Semester 2 Lecture 12 - You must always come to court with clean hands

ood evening class.” I walked into the classroom clutching a toy that a distraught client had given me earlier in the morning.

It’s a 1:18 scale model of a Honda Gold Wing motorcycle that he had paid P15,000 for to an online seller who lived up to its promise of “free shipping,” and would have honored a “30-day money back warranty” had my client invoked it.

After consulting with me, he decided not to and just gave me the thing instead, knowing that I didn’t mind adding it to my small ‘amateur’ collection of scale model cars and motorcycles.

Why do I collect these things? First of all, they come free or almost for free each time my ‘suki’ gasoline station gives them away as part of a promo.

But the more sinister reason is that I dreamt one time that I woke up in a Lilliputian world and all of a sudden these tiny toys became “lifesize.”

Imagine waking up one day and realizing you own ten Porsches, half a dozen Ferraris, six Lamborghinis and a vintage Model-T Ford! And since it was a dream, after all, they all had fully functional engines which I gunned from “zero to 60” in 4.2 seconds before driving off the edge of the dining table and WAKING up.

“Nice toy, sir,” a new elderly student—another one of those repurposed senior citizens with retirement money oozing out of their ears—said.

“Which one are you, Mister---?”

“Cannell, sir. Oscar Cannell,” I’m a balikbayan from Canada, I’m recently retired and said to myself, ‘what the heck, as long as I’ve got all the time in the world now why not just go to evening law school!”

“Uh-huh,” I responded skeptically, “you know I’m beginning to suspect the school is looking to put up a retirement home and using the college of law as a recruiting program.” He gets a baptism of my Omega section’s tradition of derisive laughing.

“But, hey, it’s a free country Oskie, so welcome to the college of law where we study all the different ways of how to break the law to know which ones ought to be repealed.”

“Thank you, sir, but I think I have a pretty good idea already. My brother was a government prosecutor for many years and he was very proud of his alma mater.”

“That’s interesting. What school did your brother go to?” I asked.

“He and you went to the same law school, sir. He said your fellow alumni are well-placed throughout the legal community.”

“I’d say! Just this morning in court I realized that the judge, the government prosecutor, the private prosecutor, the counsel for the defense and myself—we were all from the same law school.”

“That’s very impressive sir—”

“In fact, even the ACCUSED was from our law school!” this sends my class into boisterous guffaws.

“We don’t discriminate,” I said, “but, of course, we do have standards that’s why everyone coming in has to take an entrance test.”

“Oh, I did that too, sir!” Oscar said proudly, “they made me take a test and I passed the test they gave me.”

“What kind of test? Carbon-dating?” this breaks up the class again, as Mister Cannell started to realize what a vicious environment he had walked into.

“Are we going to talk about your toy, sir?” Oskie reminded me.

“Oh, THIS toy,” I remembered as I held up the Honda Gold Wing, “this, class, is a replica of a legendary motorcyle whose sticker price, brand new, starts at P1.5-million pesos. Now if you would all take out your smartphones, I posted a picture of the online selling platform ad for this item on the Omega class chat group wall, did you all see it?”

“Yes, sir!” my class chorused.

“Sir, you told us to apply the rules of evidence to comment on the probative value of the photograph if it were to be adduced in evidence,” Miss Monin interjected.

“Ah, Miss Mona Lee So!” I smiled as I acknowledged the newest senior celebrity in my class, “let me hear your astute observations then.”

“Well, sir, considering the delicate details and their impeccable realism, and noting the scalar comparison of the unit with surrounding objects like the pavement on which the unit stands, containing those tell-tale scatches on the concrete floor, I would say the image used on the sales advertisement is that of a REAL actual lifesize Honda Gold Wing.”

“Oh, now come on, Miss Monin, have you seen the level of detail and realism on some miniature train sets they’re selling these days? Yes, Oskie, you got something to say?”

“Yes, sir. I right-clicked the image and did some back-tracing of the meta data of that graphic file. The digital signature indicated that the photo was originally shot using a Nikon Z6 mirrorless camera, and the copyright for that image is owned by Honda of Japan. Apparently, that image was lifted from the actual Owner’s Manual of a 2022-model Honda Gold Wing. And since Honda doesn’t manufacture miniature replicas, that image IS of the real lifesize thing. I agree with Miss Mona Lee So.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said with a grin, “many dreams have been brought to her doorsteps, and they lied there, and they died there!” suddenly my class starts humming the song--just a couple of bars actually--before breaking up in guffaws again.

After banging the blackboard I said, “so imagine my client’s frustration when he ‘bought’ this amazing legendary Honda Gold Wing supposedly for only P15,000, expecting to ride his purchase all over the Philippine countryside, doing a motorcycling vlog on it and everything and THEN getting this tiny little worthless toy delivered to his doorstep—”

“It’s not exactly worthless, sir, he paid P15,000 for it,” Oskie said, “but I do think the seller was guilty of false advertising.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” I said shaking my head, “there’s nothing false about the advertisement. That IS a real Honda Gold Wing depicted in that photograph. And the seller was making a legitimate offer to sell it for P15,000. By ‘click-wrapping’ the deal on the internet platform, that seller and my client had a meeting of minds pertaining to an object or what is legally-termed as a PRESTATION for a VALUABLE CONSIDERATION. So what do they have, Mr. Cannell?”

“A valid legally-binding enforceable contract, sir,” Oskie answered.

“You bet!” I said, “it was the seller who uploaded that picture, he did not include a disclaimer or label that says ‘simulated photo’ or ‘actual item not to scale’ or even a tell-tale phrase like ‘AA-size batteries not included’ or ‘some assembly required’—anything that would have clearly signalled to my client that he was buying a small toy. In fact, instead of saying ‘free delivery’ he said ‘free SHIPPING’ which evokes the use of a SHIP. Toys are delivered. Cars are SHIPPED. That seller should have delivered a ride-able drivable motorized vehicle, not a paperweight conversation piece. The bastard misdelivered and all you want to charge the sanamagan for is ‘false advertising’?”

