Maricor Akol first grew suspicious about the competition to provide the Philippines with a modern vote-counting system when one of the potential bidders nearly cried.
A woman representing a Japanese firm was almost reduced to tears after the chairman of the Commission on Elections (Comelec) mocked her questions before hustling others interested in the US$23 million contract out in less than an hour, Akol recalled.
"We knew there was something fishy," said Akol, who attended the pre-bid conference last February as part of an advisory team.
More surprises followed, including the failure of the winning company's machine to meet accuracy standards and the discovery that the firm had only been formed at the last minute.
Last week, the Supreme Court ruled that Comelec's actions were "illegal, imprudent and hasty," and nullifying the contract.
The complainants, a cross-section of the local IT community, were jubilant.
"We were able to prove that you don't need to stage a military coup if you want to stop corruption," said Augusto Lagman, one of the complainants.
"The legal process still works."
But the decision also dashed hopes the Philippines could drag its polls from a history of cheating into the modern era. Filipinos -- their faith in institutions battered by countless scandals and pervasive corruption -- could be forgiven for seeing the Comelec contract saga as a metaphor for the coming polls.
"This is yet another textbook case on why we always fail in this country," wrote political analyst and columnist Alex Magno.
"Computerizing the process is a simple enough task. But our institutions do not seem competent enough to execute it."
Comelec is scrambling to revert to a manual count in time for May 10, raising the prospect of a delayed election and stirring the usual speculation in newspapers that disgruntled generals could step in to fill the void.
Cynicism was already high after a series of political somersaults exposed parties as little more than vehicles for personalities to change careers.
Analysts see a two-way race developing between President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo and opposition candidate Fernando Poe Jr, a popular film star and friend of ousted leader Joseph Estrada.
But an absence of debate on how to solve problems suggests that money and dirty tricks will be at least as important as policy.
The culture of foul play became ingrained during the rule of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos, who fled to Hawaii in 1986 after snap elections marred by rampant cheating triggered a military rebellion supported by massive public protests.
The Marcos legacy remains strong. In his old stomping ground in the north, his preserved body is still on public display and two of his children -- son Ferdinand Jr and daughter Imee -- are expected to win new terms in office.
Election cheating has also proved resilient.
Manual counting usually takes several weeks to yield a final result in the Philippines, holding open the door to abuses in an archipelago of 7,100 islands, where local bosses often have more clout than the government in Manila.
"It is the most complicated, vulnerable process known to man," wrote Magno.
The confusion starts with ballot papers on which voters, some of them barely literate, must write their choices for president and senators right down to town councilors. The list runs to 30 names or longer in some provinces.



