“In this theater of Philippine justice, the people’s protector risks demolishing faith to rebuild it”
IN A radio rant that shattered the usual inter-branch courtesy, Ombudsman Jesus Crispin “Boying” Remulla declared on dzRH that corruption is not confined to the executive or legislative branches—it is “severe” in the judiciary as well.
“Matindi ho ‘yung judiciary. Matindi ho ‘yan. Panoorin n’yo lahat ng judges. Panoorin n’yo ‘yung mga justices. Panoorin natin,” he said, urging the public to watch closely.
Remulla’s outburst, aired on Jan. 3, 2026, targeted the Sandiganbayan’s knack for acquittals in high-profile graft cases.
He mocked the anti-graft court for having “lahat ng dahilan para mag-acquit,” citing the 2016 clearance of Jocelyn “Joc-Joc” Bolante in the P723-million fertilizer fund scam and recent absolutions in the Priority Development Assistance Fund pork barrel mess.
Heavyweights like the late Juan Ponce Enrile, Gigi Reyes, and Janet Lim-Napoles walked free on graft counts despite what Remulla called ironclad evidence.
“Huling-huli ‘yun,” he insisted—you can’t blame weak prosecution.
These rulings, he implied, smell less of rigorous proof-beyond-reasonable-doubt and more of “miracles” or backroom deals.
Remulla alluded to lawyers who “gumagapang”—crawling through corridors, lobbying outcomes with fat envelopes.
It’s the perennial rumor mill: fixers, intermediaries, a shadow system where justice bends to the highest bidder.
The Integrated Bar of the Philippines fired back gently, acknowledging corruption “exists” but rejecting claims it’s rampant.
President Allan Panolong praised the Supreme Court’s Judicial Integrity Board and insisted Sandiganbayan decisions hinge on evidence, not bribes.
More ethical judges than corrupt ones, he said—a polite press release against Remulla’s street-fight rhetoric.
Yet Remulla’s frustration has roots.
Appointed in Oct. 2025 amid controversy, he’s pushed reforms: digital databases, AI tools, tighter deadlines, and 20 new prosecutors by mid-January.
His office chases the massive flood control scandal, vowing charges against lawmakers and officials. Blaming judicial acquittals may deflect from prosecutorial gaps—or signal a bolder stance against a branch long whispered to harbor “hoodlums in robes.”
Legally, his mandate under Republic Act 6770 empowers probes into any official, including judges.
But equating acquittals with corruption tramples judicial independence enshrined in the Constitution.
Supreme Court precedents like Maceda v. Vasquez curb Ombudsman overreach on court personnel.
Broad accusations risk eroding public trust further, breeding cynicism or even spiteful rulings against his cases.
Existing safeguards—the New Code of Judicial Conduct, integrity boards—look robust on paper but often function as protective mazes for the powerful.
Complaints vanish; the club polices itself.
Remulla’s bomb may serve the public by exposing a festering wound Filipinos already suspect.
Or it poisons the well, deepening distrust in a system where the mighty evade accountability while the poor languish.
Institutional friction looms: contempt citations?
A Constitutional standoff?
His methods are incendiary, his timing suspect—perhaps preemptive cover for future losses.
But he spotlights a cancer the legal elite prefers hushed.
Real reform demands transparency: forensic-audited SALNs published online, real-time case tracking exposing delays and interlocutors, an independent body to hunt crawling fixers.
In this theater of Philippine justice, the people’s protector risks demolishing faith to rebuild it.
If Remulla forces reckoning, the blast might justify the rubble.
Otherwise, we’ve witnessed the rule of law gut-punched on live radio.
Panoorin natin—but don’t hold your breath for miracles.
Boying shouted fire in a crowded courthouse. Everyone looked up—and saw the smoke was coming from inside.