Oscar Cannell stood up again, “on second thought, sir, I think the seller is guilty of breach of contract of sale, he should be made to pay damages for abusing the confidence of your client who happens to be a connoisseur of motorcycles.”

“Hmm…I’m sure you’re right,” I said tentatively as I sat back and spied on Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa raising her hand, “Yes, Miss Pinky, go ahead, please.”

“Well, sir, first of all I don’t believe your client is a connoisseur of motorcycles, as Mr. Oskie suggests. If he was, he wouldn’t be buying a Honda. He’d be salivating over a Ducati, or a Bianchi or a Piaggio--”

“I believe those are all Italian brandnames,” I interrupted my Fil-Italian looker of a law student. More laughter.

“Anyway, sir, granting he was a connoisseur, then he must know two things: that a Honda Gold Wing sells for at least P1.5-million and that if you had to ‘ship’ that enormous thing even from just around the corner, the freight cost would certainly be MORE than P15,000. No seller in his right mind would sell anything for less than what he acquired it for, or spend more on shipping than what he is getting for it. So there’s your ‘tell-tale’ sign, sir. Your client ought to have known that he couldn’t possibly be buying a full-sized motorcycle for just a song!” Miss Pinky outlined her fact-analysis.

“I certainly like the tune of that,” I said smiling, “yes, Mister Cannell, a chance to redeem yourself—”

“Miss DUCATI is correct, sir,” Oskie started off, showing his classmates he can pick up their game of sarcasm pretty quick, “while the seller looked to make a quick profit from deceitful advertising, your client certainly was motivated by unfair advantage himself in expecting to procure an item for less than par value. So he has no cause of action.”

“Actually he does, but it will not prosper in court,” Miss Monin interjected.

“Ah! Mona Lee So, Mona Lee So-- men have named you for being so like the lady with a mystic smile!” my class begins their ‘community humming’ again!

“So tell us why you think my client would lose in court if he instituted a complaint, Lady with the mystic smile.”

“Sir, both your client and the seller are in bad faith. And the rule to follow when both parties are in ‘PARI DELICTO’ is for the court to leave them exactly where they are. When you come to court, you must come with clean hands, not with hands soiled by the stain of your attempt to defraud someone who was trying to defraud you.” Miss Monin said.

“That is precisely what I told him,” I said, “ you are just wrong in that part about my client possibly getting defrauded. Remember, he was a motorcycle CONNOISSEUR…”

“Caveat emptorr!!!” my whole class chorused, “let the buyer beware!!!”

“That’s correct. So long as you walk into sale, or subscribe to some service with both your eyes wide open, you’re never going to be a victim. So I discouraged my client from pursuing the case. I don’t mind mentioning that I could have accepted the case first, charged him P200K for an acceptance fee, and THEN told him THAT in the middle of the proceedings. But it would be unethical, so instead I just charged him an hour’s worth of consultation fee which he clearly appreciated. So I get to keep this lovely toy, compliments of the honesty,” I closed. My class nodded in agreement.

“Okay, that’s it for this meeting, your standing assignment remains the same--research on the compassionate use of medical marijuana…CLASS DISMISSED.”

Miss Pinky caught up with me in the hallway, “Sir, I’m just curious. How much did your client really SAVE if he didn’t have to pay you a P200K acceptance fee? Is your consultation fee ‘only’ P50K? P20K?”

“You’re not even warm, Miss Pinky. I charge the standard IBP hourly rate of one thousand.”

“Really? And he was happy to pay a thousand pesos so a lawyer can tell him ‘you don’t have a prayer’ if we go to court??”

“Caveat emptor, Miss Pinky, caveat emptor…”*

Semester 2 Lecture 11 - Is Cannabis the key to Artistic Creativity?

ood evening class,” I flashed a wad of classcards as I strode into the classroom of my Omega section.

The college registrar has finally forwarded the students’ classcards to the professors. So I intended to play my favorite pastime again—driving law students anxiously frantic during recitation by shuffling their cards.

“Miss Ramona L. So, are you present?”

This semester seems to have taken on an acquired international flavor. I spied on more than a couple of students’ classcards with foreign sounding names on it--but they must be all Filipinos. You can’t even take the Bar exam unless you’re Filipino.

“Present, sir!” a lady stood up obviously in her later years, to go by her mostly already-white hair.

“How old are you, Miss Ramona?”

“I’m 21, sir, unless it’s relevant.”

The record for being my oldest law student is held by “Mommy Dionisia” from last semester’s Alpha Class. This lady seemed even older so I thought I better respect her preference to remain age-mysterious.

“No, of course not. It’s not relevant,” I quickly retreated, “besides, some things are easier inferred from evident clues—a skillset, by the way, that I hope to develop in all of you, too,” I set up my guessing game.

“For example, I’m guessing, Miss Ramona, that either your father, grandfather or someone else in the male lineage of your family is named Ramon,” I said, with a wink-wink to show off my inferential skills.

“Actually, there’s nobody named Ramon in my family, sir,” the woman replied, “but there’s a very interesting story behind that.”

“Well, this a three-unit subject meeting twice a week, so we do have an hour and half,” I encouraged her.

“My mother is Filipina-Chinese, her maiden surname is Lee. My father is Korean who sought refuge here in the Philippines when the Korean war broke out in 1950, it’s from him I got my maiden surname So,” she began to narrate.

“Anyway, my father is not a native Tagalog speaker but learned the language in due time, except he just really couldn’t make peace with letter ‘L’ like most Korean and Japanese. My mother, on the other hand was already Filipina from birth and like most Fil-Chi had no issues with the letter ‘L’. As she went into labor her last conversation with my father was about what name to give me. She was succumbing fast to the sedative, so as the nurses wheeled her into the delivery room, she shouted out to my father ‘Dali!! Anong ipapangalan natin?!”

My class was trying hard not to laugh yet.

“My father yelled back, ‘kahit ano na, bahara ka na! Aram mo na!” and my mother only caught the ‘aRAM MO NA’ part. As they say, the rest is history!”

