Justice Secretary Hernando B. Perez: Justice in full bloom

It is disconcerting hearing Department of Justice Secretary Hernando B. Perez reminisce about his younger days. Blessed with a wrinkle-proof baby face, he looks far too young to engage in nostalgia. "During my time, we lawyers would go for the prestige of what we do," he says. "Now the young lawyers are more practical–they think of their families, probably because lawyers now finish at an older age. When I took the Bar, I was 21 years old. By the age of 23, I was a Professor of Law! At that age, you don’t think of a family; you think of the glamor of teaching, etc."

Perez has good reason to worry about the lack of idealism exhibited by today’s law graduates–applications for DOJ positions are as rare as tamaraw sightings. According to the Secretary, there is a 38 percent vacancy rate for DOJ prosecutors.

"We are finding it difficult to compete with the private sector in attracting prosecutors to our side. And those that we already have, we lose to the judiciary. The bar examination is very difficult–in recent years they pass only 20 percent so the lawyers who pass will obviously be in demand. The starting salary for the lowest DOJ prosecutor is P14,800 a month–it’s pretty low. When I was in the private sector, my secretary was earning P20,000 a month!" says Perez.

Occasionally, DOJ prosecutors are confronted with situations that call for heroism, but the advantages of self-preservation usually make for a more compelling case. Perez relates the state of affairs in Basilan, which needs six prosecutors but has just two. Both prosecutors applied for early retirement when they discovered the Abu Sayyaf cases would be tried in their province. "When they found out the trial would not be held in Basilan, they decided not to resign," Perez shakes his head. "But one of them had a stroke!"

"In South Cotabato, I have three prosecutors. One is retiring and one is sickly, so I actually have only one-and-a-half. I wrote the Integrated Bar of the Philippines asking for applicants but I got none. While these are not really the reasons for delaying some cases, I have to concede that the lack of prosecutors saps the energies of those who are already with us. One prosecutor ends up serving several salas. He ends up scheduling criminal cases one sala per day in a week."

The dispiriting shortage of prosecutors is just one of many challenges facing Perez at the DOJ. The losing war against drugs and kidnapping, congested jails, maximum-security inmates using cellphones as if strolling in the mall, a string of scandals and an avalanche of temporary restraining orders that have brought high-profile cases to a standstill induce daily migraines. On the whole, Perez would rather be in his Malvar, Batangas farm.

Throughout his life–as a young lawyer, then 2nd District of Batangas Congressman, laban Secretary-General and Deputy Speaker of the House–Perez’s modest farm has always been his sanctuary, a place where he could peacefully tend to his beloved orchids. His passion for orchids began under the most unlikely circumstances. While in his late 20’s, Perez would attend a weekly game of poker at the home of some orchid-breeding friends. His opponents at the table quickly learned that the young lawyer with the ingenuous face and the soothing voice could bluff like a cardshark. Soon, he was collecting his winnings in the form of orchids. One of them bloomed under his care and Perez was ecstatic.

"The best teacher is, of course, experience. I’ve read a lot of books about orchids. I probably have the most extensive library of orchid books in the Philippines. I even make my own equipment for sowing orchid seeds. I also have a homemade sterile chamber, which I made myself and I bought a small shaker for cloning my orchids. I was so happy because I succeeded. We have a distinctive way of planting orchids. We use a combination of charcoal and osmunda fiber, which we get from the forest," he says.

According to Perez, the best carrier of pollen is the cover of a ballpen with its suitably curved tip. But perhaps there is more to his success with these notoriously intransigent flowers than his innovative tools of the trade. "Some people might think I’m crazy because when I’m about to inject the pollen into the recipient, I would say, ‘Eto, pogi ‘to. Okey ‘to! Uuuuuy!’ But I don’t do that in the presence of anybody."

Around these parts, Perez is known as something of a soft touch. He readily gives away some of his most prized orchids and is delighted when their descendants go on to win competitions. Trusting by nature, he will purchase purportedly seedless atis seedlings, already imagining the first bite from this infuriating fruit. He admits, "It took me years before I found out that I’ve been had!"

On the walls of his farmhouse hang scores of trophies, plaques and ribbons–proof that his orchid hybrids are among the best in the country. It also testifies to the patience and fastidiousness that is part of the Justice Secretary’s nature. But lest anyone get the wrong impression, there is a wooden statue right below the ribbons of an Ifugao warrior exultantly holding up the head of a decapitated rival. Perez can fight, too.

Nani, as he is fondly called, exploded into national prominence as one of the public prosecutors during the impeachment trial of former President Joseph Estrada. In response to the brilliance of defense lawyer Estelito Mendoza, the prosecution could only muster misty-eyed recollections of their Martial Law glory days, wobbly replies to tactical objections and mind-numbingly tedious recitals of check numbers and bank statements. It was clear to even the most biased Estrada opponents that the defense panel was outclassing their prosecution counterparts–until Perez walked up to the podium to handle the BW stock manipulation charge.

