The Supreme Court has once again spoken with clarity on a principle that, while long-standing in doctrine, continues to animate public debate: a fugitive from justice may not seek relief from the very courts whose jurisdiction he defies. It is a reminder as old as jurisprudence itself—that one cannot claim the protection of the law while willfully evading its processes.
Recently, the Court denied a petition filed by an individual who, instead of submitting to legal procedures, chose to flee. The reasoning is straightforward: courts exist for those who submit to their authority. Jurisdiction is not a buffet to be sampled at convenience. If one refuses to appear, ignores subpoenas, or escapes custody, he forfeits the right to ask the same court for protection. To allow otherwise would transform judicial power into a mere voluntary association rather than a constitutional pillar.
The rule is rooted in respect. Courts wield power not for themselves, but for the people. Yet for that power to operate, the accused must stand before the bar—present, reachable, answerable. Fleeing is an act of defiance; seeking relief despite fleeing is an act of inconsistency. A litigant who benefits must also bear burdens. It is the symmetry of rights and responsibilities that keeps the wheels of justice turning. But while the ruling reaffirms discipline, it also invites us to reflect on a parallel concern: what about the accused who are wrongfully charged? What remedies exist for those who stand firm, face the process, yet suffer injustice along the way?
Our system, despite imperfections, is not bereft of safeguards. An accused may move to quash the Information if the facts charged do not constitute an offense or if the court lacks jurisdiction. He may question violations of constitutional rights through a petition for certiorari, alleging grave abuse of discretion. A demurrer to evidence remains available when the prosecution fails to establish guilt beyond reasonable doubt. Even after conviction, avenues persist—appeals, motions for reconsideration, and petitions for review on certiorari. The law does not abandon the innocent; it equips them with shields, provided they stand their ground.
Yet these remedies demand presence. Participation is the currency of justice. One cannot claim wrongful persecution while avoiding the forum where innocence may be asserted. The courtroom is both battleground and sanctuary. To flee is to surrender that sanctuary. As the Court emphasized, jurisdiction attaches when the accused is under custody. Release from that custody—whether through escape or refusal to appear—marks the withdrawal of judicial protection. It is not punishment; it is consequence.
Still, cases of mistaken identity, malicious prosecution, or weak evidence remind us that while the law must be firm, it must also be fair. Here, prosecutors must exercise prudence, judges must guard against haste, and defense counsel must be proactive in invoking rights. The system breathes through participation of all actors. In the end, the ruling is neither harsh nor novel—it merely underscores a covenant we sometimes forget: he who seeks justice must first honor justice. Courts are not shelters for fugitives, but neither are they blind to the plight of the wrongly accused. The law protects those who trust it enough to stand before it.
Justice rewards courage, not flight. And as a community, we are reminded that accountability is not the enemy of liberty—rather, it is its strongest proof.
