“The law must recognize what seniors know in their bones — that trust can be weaponized, that family can be the worst kind of thief”
WHEN you reach my age of almost 98 years, you start noticing things younger people don’t.
Like how some smiles aren’t so friendly.
How some “concerned” voices hide sharp edges.
And how, after a lifetime of earning, saving, and building, a single piece of paper — one that you barely remember signing — can take it all away.
This isn’t some far-fetched cautionary tale.
This is reality for many of us, the elderly, who are easy prey in a system that values documents over the truth, Santa Banana!
My gulay, take the case of a well-known patroness and philanthropist from Pampanga, who also established one of the top accounting firms in the area.
If anyone knew the value of money, she was the one.
She spent her life balancing ledgers, making wise financial choices, ensuring her hard work didn’t go to waste.
In her off time, she volunteered diligently and faithfully for the Church, to the point of being given an award for her work with the Archdiocese of San Fernando, Pampanga.
Unfortunately, none of that protected the 88-year old lady from the betrayal of her own blood.
Slowly and methodically, her relative transferred her aunt’s wealth to herself, including the business and accounting firm the poor senior citizen had built from the ground up.
But theft wasn’t enough.
The victim had to be silenced , too — locked in a small room, with no access to the outside world. No phone, no internet, no radio, No way to call for help.
When the other relatives finally rescued her, they turned to the law for justice.
But the law, as it often does with seniors, failed her.
The courts looked at the papers — papers that bore the victim’s signature — and ruled them valid.
Never mind that she was already in mental decline when she signed them.
Never mind that she was manipulated, and possibly coerced.
Never mind that no one signs away their life willingly.
This is the cruel loophole that must be closed, Santa Banana!
Legal documents may look clear-cut, but they don’t tell the full story.
When it comes to seniors, the law must take a closer look, because deception doesn’t always come in the form of brute force.
It comes in the gentle persuasion of a trusted relative.
In the assurance “this is just a formality.” In the quiet, unnoticed erosion of our ability to think and decide for ourselves.
The justice system must evolve, my gulay.
Courts must consider not just the signatures on a page, but the circumstances surrounding them.
Were they signed under duress?
Was the elderly person still of sound mind?
Were there signs of manipulation or undue influence?
The burden of proof should not fall entirely on the victim — especially when that victim is someone whose memory and reasoning may already be fading.
Too many of us have seen friends, neighbors, and even ourselves fall into this trap.
Some of us have fought back, many more have not, weighed down by shame, fear, or the unbearable truth that the betrayal came from someone we loved, my gulay.
But here’s the thing about getting old: we may slow down, but we don’t stop.
And we will not stop demanding that the law recognize what seniors know in their bones — that trust can be weaponized, that family can be the worst kind of thief, and that, sometimes, the papers say one thing, but the truth says another, Santa Banana!