Harry Roque and the Case of the Mysterious Missing Hearing

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo

IN A comedy of errors that even Shakespeare would envy, the enigmatic Harry Roque, the master of disappearing acts and courtroom escapades, has pulled off yet another vanishing act in the riveting saga of “Where’s Harry?” This time, his magical prowess in dodging House hearings has landed him in hotter water than a teabag in a boiling kettle.

The saga began when Roque, who is no stranger to the drama of Philippine politics, claimed that he couldn’t attend a quad-committee hearing because he was otherwise engaged in a courtroom duel on August 16th. A convincing excuse, one might think—until a meddling Manila Regional Trial Court Clerk of Court, wielding the dreaded weapon of “certification,” declared that Roque was, in fact, not seen anywhere near a courtroom on that day. This revelation shocked absolutely no one except, perhaps, Roque himself.

Roque’s defense? An “honest mistake.” Yes, you heard that right. Harry, the man whose calendar must be filled to the brim with critical engagements like “defend the indefensible” and “spout dubious claims,” somehow got his days mixed up. He assumed the hearing was on a Thursday, not a Friday, because—get this—he knows for a fact that the House “usually” doesn’t hold hearings on Fridays. What a rookie mistake for someone who has spent more time in the House than a dust-covered statue in the lobby.

Now, let’s pause for a moment and appreciate the brilliance of Roque’s explanation. Only a true political mastermind could try to convince us that his absence was based on a time-honored tradition rather than a calendar check. If only all our blunders could be blamed on habits: “I didn’t show up for my wedding because, well, weddings usually aren’t on Wednesdays.”

But worry not, baroks, for in the wacky world of Roque, he’s got a fan club that cheers louder than a herd of caffeinated squirrels at a nut convention. Northern Samar’s Rep. Paul Daza, playing the role of the ever-compassionate colleague, suggested that citing Roque for contempt might be, shall we say, a tad bit overkill. Why lock up such a “valuable” resource person, especially one who might be, in Daza’s words, “good-faith fibbing”? If only everyone could claim “honest mistake” as a get-out-of-jail-free card!

Of course, the only sensible solution here is to humor Roque’s claim. After all, who among us hasn’t accidentally sent a letter containing false information because we got our days confused? It’s a totally relatable experience—right up there with misplacing your car keys or forgetting the name of your third cousin twice removed.

But for the rest of us, perhaps we can learn a valuable lesson from this entire debacle. When caught in a fib, simply claim you had an “honest mistake” and make sure to emphasize your many years of experience. If that doesn’t work, have a few sympathetic lawmakers on speed dial who can argue that your absence from a crucial government hearing was an act of good faith. In the meantime, Roque should perhaps invest in a calendar app or, at the very least, start carrying a pocket diary.

As for those who hold him in contempt, might I suggest a more lenient approach? Instead of 24 hours in the House detention facility, perhaps a stint at a local escape room—where Roque can practice his skills at evasion without bothering the nation’s legislative process. Who knows? He might even enjoy it.