Delfin Lee has been called many names by his critics which, by this time, would be in the thousands including-according to the syndicated estafa charges filed against him—many would-be homeowners who once trusted his vision to build for them first class residential communities at socialized housing prices.
A cursory glance at various social media fora will reveal the extent of the name-calling against the real estate developer who made the province of Pampanga his springboard for national fame and eventually, infamy.
“Fugitive” is the most common description carried by the media. Other descriptions include “estafador,” “scammer,” “manloloko” and even “demonyo.”
But who is he, really, and what is he like to people who have had the chance to interact with him beyond signing the dotted line that he and his agents had proffered as a prerequisite to the promised housing loan?
After a local court in San Fernando, Pampanga ordered the arrest of Lee, his son Dexter, and some officers of his now infamous Globe Asiatique Realty Holdings Corp., this former high flying businessman has gone underground and has remained inaccessible to media.
But Marikina representative Romero Quimbo who headed the Home Development Mutual Fund—also known as the Pag-IBIG Fund-from 2002 until 2009, remembers him as an aggressive businessman who had soaring ambitions for his budding real estate empire… before it all came crashing down.
It was during Quimbo’s time at the helm of the government’s richest housing agency that Lee polished his low cost housing model that soon became very popular with buyers.
“I didn’t know him personally, but I saw him maybe six times during the seven years that I was CEO of Pag-IBIG,” Quimbo says in an interview with the INQUIRER. “When I became CEO of Pag-IBIG in 2002, he was already a player.”
Quimbo, a lawyer by profession, recalls that Globe Asiatique already had existing businesses with Pag-IBIG at that time and was in the top ten rankings, though it was not the biggest real estate firm that the Fund dealt with.
By Quimbo’s reckoning, Lee was an expert in the art of selling, often making it easy—through his convincing sales pitches—to make buyers visualize the real estate products his company was selling.
“The emphasis of (Globe Asiatique) was marketing,” says the Marikina lawmaker. “Lee really had marketing savvy.”
Quimbo recalls that he even met Lee during ceremonies at the presidential palace where the realtor was a recipient of an award for his work in the housing industry.
“He was getting awards from everybody,” Quimbo recounts. “To my recollection, I even attended the awarding in Malacañang of the Housing and Land Use Regulatory Board (HLURB). We had no idea he was up to no good.”
Quimbo is, of course, aware that not a few eyebrows are raised in his direction, given the rise in prominence of Lee’s empire during his term at the helm of Pag-IBIG. As such, he points out that he had made sure that Globe Asiatique’s deal with the housing agency stayed as a “pilot program” during his time. This meant that the real estate firm should not have gone beyond 2,000 housing loan accounts with Pag-IBIG.
“For the record—I keep telling (media) this, but it never comes out—a great bulk of these accounts being talked about—almost P10B in actual takeouts—happened after I had left Pag-IBIG in March 2009,” says Quimbo. “After this time, that pilot program became a big, regular (loan) program.”
Still, Quimbo hints that he understands how clients of Globe Asiatique could be wooed by Lee’s so-called vision.
“He was into big ticket items,” says the former Pag-IBIG chief. “He was building very tall, multi-storey condos. And he had very ornate developments, like the one in Mabalacat,” he adds, referring to Globe Asiatique’s flagship Xevera project in Pampanga.
It was this very project that was a source of amazement for both buyers and regulators alike, Quimbo notes.
He explains that Lee put up money upfront to build a church, a school, a market and playgrounds within this development way in advance of the actual residential units being put up.
“Usually, all these facilities are constructed only after 60 percent of the houses are built,” Quimbo says, adding that the company’s profile was also burnished by its presence on the popular reality TV show “Pinoy Big Brother” that aired over ABS-CBN.
In fact, the very house featured as the “Pinoy Big Brother House” is a design offered by Globe Asiatique to buyers of its real estate projects.
“He even had a TV program,” Quimbo recalls, referring to Lee’s weekly magazine show aired over the ABS-CBN News Channel called “The GA Report” where he would discuss personal finance issues and dish out real estate advice to viewers, while making a soft, subtle pitch for his company’s projects.
Listening to Quimbo’s description of Lee, it is easy to imagine how the latter’s enthusiasm could be infectious-perhaps akin to the image portrayed by US real estate magnate Donald Trump who is famous for taking on big projects, often against seemingly long odds.
“If you listen to him, everything was doable. He was very aggressive,” says Quimbo. “To the uninitiated, he had a ‘pie in the sky’ concept.”
Expectedly, Delfin Lee’s lawyer, Willie Rivera, has a slightly different take on the fugitive businessman.
Interviewed by the Inquirer recently, Rivera—who is also a sitting councilor for Angeles City, Pampanga (Lee’s former base of operations for his real estate empire)—describes the businessman as a good man who is the victim of a squeeze play by powerful politicians and industry rivals.
“He’s a businessman who’s very helpful to his fellowmen,” claims Rivera. “He is also well-loved by his employees.”