The whole class exploded in guffaws.

I banged the blackboard, “Alright, alright, that’s enough…!” I said to refocus everyone, “that’s a really cool story, Miss Ramona, and I can see YOU have made peace with that name dictated by fortuitous circumstances.” Again my class started giggling.

“Oh, I hated the feminized masculine name, sir. As long as I remember I have avoided using it. All through high school and college, I made my friends call me Mona.”

“Wait a minute,” I paused, “ you were ‘Mona Lee So’ in high school and college??” I said with a mischievous grin.

“I know, I know…and the answer is NO, sir, I don’t smile to tempt my lovers, it’s just my way to hide a broken heart…and YES I am both real and a lovely work of art!”

That’s it, my Omega class couldn’t keep it in anymore. They all just broke out laughing so hard at the novelty of Miss Ramona’s life story. Her seatmate Miss Ursula Bahag-hari couldn’t help it, she put her arms around her neck and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“If only Nat King Cole were alive to hear and see all of this!” I said.

“I like your parents, Miss Ramona, but in my class, everybody gets rebaptized. I’m going to call you Monin because I don’t want you to lose your connection with that wonderful 16th century masterpiece by Leonardo di Caprio.”

“Leonardo da Vinci, sir,” Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa, the class’ Fil-Italian looker corrected me.

“That’s what I said, Leonardo da Vinci,” I recoiled as quickly as I can hoping nobody noticed the Freudian slip.

“I think Monin is a wonderful class nickname for Miss Ramona So, sir. It’s certainly shorter and easier to say than the real name of the Mona Lisa painting which is ‘La Gioconda,’” Miss Pinky added.

“You are half-Italian, I’ll take your word for it, Miss Pinky,” I said.

A few moments later, the class had settled down finally I could launch the evening’s real lecture topic…or formally postpone it, anyway.

“I meant for us to discuss the controversial legal issue of the proposal to legalize marijuana. However, because of recent events involving the arrest of the son of the Justice secretary for illegal possession of almost P1-million pesos worth of marijuana extract, it’s going to be very difficult at this time to talk about it without triggering some very contentious debates that would distract you from a purely academic appreciation of the merits of the question. So I’m thinking we should at least defer the subject till our next meeting.” Reactions broke out like a kettle of popcorn reaching popping point.

“Peace, sir!”

“Faaaar out!”

“Chill!!!”

“What’s happ’nen maaaan?”

“Well, I can see you’re all dialed in on the topic. Pharmaco-psychedelics can do that to you.”

Everybody shut up.

“For whatever it’s worth, I personally have no deep recriminations against it, nor any judgments over people who have consumed cannabis. I have a very good friend, someone I used to play folksinging gigs with in college. Now I’m a lawyer, just like he is. So clearly, the substance didn’t do him too much harm, did it? In fact, as a musical artist, at least, I gotta admit he was better than me.”

“You are a folksinger, sir?” Miss Ursula couldn’t believe her ears.

“Was, Miss Ursula…WAS,” I clarified, “although I never did experiment with the substance.”

“You pass on grass, sir?” Miss Pinky followed up.

“Yes, all the time. WHY do you think he was a BETTER musician than me?”

“I’m not advocating for anything here,” I explained, “I’m just stating the facts, that when my friend was ‘high’ he couldn’t hurt a fly. He couldn’t even trashtalk at you. Marijuana dials back his entire English vocabulary into one word: WOW!” My class laughs.

“And he could say it BACKWARDS—‘WOW!” The class explodes again.

“So that says something about the claim that marijuana has some psychologically-inhibiting active ingredients at least worth investigating for its potential in hospice care treatment protocols. So please further your research on it for the next meeting.”

“Should we also include in our research marijuana’s effect on one’s chances of electoral success, sir?” Miss Monin asked.

“No need, Miss Monin, at this point I think it’s pretty obvious! Class dismissed!”*

Semester 2 Lecture 10 - Leni's sincerity inspires "Shaq" to pursue law instead of pro-hoop

 

ood evening, class.”

I have a new student, maybe another transferee but I couldn’t miss him because he was a cut above the rest—in the literal sense.

“What’s your name, young man?” I asked.

“Sir, my name is Abraham Mabagsik, but my friends call me Abe.”

“How about your enemies?” my class lightly laugh.

“Sir? Oh!…uh…uh…” he struggled to get his bearing.

“Witness cannot answer!” his classmate Roberto Sigalot jokingly interjected, mimicking a cross-examination in court.

“Noted!” I tapped on the blackboard to simulate banging a gavel. “You see, Mr. Mabagsik, your name is not really dependent on who’s calling you, regardless whether it’s a friend or foe, is it?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“No, no, no—don’t apologize. I’m just messing with you a little bit.” Then I addressed the class, “Class if you’re wondering why all your law professors act like they have short fuses, and jump you on every opportunity they get, you should know we’re not being harsh. Part of the skillset that you must develop as a lawyer is the ability to think on your feet. Here’s a little trick for you. Sometimes your adversary is not really that committed to his own question. A lot of times, he’s really on a fishing expedition. So one thing I like to do is make an oral ‘Motion for Bill of Particulars’ and I do that by returning his question.”

I was met by blank stares.

“Alright, let me break it down for you. You do know what a ‘Motion for Bill of Particulars’ is, right? You are third year law students, for crying out loud. Yes, Miss Pinky…”

“Sir, it’s a motion asking your opponent to provide more details, or to substantiate the subject of his inquiry,” the Fil-Italian enamored with the color fuschia said.

“That’s correct. So apply that in the spontaneous sense, surprise your opponent by quickly returning his question, jamming him into having to expand his question. Then you end up picking his brain, not him picking yours,” I explained.

“So, Mr. Mabagsik, my name is Joel Dizon but my friends call me Jokwel. And you say?”

“How about your enemies?” he threw back the question at me, big stupid grin on his face.

“What about them?”

“Sir? Uh…what…what about…what, sir?”

