A Two Tierred Justice System?

 

The Supreme Court suspended lawyer Jesus Falcis III from the practice of law for one year for simple misconduct following a 2018 social media post.

With that said, prominent human rights advocate Atty. Dino Singson de Leon recently looked at the supreme disciplinary mechanisms of the legal profession, and decided to ask the Supreme Court a wonderfully uncomfortable question:

"Why is it that an ordinary private lawyer gets disbarred for failing to file a motion on time, but a lawyer-mayor who physically assaults a court sheriff, and a lawyer-VP who publicly boasts about hiring a hitman (no joke) are still walking around with their titles fully intact?"

It turns out that the Code of Professional Responsibility and Accountability has a hidden, unwritten clause: Article 1-A: The "Do You Know Who My Father Is?" Exemption.

Let us take a nostalgic trip down memory lane to look at the first exhibit in Atty. De Leon’s portfolio of unequal standards.

Once upon a time in Davao, a certain lawyer-mayor decided that the best way to handle a court-mandated demolition order was not to file a Temporary Restraining Order (TRO), but to personally deliver a multi-punch combination directly to the face of a court sheriff.

[ THE LEGAL DISCIPLINE SCALE ]

* Scenario A: An ordinary lawyer uses a curse word in a pleading. -> Result: Immediate suspension, public reprimand, moral degradation.

* Scenario B: A Duterte-class lawyer executes a three-punch combo on a judiciary employee. -> Result: "Let's give it some time. She was stressed. Let's study the context for a decade."

If an ordinary private attorney punched a sheriff during a property dispute in Quezon City, they would be disbarred before the sheriff’s black eye even turned purple.

But when you are a regional dynasty ruler, a physical assault on an officer of the court is apparently viewed as an "innovative, non-traditional method of alternative dispute resolution."

Atty de Leon also mentioned the current, real-time drama of 2024–2026.

The same lawyer, having climbed all the way to the Vice Presidency, held a press conference and casually announced that she had contracted a professional assassin to eliminate the President, the First Lady, and the House Speaker if a specific plot against her life succeeded.

When the nation gasped, her defense team essentially argued: "Guys, it was just a hypothetical, emotional contract killing! It’s called rhetorical flourish!"

Atty. De Leon is pointing out the supreme comedy of the situation: If a private practitioner so much as hints to a client that they know someone who can "take care of" an annoying witness, the NBI is at their door by sunset.

But if you’re the Vice President, threatening the executive branch with a pre-paid hitman is treated like a colorful figure of speech that requires "deep analytical interpretation" from the high tribunal.

The netizens have smelled the coffee that we have almost a Two-Tiered Justice System in place.
Atty. De Leon’s plea to the Supreme Court highlights the stark contrast in how the law treats the elites versus the everyday workforce:

-The Everyday Attorney
-The Offense: Forgetting to update your Mandatory Continuing Legal Education (MCLE) units.
-The Penalty: You are barred from practicing law and treated like a fugitive from justice.

-The Sovereign Lawyer-Politician
-The Offense: Verbally threatening to decapitate the President and desecrate a national cemetery.
-The Penalty: You get a prime-time television slot, 15 security guards, and a political committee defending your "freedom of expression."

-The Sovereign Paradox: The Supreme Court expects ordinary lawyers to behave like modern saints—impeccable manners, pristine language, and absolute deference to the rules.

Meanwhile, the political lawyers are running around treating the Revised Penal Code like a casual suggestion booklet.

Atty. Dino de Leon’s question is a satirical masterpiece because it exposes the ultimate elephant in the courtroom.

The public is being asked to respect the rule of law while watching the very gatekeepers of the law treat criminal liability as an optional character trait.

If the Supreme Court wants the public to believe that the standards of the legal profession apply to everyone, they might need to pause the disbarment cases of small-time attorneys who bounced a check, and finally address the giant elephant in the room who keeps talking about hitmen, decapitations, and stinking fish.

In the grand theater of Philippine justice, the law is like a spiderweb—it catches the small flies, but lets the giant hornets rip right through.

Until the standards apply to the barongs in Malacañang and Davao the same way they apply to the regular offices in Ortigas, the lawyer's oath is just a beautiful poem we recite before entering the VIP lounge.