimuno!”

His manipulating skills evident this early, I thought this kid better be properly oriented NOW while he’s still a law student. Otherwise he’s bound to become another one of those wicked lawyers that can bambozzle any witness into confessing to the Ninoy Aquino assassination.

“Cabo, have you ever used drugs?” I asked.

“Oh, no, sir! The cumulative pharmacological effect of hallucinogens—”

“No, no, no—don’t practice your med-rep marketing skills on us. I just wanted to give you a sporting chance to deny being a drug addict.” I said.

“Oh…okey, sir. I am not a drug addict.”

“Not so fast, Mister Buhan. We don’t want you violating ‘estoppel’ later…”

“What is ‘estoppel’ again?” Kata whispered to Deema her seatmate who tried to shush her, “Sssssh..!”

“I heard you, Miss Kata!” I said, making the English Literature major blush, “Answer her question, Miss Deema.”

“Yes, sir. ‘…by estoppel a person is prevented from denying any statement, declaration or representation he made as against a person who relied on him making such statement, declaration or representation.”

“Claro, hija mia?” I winked at the blushing Miss Kata.

“Yes, sir. Actually, I KNEW that.”

“NO, you didn’t,” I expected that retort, “you had to ask Miss Deema. I heard you. So I’m relying on my having heard you ask about the meaning of estoppel to conclude that you didn’t know what estoppel means. So you can’t expect me now to believe that you do.” The class let out a mild snicker, while nodding their heads. They get it.

“So now you ALL get it,” I turned to the class, “I’ll flunk anyone who tells me later he didn’t get it because that person would be violating estoppel!” I said, eliciting laughter from these 25 budding lawyers-to-be.

“Anyway, back to you, Mr. Cabo. I’m not going to allow you to just casually deny being a drug addict. I want to ‘seal the deal’ if you know what I mean…Miss Deema?”

I could always rely on Deema to know what I’m thinking NEXT. No sooner had I finished saying her name than she quickly stood up with a book in hand, walked over to where Cabo sat and told her classmate, “Please stand up, Mr. Cabo Buhan, place your left hand on this book and raise your right hand, please….do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“Do I what?”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!” I bellowed and banged the blackboard hard. This is how they will treat you in court, kiddo.

“Yes, Sir! Yes, yes, my answer is YES…my God, Yes…!” I thought only girls blushed. I was wrong.

Deema gave the guy her naughty wicked “Winona Ryder wink,” making him blush even more, before she told him, “You may take a seat, Mr. Buhan…” turned to me and said, “your witness, Professor…!”

I walked over to Cabo seated on his chair, until my hulk loomed over him, “Mr. Cabo, do you know what LSD stands for?”

“Ah, yes, sir. LSD is short for lysergic acid diethylamide, sir. It’s a synthetic hallucinogenic drug that affects the central nervous system,”

“I see. Can you describe for us what some of those effects on the central nervous system are?” I just know he’s dying to jump on a question like that, what with his vast premed knowledge.

“Ah, well, sir, where do I begin…”

“Anywhere,” I snapped in right away. Never allow a witness to ask a rhetorical question.

“Sir, it boosts the brain’s natural dopamine levels, or the so-called pleasure hormone, producing an intense feeling of euphoria…”

“Wow!” I said.

“Yes, sir! It makes you say that.” My bad, never allow a witness to validate YOU instead.

“Now, Mr. Witness, how did we come to posses this medical knowledge about LSD’s effects?”

“Ah, well, sir, this information is from the personal observation and description by persons who have actually ingested the substance!” the premed guy glowed.

“Really? Why can’t those observations be made by very keen third parties with the adequate competence—you know, scientists, doctors, researchers…?”

“Oh no sir, technical competence is not the issue. These observations must be experiential, not anecdotal. They cannot be described from an external perspective…”

“I didn’t really understand most of that, but I’ll take you word for it,” I said. The trap is set!

“So, Mister Buhan, have you stopped using LSD?”

“Sir? Have I what?”

“Miss Deema, please read back the last question for this witness…”

“Mister Buhan, have you stopped using LSD?” Deema quipped from instant memory.

“NO, sir, I have not stopped using…I mean, YES, sir, I have stopped using…wait, wait, wait—what was the question again, Sir?” He just realized that it didn’t matter how he answered that question, he would still be admitting having used LSD.

I saw Hannah raise her hand, so I nodded my head to clear her to talk, “Sir—Your Honor—the question is objectionable. It presumes as fact that the witness has used LSD although there is no prior evidence or testimony establishing that fact.”

This is trouble. Our little Buguias Girl saw a weak spot in my line of questioning. I felt panicky just a little bit. Deema—my ever loyal Deema—stepped in to “rescue” me. “May I take over the direct examination, Your Honor, after all I am the public prosecutor?”

“Please go ahead, fiscal,” I said with relief—that turned out to be shortlived.

“Your Honor, I withdraw that last question.” Deema said, I almost fell of my chair.

“You took over from me and the first thing you do is surrender a near-confession I worked so hard to set up?!” I said, the whole class erupted in laughter.

Deema first looked at me, then looked away as if to say, “Not to worry, Prof, I’ll nail this guy without using a trick question like that.”

“Mr. Cabo, I’m sorry but I thought I heard you admit a while ago that you ingested LSD?” Deema took off in a totally different direction.

“Well, you must not have been listening very carefully because I never made any such admissions hehehe…” Cabo went on the counter-offensive by mocking Deema. Big mistake. Beeeeegg. HUGE.

