Azcuna’s “Eureka!” Checkmates the Supremes’ Constitutional Card Trick

“The Court’s sleight-of-hand to save Duterte gets schooled by Azcuna’s masterclass in framer truth.“

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — August 11, 2025

THE Philippine Supreme Court’s July 25, 2025, ruling nullifying Vice President Sara Duterte’s impeachment isn’t just a legal misstep—it’s a full-blown constitutional heist. With a 97-page manifesto dripping with arrogance, the Court didn’t interpret the law; it rewrote it, handing Duterte a golden ticket to dodge accountability.

Enter retired Justice Adolfo Azcuna, a 1986 Constitutional framer, wielding his “Eureka!” argument like a Molotov cocktail. Azcuna exposes the Court’s reasoning as a sham, a power grab dressed in judicial robes. This isn’t justice—it’s a betrayal of the people’s power.

Let’s rip apart the Court’s flimsy logic, spotlight their overreach, and rally behind Azcuna’s textualist crusade to save the Constitution.

The “One Complaint Only” Con: Butchering the Constitution’s Clear Text

The heart of this judicial robbery lies in Article XI, Section 3(5) of the 1987 Constitution:

“No impeachment proceedings shall be initiated against the same official more than once within a period of one year.”

The Court twisted this into a numerical straitjacket, claiming “once” means one complaint per year. Their logic? The first three complaints against Duterte, filed in December 2024 and archived without referral, “initiated” proceedings, barring the fourth complaint endorsed on February 5, 2025.

Azcuna calls foul, and he’s got the receipts. As a framer, he knows the 1986 Constitutional Commission debates (Vol. II, July 26, 1986) aimed to limit frequency of impeachment attempts, not their quantity. His bombshell? Since all four complaints were acted on the same day (February 5), they count as one initiation event.

The Court’s “archiving = initiation” rule is pure fiction, a judicial rewrite that strangles Congress’s power. Why didn’t the framers write “one complaint”? Because they meant frequency, not a hard cap. This isn’t interpretation—it’s legislating from the bench, and Azcuna’s textualist torch burns through the Court’s lies.

Trashing Precedent: The Court’s Stare Decisis Slaughterfest

The plot thickens as the Court torches its own precedent. In Francisco v. House of Representatives (2003), the Supremes defined “initiation” as filing plus referral to a committee—not archiving. The first three Duterte complaints? Never referred, just shelved. Yet, the 2025 ruling flips Francisco on its head, inventing a new trigger to protect Duterte.

This isn’t tweaking precedent; it’s a slaughter of stare decisis, the glue that keeps law predictable. My earlier critique exposes exactly what’s happening here:

“The Supremes cherry-pick precedents like a drunk shopper at a constitutional garage sale.”
—Kweba ni Barok, July 31, 2025

By shredding Francisco, the Court stomps on Congress’s exclusive impeachment turf under Article XI, Section 3(1). The suspense is gut-wrenching: If the Court can rewrite its own rules to save a VP, what stops them from torching other constitutional checks?

Azcuna is the lone sentinel exposing this judicial betrayal.

Due Process Deception: Turning Impeachment into a Judicial Puppet Show

The Court’s “fairness” excuse is a masterclass in hypocrisy. They claim Duterte’s due process was violated because the House skipped hearings and evidence for the archived complaints. But impeachment isn’t a courtroom drama—it’s a political sledgehammer.

Gutierrez v. House of Representatives (2011) already settled this: due process kicks in at the Senate trial, not the House’s initiation phase. The Constitution doesn’t demand hearings or evidence at this stage, yet the Supremes conjured these hurdles out of nowhere.

Azcuna dismantles this farce, arguing that due process under Article III, Section 1 protects life, liberty, or property—not public office, a mere “public trust.” The Court turned impeachment into a “bureaucratic maze” to cripple Congress.

The tension crackles: By imposing judicial-style rules on a political process, the Court isn’t guarding fairness—it’s hijacking the people’s power to hold officials accountable.

Tainted Justices: The Court’s Crony Cover-Up

The heist’s darkest twist? The justices, impeachable officials themselves under Article XI, ruled on rules that could shield their own hides. This violates Canon 2 of the Code of Judicial Conduct, which demands avoiding even the appearance of impropriety.

Nemo judex in causa sua—no one judges their own case—yet the Court did just that, fortifying impeachment barriers for all high officials, including themselves. This reasoning, I already obliterated in my earlier critique:

“Duterte-appointed justices shielded their patron.”
—Kweba ni Barok, July 31, 2025

With many justices owing their seats to the Duterte dynasty, the stench of bias is undeniable. Azcuna’s critique amplifies the outrage, slamming the ruling as self-serving.

The stakes are sky-high: If the Court can rig the system to protect allies, is judicial independence a sham? This isn’t justice—it’s a crony cover-up.

Retroactive Ruin: Rigging the Game After the Whistle

The final nail in the coffin? The Court’s retroactive application of their new “initiation” definition, punishing the House for following Francisco’s settled rules. Article 4 of the Civil Code bans retroactive laws that impair vested rights.

The House relied on two decades of precedent, yet the Supremes changed the game mid-play, nullifying actions taken in good faith.

Barok’s zinger:

“The Court changed the rules after the game ended.”
—Kweba ni Barok, July 31, 2025

Azcuna echoes this, decrying the unfairness and constitutional chaos. The fallout is chilling: Future impeachments now face judicial traps, giving corrupt officials a playbook to dodge accountability.

This isn’t law—it’s sabotage.

Fight Back or Fall: The People’s Counterstrike

Congress, it’s time to hit back. Pass a resolution condemning this judicial coup and clarify impeachment rules under Article XI, Section 3(8).

The public? Storm the streets, file motions for reconsideration, and demand transparency—make the Court feel the heat.

And to the justices: Recuse yourselves from impeachment cases next time—if you’ve got the guts.

The Supremes didn’t interpret the Constitution—they mugged it in broad daylight. Azcuna, the last honest framer, is shouting into a judicial abyss.

But the fight’s not over. The People’s gavel is coming.

Key Citations

1987 Philippine Constitution, Article XI, Section 3(5): Limits impeachment to “once within a period of one year.”
Francisco v. House of Representatives, G.R. No. 160261 (2003): Defines initiation as filing plus referral to a committee.
Gutierrez v. House of Representatives, G.R. No. 193459 (2011): Clarifies impeachment as a political process with due process at the Senate trial.
New Code of Judicial Conduct, Canon 2 (A.M. No. 03-05-01-SC): Mandates avoidance of impropriety or its appearance.
Civil Code, Article 4: Prohibits retroactive laws impairing vested rights.
Kweba ni Barok, July 31, 2025: Azcuna vs. The Supremes: One Framer’s Fight Against a Court Drunk on Its Own Power – Critiques the Court’s overreach and bias.
Inquirer, “Eureka! Azcuna Poses New Argument vs SC Impeach Ruling” (August 10, 2025): Details Azcuna’s “once vs. one” argument.
1986 Constitutional Commission Records, Vol. II (July 26, 1986): Confirms framers’ intent to limit impeachment frequency, not quantity (available via Official Gazette).

Disclaimer: This is legal jazz, not gospel. It’s all about interpretation, not absolutes. So, listen closely, but don’t take it as the final word.