“Witness cannot answer!” all his classmates chorus and then laugh heartily. His seatmate Miss Ursula Bahag-hari poked him with her elbow, “Nadale ka pa rin ni Sir, tinuturo na nga sayo yung technique eh hihihi!”

“Enough of that,” I said, “I think Mr. Mabagsik understands now that neither his friends nor his enemies determine his name. They can call him anything but only he can chose what name he will respond to.” Abe nods his head.

“Except in my class,” everyone laughs again, “No, here I give the names to my students as I please. And I’m going to call you Shaq.”

His classmates clap their agreement. I mentioned earlier his being a cut above the rest—how much “above”? I’d say about eight or nine inches above the average height among the male population in class. And at least ten or fifteen kilos over the average heft. This student is HUGE.”

“I will respond to that name, sir! I like Shaquille O’Neal.”

“Well, maybe you should wait a few weeks more of this recitation, who knows you might soon be complaining ‘Apay ngay Shaq lagi ti maayaban??” More laughs.

“No, seriously, Shaq. What are you, six-foot-five? Six-foot-six? How’s the weather up there?

“Oh, it’s very lonely here at the top, sir,” Shaq said, “but I guess I am condemned to always having to date two girls, one standing on top of the other!”

Well, the guy has a sick sense of humor. But it’s not only his stately stature that caught my attention immediately when I walked into the classroom.

“That’s a lot of ink you’re wearing there, Shaq,” I said referring to the extensive tattoos on both his arms. He had extraordinarily long arms, the kind that hang on the sides. He looked like Godzilla with a shave.

“Oh these? These are called ‘body art’ sir. I have a friend who is a tattoo artist, he did these for me. I had to lie motionless for hours. Look at this on my right arm sir, it’s my newest. Done only 3 weeks ago, its one of—”

“I can see it, it’s one of Lady Justice. Very appropriate for a law student like you. But you know Lady Justice wears a flowing robe without a cleavage,” I interrupted.

“Actually, it’s Darna, sir,” my whole class exploded in guffaws.

“There are no words,” I said while my class was still laughing, “to describe how stupid I feel right now.”

“Oh, no, sir don’t apologize. I showed this to our other professors and all of your co-faculty members also thought they were looking at a stylized Lady Justice and not a figure in soft-porn!”

“We must all be in denial,” I said, “please don’t make me identify the mugshot on your left arm.”

Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa suddenly perked up, “Oh, I love his tattoos on his left arm sir, they are rendered dominantly in pink!”

“Come on, sir, take a guess!” my students chorused.

“Well, Miss Maglia Rosa is correct, it is dominantly pink and I can read the inscription on the scroll, is that ‘Angat Buhay?’ This is the month of October, I realize it’s the anniversary month of somebody announcing her run for the presidency a year ago, so is that face…uh…no, it can’t be.” I said.”

“It is, sir! It’s is LENI ROBREDO. I have her whole pink theme tattooed on my left arm, including her face. This is my remembrance from her campaign which I was a part of,” Shaq said with such exuberance, I didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble.

“Well, the fact of the matter is she lost. Bongbong Marcos won. Ain’t no tattoo is gonna change that,” I said glumly .

“No, sir but the tattoo changed me. I played varsity basketball in college, sir, and I was being recruited by some PBA scouts. My varsity coach said I had a bright future in the pro league. That’s when the campaign launched last year and I tagged along my little sister who was a friend of one of the Robredo daughters.”

“You have a little sister? How little?”

“She’s five-eleven, sir. She can dunk.”

“I had to ask. Anyway continue…”

“That campaign educated me, sir. Just listening to Leni explain issues on the campaign trail, as well in a large rally as in small meetings, I suddenly had a vision of what the Philippines can achieve if we just propagated more of the sincere and dedicated true patriots like her in our national leadership. So I shifted my dream, from basketball to law, because I want to understand government more. I want to be trained in the field that is best suited for political public service. Leni cannot do it alone. I believe her vision for my country should be the burden of my generation to attain.”

Suddenly, my Omega Class fell dead silent. I was speechless myself. I would have expected pontification like that to come from some nerdy geek wearing eyeglasses. Hearing it from an imposing hunk like Shaq was a surprisingly refreshing experience. Finally, I spoke.

“I am really proud of you for everything you said, Shaq. But more than what you said, it’s your commitment. You put everything not only in black-and-white but in all shades of henna. Everything you said is tattooed on your left arm. I think that is amazing, young man. I feel sorry for the PBA but I’m glad you chose to follow in the footsteps of Leni, who is a private citizen now. But she’s still an awesome lawyer, you understand?”

“She is definitely not Madumb, and she is not madamot, either.” I’m proud to wear her face on my shooting arm—I mean, my basketball shooting arm, sir, not—”

“That’s okey, Shaq. In fact, even the OTHER meaning is totally fine by me. I just have one little concern for the future,” my class braced for me to say something really profound.

“I concede, your tattoo does bear a flattering likeness to Leni. But you realize, of course, she could still end up looking like Liza Araneta or worse Gloria Macapagal Arroyo when you get older and your skin starts to sag, don’t you?”

It breaks up the class and they start laughing again. I thought this was a good enough point to end the evening so I said, “Next meeting, please do your research on medical marijuana and developments in that pioneering legal advocacy spotlighted by Joe Biden. Class dismissed!”*

Semester 2 Field Lecture 9 - SINE DIE: the Mother of All Legal Fictions

had no idea people would be so fascinated!

So many of my friends reacted personally, by email, by PM and a few on the comments section itself about my article in the Layman School of Law about CONSTRUCTIVE NOTICE and how seemingly ILLOGICAL the whole idea about this “being presumed to know what you don’t actually know” thing really is.

The topic is, indeed, very long. So, yes, there will be more discussion about this CONSTRUCTIVE NOTICE principle with my Omega Class students in coming ‘class episodes’ soon. Abangan!

But while we’re on the topic of ILLOGICAL actions, let me amuse you with another LEGAL FICTION that I did NOT learn in law school but personally experienced. Of course, I did my research to further my understanding of it afterwards.