“No? Didn’t you say that LSD boosts the natural dopamine levels?” Deema said.

“Yes, so?”

“And didn’t you say that this elevated dopamine level produces a feeling of euphoria?”

“Yes, it does. So?”

“In fact, you know what that feeling of euphoria is like, because you described it as ‘intense’?” Deema stressed.

“Well…I imagined it must be intense because the dopamine is elevated,” Cabo began backpedaling.

“No, no, no—YOU said it cannot be imagined. YOU said it cannot be observed from, what term did you use, ‘external perspective’?”

“External perspective,” Cabo was forced to parrot Deema, “Yes that’s right, it cannot be observed from an external perspective. But I was not observing it, I was basing my information from someone telling me---” Cabo was trying to wriggle free, but Deema tightened the visegrip even more.

“No, no, no—you said descriptions of LSD’s effects can only come from an experiential event, it cannot be anecdotal. YOU said THAT…”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean it that way... I suppose it can be anecdotal, if the person receiving the narrative is, you know, specially qualified to document these things—” Cabo was gasping for air, and Deema was moving in to slit his throat.

“No, no, no—YOU said technical competence is not the issue, these observations cannot be made by third parties, didn’t you say that?” Deema thundered.

“I did, but—”

“But what?? YOU said only a person who has actually ingested LSD can describe the feeling of being under the effects of LSD on the central nervous sysyem? Isn’t that what you said?” Deema sank the shank right through the heart.

Mr Cabo Buhan sat silently for a long time, Deema was still in his face and wouldn’t back down. Finally Deema banged the blackboard and bellowed, trying to sound like me, “I’M WAITING FOR YOUR ANSWER!!!”

Cabo looked at me with dog-sorry eyes, “Sir, if I write ‘I understand ‘estoppel CLEARLY now’ fifty times on the blackboard, can I be excused already?”

The whole class exploded in laughter, and for the first time I saw Deema stomping her feet STANDING UP.

Finally I said, “Class, please DON’T copy what I did. I used a trick question that cannot be answered except one way only. And if the defense counsel on the other side was Miss Palindrome over there, you’re in trouble. On the other hand, all Miss Deema did was repeat the same questions I was using when I was setting up an invalid trap. Yet she was able to set up a valid truth concession—not a defective confession—from a witness who was less than candid.

I waited until the class was quiet enough that I could be heard by all clearly: “THAT is the right way to do it….class dismissed.”

Deema caught up with me again in the hallway.

“I’m fresh out of unsolicited compliments, if that’s what you intend to fish out of me, Miss Deema,” I said dismissively.

“No, no, no, sir—I just wanted to say LSD was not a hallucinogenic, it’s a psychedelic, Cabo was wrong even about that.”

I stopped and turned around to face the girl and said, “Miss Deema, you used ‘No, no, no’ FOUR TIMES inside of ten minutes tonight. From now on, ONLY I will be allowed to use that ‘No, no, no’ verbal mannerism, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir! Yes, yes, yes!”

S1L36 - Ethnicity, Nationality, Citizenship, Identity and Domicile, feat. Miss Hannah Maala from Buguias

iss Palindrome, are you around?”

Hannah Maala sprung to her feet, she knew right away I was referring to her.

“Present, sir!”

“Hehehe…Miss Maala, your middle initial written here on your classcard is ‘N’ what is that ‘N’ for?”

“My mother’s side, sir, is rooted in Cervantes, Ilocos Sur. Actually, my hometown of Abatan, Buguias is sometimes called the ‘side entrance’ to the Cordilleras. From Abatan, you can go down to the Ilocos coastline via Cervantes.”

“I see. So it’s your father who is from Benguet. Your mother is an Ilocana from Cervantes?”

“Right, sir. So my middle name is Neven.”

“Your middle name is a palindrome also???” The class burst in laughter.

“Yes, sir. I’m actually proud of that…”

“Well, you SHOULD be! I don’t know too many people whose first and middle names are both palindromes. Do you realize you can file a ‘Petition for Change of Name’ and add just TWO MORE letters to your last name…”

“Yes, sir! Two more letters ‘A’ and ‘M’ and my last name would become ‘Maalaam’ which would also be a palindrome.” More laughter in the class.

“But you don’t intend to do that?”

“NO, sir, I don’t. I love my father too much. I’ll never change the surname me gave me as long as I live,” the softspoken Buguias girl said.

“I’m proud to hear you say that,” I said, “but I seriously doubt if you can beat your father in the loving department. He gave up his dream of owning his own ELF mini-truck so he can send you to law school instead. When you become a successful lawyer—and I’m willing to bet my life you will—don’t forget to buy him that doggone mini-truck!” I said to the potato farmer's daughter.

“I will buy my father an AIRPLANE if I have to, sir, just to show him how much I appreciate the sacrifices he and my mother have made for me all my life…” Hannah said, a small teardrop forming in the corner of one eye.

The whole class let out an admiring, “Aaaaaaaaw….!”

“That’s really beautiful, Hannah” I said, “I am a proud father myself of a little girl who grew up to become a lawyer, too. So I can relate with…uh…what’s your father’s name, Miss Hannah?”

“Reinier, sir.”

“Wait…let me…is that..uh…”

“Yes, it IS a palindrome, sir!” The whole class just literally exploded in guffaws. And there goes Deema stomping her feet again!

