DURING the Sept. 28 hearing on Vice President Sara Duterte’s alleged unexplained wealth, San Juan Rep. Ysabel “Bel” Zamora questioned Police Maj. Joericson Sangalang of the Philippine National Police’s (PNP) Firearms and Explosives Office. He testified that 51 firearms were registered to Duterte and her husband, with a combined estimated current market value of about P7.22 million. Zamora presented the records as part of the prosecution’s Article 2 case and cited SALN (statement of assets, liabilities and net worth) guidelines requiring registered firearms to be declared individually.
The case for asking is plain. Public office is an “amanah” — a trust — and declarations of assets are part of the public ledger. Firearms are property; official records can establish what is registered, in whose name and what value the agency estimates. A prosecutor is doing her duty when she asks a witness to identify those records and explains why they might matter. A question can be a lantern, helping the court and citizens see what might otherwise remain in the shadows.
But a lantern is not a verdict. A list of registered firearms does not by itself prove unexplained wealth, unlawful ownership or a false SALN. The cited figure was an estimate of current market value, not necessarily what was paid when the firearms were acquired. The court must weigh the declarations, acquisition dates and costs, income and other evidence before drawing conclusions. The witness could speak to PNP records; he could not, on that basis alone, establish the full source of the couple’s funds or resolve the legal charge.
The manner of asking deserves the same two-sided scrutiny. Zamora’s measured, personable delivery may help make technical records easier to follow. Yet a prosecutor’s style can also seem overly familiar, theatrical or flirtatious, and the public may fairly ask whether that helps the examination or distracts from it. When Zamora asked whether a vice president should own a large number of firearms, the defense objected that the question was hypothetical, and the presiding officer sustained the objection. The presiding officer also asked the prosecution to shorten its questioning. Those moments do not decide the case, but they show why every question must be tested for relevance and fairness.
An impeachment hearing is a room of scales. On one side sit the records; on the other, the claims made about them. A question may bring a hidden detail into light, but it can also place more weight on the pan than the evidence can carry. The work of the court is to measure carefully. The work of the public is to resist tilting the scale before all the facts are heard.
As a Muslim woman, I believe justice must be more than a banner we raise for our own side. The Quran calls believers to stand firmly for justice, even when it is difficult. That means scrutinizing a powerful official without presuming guilt; hearing the defense without presuming obstruction; and examining a woman prosecutor’s technique without policing her voice, face or femininity. “Misogyny” should not be used to shut down every critique. But criticism becomes gendered when it reduces a woman’s professional work to sexualized labels such as “bedroom voice.” The measure must be consistent for women and men alike.
So let us hold both pans level. Zamora’s questions should be judged for precision, relevance and effect. The witness deserves questions within his knowledge; the defense deserves to challenge the evidence; and the public deserves a clear account of what the record proves and what it does not. The firearms may open a door to inquiry. Only evidence, tested under the rules, can show where that door leads. Let the law keep the scale, and let no one’s gender tip it.