As background, from 1988 to 1992, I worked in the House of Representatives of the Congress of the Philippines, under House Speaker Ramon V. Mitra. I was the Chief-of-staff of Baguio Congressman Honorato “Honor” Y. Aquino, who was historically the first elected congressman of the just-created legislative district of Baguio City.

Many of the meetings of congressmen, especially in the different standing committees, were actually attended by their chiefs-of-staff, especially with so many committee hearings happening at the same time.

Even the busiest and most hardworking of them doing “lagare”—the term for someone flitting from one meeting to another while both are going on simultaneously—would never be able to cover all his meetings.

But as long as that congressman responded to the roll call at the start of the meeting, he can physically leave the room. He remains CONSTRUCTIVELY PRESENT so long as his chief-of-staff, who is his alter ego, is in the room!

If you think that’s strange, you “ain’t seen nothing yet.”

In the late afternoon until evening, starting at 4:00 PM, the congressmen would repair to the main session hall—yes, that cavernous hall with the giant Philippine flag draped in front that you always see on television—and again respond to the roll call.

Quorum is usually only determined at the START of the session, after the roll call. After quorum is declared, again these solons with overly itchy feet start moving around the main floor, darting in and out of the session hall.

What do they do? Everything—smoke in the lounge, go to the rest room, grab a quick bite in the cafeteria, sneak back in their offices to take calls, even entertain constituents who have travelled far just to see them in the visitors’ reception room. They can do anything EXCEPT leave the building (not without informing the House sergeant-at-arms).

Again, back at the session hall, they are CONSTRUCTIVELY present, and it’s an all-too-common sight to see one of them delivering a privilege speech to a FULL PLENARY SESSION with hundreds of empty chairs. That solon spoke to a FULL HOUSE, and you can “fact-check” the quorum, the records will bear this out.

Strange, huh? Again, that’s NOTHING. Here’s the Mother of All Constructive Legal Fiction:

A session is usually adjourned early, between 8:00 to 9:00 PM. But on very rare occasions, a certain bill must be passed by a certain deadline, or else the resulting measure would be legally infirm (for ex. A resolution affirming or denying the declaration of martial law or state of emergency, which must be passed within 24 hours, Congress cannot adjourn in the middle of its deliberation).

But what if there’s not enough time? Especially when it involves a very contentious subject, and the floor debates are long-winded and fierce. Time flies fast, and as the clock nears midnight, the majority floor leader rises (usually as pre-arranged) and the dialogue goes this way:

Majority Floor Leader: “Mister Speaker! Point of parliamentary inquiry…!”

Speaker: “Majority floor leader is recognized to state his point of parliamentary inquiry.”

MFL: “Mister Speaker! May we please know what time it is now?”

SPKR: “The Chair notes for the record that it is FIVE MINUTES before midnight.”

MFL: “Mister Speaker! May I move for the suspension of the Rules, on essential parliamentary errand?”

SPKR: “The Rules are hereby suspended!” (He bangs the gavel. He MUST bang the gavel, no motion is carried until he does!)

MFL: (with the Rules suspended) “Mister Speaker! May we move that the Sergeant-at-arms be directed, on essential parliamentary errand, to stop the clock at exactly one minute BEFORE midnight.” (the hall reverberates with solons yelling “Second!!!”)

SPKR: “So moved and seconded, the House Sergeant-at-arms is directed to stop the clock at exactly one minute before midnight.”

I saw the Sergeant-at-arms run somewhere behind the “stage”—I don’t even know where he went—then quickly returns and climbs up the podium where the Speaker was standing. The Speaker leans over, cups his ears to listen to the seargent-at-arms reporting something.

SPKR: “The sergeant-at-arms reports, and so the Chair duly notes, that the clock has been stopped at exactly one minute before midnight.”

MFL: “Mister Speaker! We move to unsuspend the Rules and to resume the Session.” (many yells of “Second!!!”)

SPKR: “Session resumed, the Rules are in place, the Chair notes that the plenary body is now in session SINE DIE.”

“Sine Die” (pronounced “see-neh dee-yeh”) literally means “into the next day.” And that’s exactly what happens. The session continues and the congressmen carry on their floor debates until 3:00 or 4:00 AM of the following day. But frequently the Majority floor leader rises to reassure everyone that “everything is okay.”

MFL: “Mister Speaker! Point of parliamentary inquiry. May we know again what time it is now?”

SPKR: “The Chair notes, based on the clock in the session hall, that the time is one minute before midnight of September 23!” even though, in reality, it was already 4:00 AM of September 24!

The session hall has no windows, so you can’t really see outside. So although the Speaker keeps reporting the time as “one minute before midnight” if you go OUTSIDE, the sun is well above the horizon on the east.

In other words, if you go outside, you walk straight into “today” but if you step back into the session hall you step back into “yesterday!” I bet PAGASA could never understand THAT.

The point of fiction is that whatever vote is taken on any measure, it is recorded as having been rendered on that "frozen" day, regardless what actual day it was when the voting took place. Why? Because as far as Congress was concerned, by agreement of its Members, time STOOD STILL one minute before midnight.

Believe me, that “ONE MINUTE” is the LONGEST one minute you’ve ever experienced. I have seen that “one minute” last for THREE DAYS! Every time, the Speaker is only bound to report the time as reflected in the clock at the session hall.

And here’s the clincher: I have never even actually SEEN that darned clock! There is NO CLOCK in the session hall. Everything—the physical clock, the stopping of the time, the freezing of the dates—all of it is UNQUESTIONABLY TRUE by legal fiction only. But perfectly valid, totally compliant with the Rules (because the logical anomaly is committed WHILE these Rules are suspended) and perfectly LEGAL.

Whenever I explained this to my law students in the past, I couldn’t stop them from laughing (Miss Deema Niwala from Alpha Class could have blasted a hole right through the floor for stomping her feet so hard!).