And here goes me again, too, banging the blackboard.

“Quiet, class!” the class settled down eventually and I could continue. “We are really privileged to have someone like Hannah in our class and…uh…yeah, maybe I’ll write the Guiness World Record people, hehehe…but so long we’re on the subject of appreciating our roots, I want us to talk about ENCID.”

The class looked up with wondering eyes. ENCID?

“Miss Hannah, do you have any idea what the acronym ENCID stands for?”

“Yes, sir. I read up on it. It stands for the five elements making up our so-called ‘bio-geographical references.’ ENCID stands for ETHNICITY, NATIONALITY, CITIZENSHIP, IDENTITY and DOMICILE, sir?”

I thought, “Oh, noooo, she’s BACK to ending all her statements with a question mark!”

“That is correct, Hannah, inspite of that tone of uncertainty in your voice towards the end,” I said.

“We can spend the rest of the evening defining these terms, class, but that will not necessarily help you understand the concepts behind them. It’s much better to just apply it to a living person straight away. Now based on the confidence with which she answered my first question, I’m pretty confident Hannah can give us a clear illustration of all those five concepts using her own circumstances. Will you do that for us, hija?”

“Yes, sir,” the girl from Buguias turned around to face the class, clasped her hands together and spoke gently but firmly, “Good evening, everybody. I am Hannah your classmate, my ETHNICITY is both Ilocano and Kankana-ey, my NATIONALITY is Igorot, my CITIZENSHIP is Filipino, my IDENTITY is Hannah Neven Maala, my DOMICILE of origin is Abatan, Buguias, Benguet and my present DOMICILE OF RESIDENCE is Baguio City…..sir?”

“Perfect! I am REALLY Impressed, Hannah, especially how you got the NATIONALITY part correct,” I said approvingly, “for the benefit of your classmates, can you explain that NATIONALITY part, why did you NOT say you were a Philippine national?”

“Sir, the origin of the word ‘nation’ is ‘nascent’ which means ‘as you were born.’ I was born an Igorot because all my ancestors were born Igorot. We only became the Philippines in the early 15th century. If I say my ‘nationality’ is Filipino, I would lose all my ancestors who lived BEFORE 1521. As I love my father, I also love HIS father and his father’s father before him. I love all my ancestors. They called THEMSELVES Igorot since time immemorial, so I’ll follow them...sir?”

“That’s correct. You’re not alone in this world who thinks that way, are you Miss Hannah?”

“No, sir! people born in Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Dubai, Sudan, Libya, Syria, Jordan all have different state CITIZENSHIPS but they all belong to the Arab NATION. That’s their nationality. Just like people in Beijing, Taiwan, HongKong and even many in Binondo in Manila belong to the CHINESE nation.”

“That’s great, Hannah. What about your ETHNICITY, explain that part.”

“Sir, ethnicity is so close in meaning to NATIONALITY but I found that it becomes easy to distinguish the two by tying ethnicity to what you can SPEAK. I speak Kankana-ey, so that’s the refinement of what my being an Igorot means. Some Chinese speak Mandarin, some Cantonese and some Fookienese. That’s how they can determine their ethnicity…sir?”

“Right. So if somebody keeps saying ‘money talks’ where would that person trace his ethnicity?” I pitched the beginning of a joke, curious if this girl can hit it out of the ballpark.

“In Roxas Boulevard, sir?”

“Really? Because Roxas Boulevard is where…?”

“It is where you can find the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas—beside all those nightclubs, massage parlors and beerhouses, sir!”

Well, what do you know! She hit the ball out of this PLANET. Our little Buguias Girl has a wicked sense of humor, too!

S1L35 - Women Empowerment, feat. Miss Carla Addaawan from Tabuk City

law class is an ideal environment to immerse yourself in current events and issues, something I encourage my students to do. Law is dynamic, you don’t study law in a vacuum. You study it in relation to everyday facts that impact your own life.

“Miss Carla…” I haven’t even finished saying her name yet and this girl leaped on to her feet already.

“Miss Carla…uh…Carla…I’m not sure how to pronounce your last name…Miss Carla?”

“Addaawan, sir!”

“Adda ken awan?” I clarified, while the class started giggling at the amazing novelty of the name.

“Yes, sir, basically. My name literally means ‘here’ and ‘not here’ at the same time, sir!”

“I know, I know…that’s why I don’t know whether to mark you present or absent,” I said, “from where are you, Miss Addaawan?”

“I’m from Tabuk, Kalinga, sir.”

“Oh, yes, Tabuk, Kalinga—beautiful place. I know the Wangdalis from there,” I said, recalling a good client from years ago.

Female law students are growing in number, while the number of male students is declining steadily. Personally, I have no preference between the two although one of my students, Ms. Deema Niwala, always chides me about being sexist—and to some degree she is correct.

I am very subtly partial FOR women because in my experience, female law students study harder, work harder and try harder than the gentlemen.

And there’s something else I really like about girls in law school: they have beautiful, ABSOLUTELY READABLE handwriting!

You have to be a handwriting expert to read the test booklets of some of the gentlemen. Once I had a student complain about his test score, appealing his wrong answer in the last question. So I said, “Alright, Albert, I’ll give you the benefit of all my doubt. Read back to me your answer to the last question.”

