Full Circle for Leila de Lima

There are political figures who fade quietly into the background after public defeat.

Then there are those who emerge from adversity more politically relevant than ever. Leila de Lima appears firmly determined to belong to the latter category.

After years of imprisonment, political warfare, and public scrutiny, Leila de Lima returns to the national stage at the very moment history circles back around. (Image: Rep. Leila de Lima)

At the recent Monday Circle breakfast forum (last May 11), de Lima stood before a packed audience composed largely of financial analysts, investors, business executives, stockbrokers, policy observers, and media professionals.

The setting itself was notable.

Monday Circle, a brainchild of veteran Rappler columnist Den Somera, has quietly evolved into one of the country’s more interesting off-the-record policy and political discussion spaces, where economics and politics intersect before the workweek begins.

Conversations over breakfast often drift from macroeconomics and market outlooks to governance, institutional stability, and the long arc of Philippine politics.

On this particular morning, however, the spotlight belonged entirely to de Lima. What unfolded was not merely a briefing on the looming impeachment proceedings against Vice President Sara Duterte.

It became something more layered – a portrait of a politician who has endured one of the most extraordinary political journeys in modern Philippine history and somehow returned to the center of national affairs.

The irony was impossible to ignore.

Years ago, de Lima was among the earliest and fiercest critics of former President Rodrigo Duterte and his bloody anti-drug campaign.

At the height of Duterte’s political dominance, she became one of his most visible institutional adversaries, launching Senate inquiries into alleged extrajudicial killings tied to the administration’s war on drugs.

The political consequences were swift and devastating.

Arrested in 2017 on allegations linked to the illegal drug trade inside the New Bilibid Prison, de Lima spent nearly seven years in detention while insisting the charges against her were fabricated and politically motivated.

In a striking twist of political fate, Leila de Lima now stands as a lead prosecutor in the impeachment proceedings against Vice President Sara Duterte. (Illustrator: ASK)

The years that followed transformed her from politician into symbol.

International human rights organizations, foreign lawmakers, and legal observers repeatedly described her as a political prisoner.

Yet despite imprisonment, she continued functioning as a senator from inside her detention cell, authoring legislation, issuing handwritten statements, and maintaining a presence in national discourse.

Few Philippine politicians have experienced such a dramatic collision between power, punishment, and public perception. And fewer still have managed to politically survive it.

Now 65, de Lima has returned to Congress as the first nominee of the Mamamayang Liberal (ML) Party-list and currently serves as House Senior Deputy Minority Leader.

Her legal troubles have largely collapsed under judicial scrutiny, with prosecution witnesses recanting earlier testimonies and courts dismissing the cases that once defined her public image.

Which brings the story to its latest twist.

In what many observers now view as a remarkable full-circle moment, de Lima has accepted an appointment by House leadership to serve as one of the lead prosecutors in the impeachment trial against Vice President Sara Duterte, the daughter of the very political figure most associated with her downfall.

If politics has a memory, it also appears to possess a taste for symmetry.

During the Monday Circle discussion, de Lima projected neither triumphalism nor vengeance.

Instead, she spoke with the measured precision of a seasoned lawyer fully aware of the constitutional gravity of the proceedings ahead. Yet beneath the legal framing was unmistakable institutional confidence.

“We firmly believe that we were able to meet the threshold of probable cause,” she told participants. “It’s even beyond the threshold of probable cause.”

Throughout the briefing, de Lima repeatedly emphasized what she described as the credibility and thoroughness of the House Justice Committee proceedings.

She noted that the Vice President had repeatedly declined invitations to participate in hearings, while lawmakers proceeded to examine documentary evidence, witness testimonies, Anti-Money Laundering Council (AMLC) findings, and alleged financial discrepancies tied to confidential fund expenditures.

Her tone sharpened most noticeably when discussing one particular allegation.

“Where in the world can you encounter a situation where the second highest official… openly talks about contracting an assassin?” she asked.

The remark drew visible attention across the room. Still, de Lima consistently framed impeachment as more than a political confrontation.

To her, it was fundamentally a constitutional process. At one point, she firmly rejected suggestions that the Senate could simply avoid convening an impeachment court once articles are transmitted by the House.

“The Senate cannot do that,” she said. “It’s a constitutional imperative.”

She described impeachment as “constitutional, legal, and political” all at once, acknowledging the unavoidable overlap between law, public pressure, and political survival.

That balancing act may ultimately define the months ahead.

The impeachment proceedings against Sara Duterte are likely to become one of the most consequential political events of the Marcos administration, with implications extending far beyond the Vice President herself.

Public opinion, Senate alliances, constitutional interpretation, and evidentiary battles will inevitably collide inside a process that has historically tested the resilience of Philippine democratic institutions.

Yet for many observers at the Monday Circle, the deeper fascination seemed to center on de Lima herself.

Her career has rarely followed a predictable script.

Raised in a family steeped in law and public service, she graduated near the top of her class throughout her academic life, placed eighth in the 1985 Bar Examinations, built a formidable reputation as an election lawyer, and later became known nationally for her uncompromising style as both Commission on Human Rights chairperson and Justice Secretary.

But it was adversity that ultimately cemented her place in Philippine political history.

In a country where political rehabilitation is often fleeting and public memory notoriously short, de Lima’s reemergence feels different.

It carries the weight of unfinished history.

Whether one views her as hero, victim, polarizing figure, or institutional crusader, her political survival alone now stands as one of the more remarkable comeback stories in recent Philippine governance.

At the Monday Circle, Leila de Lima no longer looked like a politician defined by imprisonment.

She looked like someone history had summoned back at precisely the right moment.

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