In a courtroom at The Hague, the absence of a former head of state became its own kind of statement — Rodrigo Duterte, once the architect of a drug war that claimed thousands of Filipino lives, chose to remain in detention rather than face the International Criminal Court's confirmation of charges hearing. His lawyer carried his words instead, quoting a man who claims innocence while the prosecution argues those very words should carry no legal weight at all. The hearing has laid bare a tension as old as power itself: between what leaders say in private and what they have already confessed to
ICC judges weigh Duterte's prison words as defense and prosecution clash over admissibility
Thousands of Filipinos were killed during Duterte's drug war; victims and their families are monitoring the ICC proceedings as potential accountability mechanism.
I have done my duty and left my legacy. I can no longer help you.
Mark
Why did Duterte choose not to attend his own hearing? That seems like a strategic mistake.
Mimi
His team says his memory has deteriorated and he can't engage with the evidence. But there's another reading: appearing in person means facing cross-examination, answering questions directly. Staying in his cell lets his lawyer control the narrative.
Mark
And the prosecution's objection to Kaufman quoting him—is that a real legal problem, or just theater?
Mimi
It's both. Kaufman spent days attacking the prosecution's evidence as unreliable hearsay. Then he presented his own hearsay—prison visit quotes—and called it an explanation rather than testimony. The judges have to decide if that's a meaningful distinction.
Mark
What about those flowers rotting in the corridors? That detail seems designed to make Duterte sympathetic.
Mimi
It does. The whole prison visit narrative is constructed that way—the birthday cards, the letters from his daughter, the crowds outside. It's meant to humanize him. But it also undercuts his claim that he can't remember anything. He remembers enough to have opinions about his legacy.
Mark
Do the judges actually believe he has no memory, or is this a tactic?
Mimi
That's what the confirmation hearing is supposed to determine. The prosecution will argue his public statements about the drug war prove he knew what was happening. His defense says those statements don't prove a coordinated killing policy. The memory question is just one piece of a much larger puzzle.
Il Polso
- Duterte's lead counsel read prison-visit quotes aloud in open court — a man claiming innocence and acceptance of fate, contradicting years of his own public admissions about the drug war's violence.
- Prosecutors interrupted before the session could close, calling the quoted statements inadmissible hearsay and demanding judges assign them zero evidentiary weight.
- The defense's central argument — that the Davao Death Squad never existed and nothing links Duterte directly to deaths — sits in uncomfortable tension with the former president's own recorded boasts about killings.
- Presiding Judge Motoc declined to rule immediately on whether the prison quotes would be struck from the record, leaving a critical question unresolved as deliberations approach.
- Thousands of victims' families are watching these proceedings as their most credible path to accountability, their hopes suspended in the same legal uncertainty as the judges' decision.
In a courtroom at The Hague, the absence of a former head of state became its own kind of statement — Rodrigo Duterte, once the architect of a drug war that claimed thousands of Filipino lives, chose to remain in detention rather than face the International Criminal Court's confirmation of charges hearing. His lawyer carried his words instead, quoting a man who claims innocence while the prosecution argues those very words should carry no legal weight at all. The hearing has laid bare a tension as old as power itself: between what leaders say in private and what they have already confessed to the world.
When Nicholas Kaufman told the ICC courtroom that his client would not be attending his own confirmation of charges hearing, he offered something in place of Duterte's presence: a recounting of a prison visit, delivered to a packed public gallery in The Hague. The former Philippine president, Kaufman said, had accepted his fate. He could die in prison. He had never murdered anyone. He wished to be remembered as a faithful servant of the people.
The prosecution moved quickly. Trial lawyer Julian Nicholls pointed out the irony — Kaufman had spent the entire hearing dismissing prosecution evidence as hearsay, yet was now presenting hearsay of his own from a detention cell. If Duterte wanted to speak, Nicholls argued, he could have appeared and spoken himself. The judges were asked to give the quoted statements no weight at all. Kaufman countered that he was merely explaining his client's absence, not testifying on his behalf. Presiding Judge Motoc deferred any ruling, leaving the question open.
The defense's broader argument — that the Davao Death Squad was a fiction, that no evidence directly tied Duterte to any killing — ran headlong into the former president's own public record, in which he had repeatedly and proudly spoken of violence as governance. During the prison visit, Kaufman had tried to engage Duterte on the evidence; Duterte refused. The defense team instead lifted his spirits with photographs: birthday cards, crowds outside the detention center, his daughter Sara preparing to announce a presidential bid. At that last image, Kaufman said, Duterte's face lit up.
