Leila de Lima is having a bad hair day. The Supreme Court ruled in favor of Sara Duterte, tossing out the impeachment complaint, and now the justices must suffer the wrath of a woman scorned by due process.
Her latest move? Reminding the institution, almost wistfully, that its justices are impeachable, too. Funny how it walks, talks, and reeks of revenge, as if impeachment power is a weapon, not a constitutional check.
But De Lima “hopes” it won’t come to that. That’s rich. She’s the one bringing it up. Dangle a gun, then say you hope for peace.
If she really believed in institutional integrity, she wouldn’t be publicly entertaining the idea of impeaching justices for a valid ruling and explaining why their case failed.
If you can’t win a case, smear the court that decided it. That’s the game. It leans on a public that doesn’t understand how the separation of powers works. The louder the accusation, the more the public doubts the institution.
But does issuing a ruling, especially one you hate, count as an impeachable offense? Is it “overreach” when the Court errs on the side of caution, as it should, when the stakes are constitutional?
De Lima accuses the Court of “judicial activism,” but the Constitution explicitly grants it the power of review.
That prerogative exists for moments like this. Without it, Congress could pass a law declaring gravity illegal inside the House plenary, then rubber-stamp impeachments based on political indigestion.
Consistency with jurisprudence isn’t overreach. The Court has long invalidated impeachment attempts that violate due process (Francisco v. House, Gutierrez v. House Committee).
The Supreme Court didn’t trample upon the power of Congress. Nor did it say the VP is innocent. It caught a partisan House trying to cheat the process.
De Lima escalates the rhetoric with the poise of someone who mistakes her drama for a constitutional crisis.
But a crisis only happens when one branch defies the Constitution, or when two refuse to recognize each other’s authority. Right now, it’s only the House that’s sour.
If Congress impeaches justices for doing their job, that’s how you trigger a crisis.
Even when the Court’s decision bore the faint perfume of politics, a flawed ruling is not dereliction as much as duty done under pressure. The Constitution demands integrity, not perfection. Suspicion of bias is not evidence. What De Lima feels doesn’t matter, only what she can prove.
Unless you’ve got smoking-gun proof of high crimes, you’re not impeaching anyone. You’re just angry. And De Lima’s anger, however loudly it masquerades as principle, is not a cause of action. It’s just losing again, loudly, and without grace.
De Lima is practically the face of courtroom defeat; every time she speaks, you half-expect to hear “Junel.”
Nothing about this screams of a sudden epiphany about checks and balances, as much as the Dutertes’ perceived political immunity and De Lima’s long memory. It follows a pattern.
She repeatedly invoked “vengeance” to describe her own prosecution. She accused judicial bodies of conspiring to keep her down. And when the Supreme Court refused to become the instrument of her poetic revenge, suddenly they’re the ones out of line.
The republic is never meant to serve De Lima’s healing arc. Justice is not a sword you get to swing when you’re hurt. It’s a structure that holds even when you’re furious, especially then, and still treats you fairly.