By Eva C. Visperas

 

IT looked like an ordinary Monday morning at the Sangguniang Panlalawigan—the last regular session of the year. The usual faces were there. The usual routine unfolded. Media practitioners quietly settled into their familiar corners of the session hall and the Vice Governor’s lounge, ears tuned to proceedings that, more often than not, follow a predictable rhythm.

Then something unexpected happened.

Fourth District Board Member Jerry Agerico Rosario took the floor. His voice cracked. It wasn’t the measured, confident tone many of us had grown accustomed to hearing. It was heavy. Trembling. Raw.

I stood up instinctively, trying to see what was happening.

There was no mistaking it. Tears welled in his eyes. A legislator—usually composed, articulate, and well-prepared—was visibly shaken. He spoke not as a politician that morning, but as a man deeply hurt by what he felt was an injustice.

Of all the board members in the current Sangguniang Panlalawigan, Rosario has always stood out. He speaks with clarity. He asks questions that matter. He debates with substance. He is eloquent in the King’s language, direct to the point, never one to go around the bush. He comes to sessions prepared—always.

That morning, however, preparation gave way to pain.

His impassioned privilege speech was not rehearsed. It was not dramatic for effect. It was the outpouring of someone who felt maligned, accused publicly of delaying PhilHealth incentives for hospital workers—an accusation he categorically denied.

The allegation, according to Rosario, stemmed from a statement made during a flag ceremony at Pangasinan Provincial Hospital, later magnified by text messages that explicitly named him. The damage, however, had already been done. In an age where accusations spread faster than clarifications, perception easily hardens into “truth.”

Rosario’s defense was firm and logical: a single board member has no authority to delay incentives; no ordinance exists to justify withholding benefits; his budget hearing remarks were about transparency, fairness, and accountability—not deprivation. These were not the words of someone evading responsibility, but of someone insisting on facts.

What struck many in the room was his reminder that he, too, had once been a hospital physician who served without pay, professional fees, or PhilHealth benefits. It was a sobering reminder that behind the title “Board Member” was a man who had walked the same corridors and endured the same hardships as today’s health workers.

Yet what lingered longest was not the defense—but the decision.

In a gesture that surprised many, Rosario stepped down as chair of the Committee on Health. Not because he admitted wrongdoing, but “in the spirit of mutual respect,” especially during the Christmas season.

It was not resignation out of guilt. It was a sacrifice born of principle.

In politics, stepping aside is often seen as weakness. But sometimes, it is precisely the opposite. Sometimes, it is a quiet statement that dignity matters more than position, and that public discourse should never trample fairness.

The lesson from that morning goes beyond one board member or one controversy. It is a reminder that words carry weight, especially when spoken by those in authority. That public accusations demand public accountability. And that disagreement—no matter how intense—should never strip a person of his humanity.

As the year closes, that cracked voice in the session hall lingers. It forces us to pause and reflect on how quickly reputations can be bruised by careless words and how easily accusations, once released, take on a life of their own.

Superiors, especially those in positions of authority, must always weigh in on issues based on unadulterated, verified statements from the personalities directly involved—not on hearsay, not on whispers amplified by social media. Leadership demands discernment, not impulse.

In the end, what unfolded that Monday was not merely a political episode but a sobering reminder of responsibility—of speech, of judgment, and of power.

Because truth deserves patience.

And as the old reminder goes: Ang naniniwala sa sabi-sabi, walang bait sa sarili.