He had come exceptionally prepared. His resourceful staff had managed to coax Erap-friendly government departments into releasing valuable documents. They simulated cross-examinations on bewildered security guards pretending to be witnesses. The weeks of relying on power naps paid off; Perez conveyed his arguments with unnatural coolness and hugely welcome precision. Even former Senator Miriam Santiago, that old battleaxe of the Senate, failed to perturb him. She quoted from a US Supreme Court decision to dispute a point of legal minutia–he merely cited a more pertinent Philippine Supreme Court ruling.

Perez’s tour de force performance and fidelity to President Macapagal-Arroyo were rewarded with an offer to assume the post of Justice Secretary. It was a thorny decision as he was already a lock for Speaker of the House of Representatives–even current House Speaker Joe de Venecia will concede as much. Perez candidly admits he sorely misses being a member of Congress. "I miss it very much. When you hold an elective position, you are responsible only to your constituents. Everybody else is your peer, your equal. You can debate with everyone but no one can interfere with your decision-making," he says.

It is a bitter allusion to former Solicitor-General Frank Chavez’s widely printed criticisms of the DOJ over its handling of the Irene Araneta account. Says Perez, "Even mere consultants will say they will resign because I did not follow their advice. If your advice is not to my liking, why should I accept it? I was minding my own business when Atty. Frank Chavez offered himself as a consultant. Then he wanted me to pave the way for Reiner Jacobi to enter the Philippines. I said, just a minute–that’s beyond my capacity. Maybe we should wait for Haydee Yorac, the incoming chairman of the PCGG and ask her. Apparently, he has other ideas and will find any excuse other than Jacobi to resign his P1-a-year job. I said, fine. When you hold an elective position, you don’t take any kind of crap from anyone. You’re your own man."

The accusations against him do not just originate from media-savvy, play-it-both-ways lawyers who wear suspenders and belts simultaneously. As has become customary for officials facing confirmation in the Senate, Perez’s reputation has come under systematic attack from the usual suspects. The most serious charge is that he received a $2-million bribe to turn over the contract to rehabilitate and operate the 750-megawatt Caliraya-Botocan-Kalayaan power complex in Laguna to the Argentine firm impsa. Perez flatly denies that he approved a sovereign guarantee for the $470-million hydroelectric plant in the first place.

"I only rendered an opinion on the Government Acknowledgment & Consent Agreement (gaca). The gaca is only a comfort letter for the financiers and I just certified that those who signed had the authority to bind the Republic of the Philippines to its obligations. I looked at the opinion I rendered and there was no mention of the guarantee. I’ve been looking for that guarantee and so far I haven’t seen it. Now I suspect that there is no guarantee at all! It’s funny, I’ve been accused of approving it when I haven’t even seen it," he says.

Perez is also reproached for installing an Ateneo Law School mafia in the DOJ by appointing his former students. "What’s wrong if they are my former students? There are congressmen who are my former students. Right now, there are two former students who are members of the Arroyo government. In the Cabinet of Estrada, I had one–the Secretary of Labor. Actually, out of 20 or so under the Office of the Secretary, only two are my former students. But tell me if they did something wrong and I’ll see to it that they are punished. Even (Maguindanao) Cong. Didagen Dilangalen was a former student of mine. According to him, I nearly flunked him. I told him, sorry I made a mistake–whatever that means," he smiles, possibly at the thought of what might have been.

Perez enjoyed immediate success upon assuming his post, personally defending the legitimacy of the Arroyo government in the Supreme Court. Another notable achievement is the conviction of Dominga Manalili, a former cashier of the Bureau of Internal Revenue, for pilfering P256 million in withholding tax. Manalili is the first person to be convicted of plunder. However, other critical cases–the Estrada plunder case involving the misuse of SSS and GSIS funds, the Bubby Dacer murder case, the Kuratong Baleleng rubout and the Rosebud cases–are in legal limbo. "How can we prosecute when our hands are tied?" he asks plaintively, referring to the incapacitating TRO’s slapped by the courts.

Perez confesses the September 11 terrorist bombings in the US have slowed down evidence gathering against Sen. Panfilo Lacson to a crawl. The FBI has understandably prioritized their domestic problems over weeding out the Senator’s alleged bank accounts in the US. Says Perez, "I have said that when I do receive the reply (from the US Department of Justice)–whether it is good or bad for Sen. Lacson–I will announce it. If the US Attorney General says that they did not uncover any evidence, then I will make that announcement. I want everyone to understand that while we prosecute people, we do not persecute them. We base it only on the evidence that we gather."

The Secretary of Justice declares that, at least in the Kuratong Baleleng and Rosebud cases, there is enough evidence to convict all those accused if the DOJ is allowed to present its evidence. For all his accomplishments, Perez will ultimately be judged by the apex criminals his department hurls into jail. He dreams of retiring to his farm, to a serene life spent inspecting his orchids, raising animals and haggling over the price of fruits. He longs for lazy afternoons playing tongits with his workers. The country will not allow him his humble pleasures just yet, not until the impudence is erased from those who deem themselves untouchable. Secretary Hernando B. Perez himself will find scant consolation even in his own private paradise if, like an old angler, he rues the big fish that got away.