The fellow took his test booklet, opened it to the last page then stared at the page for a long time. He squinted his eyes, tilted his head to the left, then to the right and every which way—he was trying to but he can’t even read his own handwriting! His classmates laughed so hard, I was afraid Deema might break the floor tiles stomping her feet as she laughed. His classmates basically jeered him back to his seat.

Back to our Tabuk girl. “Miss Carla, please read your Constitutional principle upholding women empowerment…”

“Yes, sir! It’s in Article II Section 14. The State recognizes the role of women in nation-building, and shall ensure the fundamental equality before the law of women and men.”

“Listen, class, we have a lot of excellent women legislators in Congress. We have had two women Presidents—Cory Aquino and Gloria Arroyo. But how far have we really gone in ensuring ‘fundamental equality before the law of women and men?” I asked and no sooner have I finished when Deema interrupted.

“Forget the whole law, sir, we don’t even have equal CRIMINAL PROCEDURES for men and women,” the Tublay girl said.

“And, of course you have PROOF of that, right Miss Deema?”

“Yes, sir. Four senators were jailed between 2013 to the present: Juan Ponce Enrile, Bong Revilla, Jinggoy Estrada and Leila de Lima. Only the woman, Leila de Lima, is still in jail and the crime she is accused of does not even involve any loss of public funds. It’s not fair, sir. It’s just plain…SEXISM SIIIIR!” Deema said, gritting her teeth on the last two words.

“True that,” I agreed, “although in the case of Senator Enrile, he is nine-six years old. Age is a mitigating circumstance under Article 13 of your Revised Penal Code and it applies as early as when you reach age 70 only.” I reminded the class.

“It’s only a mitigating circumstance sir, not an exonerating one,” Deema said softly, trying not to embarrass me.

“That’s correct, Miss Deema,” I said, trying to backpedal awkwardly, “and the Order granting him bail came out in just a year.”

“Male judges really think and decide FAST when the accused is a MAN, don’t they sir?” Deema asked teasingly.

“I suppose so,” I conceded, “which makes me wonder why the Muntinglupa lady judge handling the de Lima case only inhibited in June 2021 when Senator de Lima has been in jail since February 2017.” the class looked up, a little surprised at the information.

“Female judges really think and act SLOW when the accused is a WOMAN, don’t they Miss Deema?” The class chuckled at both the parallel and the contrast.

“You see, class, there are no good or evil judges of either gender. There are only good or evil PEOPLE. A bad person will never be a good judge, regardless if it’s a man or a woman. That’s why you can’t have equality between men and women before the law if you focus on the men and women. You should focus on the law.”

“It’s not just the law, sir, it’s the whole society” Carla chimed in. She had been standing there for so long even though Deema was doing most of the talking, seated down.

“Oh, I’m sorry Miss Nasipnget-nalawag—”

“Addaawan, sir!”

“I’m sorry—Addaawan—it’s the self contrast in your name that my brain fixated on…you were saying it’s not just the law but society itself that perpetuates the inequality? Was that your point, Miss Carla?”

“Yes, sir. Like in the case of Senator Enrile. He is the principal accused and yet he is out on bail. His ‘girlfriend’ Gigi Reyes who is only an accomplice, has been in jail seven years now, and she is bashed viciously by media just because she is much too young for him. But how come nobody bashes Michael Yamson? That is society’s double standard,” Carla said.

“Michael WHO??”

“Michael Yamson! The young and handsome ‘boy toy’ of Senator Manny Pacquiao’s mother, Dionisia Pacquiao—who is 67 years old,” Deema blurted out again.

I saw my chance! “Boy toy? Did you say ‘boy toy??’---SEXISM, DEEMAAAA!!” the whole class erupted in guffaws. Deema blushed, realizing her professor can play the sexism game too.

So I banged the blackboard again.

“Seriously, class, I don’t know anything about the extramarital affairs of Senator Enrile. At age 96, I imagine he can only chase women now on his wheelchair and only if those women are running downhill. But the case of pañera Gigi has no gender element in it,” I explained. Even Deema nodded in agreement now.

“I want you to focus not on the lack of law on gender equality, but on existing law that perpetuates gender inequality. Miss Carla, do us a favor and read Article 211 of your Civil Code.”

“Here it is, sir, Article 211: ‘The father and the mother shall jointly exercise parental authority over the persons of their common children. In case of disagreement, the FATHER’s decision shall prevail…”

Deema’s eyebrows—the worst I’ve seen them do so far was meet in the middle of her forehead. For the first time, I saw those eyebrows actually CROSS over each other on her forehead.

“Now, don’t overreact, class. What Miss Puraw-nangisit read—”

“Addaawan, sir…”

“Right, right—what Miss Addaawan read is an economical provision meant to keep the cost of managing a family low. You cannot have couples suing each other in court to break a tie every time they argue.

“But the law changes dramatically if you inject a few adjectives, sir,” Carla said.

“Really? Give an example, Miss Carla…”

“Yes, sir… ‘the drug-addicted and sexually-maniacal father AND the mother shall jointly exercise parental authority…in case of disagreement on who their teenage daughter should sleep with at night, the drug-addicted and sexually-maniacal father’s decision shall prevail.”

“Right,” I said, “I think the class gets the picture.”

“And those are NOT even the worst adjectives I can think of, sir” said Miss Addaawan.

“How would you improve that provision then, Carla?”

“Sir, I would rewrite the second sentence, ‘in case of disagreement, the same shall be resolved in favor of the best interest of the child.” Carla proposed.

