Ceilings high, probity low—hushness lingers, awaiting the far tomorrow. 

Wood-paneled walls lined the chamber, the country’s flag displaying prominence. Queued seating, forming a gentle curve facing the center. Each table was equipped with engraved nameplates, reflecting light sharply in view. A familiar, smoothened gavel—witness to many trials—rested in place, its very presence echoing a knowing sound throughout the room.

Now, everything is complete—perhaps even perfect. The only thing missing now is the people to hold trial.

The courtroom remains filled with nothingness, a shadow of its once-bustling self. It now waits for the beginning of an end: the trial of Vice President Sara Duterte, in the hands of the Senate. Thrown assassination plots, accusatory graft and corruption, and cryptic riches remain suspended, weighing the air. “Poor leadership,” she accused her compeer, perhaps seeking an opening to drag Marcos down, paving her path towards his seat. In a scenario of defeat, the two would raise arms that were once together, against one another, causing the slow crumble of their alliance.

With expectations rising, rumors circle about the misuse of funds, and abuse of power, and silence rises with it. Far from this hall were distant, justice-hungry roars—while some kept composure, most breathed clamorous outrage, boiling over. The public debates have been where everyone has gone. Cold chairs remain cold, and podiums gather dust. A simple question prolongs the persisting delay to seat assignments: Numbers or Law?

Voices are heard everywhere—except here. They murmur truths, each aligned with the power they serve. Five voices seem to echo in harmony, in one rhythmic perspective, but with different voices.

Rejecting the push of numerical votes to decide dismissal or delay, senators Risa Hontiveros, Aquilino “Koko” Pimentel III, Sherwin Gatchalian, Nancy Binay, and Grace Poe stood firmly at the podium, demanding trial in the path of justice. Eager for untold truths the vice president kept concealed to be exhibited to the betrayed public, moral and political obligations weigh heavy from within them.

As voices ring steady waves to the barren outside, they pose a question: Do numbers weigh more than evidence? A swarm of yeses buzzes around through a translucent fog. Senators Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa, Imee Marcos, Bong Go, Robin Padilla, and Jinggoy Estrada—among others came opposing the gentle melody of the other side. Strong and stern against the five, they continue to attempt to dismiss or delay the revelation of the calm, fortunate, or thunderous, unfortunate truth.

Amid disarray, the masses harkened back to the times when Estrada, Corona, Gutierrez, and Bautista were all driven for impeachment—three resigned, one overthrown. The public remains restlessly waiting to witness Duterte’s resignation or forced unseating—will she wilfully walk, or will she remain immovable from her power?

While these remarks try to pry into the small cracks of the senate’s door, it refuses, on hold. We now wonder: whose voices will unlock the gateway? Will the lock be unlatched—or sealed shut? 

The answer lies in time. In the end, it’s unpredictable whose papers will fall to the courtroom floor.