If you define justice, what would it be?

Most of those who studied law are seekers of justice. It is a calling. A quiet but persistent pull toward fairness, accountability, and the protection of those who have none. To serve justice to those who deserve it most is the drive of this pursuit, the reason of endurance, and the end to every means. 

And yet, my humble beginnings thought me that to seek for justice is my vocation. I grew up believing that justice was something noble and attainable, something that the law, if properly wielded, could deliver. 

And yet, this vocation, during all court observations, has been put to the test. 

I. The Silent Epidemic

There is a difference between learning the law and witnessing it in action. 

Sitting inside a courtroom, watching the slow and deliberate movement of a criminal trial, I realized how fragile the idea of justice can be. The case before the court involved two accused charged with Incestuous Rape and two counts of Lascivious Conduct under Section 5(b) of Republic Act No. 7610, the Special Protection of Children Against Abuse, Exploitation and Discrimination Act, respectively.

The words themselves were heavy, but the silence in the courtroom was heavier.

This was only a pre-trial which is supposed to be procedural, technical, almost mechanical. But the prosecution and the defense has come to an agreement to discuss the possibility of the plea bargaining considering that the Prosecutor is newly assigned to the case. The victim was present, together with a representative from their MSWD (Municipal Social Welfare and Development Office). The resetting and its formalities lay a story too painful to be fully spoken. Her trauma had been reduced to dates and a possibility of a lowered sentence of her perpetrator. 

What struck me most was how quiet everything was. 

No shouting. 

No dramatic confessions.

Just the defense counsel and the prosecutor calmly discussing evidence, timelines, and possible admissions. Justice, I realized, does not always arrive with force. Sometimes it moves slowly, uncomfortably, and without spectacle.

Yet another epidemic subsists which does not exist only in the form of crimes committed against victims. There are also those who abuse the law itself. This time not as victims, but as beneficiaries who refuse to honor the mercy extended to them. An accused under probation for violation of Sec. 5 (0.003g) & Sec. 11 (1.07g), Art. 8, RA 9165.

In this proceeding, the court dealt with a probation case. Probation, as the judge patiently explained, is never a right. It is a privilege; a second chance given to those willing to reform, to obey the law, and to prove that they deserve to remain free. The conditions were simple. First, report regularly, and second, stay away from illegal drugs.

And yet, this privilege was repeatedly violated.

The accused tested positive for drugs, not only once, but third time prior to the hearing. He failed to attend mandatory meetings. The Probation Officer considered him to have absconded the order of the Court and only came to see them just recently, only to confirm once more his refusal to comply. Non-compliance to both CEDEC and his Probation Officer, only to come months after, was not an act of accountability, but a reminder of leniency taken for granted.

Finally, the Judge ordered a drug test for the last time. The warning was clear and firm that if the result were positive, arrest would follow. There was no anger in the Judge's voice, there was only firm resolve. The Judge explained, through the accused's counsel, in hopes that the message would cross, that probation exists not to excuse wrongdoing, but to encourage reform. The order of the Court was only fair to him and even lenient. And when the law is mocked, mercy must end.

In that moment, I realized that justice must walk a careful line between compassion and consequence. Too much leniency, and the law is rendered meaningless. Too much rigidity, and it loses its humanity. RA 7610 reminds us that some abuses destroy lives in silence. Violation to the conditions of probation, on cases relating to RA 9165, reminds us that some abuses erode the law itself. 

Both demand vigilance. Both test the system. And both challenge our understanding of what justice must do, which is not only to protect victims, but also to uphold accountability.

And yet it baffles me with a certain question, 'do they deserve the law's mercy?' Is mercy injustice to the victims and the state?

 I realized then that mercy is only meaningful when it is accompanied by responsibility. In this probation case, repeated violations showed a refusal to honor the law. The law offers a second chance to reform, but undeserved mercy risks undermining accountability. It prolongs the suffering of victims and weakens the authority of the state. Mercy without responsibility becomes a mockery of justice. And yet, denying mercy entirely also extinguishes the hope of rehabilitation. Justice, I understood, must balance compassion with consequence, or it ceases to be just at all.