“You see, Miss Addaawan, that doesn’t improve the law by much. Now who will interpret ‘the best interest of the child’? That’s what the law tries to avoid, ambiguous grey areas like that,” I said.

Deema is wildly flailing her hands in the air—and I could have sworn I was starting to see smoke come out of her nose and ears.

“Alright, Miss Deema, before you explode there, will you help Miss Addaawan polish her proposed amendment. WHO will interpret the phrase ‘best interest of the child?”

“THE CHILD, SIR!” Deema said and stomped her foot at the same time. “In many domestic abuse cases, a little girl wants to run into her mother’s arms, but the drug-crazed father enjoys the legal presumption that his decision-making judgment is superior. Time for that presumption to disappear, sir!”

Suddenly the classroom began sounding like a busy fishmarket, everybody talking at the same time, nobody understanding what anybody else was saying.

I banged the blackboard again. I actually spend more time banging this blackboard than writing on it!

“Class, your Civil Code took effect on August 30, 1950—that’s more than SEVENTY-ONE years ago. Back in that gentler era, fathers were respected so much that their moral disposition was the legal standard of care. Miss Carla would you please read Article 1163 of your Civil Code…”

“Here it is, sir, Article 1163: Every person obliged to give something is also obliged to take care of it with the proper diligence of a good father of a family..” Carla read.

“Remember that phrase ‘proper diligence of a good father of a family’ class, you will encounter that phrase numerous times not only in the Civil Code but in many other special laws, too. Maybe it’s a sad thing that society no longer honors fathers as much. But all that tells me, gentlemen,” I said, addressing the male class population, “is that you guys have a lot of work ahead of you, by way of earning a legal presumption.” Nods and smiles all across the room.

“There’s just a couple of bothersome things I can’t get out of my mind regarding Juan Ponce Enrile, Jinggoy Estrada and Bong Revilla, sir” Deema reprised.

“What are they, Deema?”

“First, they were already around in 1950…”

“They sure were, I’m pretty sure they can all sing Elvis Presley songs,” I said, trying to end the class on a lighter mood, “and what’s the second thing, Deema?”

“They are all fathers.”

S1L34 - The "Regalian Doctrine" and the Modern Colonizers of the iBenguets

uan Dimacaawat, are you present?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Let’s talk a little history, Mr. Dimacaawat. Imagine that you were already a lawyer in March 16, 1521…”

“Sir, no imagination is necessary, that is REALLY his birthday!”

“Shut up, Miss Deema. I will call you later!”

“Sowreee…” Deema faked an apology.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, Mr. Dimacaawat, suppose you were already a lawyer in March 16, 1521, and you were part of that advance party that waded ashore in Limasawa Island in Cebu. El Señor Ferdinand Magellan had just planted his cross on the beach. He looks at you and asks you, ‘Juan, que hago ahora?’ what will you say?”

Juan stared back at me blankly. Deema had to rescue him, “Sir, Dimacaawat ti Spanish dayta!”

“Of course,” I laughed, “you people are so young, you did not even experience having Spanish in college. Any way, Juan, Mister Magellan just asked you after planting his cross ‘what do I do now?’ asking for your legal advise. What will you tell him?”

“Este…executar…una… la afidavit…”

“No, no, no—no need to say it in Spanish, Juan. Just tell us what would be your legal advice to your client who just discovered the Philippines and wants to claim it now for the Spanish Royal Crown…”

“Sir, I would tell him he has to formalize his discovery by executing an ‘Affidavit of Adverse Claim’ and then I would ask Lapu-lapu to sign as instrumental witness,” Juan said slowly, unsure of every syllable, while the class tried so hard to keep from laughing.

“Ah, but the native Limasawans are there and suppose they understood what an ‘adverse claim’ is and their response is to unsheath their bolos, what will you tell them?”

“Pisting yawa, dong dili man mag-atake kamo…”

“No, no, no—no need to say it in Bisaya, you’re probably saying it wrong anyway. Just tell us, how will you handle the opposition to your client’s claim from the actual occupants of the land?”

“Well, sir, I will go around and ask everybody to sign a ‘Waiver And Simultaneous Quit Claim’ stating that they were ceding their possessory right over the island in favor of Ferdinand Magellan.”

“Just give them some official-looking document that recognizes them and they’ll go home happy, I agree with you,” I said, making Juan panic.

“That’s not what I meant, sir…”

“Yeah, but that’s what you SAID,” I like trapping my students, the sting teaches them to be careful with EVERY WORD they say.

I continued the interrogation: “You do realize that Mr. Magellan was killed in that beach landing and it took the Spaniards eleven years to come back, don’t you? So how would you ensure that the waivers signed by the natives AND the dearly departed Ferdinand Magellan would still be good by then?”

“Sir, I will state in the waiver that it shall be binding upon the ‘parties, their heirs, assigns and successors-in-interest’ so that even if they are already dead by the time my Spanish clients returned, they don't have to look for the same people who transacted originally.” Juan said, recalling phrases from their “Legal Forms” subject, growing more confident with each passing moment.

“What if the natives say, ‘why are you getting our land for free? you did not pay us anything and you did not leave anything for us!’ how will you answer that?” I said. The class is nearing the breaking point of laughing, but holding on.

“Sir, I will tell them ‘this is just a piece of paper, just sign it’ but in case anyone might question it later, I will actually make them sign a ‘Deed of Donation’ sir and it will state that they are giving their land gratuitously in consideration of their love and affection for the donee, Mr Magellan’.”

