This is the defense that no one saw coming.

In the high-stakes, dead-serious world of international justice, where every syllable is weighed, and every public statement is scrutinized for hidden meaning, the Vice President of the Philippines has just deployed the most audacious and high-risk strategy imaginable: “I was just kidding.”

We are, of course, talking about Vice President Sara Duterte and the fate of her father, former President Rodrigo Duterte, who is currently detained and facing the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague. After months of escalating tensions, the ICC recently rejected the former president’s petition for an interim release, a devastating blow to his family and legal team.

But the real bombshell wasn’t just the rejection; it was the reason for it. The ICC judges, in their decision, explicitly cited the public statements of the former president’s family—specifically, his daughter, the Vice President—as a key factor. They pointed to her rhetoric as evidence of a powerful political support network within the Philippines that makes her father a significant flight risk.

And what was the statement that had the international court so concerned? A stunning, off-the-cuff remark about a “prison break.”

Now, faced with the catastrophic legal blowback of her own words, the Vice President and her supporters have launched a new, desperate defense: “Joke lang.” It was all “just a joke.”

This single claim has sent shockwaves through the legal and diplomatic worlds, raising a terrifying question: Will a “joke” be a passable defense for the Vice President of a country when she’s talking about springing her father from an international detention center? And more importantly, will the stone-faced judges at the ICC, who are now deciding his fate, find any of this funny?

The vlogger and political analyst, Coach Jarret, breaks down this “absurd” new talking point in a stunning analysis. The “new script” being pushed by Duterte supporters, or “DDS,” is that the Vice President’s comments—including claims her father was “kidnapped” and that they would “prison break” him—were made in an informal, joking manner.

A key supporter, interviewed by mainstream media, even claimed to be present when the “joke” was made during an impromptu Facebook Live session at a mall in Amsterdam. “The statement is basically, parang joke lang ‘yun, ma’am,” he argued. “It was not in a formal setting.”

This, the analyst argues, is where the defense goes from being a mere excuse to a “stupid” and catastrophic legal blunder.

First, the ICC is not a local Filipino courtroom. It is an international body of judges from around the world. They do not share the same cultural context, language, or understanding of Filipino humor, where hyperbole is common. What plays as a “joke” in Davao may be interpreted as a “veiled threat” or a “confession of intent” in The Hague.

As the analyst points out, the law does not concern itself with whether the audience was laughing. It concerns itself with intent. And what was the intent behind the Vice President’s words? To joke? Or to test the waters, to rally her supporters, to send a message of defiance to the world?

Second, this is not a random citizen making an outlandish comment. This is the Vice President of the Republic of the Philippines. The ICC’s decision to deny release was not just based on what she said, but on who she is. The court explicitly noted that the former president “benefits from a network of support within the country, including his daughter who currently holds the office of the vice president.”

When the second most powerful official in a country—a leader who has “substantial influence,” “substantial power,” and “political contacts”—publicly muses about a “prison break,” the ICC doesn’t hear a joke. They hear a credible flight risk. They hear a confirmation of their worst fears: that if the former president is allowed to return to the Philippines, his powerful daughter and her political network would ensure he never returns to The Hague.

This “joke” defense, the vlogger argues, is a baffling sign of desperation and a complete misunderstanding of the gravity of the situation. It’s a “palusot” (excuse) that has been used time and time again. From the former president’s own hyperbolic statements about illicit substances, to his “kill orders,” to his allies’ inflammatory remarks—the “hyperbole” or “joke” defense has been the go-to script.

But it won’t work here. “Grow up, man,” the analyst pleads.

The vlogger reminds his audience of the fundamental legal principle, the “Miranda Rights”: Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. The law, he notes, isn’t concerned with “motive”; it’s concerned with “intent.” Did the Vice President categorically state, “This is a joke,” at the moment she said it? Or is this a desperate, after-the-fact spin now that her words have backfired?

This defense is not only weak; it’s deeply insulting to the court. It essentially asks a panel of international judges, “Can’t you take a joke?” The analyst argues that this is an absurd burden to place on the ICC. It is not the court’s obligation to decipher Filipino humor. It is the Vice President’s obligation to be responsible and “maingat” (careful) with her words, especially when discussing a pending international criminal case.

This entire saga, the analyst concludes, is an exercise in delusion. While supporters complain about the former president’s “human rights,” the vlogger points out that the ICC’s own report shows he is receiving extraordinary care, including a dedicated psychiatrist and a 24/7 nurse—amenities that are “sobra-sobra” (far beyond) what any regular detainee in the Philippines would ever receive. He is, in fact, being afforded the full “due process” that, critics say, was denied to thousands under his own leadership.

The “joke” defense has failed before it even began. It has reinforced the ICC’s perception of the family as defiant, non-cooperative, and a clear flight risk. In the end, the Vice President’s words, whether intended as a joke or not, may have just become the single most damning piece of evidence against her father.

Her “joke” may have just cost him his freedom. And in The Hague, absolutely no one is laughing.