Most of my friends asked me why I didn't persue the law profession. I am a Legal Management graduate and instead of getting myself into a law school, I chose to be in ePLDT.
My dad's a lawyer. Everyone expects me to be like him. He's someone that I look up to and my standards are high because I have the best basis.
I was seven (7) that time when my “yaya” went with my mom in the market and there was no one at home except my dad. Papa's rushing into a court trial since he was defending the alleged rapist. Since he can't leave me alone, he asked me to dress up in my best attire since we're going to court. I remembered, I was wearing a white-ruffled dress and I was carrying my baby bear when I had a glimpse of the cold bars in the prison. I was not suppose to be placed inside since there were men wearing orange shirts. I just can't define the emotions that I saw in their eyes- combination of nervousness and depression, I guess. When it was about time for my dad to occupy the stage ( i called it “stage” before), I saw a girl, covering her face with a green cloth. An old guy was protecting her, embracing her so tight. My dad's on the right side and the girl's on the left. The doors were shut, after.
I was sitting at the back when I heard this conversation:
Dad: “Do usually go to the accused house? For how many times?”
Girl: “Yes. For about six (6) times already.”
Dad: “What do you usually do when you get in?”
Girl: “We eat and watch TV in his room.”
Dad: “In his room, just the two (2) of you?”
Girl: “Yes”.
Dad: “How is the accused reacting everytime you two were inside the room?”
Girl: “He's sweet and caring. He holds my hands all the time and we also kiss and hug.”
Dad: “Have you done “love act” with him before?”
Girl: {sobbing} “Yes”.
Dad: “How many times?”
Lawyer: Objection.
I didn't mind the rest of the conversation when I suddenly saw her lying down of the lawyers' table and demonstrating something.. an act.. actions.. where she looked helpless but combative. I pity her so much, that I can feel how heavy her loads were.
Three (3) years after, I saw my dad celebrating with the accused rapist. They won the case. My dad defended the innocence of his client. I heard the guy saying: “That girl's stupid to accuse me of rape knowing that everything happened at home and we usually do the thing. It became a bit rough since we wanted to try something new. Everything was under her consent. Then, I'll receive a subpoena one day accusing me of rape? What the hell?” My dad and some other guys laughed and drank wine thereafter.
Two (2) years later, I saw my mom comforting my dad in our living room. I heard him said, “I discharged a criminal, Mama. I felt so bad when their former driver went to me. He told me that he saw Mr.-- forcing M---- (the woman) to get inside the room and he heard that the girl was begging for mercy. This job's not Godly. I won over the eyes of men but had lost my soul from HIS compassion.”
I can be a good lawyer? Definitely. I am a good debater? Precisely. But, is being a lawyer something that I can be happy at? Maybe, for monetary and ego satisfaction. Would this make me complete? No. Is this the only job that I can be good at? No, I'm smart and I can do anything and can go anywhere God pleases me to be in.
I took a different path from my Dad's. I don't want to be the victim of my own choices. I don't want to undergo the same conscience-cleansing when I get old. I want to have a job where I can feel no regrets at all. I want to have my own identity. I want to prove that being a lawyer is not only the job that an expected-good-lawyer can be at. I made it here.. all for HIS pride and glory.. I made it far!
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