SOCIAL media turned into flames yesterday after the House hearing that featured whistleblower Ramil Madriaga detailing allegations against former president Rodrigo Duterte (FPRRD) and his family. FPRRD allegedly called one of his sons “mad,” and another one “gay.”
Dr. Nuelle Duterte is a psychiatrist, perfect for this piece, and a niece of FPRRD. She has never minced her words and always gave nuanced analyses in her Facebook posts. She gave us this RX:
“First, there’s nothing wrong with not being heterosexual. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be heterosexual. Second, I want to say that among Digong’s generation, the word ‘bading or ‘bayot’ didn’t always mean gay. They also used those words frequently to mean ‘weak.’ Sexism and misogyny were, and probably still are, normal in Davao City.
“My interpretation of his use of ‘bading’ to describe his son is that he felt his son was weak. To Digong, any man who wasn’t like him was weak.”
There you go. And I also posted my commentary on people who were bashing one of the Duterte sons for allegedly “being gay.” Gayness is not the issue but the alleged threats he hurled against President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., “Isang ulo lang ang kailangan namin (We only want one head).” In underworld parlance, it means that only one person is our target. That sounds like a grave threat and is punishable under the Revised Penal Code.
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And what about Madriaga’s exposé? The Political Labandera is one of the more sober voices on Facebook, and I will give a digest of his astute commentary. He said that there is a simple rule in both politics and law: weak accusations are ignored. They are allowed to collapse under their own weight, exposed by scrutiny, discredited by process and forgotten by the public.
At the center of this issue are the sworn affidavits — instruments that carry a specific weight in law. Unlike anonymous leaks, social media claims or political rumor, a sworn statement is executed under oath. It is signed, notarized and is legally binding. The person who issues it exposes himself/herself to criminal liability, particularly for perjury, should it be proven false.
Madriaga’s affidavits are not vague or impressionistic. It presents a narrative structured and detailed around timelines, identifies individuals, describes mechanisms and outlines procedures that could form the foundation of legal proceedings.
This is the kind of document that does not end conversations. It begins with them, which is why the instinct to contain, discredit or preempt its examination becomes significant — and desperate.
Among its most striking elements is “Plan 2025” — an alleged strategic design for an eventual power grab. It suggests an “arrangement” framed as an alliance, but conceived as an entry point to take over. It’s a means of accessing power from within, with the intention of reconfiguring it later.
In political science, it falls within the broader framework of destabilization, where influence is accumulated within existing structures, only to be leveraged toward disruption to take over at a calculated moment.
Whether or not this claim is true is what an investigation would determine. But what cannot be ignored is that the allegation[s] is not casual. It is structured. It includes timing, rationale and intended outcomes. It suggests not improvisation, but design. And that is what gives it weight — not as facts, but as a claim worthy of scrutiny.
Even more consequential are the portions that dealt with “extraordinary measures,” including scenarios that move beyond political maneuvering into criminal conduct. Allegations involving destabilization, civil unrest and even targeted violence, if accurately represented, are not matters that can be dismissed as rhetorical excess.
They implicate potential violations of criminal law and, more importantly, raise national-security concerns. No responsible government can ignore such claims. The threshold for action in such cases is not certainty, but plausibility. Where there is sufficient detail and potential corroboration, the duty is not to conclude but to investigate.
And that brings us to the most revealing aspect of this situation: the response. Vice President Sara Duterte has filed a perjury complaint against Madriaga. At the same time, legal action has been pursued to prevent access to financial records, including the filing of petitions to restrain disclosure.
These are not minor reactions. They are decisive, preemptive and aligned. From a legal standpoint, filing a perjury case is a direct attack on the credibility of the affiant. It is a way of placing the witness himself on trial. It shifts attention from the substance of the allegations to the character of the individual making them.
This is a familiar tactic. It is often effective. But it is also incomplete because discrediting a witness does not negate the evidence. If the affidavit points to documents, transactions or records that can be verified, then the focus returns to those materials.
Which is why the effort to prevent access to potential financial records becomes significant. In legal reasoning, attempts to block evidence are not interpreted in isolation. They are assessed within context. And within that context, they raise a simple but powerful question: If there is nothing to find, why prevent the search?
It is important to emphasize that none of this establishes guilt. Allegations must still be proven. Affidavits must be tested and evidence authenticated. Witnesses must be examined. That is the purpose of due process.
But due process also requires an openness to examination. It requires that claims be allowed to proceed through institutional channels, where they can be challenged, corroborated or dismissed based on evidence.
When the process itself is resisted; when the release of records is contested; when proceedings are sought to be halted, the issue is no longer just the credibility of the allegation. It becomes the credibility of the response.
There is also a broader political dimension. Public trust is not shaped only by what is said. It is shaped by how power responds under pressure. Calm confidence suggests control. Overcorrection suggests vulnerability.
When a political camp moves to shut down a narrative before it has been examined, it risks amplifying the doubts it seeks to dispel. Because the public, instinctively, understands this: Strength does not rush to silence questions. It allows them to be asked and then answers them.
If the affidavit[s] carries no weight, why respond as if it does? Why file perjury charges instead of allowing the claims to collapse? Why seek judicial barriers if transparency would be the most decisive defense? Why move quickly, forcefully, before the facts have even been tested?
There are only two possible explanations. Either the reaction is an overestimation of a weak threat, or it is a recognition of a dangerous one. And if it is the latter, then the affidavits are no longer just a document. It is the beginning of something that is feared by those in power.
Words fly like tennis balls across the net. Let us wait for the next episode of the Impeach Sara Saga.
