In the Sara Duterte impeachment saga, money is the ultimate brain candy

Manila The impeachment trial of Vice President Sara Duterte is full of legal words, objections and technical details.

But few things cut through the elaborate legal arguments, procedures and debates quite like one simple thing: money.

Numbers have a peculiar power.

They give people something concrete to grasp in a story that can otherwise feel overwhelmingly complicated. They turn abstract allegations into something tangible, memorable and, above all, relatable.

In short: Money is the ultimate brain candy.

Numbers are easier for the public to understand. They turn a long trial into a simple question: Where did the money come from?

Forensic expert Alexander Cabrera, told the impeachment court on Monday that Duterte and her husband, Manases Carpio, had "undeclared income" and assets worth ₱817,874,867.

The defence strongly objected to his testimony. But the Senate, assembled as an impeachment court, allowed it.

The testimony of Cabrera, an accountant and lawyer, would prove crucial to the public's understanding behind the nebulous amounts mentioned in more than 30 livestreams.

Cabrera said Duterte’s Statement of Assets Liability and Networth (SALN) from 2022 to 2025 were "untruthful".

He said she had unreported assets, "unexplained wealth" and a "pattern" of constitutional violations.

These are serious claims.

They are also still part of a trial, so the Vice President has the right to answer them.

These details matter.

Public office is a public trust, not a representation of one tribe against another. A public official must be able to explain wealth that does not match known income.

A corporation is treated by law as a separate person. It can own property, sign contracts, earn money and be sued in its own name. This is called “corporate fiction.”

This rule protects honest businesses. It separates the company’s money from the personal money of its owners.

But the law also has an exception.

Courts may “pierce the veil of corporate fiction” when a company is used to hide fraud, evade the law, protect wrongdoing or confuse real issues.

In simple words: a company cannot become a hiding place for illegal acts.

AMLC records on the suspicious and covered bank transactions of Duterte and her husband Mans Carpio, had now been made public amid the on-going trial.

The 1955-era Philippine Bank Secrecy Law (RA 1405) declares that all bank deposits are absolutely confidential: they may not be examined, inquired into, or looked at by any person or authority — public or private. Penalties, including jail time and fines for bank officials, employees, or auditors who unlawfully disclose or permit examination of confidential bank deposits or bond investments.

There are very limited circumstances for exceptions, including:

What it means: Impeachment is a key exception to confidentiality protections given by RA 1405.

Cabrera used the idea of "piercing the veil of corporate fiction" to connect some company transactions to Duterte and Carpio.

He testified that the companies were used as a "cover" or extension of the couple’s financial activities.

But this is not automatic. Owning a company does not mean its money belongs to you. The prosecution must now prove that the company was truly used to hide wrongdoing.

Even Cabrera acknowledged that his report was not conclusive on piercing the "corporate veil". That means the impeachment court must still decide whether his method was legally sound.

For ordinary Filipinos trying to make sense of the impeachment livestream, figures can do what pages of legal arguments cannot.

A specific amount, a suspicious transaction, a questionable expense or a discrepancy between declared wealth and actual spending gives the public an anchor.

It offers a way into a story that might otherwise seem reserved for lawyers, politicians and constitutional scholars.

There is a psychology behind this. Human beings are not naturally equipped to process endless streams of technical/legal information.

We rely on mental shortcuts. We look for familiar reference points and concrete examples to make sense of complexity.

Psychologists call one of these tendencies the availability heuristic: people often judge the importance of something by how easily examples come to mind.

Numbers can make an allegation easier to remember.

A large sum can provoke disbelief: It's why lottery winners' stories click.

A series of transactions can invite scrutiny. A gap between reported income and apparent expenditure can raise an immediate question: How does the money add up?

There is also the "anchoring" effect: How much is my daily pay, or the amount left in my ATM today vs how much hidden wealth has been exposed?

But there is a catch: a number can be memorable, but without being conclusive.

A large expenditure (i.e. ₱205K Tokyo dinner or ₱300K Nike store purchases in one day) is not, by itself, proof of corruption.

A discrepancy is a reason to investigate, not an automatic finding of guilt.

Still, context matters: where the money came from, who controlled it, how it was spent. These questions need answers, not evasion.

The documentation, specifically those coming from AMLC, and whether the transaction complied with the law is the "tungtungan", or footing to feret out the turth.

The public's appetite for numbers can illuminate wrongdoing.

However, it can also make people vulnerable to misleading comparisons, selective accounting and allegations presented without sufficient evidence.

So the same the psychology that makes figures powerful can also make them dangerous.

That is precisely why following the money matters. Financial records can provide a trail that is more concrete than political rhetoric.

Bank transactions, procurement documents, audit findings, asset declarations and supporting receipts can be examined, compared and tested against competing explanations.

Unlike a speech, a transaction leaves a record.

Unlike a political accusation, a documented financial trail can be independently scrutinised.

In the Philippines, where corruption allegations have repeatedly tested public confidence in institutions, this is especially consequential.

An impeachment proceeding is not merely a political spectacle.

It is a Constitutional process in which allegations must be assessed against evidence and the applicable law.

And in an age when proceedings can be livestreamed across the planet, the stakes extend beyond the courtroom.

Every figure becomes potential headline material, every explanation is dissected and feasted uponon Reddit.

Every unanswered question can become a public controversy of its own.

However, the numbers give ordinary people a way to participate in a debate that might otherwise be inaccessible.

They provide the brain candy that draws people in.

The real work begins after the initial shock: tracing the transactions, examining the records, testing the explanations and distinguishing suspicion from proof.

Because when you follow the money, you may find the truth.

And in an impeachment proceeding, that truth may ultimately help determine the verdict.

The numbers can capture the public's attention. Only the evidence can justify the judgment.

In the impeachment saga of Vice President Duterte, what happens when evidence that appears damning is waved away as “political persecution”?

What happens when those entrusted to deliver justice seem more concerned with protecting their own skin than uncovering the truth?

When evidence becomes politics, accountability becomes a casualty.

When self-preservation takes precedence over principle, justice is reduced to theatre.

Public trust is left bleeding in the wings.

And when those tasked with the power to judge turn away from the truth, what hope remains for the people who can only watch?

God help the Philippines. Indeed, God bless this nation.