You can feel it in the way people talk about it. Not in legal terms, not in careful constitutional language, but in blunt, frustrated questions. How will they be able to return the money? Why are they missing-in-action?

That reaction alone says everything. This something more visceral than merely a legal process unfolding in committee rooms. Something that hits people where patience runs out.

The impeachment calls surrounding Sara Duterte have never stayed confined to technicalities. Yes, there are provisions, thresholds, procedures. However, outside those halls, the public is not debating clauses, but asking why accountability feels optional for those in power. They’re asking why transparency seems negotiable.

And that’s where this stops being abstract.

Impeachment gets dismissed too easily as politics in action. It remains a numbers game. A power struggle. That narrative is convenient because it dulls urgency. It makes everything look like strategy instead of responsibility.

But impeachment exists for a reason. It’s written into the Constitution not as spectacle, but as a safeguard. When allegations point to betrayal of public trust, the process is supposed to test leadership, not shield it. It asks a simple question: can Sara still be trusted with the authority given to her?

That question doesn’t become less valid just because politics is involved. If anything, it becomes more urgent.

₱612.5 million in confidential funds. That number isn’t abstract when it’s public money. It’s classrooms, hospitals, wages, relief. When reports surface of undocumented spending, questionable recipients, and disallowed amounts flagged for reimbursement, people don’t need legal training to understand what’s at stake.

We understand loss.

We understand what it means when money disappears without clear explanation. And we understand that justice feels incomplete if there is no effort to account for it, explain it, or return it.

You can’t move forward from that with silence. You can’t expect trust to hold when clarity is missing.

Moreover, attendance is more than "just" a procedure. Showing up means facing the process, engaging the accusations, standing before the institutions you serve. It signals respect for the system and for the public watching it.

Absence sends its own message. Whether it’s framed as legal strategy or constitutional objection, it lands differently outside those explanations. It looks like avoidance. It feels like distance. And distance, in moments like this, erodes whatever credibility remains.

The hearings will go on, with or without her. But perception doesn’t wait for official conclusions. This is where the damage deepens. Not just in the case itself, but in what it teaches people to expect.

If leaders can skip proceedings and still hold authority, what does that say about accountability? If explanations for public funds remain vague, what standard is being set?

Trust in the government doesn’t collapse overnight. It thins out slowly, each time transparency is delayed, each time responsibility is sidestepped.

And people notice.

The Philippines has seen its share of political controversies. Enough to make cynicism feel like the default. Enough to make people assume that this will pass like everything else. But this moment still offers a choice. It can follow the same pattern, another unresolved issue filed away. Or it can draw a line. Demand something firmer. Expect something clearer.

The fact that this is the first time a sitting vice president has been impeached by the House should already signal how serious this is. Whether it leads to real accountability or fades into procedural delays will say more about the system than any statement released.

This is why impeachment feels like a gut issue.

Because it is about presence, not just about guilt or innocence. It’s about answers. It’s about whether those in power are willing to meet the public where the questions are loudest.

Until our questions are met with clear, direct responses, the anger won’t settle. And it shouldn’t.

Public office is an obligation. And when the people are already watching this closely, silence and absence are not neutral choices. They are statements in themselves.

The Frontman