The contrast the hearing produced was difficult to ignore. A man claiming innocence in private, whose public words had long told a different story. Thousands dead in the drug war. Families watching from the Philippines, waiting to learn whether an international court would confirm that what happened to their loved ones constitutes crimes against humanity — and whether a former president's prison words, filtered through his lawyer's voice, would play any part in that answer.
The courtroom fell silent when Nicholas Kaufman, Rodrigo Duterte's lead defense counsel, broke the news: his client would not be attending his own confirmation of charges hearing at the International Criminal Court. After a year in detention, the former Philippine president had chosen to stay behind bars rather than face the judges. But Kaufman had something to offer instead—a narrative account of a prison visit, delivered with the full attention of the public gallery watching from The Hague.
On Friday, February 27, Kaufman recounted what Duterte had told him during a Wednesday visit. The former president's words, as relayed by his lawyer, were carefully chosen: he had done his duty, left his legacy, and now accepted his fate. He could die in prison. He had never murdered anyone. He could no longer help with his defense because his memory had faded and he could not speak to people he did not know or statistics that meant nothing to him. "I was a faithful servant of the people," Kaufman quoted him as saying, "and that is how I wish to be remembered."
The prosecution saw an opening. As presiding judge Iulia Motoc was closing the session, trial lawyer Julian Nicholls interrupted. He objected that Kaufman had spent the entire day dismissing evidence as hearsay—accounts from witnesses, reports of a coordinated killing network in Davao City—yet now Kaufman himself was presenting hearsay from a prison cell. Nicholls argued that Kaufman was not permitted to testify on behalf of his client or deliver speeches in his place. If Duterte wanted to speak, he could have attended and spoken himself. Instead, Nicholls asked the judges to assign the quoted statements zero weight in their deliberations.
Kaufman pushed back, saying the account was not testimony but merely an explanation for his client's absence. Judge Motoc acknowledged both arguments without ruling immediately on whether the quotes would remain in the record. The question hung unresolved: would Duterte's words from detention shape the judges' thinking, or would they be struck as inadmissible?
Throughout the four-day hearing, Kaufman had mounted a consistent defense: the Davao Death Squad was fictional. The evidence of its existence, he argued, rested on anecdotes and hearsay—a coordinated network of killings that the prosecution claimed Duterte orchestrated in Davao before replicating nationally during his drug war. Kaufman insisted there was absolutely nothing directly linking his client to the deaths. Yet this position sat uneasily with Duterte's own public record. The former president had, on numerous occasions, admitted to killings himself.
During the Wednesday prison visit, Kaufman had tried to engage Duterte about the evidence and his own prior statements, hoping to spark some response. Duterte refused. Instead, the defense team attempted to lift his spirits by reminding him his 81st birthday was approaching. They told him about the crowds gathering outside the detention center in what locals had begun calling "Duterte Street." They showed him photographs—cards and flowers that had arrived on his 80th birthday, so many that staff had avoided them after learning their origin, letting them rot in the corridors. They showed him pictures of his children, including his youngest daughter Kitty, whose letters were piling up in his room. And they showed him images of his older daughter, Vice President Sara Duterte, greeting crowds in the Philippines as she prepared to announce her bid for the 2028 presidency. At that, Kaufman said, Duterte's face beamed with pride.
The contrast was stark. Kaufman's strongest argument—that Duterte had murdered no one—collided with the prosecution's case, which rested heavily on the former president's own words expressing pride in his violent style of governance. Thousands had died in the drug war. Victims and their families were watching the ICC proceedings as a potential path to accountability. The judges now had to decide whether Duterte's prison words, delivered through his lawyer's voice, would carry weight in their decision on whether to confirm charges of crimes against humanity.
Citazioni salienti
I was a faithful servant of the people, and that is how I wish to be remembered. I have now accepted my fate, and I realize that I could die in prison.— Duterte, as quoted by his counsel Kaufman during the ICC hearing
Mr. Kaufman's conveying this—he's been complaining about hearsay all day, it's not reliable. If he wanted to come here, he could have come here and talked about whatever he wanted to, but he chose not to.— Prosecution trial lawyer Julian Nicholls, objecting to the prison visit account
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Crime & Justice