“I see. What about the bolos, what do you about that?”

“I will persuade the natives to put away their bolos, in exchange for an ‘Affidavit of Desistance’ executed by Magellan saying that Spain will no longer prosecute them for ‘grave threats’ sir.

“Good answer. And what about their grievance that you did not leave anything for them, that you took everything from them?” I pressed on.

“Ay, wen gayam sir, then I’ll put in the ‘Deed of Donation’ there ‘I have kept in reserve for myself sufficient property to answer for my needs and chief support.”

“Alright, you may sit down, Mr. Dimacaawat.”

Juan sat down, I heard him whispering to Deema, “I can’t believe I said that!”

“Mr. Jack Makataruz, tumakder…”

“Yes, sir!”

“Jack, continue from where Mr. Dimacaawat left off. What will you do with the ‘Affidavit of Adverse Claim’ prepared by Atty. Dimacaawat for his client Magellan?”

“Sir, I will xerox many copies and then post one copy on every coconut tree throughout the island.” Class began giggling.

“Its purpose being…?” I asked in a leading way

“Its purpose, sir, is to serve as constructive ‘Notice to the Whole World’ sir.”

“How do you think the natives would react to that?”

“They are all illiterate, sir, so they will ignore the legal notices posted. So after three consecutive weeks, the notice will be binding on them whether they understood it or not!”

The whole class couldn’t help it anymore, they burst out laughing. So I did my ‘thing’ again, banging on the blackboard to bring back order.

“Alright, listen people. I’m glad you can amuse yourself with the absurdity of the example. But I want you all to note that from the standpoint of procedure, everything your classmates recited is absolutely correct. Even the language used in the waivers, affidavits and contract of donation—they’re all proper legal syntax.”

“Sir, but as far as contract elements are concerned, I saw many defects…” Miss Hannah Maala said.

“EVERYTHING is defective, hija!” I said, “I did not say they were valid as to content, I just said they are valid as to form.”

“Actually, they are valid both as to form and substance by now, sir” Deema interrupted.

“Of course,” I said, just out of reflex because I had no idea where Deema was going, “but please go ahead, Miss Deema, share your knowledge with your classmates..”

“Sir, hypothetically, since the waiver, affidavits and the deed of donation were all executed in 1521, under the so-called ‘Ancient Document Doctrine’ they can no longer be assailed, in deference to the fact that they had remained unchallenged, they have ripened into ‘legal authority’ that can even be quoted in pleadings.”

“Exactly what I was about to say. Did you get that class?” I said with a deep ‘professor’ tone of voice.

“But was there a special reason why you had to bring us back to 1521, sir?” Juan Dimacaawat asked.

“Yes, there is, Juan. I knew that you would all recognize your Legal Forms, regardless of the timeframe. I was not trying to teach you a new way to draft documents. What I wanted you to see is that despite the passing of 500 years, land is still taken from illiterate people basically the same way.”

The class fell silent.

With the exception of Kata and Cabo, who are both from the lowlands, the rest of my class are Cordillerans. A proud culture, Cordillerans take signal pride in the fact that they have never been colonized like the rest of the Philippines.

“Of course, literacy these days is relative,” I said, “even people who cannot read or write today can still have access to media—radio, television or even just your streetcorner sari-sari store gossip mill. Everybody can count, buy things, give change. Nobody can really claim to be illiterate today.”

“And yet people can still be manipulated by a simple affidavit, right sir?” Deema interjected.

“Exactly,” I said. Whenever this girl says anything, it’s usually what I would have said NEXT anyway. She just beats to it. At first, it annoyed me until I realized--why don’t I make lemonade out of this lemon? It would probably save me a lot of lecturing energy.

“Miss Deema, tell us everything we need to know about affidavits.”

“Yes, sir… an affidavit is not an official government form. No matter what it contains, it has no inherent authority. Principally, the only person it binds is the affiant himself. It is always 100% true and accurate, that’s why it should never be evaluated for probative value BY ITSELF but always in relation to extrinsic authority.” Deema recited as if she was reading straight out of a book.

“Maybe if you illustrated it with an example, your classmates’ brains would not bleed so much,” I said.

“Well, for example, sir--if I said ‘I, Deema Niwala, under legal oath, hereby declare that the sun will not rise tomorrow’ that would be 100% true and accurate sir.“

“THAT THE SUN WILL NOT RISE TOMORROW??” I yelled for emphasis.

“No, sir—only that I SAID SO in my affidavit. It’s 100% true and accurate that I SAID SO. You can tell a lie in life as easily as you can tell a lie in an affidavit, sir.”

“Did you get that class?” Everybody nodded.

“So let’s go back to Magellan. Eleven years later the Spaniards came back and they had with them an “Affidavit” from the King of Spain King Philip III and what did it say, Miss Deema?

“Sir, that all land throughout the archipelago belongs to the Royal Crown and all natives must apply for a title from the Crown.”

“Is that 100% true and accurate, Miss Deema?”

“THAT HE SAID SO, SIR! ONLY THAT HE KING SAID SO!” It was Deema’s turn to yell, albeit softer.

“But you cannot assail that king’s affidavit anymore because of…?”

“The ‘Ancient Document Doctrine’ sir,” Deema said, her voice growing softer and softer.

“This thing you said, where all land in the Philippines belong to the Crown, and all Filipinos must obtain title from the Crown—meaning the Government—did that thing also ‘ripen’ into a doctrine, Miss Deema?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What doctrine is that?”