II. The Falling Out

If the criminal proceedings revealed how justice responds to violence, the civil proceedings showed how it responds to relationships that have already collapsed.

That day, the docket was filled with cases involving the Declaration of Nullity of Marriage and the Declaration of Absolute Nullity of Void Marriages. Each case carried its own history. Unlike the criminal case, there were no criminal accusations, no threats of imprisonment. Instead, there were broken vows, disputed properties, and relationships that had long collapsed before reaching the courtroom. 

Many of the cases for Declaration of Nullity of Marriage did not proceed as scheduled. They were reset to a later date, largely due to the change of counsel and the fact that the parties had yet to present their witnesses. The court moved on, one case after another, each postponement quietly adding to the weight of delay borne by the litigants.

One case, in particular, stood out because of the Judge's lecture on the repeated absence of the Counsel. In this proceeding, the lawyer had already been absent three times, submitting written requests for rescheduling but never appearing personally to justify the delays. The judge reminded the courtroom that under the Code of Professional Responsibility and Accountability (CPRA), lawyers have a duty to be present at every stage of the proceedings. Written motions cannot replace personal accountability. The Judge was firm that should absences continue, dismissal of the case would follow. This lecture was directed solely at the lawyer’s conduct and its impact on delaying justice.

In a different case, the Judge delivered another lecture, this time addressing the Public Attorney’s Office (PAO). The complainant in this proceeding was a public school teacher, represented by a PAO lawyer. The Judge emphasized that the PAO exists to provide legal assistance only to those who cannot afford a private lawyer. In this instance, the complainant was no longer qualified for PAO representation, as their circumstances indicated they could retain counsel independently. The Judge's admonition explained that public resources must be preserved for the truly indigent, and the PAO must act in accordance with its intended purpose. 

In contrast, a petition for the Declaration of Absolute Nullity of a Void Marriage moved closer to its resolution. The last witness was presented, offering testimony on personal observations of the couple, their interactions, behavior, and circumstances demonstrating that the marriage was void from the start. There was no drama, only the patient assembly of truth through lived experience. While listening to this last testimony, I realized how marriage, once idealized as a sanctuary, can become a battleground.

The civil proceedings also included a case for the Nullification of a Transfer Certificate of Title. At that stage, the hearing had reached the formal offer of evidence, where both opposing parties carefully examined, admitted, and objected to each piece of evidence. Allegations were raised that the TCT had been acquired through fraud, causing injustice to the lawful owners of the land.  Watching the careful scrutiny of documents, I realized how justice in property disputes is painstakingly built, document by document, and how the law strives to correct wrongs even when harm is subtle and procedural.

As the hearings concluded, I realized that justice in the civil court often unfolds through absence. It may be absent partners, absent lawyers, and sometimes, absent accountability. Unlike the criminal court, where harm is immediate and visible, the damage here is quieter, stretched across time, delay, and neglect.

And yet when lawyers are absent, or public resources diverted, who bears the cost? Is justice still served, or is it silently eroded, one delay at a time?

 I saw that it is the complainants, the people seeking closure, who suffer the most. Every absence, every delay, every misuse of public resources quietly adds to their burden. Justice may be slow here, fragile even, but it persists. Through hearings, witnesses, and careful scrutiny of evidence, the law still attempts to restore fairness. It may not be perfect, and it may not be fast, but it does not disappear. And in that slow persistence, justice still has its shape, its meaning, its force.

Observing both proceedings forced me to confront an uncomfortable truth that justice is not always satisfying. It does not always feel complete. Sometimes it merely acknowledges harm without fully repairing it. And yet, despite its imperfections, justice remains necessary.

It is the courage to face stories that disturb us. It is the discipline to work within a flawed system without abandoning it. It is the humility to accept that the law cannot heal everything, but must still be used to protect, to recognize, and to hold accountable.

My vocation was tested in that courtroom, but it was not broken. Instead, it was reshaped. Justice, I learned, is not always about winning or restoring what was lost. Sometimes, it is simply about ensuring that silence does not prevail. And perhaps, that is reason enough to keep seeking it.

And if I should define justice, surely it is not perfection. 

It is rather persistence.

To persists,

In this Life Line.