Imagine spending months buried in law books, memorizing doctrines and case names, with your entire future riding on a single professional examination. Now imagine scrolling through social media and seeing a post that claims the exam answers will not be read by experienced lawyers or law professors, but by an artificial intelligence system. For many Filipino bar examinees in 2023, that was not just a rumor; it was a source of real panic. The post came from a Facebook page called “Bar Law for Dummies” and from a man named Tsidkenu Dizon, who described himself as a review coach. In September 2023, he allegedly claimed that the 2023 Bar Examinations would be “sorted, checked, and corrected by means of AI.” The Supreme Court of the Philippines did not find this amusing. In an 11-page decision promulgated in July 2026, the Court En Banc found Dizon guilty of indirect contempt. The punishment was severe: the Office of the Bar Confidant was directed to delist him from the roll of bar passers, he was fined 30,000 pesos, and he was warned against engaging in the unauthorized practice of law. The Court made it clear that his post was not a harmless comment but an unlawful interference in a court-sanctioned activity that caused alarm and panic among examinees, undermined public trust in the Bar Examinations, and challenged the integrity of the Court itself. It is a striking reminder that in an age of viral misinformation, a single social media post can destroy a legal career that has not even officially begun.
The story begins with a moment of vulnerability. The Bar Examinations are already a high-stakes ritual, and examinees are often anxious, tired, and easily influenced by rumors. The Court noted that Dizon’s posts, published on the pages of “Bar Law for Dummies” and his personal account, went viral and caused widespread anxiety among test-takers. The content of the post was direct: he claimed that artificial intelligence would do the sorting, checking, and correcting of the exam answers. That statement struck at the very heart of the credibility of the licensing process. If examinees believed that a machine would decide their professional fate, they would naturally question the fairness and legitimacy of the entire process. The Supreme Court quickly issued an advisory condemning the posts as false, baseless, irresponsible, and defamatory. But instead of removing the posts, Dizon reportedly sought media attention. The Court was especially troubled by his attitude. In its decision, it observed that he did not express any remorse for disrupting and degrading the 2023 Bar Examinations. On the contrary, he showed “excessive audacity” by demanding an apology from the Court within 24 hours of an interview and even threatened to file a suit against the Court. From the perspective of the justices, this was not an innocent mistake; it was a direct challenge to judicial authority, made worse by the fact that he was, at the time, a bar passer who should have understood the solemnity of the exam process.
Dizon did not simply accept the consequences. He defended himself in emails that he requested to be forwarded to the Office of the 2023 Bar Chair, saying that he was devastated by the advisory and that it had a “chilling effect” on him. He insisted that he had been misunderstood and denied spreading misinformation, claiming that he never actually said the AI would correct the examinations. He also pointed out that his “Bar Law for Dummies” training program was not styled as a bar review school, and that it only sought to coach applicants on the process or style of answering questions. He argued that he had only used the word “help,” and that he did not explicitly mention that AI would do the sorting, checking, or correction. The Supreme Court, however, was not persuaded. The justices quoted his own post, which contained the line: “Always start with yes or no. Yan ang unang hahanapin ng AI Checking to sort out the correct answers.” In plain English, that translates to: “Always start with yes or no. That’s the first thing AI Checking will look for to sort out the correct answers.” The Court said the meaning was unmistakable. It even used the Latin phrase “res ipsa loquitur,” meaning the thing speaks for itself. According to the Court, Dizon clearly and categorically mentioned that AI would check and sort examinee answers, and his later attempts to rewrite his own words were unconvincing. The Court also emphasized that as a bar passer, he should have known that a committee of examiners, not artificial intelligence, is responsible for overseeing the conduct of the Bar Examinations.
The consequences for Dizon go beyond the fine and the removal from the list of bar passers. The Court’s decision includes a warning about unauthorized practice of law. This point is significant because Dizon’s coaching activities, even if presented as mere “style” coaching or review lessons, require the application of legal knowledge. The Court took the position that providing coaching lessons to bar flunkers or reviewees is not a simple matter of teaching test-taking tricks; it involves legal interpretation, legal reasoning, and the kind of guidance that only persons authorized to practice law should provide. By continuing to operate his training program despite not having taken the oath and not being an active member of the bar, he was apparently crossing a line. The Court’s use of “indirect contempt” is also important. Contempt of court is typically understood as an act that disrespects the court or interferes with its proceedings. In this case, the interference was indirect because it happened outside the courtroom, through social media, but it still had a direct effect on the administration of the Bar Examinations. The Court was not just punishing a lie; it was protecting the integrity of one of the most important processes under its supervision. The decision was made En Banc, meaning the full bench of justices participated, which underscores the seriousness of the issue. This was not a minor procedural ruling from a single judge; it was a collective, institutional statement about the boundaries of acceptable commentary.
Looking at the human side of the story, there is something deeply ironic about Dizon’s situation. He was a person who had passed the Bar Examinations, but for reasons that are not fully explained, he never took the oath to become a lawyer. He then created a coaching program with a casual, relatable name, “Bar Law for Dummies,” presumably to help people who failed the exam or needed support. Many of his followers must have seen him as a mentor, someone who could explain the test in simple terms. Yet in trying to simplify the process, he touched on a sensitive nerve. By mentioning artificial intelligence, he tapped into a broader fear that technology might replace human judgment at the most critical moment of a person’s professional life. In a country where the legal profession carries immense prestige and where courts are expected to uphold fairness, the suggestion that a machine could grade future lawyers’ answers was almost a form of psychological sabotage. The Court said he showed no remorse, but one can still wonder if he truly understood the impact of his words. He described the advisory as having a “chilling effect” on him, a phrase usually used to describe the suppression of legitimate speech. The Court rejected that framing, seeing his speech not as protected expression but as the deliberate spread of false information that harmed public confidence. In that sense, the case is a tragedy of miscommunication and stubbornness: a man who probably wanted to appear knowledgeable and connected ended up being officially recognized as a disrupter of the very institution he sought to help others join.
The broader lesson of this case reaches far beyond one individual. It warns all content creators, online coaches, and social media users that words can have legal consequences, particularly when they touch on court processes. The Supreme Court’s decision sends a clear message: the Bar Examinations are conducted under the authority and supervision of the Court, and anyone who undermines their integrity by spreading falsehoods will face severe sanctions. The ruling, published on September 11, 2026, and first reported by GMA News, is now part of the ongoing conversation about the intersection of law, media, and misinformation. For aspiring lawyers, the message is twofold. First, the Bar Examinations remain a fundamentally human exercise, designed to test knowledge, reasoning, and ethical judgment, not merely to be processed by an algorithm. Second, even after passing the exam, a person is not free from the ethical standards of the profession. Passing the Bar is a privilege, not a license to use one’s inside knowledge irresponsibly. Dizon was delisted from the passers, fined, and warned against practicing law, all because of a post that, in his view, may have been meant as casual advice. But the Court saw it differently: as a reckless attack on the credibility of the legal profession and the judiciary. In the end, this case may serve as a cautionary tale for anyone who uses the internet to comment on sensitive institutional processes. A single viral moment can become a permanent stain on a person’s record, and no amount of spin, denial, or legal argument can easily erase the damage once a court has spoken.