But what can I say? ONLY lawyers seem to possess the imagination flexible enough to accept the concept of CONSTRUCTIVE LEGAL FICTION because it really requires a certain level of maturity, of tolerance or immunity to credulity--to do this.

Lawyers and lawmakers literally possess the ability to overrule and suspend the operation of universal physical truth as defined by true geniuses like Albert Einstein. They can will an alternative universe of truths into existence, founded on CONSTRUCTIVE LEGAL FICTION simply by agreeing among themselves!

No wonder ang yayabang nila…or NAMIN! But now, you also ALREADY KNOW what WE know.*

Semester 2 Lecture 8 - BBM Spoke to a Full House of Empty Chairs

ood evening, class. Can you count off, please?”

It was an unusual instruction to give an evening law class, because rarely is attendance ever checked in these classes. These people are not undergraduates, you can give these guys a bit of slack. In fact, it’s not uncommon for a few students to come staggering into class as late as a half hour. Most professors, myself included, don’t even mind. If a student is unfaithful in attending class, he only punishes himself because nobody is going to bend bendwards for him so he can catch up with the rest of the class.

“We’re twenty-six, sir,” Miss Pinky Maglia Rosa reported, “and there’s probably 3 or 4 more that’s already in the building and running up the stairs right now.”

“Thank you, Miss Pinky, please remain standing. Can you recall for everyone’s benefit what we discussed in this class last Monday?”

“Uh…sir, we talked about the unconstitutional manner by which Vice-president Sara Duterte was trying to create a special police intelligence unit which was civilian in character and national in scope without the involvement of the National Police Commission, and you said this was extralegal, at best,” the young Fil-Italian mestiza recounted flawlessly.

“And can you characterize the manner in which your classmates behaved as I was discussing all that?” I asked next.

The girl hesitated, “Uh…I’m…I’m not really sure how to answer that question, sir. Can you be more specific?”

“Sure,” I said, “can you specifically describe the specific behavior in which your classmates who belong to this specific class specifically displayed as I discussed that specific topic?” Everyone laughed.

“I’m sure you have a point, sir,” Miss Pinky groused.

“Yes, I do. You see, no matter how specific I get, I really doubt that you would be able to recall very much about audience reaction if you were truly paying attention to the topic at hand. You might barely remember your own reaction, but you must remember what the lesson was. You see, class, in an event that involves delivering a message, the main thing IS the message. In fact, the only thing that really amounts to any importance is the message.”

“Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with the speech of President Marcos at the UN General Assembly recently, sir?” Miss Pinky twitted.

“Because you are a perceptive law student, Miss Pinky, and you have a Political Science bachelor’s degree. Don’t ask me how I know, I have this habit of stalking my students on Facebook,” I smirked.

“I do have a PoliSci background, sir.”

“Right. Then you can tell us what the other term for the ‘UN General Assembly’ is.”

“It’s also called the UN Plenary Body, sir.”

“And what does ‘plenary’ mean and how is that delegate grouping different from an ordinary ‘convened committee’?”

“Sir, the Plenary Body refers to the total membership of an organization, except only those whose membership standing is impaired or suspended. Any smaller grouping of delegates is a convened committee, or an ordinary committee.” Miss Pinky answered.

“Why--can the Plenary Body not function as a committee also?” I followed up.

“It can, sir. In fact, it is the only permanent committee, sir, that’s why it’s called the ‘Committee of One.’ It is all standing committees combined into One.”

“Now, let me go back to this class. You counted you are 26 tonight, were you 26 last Monday?” I asked.

“I have no idea, sir. We did not count off last Monday,” Miss Pinky answered.

“That’s right, there could have been more, there could have been less. There could have been some classmates of yours you were absent. Now to be fair, when I prepare the questions for your exam, should I be concerned that some people might not have been around and might not have heard our discussion last Monday, Miss Pinky?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not? Suppose Mr. Roberto Sigalot was late that day, wouldn’t he have a right to complain that he did not hear the topic, so he shouldn’t be expected to be able to answer well in the exam?”

“No, sir. He belongs to this class, and this class is a PLENARY body. He is a member and is expected to know what every other member knows. That means, he is assumed to understand everything we understood from your lecture, regardless whether he was present or not. All that matters is that the lecture was DELIVERED.” Miss Pinky reasoned.

“THE…LECTURE…WAS…DELIVERED,” I repeated it slowly.

“Take note, Omega Class of junior law students,” I began to talk sentimentally, “what you just learned is the very important but very mysterious legal concept called ‘CONSTRUCTIVE NOTICE.’ There are certain things in law that you are assumed to know, because you are expected to know it, EVEN IF YOU DON’T ACTUALLY KNOW IT. This is based on the assumption that the procedure to LET YOU KNOW was followed and it doesn’t really matter if you actually took advantage of that procedure. Do I make myself clear?”

My whole class shouted together, “NO, SIR!!!”

“Hahaha!” I couldn’t help laughing, “let me see if I can help you understand it better. Miss Ursula Bahag-hari, how many laws do we have in the Philippines?”

“Uh…sir, I think of latest count there are more than 10,200 Republic Acts, but all in all more than 38,950 individual permanent Philippine statutes if we include Presidential Decrees and other special laws.”

“That many, huh? Okay, now how many of these have you read?”

“Oh, my God! Sir! I could barely cover the 200 cases you assigned for our reading! I don’t know…maybe…ten? fifteen? Not very many, for sure,” Miss Ursula admitted.

“But are those laws effective ON YOU, or are you EXEMPTED from their coverage because you’ve never read them?” I asked.

“Oh, no, sir. I am covered by all of them and I cannot use ignorance as an excuse. Article 3 of the Civil Code states ‘ignorance of the law excuses no one from compliance therewith.”

“But is that fair, Miss Ursula? Why can’t you be excused if you are ignorant of the law?”

“Sir, because nobody is really ignorant of the law. The law is made known to all because all laws were promulgated, meaning they were published for everybody to take CONSTRUCTIVE NOTICE of.”