“The Regalian Doctrine, sir.” Deema answered softly, again fighting back tears.

“So now your mother, even though she’s a lawyer herself, has to obtain title over your land where your house stands, even if Magellan never set foot in the Cordilleras, am I correct?”

“Yesss, sir.” The girl said. I saw a tear roll down her cheek already.

“What is that principal colonial heritage that Spain brought to this country, Miss Hannah?” this time I asked the girl from Buguias, who was ALSO starting to tear up.

“Roman Catholicism, sir?”

“And what is the core doctrine of that religion, according to the teachings of the Spanish friars?”

“Sir, that God is THREE persons in one, Father, Son and Holy Spirit—the Holy Trinity, sir?”

“That’s correct. What is the name of the capital of your province Benguet again, Hannah?”

“LA TRINIDAD, sir?”

“And that is Spanish for ...?”

“The Trinity.” Hannah finally said without a question mark.

All my Cordilleran students looked at one another.

“Maybe Magellan never made it to the interior hinterlands,” I said, “but never live another day of that historical lie that the Cordillera was never colonized, class. You just did not become aware of it because Spain did not even bother to make you select your leader for 300 years. They always just sent somebody with an Affidavit that says ‘I was appointed by the King to be your leader." And you never questioned it.

My students were too sullen to even react. So I drove home the point: “If we don’t heed the lessons from history---” I wasn’t able to finish, Deema interrupted me.

“…we won’t even recognize the face of a colonizer if he went around house to house,” then finally Deema broke down and cried. Followed by Hannah. Then Juan. Then Jack.

I did not dismiss the class.

I just quietly walked out of the room, leaving Deema and her other Cordilleran classmates to let the pain wash over slowly....

S1L33 - "Conflict of Interest" Involving a Public Prosecutor

his evening class I want to discuss a very controversial and contentious topic: judicial independence and the integrity of the criminal-justice system.”

The whole class went, “Ooooooh…!”

“Facts—a judge in Cawatan City, which is somewhere in the Philippines I’ve never been to, was seen in a posh five-star hotel having dinner with the CEO of a corporation that is trying to buy out a local cable company,” I started when Juan Dimacaawat suddenly butted in.

“I’m sorry, just to be clear, sir, by ‘cable company’ did you mean a hardware store that sells cable wires?”

“No, Jack, I meant a company that has cable wires strung along electric posts all across the city. Can you visualize that?”

“Yes, sir. Please continue…” the whole class laughed at how masterfully my student, in just 10 seconds flat, turned things around making ME recite!

“Thank you, Sir Juan!” I indulged him before continuing, “Anyway, just a few weeks after that incident, this judge dismissed two cases filed against the company owned by that CEO that were pending in his sala. Of course, there was a lot of speculations, very naughty ones. Because of social media, this incident caught the attention of many prominent citizens not only in Cawatan City but reaching out as far as Manila. Some were so outraged by the public conduct of that judge, fraternizing with a businessman like that, that they shared some of their Facebook posts with 2 or 3 justices of the Supreme Court whom they knew personally.”

It was Deema’s turn to butt in, “Don’t overwhelm us with too much facts sir. Are there any more?”

“No more, Miss Niwala. That’s it, basically. Now, my question is this: based on the New Code of Judicial Conduct, what would you do if you were the Supreme Court?”

I saw the raised hand of Hannah Maala, the gentle potato farmer’s daughter from Buguias. So I called on her, “By the way, before you answer Miss Hannah, your friend there Miss Deema just recently made me aware that your name ‘Hannah’ is a palindrome. It reads the same forwards or backwards he-he-he. I think that’s really cute.”

“Yes, sir, I thank my mother everyday that she didn’t give me one of those doorbell names…”

“Doorbell WHAT??”

“Well, you know, sir those names that sound like you’re ringing the doorbell—Bongbong, Kring kring, Ningning, Bingbong, Lingling, Singsing…” again the whole class started laughing.

“Well, maybe YOU hear a doorbell,” I said, “who knows their parents might be hearing a cash register drawer opening,” the class kept laughing. Deema started doing her ‘thing’ again stomping her feet as she laughed.

“But answer my question, Hannah, what would you do?”

“I would strip that judge of his judicial robe sir, remove him from the bench. He is an embarrassment to the judiciary and a disgrace to the legal profession!”

“Wow,” I said, staggered by the astronomically high standard of legal ethics of this girl. I said it again--BACKWARDS this time, “Wow!”

“Let me intercede for a moment for that poor judge, Miss Hannah,” I said slowly. I want my students NOT to develop an attitude of legal extremism. It’s always wise to start from a moderate position, because it’s very easy to escalate and very hard to undo damage.

“Wouldn’t you give him a ‘show cause’ order first and ask him to explain his behavior, Miss Hannah?”

“Well, sir, that judge violated about eleven provisions in the Canons of Judicial Ethics…even in baseball, just three strikes and you’re out. What about eleven?”

“Read it, Hannah, read those canons,” I said. I don’t make them memorize anything. I hate law students who memorize things they haven’t understood and couldn’t explain anyway.

“Canon 4, Section 1, sir, states that ‘Judges shall avoid impropriety and the appearance of impropriety in all of their activities.’ In my humble opinion sir, no judge should be wining and dining with litigants, and especially not with FUTURE litigants.”