According to Rivera, he has known Lee casually since 2002, since the latter owned a coffee shop in Angeles City.
“We would greet each other. Pabati-bati lang,” he says, adding that he got to know the businessman up close starting November 2010 soon after the Globe Asiatique crisis became public.
“Istrikto siya magpatrabaho… pero masarap magpasuweldo (He is a strict boss, but he pays well)” says Rivera. Lee, his lawyer adds, is a “very practical man” who always gives his relatives, clients and employees “more than they deserve.”
“For example, I would bill him X amount (for legal services), but he would always send me more (than that),” recalls Rivera.
Lee, he adds, was also a perfectionist when it came to his real estate developments.
“Ayaw niya ng pangit na (he didn’t like shoddy) projects,” Rivera says, detailing the various amenities of Globe Asiatique’s socialized and low cost housing communities that, he claims, are full of features normally found only in high end projects.
The lawyer points out that socialized housing developments are not even required to provide a lot of open spaces (so developers can maximize housing space), but that Globe Asiatique has included generous amounts of space for common areas in their desire to build more livable communities.
“For P6,000 to P7,000 a month (in amortization), you can enjoy the amenities of a first class subdivision,” says Rivera. “Of course, his business rivals got envious because he was attracting all their buyers.”
And like most successful and aggressive businessmen, Lee was also decisive when it came to making important decisions, his lawyer says.
Rivera says that as the Globe Asiatique crisis was unfolding two years ago, Lee began interviewing a steady stream of lawyers—recommended to him by friends—to prepare his legal defense. He adds that he was recommended to Lee by a common friend, who felt that both men’s advocacies to help urban poor communities would engender trust between both parties.
“His original counsels were from the Fortun Narvasa law office,” Rivera recalls. “But (Lee) decided to hire me after talking to me for only 15 minutes, and after interviewing so many lawyers before me.”
“(Lee) is very good at marketing, but he delegates the nitty gritty,” his lawyer says. “Napabayaan siguro ang ibang aspeto (there must have been some oversight in certain aspects of the business). But he wants the homes delivered to their buyers.”
But perhaps the coldest, most clinical view of Delfin Lee comes from a man who has spent the last two years building a case against him, studying records about Globe Asiatique’s dealings with government and interviewing various homebuyers who have found themselves at the losing end of what should have been a dream come true.
Daniel Subido is the deputy secretary general of the Housing and Urban Development Coordinating Council (HUDCC) and is at the forefront of efforts to prosecute the fugitive businessman.
“I haven’t talked to him personally, but based on his actions, I believe he knows what he’s done is wrong,” Subido says in an interview. “All his claims are palusot (mere excuses).”
“They’re callous to the plight of their victims,” he says of Lee and his co-accused, pointing out to reports about the alleged ostentatious lifestyle of the businessman and his children amid the troubles that their clients are experiencing.
“This is a very high-profile family, as you know,” adds Subido. “We’ve even received reports of Lee being seen driving around in a Porsche at the height of the scandal.”
The HUDCC deputy chief has dealt directly with Globe Asiatique clients who have approached the housing agency to complain about their plight. They reported having paid amortizations on their homes for years but suddenly finding that they have nowhere to move into.
“Nakakaawa (they’re pitiful),” he says of Lee’s alleged victims. “They’ve paid for the homes in full, but the titles are not in their names.”
Subido also dismisses the claim of Lee and his lawyers that Globe Asiatique can unilaterally substitute the names of fictitious homeowners—many of whom admit to being either forced or enticed to sign loan applications for monetary considerations- with so-called legitimate buyers.
“They’re arrogant,” the official declares. “They think everything can be worked out with money.”
Subido says that Lee would have almost certainly pull off his controversial business model had he succeeded in selling Globe Asiatique shares through the stock market in 2010.
“Muntikan nang nakalusot (he almost pulled through),” he said of Lee’s scheme. “His exit plan was to have an (initial public offering), with the proceeds used to pay off the outstanding amortization of buyers. It would have been difficult to chase him had that succeeded.”
But because the plan fell through, Lee’s elaborately constructed business model now has a P7-billion hole in it.
“He’s a marketing man,” Subido says of Lee. “If you don’t study what happened, he can make you believe that he’s sincere. He can look you in the eye and tell you he has done nothing wrong.”
Of course, barring a face-to-face interview with Lee himself, any personality profile about him will have to be drawn from interviews with people who have dealt with him or his firm—people who inevitably have their own agenda to push.
Quimbo wants to protect his reputation as having made the Pag-IBIG Fund the most profitable government financial institution during his time at the helm. Rivera wants to see his client exonerated. And Subido, who works under the office of Vice President Jejomar Binay, wants Lee prosecuted as part of current efforts to clean up the housing finance system.
They all offer different insights into what the real Delfin Lee is like as a person and as a businessman. It is likely that none of their extreme points can offer a comprehensive picture of the man.
As in most cases, the complete truth about the enigmatic and elusive Delfin Lee is probably somewhere in between. •