“There you go,” I said, “everybody has CONTRUCTIVE NOTICE of the law. You know class, Article 2 of your Civil Code is very clear—laws become final 15 days following the completion of their publication in the Official Gazette, but I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I have been a practicing lawyer for decades, and I am 59 now—I have never actually held a copy of the Official Gazette in my hands!”

My whole class gasped all together, they couldn’t believe what I just told them.

“But whether I have read the law or not, as long as it was published in the Official Gazette, I am PRESUMED to have read it, as much as each and every one of you. You never really have to read any particular law, until you actually need to know how it affects you. But when you do your research and you finally ACTUALLY read the law, then at that very moment that you read it for the first time, the legal fiction kicks in. You are now considered to have read it AS IF YOU ARE READING IT 15 DAYS AFTER ITS PUBLICATION in the Official Gazette, no matter if the law was published BEFORE YOU WERE EVEN BORN.”

My whole class goes, “Oooooohhhhh….!” And then they all start giggling, finding the legal fiction totally amusing.

“That’s not all,” I teased, “it is also assumed that you have UNDERSTOOD what the law means, even if you CAN’T EVEN READ. It’s up to you to inform yourself, do whatever you have to, the whole duty of the State is just to give CONSTRUCTIVE NOTICE of the law. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Sir, can we go back to how is this relevant to the President’s speech at the UN?” Miss Pinky reminded.

“Of course,” I put down my eyeglasses as I shifted topics, “I’m sure you’ve seen all those Facebook memes mocking the President because he was delivering his speech at the UN General Assembly when there were so many empty chairs—”

“Those were NOT empty chairs, sir,” Miss Pinky, the PoliSci graduate interrupted me.

“No, they were not. And the President was not addressing an empty hall, either. He was addressing the UN Plenary Body….take over for me, Miss Pinky.”

“Sir, the UN General Assembly Hall is the home of the Plenary body, and since Plenary means ‘ALL’ then any single individual in that hall actually embodies ALL of the UN delegates. Just like only 1,000 people are usually interviewed in a poll survey but their answer is assumed to reflect the opinion of 100 million voters because those 1,000 respondents are a representative sample of the plenary voting population,” the girl expounded

“But the memes said no one was even listening to the President while he was speaking, is that correct?” I followed up.

“Oh, my God, NO Sir! ALL Members of the UN General Assembly were not only listening, they heard and understood EVERY WORD of his message. His speech was a CONSTRUCTIVE NOTICE to the whole world. The records of the minutes of that Plenary Session will say, ‘Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos, Jr. DELIVERED a message’ and every country in the entire international community will get a full transcript of that whole message, sir.” Miss Pinky explained.

“Wait, Miss Pinky, are you telling me that because the President SPOKE ON RECORD TO THE UN GENERAL ASSEMBLY. They were all actually constructively present?”

“Yes, sir. The President spoke before a FULL HOUSE.”

“A FULL HOUSE, Miss Pinky? With all those empty seats?”

“People who see the empty seats are BLIND TO THE LEGAL FICTION, sir. They don’t see the PLENARY BODY because they don’t even know the MEANING of ‘PLENARY!”

“Did you get that, class? So now you’ll understand why the following day, the French President Emmanuel Macron also delivered his speech in front of all those empty chairs—”

“Those chairs were NOT empty sir,” Miss Pinky reiterated.

“Right,” I said, “You now fully understand the twin concepts of CONSTRUCTIVE NOTICE and PLENARY REPRESENTATION. So from now on I don’t want any of you acting like ignoramuses out there and repeating what wrong ideas you see on Facebook posted by other ignoramuses, is that clear?” All my students nod.

“Yes, Miss Pinky, what is it? You forgot to say something?”

“I think the word is IGNORAMI, sir.”*

Semester 2 Lecture 7 - Is there a 'Backdoor' Approach to Creating a shadow PNP?

ood evening class,” I was clutching the day’s newspaper as I walked into my Omega Class, making sure the headline story was clearly showing. I did this on purpose, hoping to see which of my junior law students had done any advance reading of their 1987 Constitution, being that the class was still on Article II.

“Somebody is really keen on violating the Constitution so soon after just taking office huh, Professor?”

“You think so, Roberto?” I recognized Roberto Sigalot, the fellow who ‘inherited’ his parents’ empty condo unit in Baguio and thought enrolling in law school might be a great idea to kill time while staying in it.

“I’m just reacting to the headline story in that newspaper you’re holding, sir,” he said, then with a sing-song voice he quoted the headline, “VP Sara defends P150-Million confidential funds in DepEd Budget.”

“Well, I hope you read the whole story anytime earlier today, Mr. Sigalot, because I’d hate to see someone being judgmental on the Vice-president based on just one short sentence,” I responded.

“Oh, I Googled her all day today, sir. I was really trying hard to see her point. I gave her the benefit of all my doubt, but I still came to the same conclusion.”

“Which is…?”

“She violates TWO very important provisions of the 1987 Constitution—”

“TWO? Wow. Really?” I interrupted , “that’s a very bold conclusion. I'm impressed, Roberto, especially since the last time I read the Constitution, it did NOT have any provision dealing exclusively with the Vice-president.”

His classmates all turned to look at him as if to say, “Lagot! Saan mo hinugot yung reasoning mo??”

“That’s right, sir, there is NO article exclusively about the vice-president. In fact, the Constitution doesn’t even bother to define the duties of a vice-president. But I submit that she violated her oath of office by exceeding her duties and overstepping her authority under the Constitution.”

“That’s very interesting,” I decided to sit down for the long explanation that I knew had to follow, “Tell us, Roberto, how can she possibly EXCEED her duties if the Constitution does not even define what those duties are?”

“Well, sir the Constitution required her to take an oath before assuming office, and the oath goes like this: ‘I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully and conscientiously fulfill my duties as Vice-President of the Philippines, preserve and defend its Constitution, execute its laws, do justice to every man, and consecrate myself to the service of the Nation. So help me God,” Mr. Sigalot recited from memory.

“Okay, so far,” I said, “so what do you think happened. God didn’t help her?”

