The Harry Roque Hide-and-Seek Spectacle: A Satirical Drama in One Act

By Louis ‘Barok’ C Biraogo — September 15, 2024

SCENE: Manila, 2024. A weary nation witnesses yet another political figure literally disappear, as the Philippine National Police (PNP) scours the land in a manhunt for Harry Roque, former presidential spokesperson, self-proclaimed martyr of kangaroo courts, and newfound champion of the POGO (Philippine Offshore Gaming Operators) underworld.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the greatest show on Earth—or at least, the latest attempt by the Philippines to outdo itself in political absurdity. In the left corner, we have the Philippine National Police (PNP), now moonlighting as expert bounty hunters, tasked with tracking down the slippery Harry Roque. And in the right corner, we have Roque himself—possibly hiding in a secret lair built entirely out of subpoenaed documents he’s chosen to ignore. Who will win? Who will evade justice the longest? Who will make up the most creative excuses? Stay tuned!

A “Kangaroo Court” Hop Away from Justice

In a scene reminiscent of an over-the-top courtroom drama, Roque has dismissed the House proceedings as nothing more than a kangaroo court. But let’s give credit where credit’s due—who better to diagnose kangaroo courts than Roque, the man who hopped from being Duterte’s right-hand spokesperson to a POGO-affiliated enigma?

According to the House, Roque refused to provide the documents related to his alleged involvement with Lucky South 99, a POGO hub with as much transparency as a politician’s tax return. The House, baffled by Roque’s Houdini-esque vanishing act, finally issued a citation for contempt. But honestly, who hasn’t wanted to find a good excuse to skip work and avoid legal consequences? Roque just happens to have perfected the art of making himself conveniently unavailable.

PNP’s “Roque on the Run” Reality Show: Tune in for the Latest Escape Act

The PNP’s latest challenge is to apprehend Roque, which, let’s be real, is a task that ranks somewhere between finding Bigfoot and getting a politician to admit fault. Officers have already visited his office, where Roque’s staff reportedly took one look at the arrest order and decided it was best to pull a “Return to Sender” stunt. According to House Secretary General Reginald Velasco, the PNP is now “on the case,” as if Roque is a missing puppy rather than a man dodging contempt charges.

But why couldn’t they find Roque? Was he blending into a crowd of POGO operators? Or perhaps channeling his inner spy, hiding behind a stack of extrajudicial settlement papers for his aunt’s estate? We can only assume Roque has taken inspiration from his divine friend, Apollo Quiboloy, whose own disappearing acts usually involved an island, a hammock, and a national TV address about how it’s actually everybody else’s fault.

The Case for Roque’s Arrest: A Hilarious Journey Through Legalese

Let’s address the elephant in the room: the arrest warrant against Roque is completely justified. After all, according to Section 18, Article XI of the Philippine Constitution (probably), “No man shall refuse to submit documents while simultaneously being involved with highly suspicious financial dealings, especially when they involve offshore gaming operations, because, seriously, that looks sketchy.”

The Supreme Court precedent here is clear: in the landmark case of Invisible Lawyers vs. Common Sense, the Court ruled that refusing to cooperate with a congressional inquiry is tantamount to avoiding a family reunion by claiming you have to wash your hair for six hours. It simply doesn’t pass the smell test.

And let’s not forget the ethical standards—Rule 16 of the Lawyer’s Code of Ethics, also known as the “Thou Shalt Not Vanish into Thin Air While Being Investigated” clause, clearly outlines that “an attorney must not only face the music, but also provide the sheet music when requested.” Roque’s refusal to provide financial documents, assets, and various other colorful paperwork is, therefore, a violation of every procedural law known to man—and probably a few not yet invented.

Why Hiding Is Totally Justifiable

But let’s play devil’s advocate. Perhaps Roque has a perfectly valid reason for hiding. Maybe he’s simply been too busy helping out other clients in need—like Lucky South 99, for instance, which could really use a lawyer who’s good at evading… everything. Or perhaps he’s invoking the timeless precedent set by The Great Evader vs. Accountability: “If one can escape the reach of the law by simply not showing up, is one truly guilty? Or just extremely skilled at avoiding eye contact?”

In fairness, Roque’s strategy seems to be taken from the playbook of the great philosopher, KaladKaren, who famously said, “If they can’t find you, they can’t arrest you.” Who are we to argue with that logic?

Roque’s Vanishing Act: Is It Time to End the Game?

Now, the million-peso question: should Roque stop hiding? Well, he certainly could—after all, eventually, the novelty of hiding wears off. But where’s the fun in that? For Roque, this is more than a game of cat and mouse; it’s an existential question about the nature of justice itself. Should a man who’s been called to face a legislative inquiry really bother to attend, when he could be anywhere else?

Perhaps Roque has transcended the mere mortal concerns of subpoenas and court orders. Maybe he’s become one with the wind, floating from one safehouse to another like a leaf on the breeze, carrying with him the hope that the legal system will eventually give up and focus on the next scandal.

Laugh, Cry, and Shake Your Head: Barok’s Recommendations for the Philippines

To Roque, Barok says: Why stop now? Go big! Perhaps you should consider hiring a decoy—someone to pretend to be you at hearings while you keep up the chase. Or better yet, turn this manhunt into a reality TV show, Where in the World is Harry Roque?—with a grand prize for anyone who can actually serve you a court order.

To the House of Representatives, Barok recommends taking a page from Harry’s own book. Next time, instead of issuing an arrest warrant, send a strongly-worded email, CCing his entire contact list. If that doesn’t work, try luring him out with something irresistible—like a press conference where he can once again champion the “kangaroo court” theory.

The stage is set, the spotlight is on, and the audience is waiting for the next act. After all, in Philippine politics, the only thing more entertaining than the drama itself is the ability of its main characters to keep the show going, one absurd plot twist at a time.