“Yes, I see your point. That dinner took place less than 3 months before the judge dismissed the two cases, “ I agreed with Miss Maala.

“But, you know, Hannah, judges are humans too. They have need of socialization just like you and me. Won’t you give them just a little bit of wiggle room? Just a tiny one?” I’m starting to feel like I was lawyering for that corrupt judge.

“Well, sir, nobody put a gun to their heads and forced them to accept the prestigious position of a judge. They should know that sacrifice comes with the job.” Hannah said.

“The law says that?”

“Yes, sir. Right here in Section 2: ‘As a subject of constant public scrutiny, judges must accept personal restrictions that might be viewed as burdensome by the ordinary citizen… judges shall conduct themselves in a way that is consistent with the dignity of the judicial office.’

“Lordy Lord…” I said, “somebody ought to realize that even the mere appearance of corruption is a big deal. There is no appeal in the court of public opinion, class, I want you to take note of that. The Supreme Court is all too aware that once public trust on the courts is destroyed, it’s going to be very difficult to repair.”

Derma raised her hand, “Yes Ameed,” I said with a chuckle.

“My name is not a palindrome sir! You just changed my gender by reading my name backwards. SEXISM, SIIIIIIRRR!” the class burst out laughing at the favorite expression of this post-modern Jane Fonda. I have developed some tolerance for her because she is, after all, the undeclared summa cum laude of this class. It’s a good thing she doesn’t allow it to get to her head.

“Alright, Miss Deema, do you agree with Miss Palindrome here—I mean, Miss Hannah—that we should be maximally harsh on a misbehaving judge?”

“I do, sir. If anybody should understand the meaning of ‘dura lex sed lex’ it should be a judge. I know, for a fact, sir that in that scandalous dinner with that judge, there were two lawyers present too. If he is foolish enough to allow himself to be caught in a compromising situation like that, how competent of a judgment can he make?”

“See, Miss Deema, let me play devil’s advocate here. It’s a ‘guy thing’ that we lawyers do, you know, have a couple of drinks after work, you know, it’s all clean fun…”

“A ‘guy thing’? SEXISM SIIIIR!!!”

“Will you forget about the sexism for a minute, Miss Deema,” I said trying to refocus the girl, “just go ahead and read me that part of the law where it says fellow lawyers can’t do this ‘guy thing’ just because one of them happens to be a judge…”

“Gladly sir! It’s right here on Section 3 of Canon 4: ‘Judges shall, in their personal relations with individual members of the legal profession who practice regularly in their court, avoid situations which might reasonably give rise to the suspicion or appearance of favoritism or partiality.’ And on that score sir, I can’t think of anything more suspicious than a judge dismissing two cases against your client after you had an expensive dinner with that judge.”

I looked at the class. They’ve suddenly lost their sense of humor. They seemed disdained that I was beginning to sound like an enabler—and to think I was just PLAYING devil’s advocate! It’s all make-believe.

But at the same time I felt a sudden surge of hopeful pride at the purity and idealism of youth. These young people—they’re not yet lawyers—but they hold in their hands an uncompromising moral compass many lawyers have lost many years ago.

Now I just have to make sure they don’t allow that zeal to substitute for competence. So I expanded the scope of the ethical debate beyond what their books covered.

“Listen class, you’re all correct about that misbehaving judge. Now let me ask you a parallel question, and this is totally hypothetical, keep that in mind, I just want to see how you would universalize the concept. Are you up to that?”

“TRY US, SIR!” they all chorused.

“Alright. The same facts. But this time, the person involved is a public prosecutor—NOT a judge—how many of you think the Supreme Court would come down as hard on that public prosecutor?” Everybody raised their hands up high.

Except Deema.

I stepped down from the lectern and walked over to where she sat and stood directly in front of her.

“After all that fire and brimstone spewing out of you’re mouth about that judge, Miss Deema Niwala, would you care to explain to us why you don’t think the Supreme Court would come down just as hard on a public prosecutor who did the exact same thing?”

“Yes, sir….I know that the Supreme Court would uphold the Constitution and respect the Doctrine of Separation of Powers. The public prosecutor works for the National Prosecution Service under the Department of Justice, which is under the Executive Branch. A public prosecutor is not part of the Judiciary, sir, as shocking as that may sound to many people. So I think the Supreme Court would defer to the Secretary of Justice in cracking the whip on corrupt prosecutors, sir.”

There was a brief spell of silence that I literally heard Deema drop the hairpin she was clutching in her fingers.

“That is excellent, Deema,” I said while the class was still processing what she just said.

“On the other hand, sir,” the girl wasn’t done yet, “a public prosecutor is still a lawyer and the Supreme Court still has direct jurisdiction over him and how he practices law. At some point, there would still be a reckoning, he will still be held accountable.”

“Of course,” I said, inwardly thinking to myself I’m a little embarrassed that my student beat me to the point.

“And how do you think this public prosecutor could be held accountable, Miss Deema?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

THAT is the answer I have been trying hard to train my students to use in the right situation. We can’t know everything. We are all ignorant—on different subjects. I want these young people to realize that it’s not important to just know things all the time. It’s more important to be HONEST all the time. That’s precisely why we do research. This was my chance do something I haven’t been able to do for quite a while: give an assignment.

“For your assignment, class, for our discussion next time—I want you to research ‘how do you make a public prosecutor accountable for the SAME ACT for which a judge can be removed?’ … class dismissed.”