“I’m sure God was trying, sir, but she chose to listen to Greed and Ambition, instead when she asked Congress to allocate P500-million for the Office of the Vice President first and another P150-million pesos ALL in ‘confidential funds’ for her office and for DepEd, in clear violation of Article VI, Section 25, paragraph 2—”

“My, my...WHAT does that provision say?” I poked deeper.

“Sir, it states that ‘No provision or enactment shall be embraced in the general appropriations bill unless it relates specifically to some particular appropriation therein. Any such provision or enactment shall be limited in its operation to the appropriation to which it relates.”

“You may have a point there, Roberto, but so your classmates can understand better, tell them what’s wrong with blind items in a budget,” I coaxed him along.

“Sir, appropriation is not only about allocating money, but also about ensuring that money is actually spent for the purpose it was allocated for. So, okay, she might say I want P650-million total appropriated for ‘intelligence funds.’ That’s the APPROPRIATION, but what’s the PURPOSE? Congress does not only have the power of budget appropriation but ALSO budget oversight. But it’s impossible to track money if you have no idea where it is going. That’s why ‘confidential funds’ are anathema to government spending,” Roberto explained.

“Anathema…that’s a big word,” I played along, “but you know, Roberto, if you had read VP Sara’s official statement in the papers, she explained in microdetail the purposes why she needs all that money—”

“I know, sir, I read that too,” the boy insisted, “she said the money will be used for intelligence gathering to single out those threats to the national security lurking within the institutions of government, sort of like flushing out any ‘sleeper cells’ of the CPP-NPA that are buried deep inside the government and only waiting to be activated so they can work to overthrow the government from the inside. She’s saying the money will be used to purify the government from all elements and influences of communism and terrorism.”

“And you don’t agree with that objective?” I asked.

“I think that objective is dishonest and illusory sir, and certainly not worth spending P650-million for.”

“What’s so dishonest about trying to remove any Vladimir Putin-wannabes in government?” I coaxed him clarify some more.

“First of all, sir, the Office of the Vice President is a BRAND NEW agency every time there’s a new vice -president. SHE will be the only one responsible for staffing that entire agency, appointing every man, woman and LGBTQ-person in it because it is HER office, HER department, HER exclusive domain. Why would she need P500-million to make sure that SHE doesn’t appoint any communist-terrorists?”

The class gives a long, “Oooooohhhh….! Oo nga naman.”

“Hmmm…I see,” I rub my chin to indicate that I thought he made a valid point, “On the other hand, Mr. Sigalot, there are more than 800,000 public school teachers NATIONWIDE under DepEd and all of them have been there BEFORE VP Sara ever became DepEd Secretary. Don’t you think she might be justified being a little bit leery with them?”

“No, sir, public school teachers are some of the most loyal troops of the government, no matter who is the President or Vice-president. If she thought these ultra-conservative maestros and maestras had a single communist bone in their bodies, they certainly have a funny way of showing their communist leanings by helping HER and President Bongbong Marcos win!” this brings the class to a healthy laugh.

“Solid point there, Roberto,” I acknowledgeed, “and maybe that’s why she is asking for LESS money for the DepEd’s ‘intelligence fund’—ONLY P150-million,” and the class roars in guffaw.

“But allow me to play devil’s advocate just a little bit more, Mr. Sigalot,” I said, intent on defending my pañera Inday Sara as much as I can, for as long as I can, “The vice-president wasn’t just talking about rooting out communist-terrorists. She was also concerned about gathering intelligence to uncover drug syndicates, human trafficking syndicates, gambling syndicates and other organized crime syndicates that may be lurking within these government institutions. Certainly you’ll agree that fighting these vicious criminals is going to take extensive field operations, both open and covert. I mean, you’re talking of a NATIONWIDE network of highly-trained undercover agents, informants, and in this day and age, maybe even panels of cyber-experts. All these have to be part of an elaborate system of NATIONWIDE coordination. So can you just imagine the level of organization needed for something like THAT, Roberto?”

“Yes, I can, sir. It would be in the magnitude of the operations of the PNP itself and THAT is how she violates the Constitution a SECOND time, sir “

“I’m sorry, you kinda lost me there somewhere, Mr. Sigalot…..Go back to, ‘magnitude of operation of the PNP’ is WHAT??” I feigned inattentiveness to help him set up his punch line.

“Sir, what VP Sara is trying to set up indirectly is her own NATIONWIDE law detection and enforcement network but bypassing the selection and qualification process prescribed by the Constitution. She's using a backdoor approach to create a shadow PNP, but one that is completely under HER exclusive control."

“And would you care to state that particular constitutional provision that shows that what she is attempting to do is extralegal?” I challenged the boy.

“Yes, sir, it’s Article XVI, Section 6 which states ‘The State shall establish and maintain ONE POLICE FORCE WHICH SHALL BE NATIONAL IN SCOPE and civilian in character, to be administered and controlled by a NATIONAL POLICE COMMISSION.” Roberto recited, again from memory.

“In short, you’re saying that VP Sara is acting like a one-woman National Police Commission?”

“Yes, sir, and all those spineless congressmen, congresswomen and senators are not even putting up any semblance of opposition, not even a hint of fiscalizing, or check-and-balancing…NOTHING!”

“Uh-huh…well…” this time I was groping for words. The boy made a solid argument, “P650-million ‘intelligence funds’ allocated and approved in under NINE MINUTES, I guess you’re right. That is not a lot of opposition or check-and-balancing at all.”

My Omega Class looked totally disgusted as the realization sank in their heads.

“Did you get all of that, class? Did you learn something out of your classmate’s amazing research?” I said, looking approvingly in the direction of Mr. Roberto Sigalot.”

“Yes, sir, we learned something REALLY very eye-opening,” Miss Ursula Bahag-hari answered for the class.

“Really? And what is that?” I just wanted to confirm.

“Our congressmen, congresswomen and senators are all SPINELESS!” the class exploded in guffaws and high-fiving all around.

“You people are disgusting!” I joked, “CLASS DISMISSED!”*