Rights and wrongs

The start of another year! So I suppose this is a good a time as any to resume posting.

For the past few weeks, the headlines — and for that matter, most of the inside pages as well — have been dominated by news about the Alabang 3 and the alleged million peso bribes offered to agents of the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA) and prosecutors of the Department of Justice (DOJ) to secure their release. For the most part, the emphasis in the news articles and opinion columns written on the matter has been on the heroism and steadfastness of the PDEA officers who refused the bribes and rebuffed attempts by DOJ prosecutors (who, most would suppose, actually succumbed to bribery) to have the three suspects released. Even my own professor, former UP Law Dean Raul Pangalangan,  characterized the issue, in his column in the Inquirer, as a demonstration of “how the legitimate safeguards of due process can be misused.”

I must admit that from all appearances the issue seems fairly cut and dried. Those involved eve readily fulfill the stereotypical roles we have all come to expect in relation to the local justice system — the rich and privileged suspects, arrogant in their assumption that they can buy their way out of anything; the corrupt government lawyers, only to willing the twist the letter of the law for personal monetary gain; the sleazy private practitioner, adept at using bribes and connections to get his guilty clients off; and standing alone against this tide of iniquity, the idealistic and incorruptible law enforcement officer, a rare gem of virtue amid the decay of the criminal justice system.

But while I do not discount the bravery and integrity of Major Ferdinand Marcelino of the PDEA (or for that matter, do I doubt the corruption that pervades so much of the justice system), I cannot help but be disturbed by the fact that in the wake of this entire affair, concepts such as “due process” and “rights of the accused” have seemingly become inextricably linked to corruption and tolerance for crime; “legal gobbledygook” that repulsively smooth lawyers use as overly technical excuses to get privileged suspects off the hook.

One thing that immediately struck me when this story hit the headlines was the fact that the PDEA refused to release the suspects despite an order from the DOJ, claiming that said order was still subject to “automatic review.” Now while most of us may believe that the suspects were “really” guilty, and that the DOJ order was “really” prompted not by sound legal considerations but by cold, hard monetary ones, should we really be happy at the thought that, in this particular case, instead of seeking recourse through the proper legal venues, the arresting officers simply chose to ignore what on its face was a legal order of release from a duly empowered civilian authority?

Article 125 of the Revised Penal Code requires that suspects arrested without a warrant (as in this case) can only be kept in police custody for a maximum of 36 hours before formal charges must be brought against them in court. In this case, formal charges were not brought precisely because the office that was tasked to bring them, the DOJ, found, at least ostensibly, that the arrest, and consequent search, of the suspects was invalid. Yet notwithstanding this, the PDEA chose to keep the suspects in custody well beyond the legally permitted 36-hour period.

Now I may not exactly be the biggest fan of the DOJ (or more precisely, this particular DOJ), but I am certainly less inclined to allow on-the-ground law enforcement agencies like the PDEA to ignore clearly established legal rules and act in whatever manner they feel is “right,” laws and rules be damned.

While I strongly agree that the corruption in the criminal justice system urgently needs to be addressed, I feel just as, if not more, firmly that simply ignoring procedure is definitely not the way to go.

Two legal wrongs will not certainly make a right.