Remulla vs. The Rotten Bench: Can One Man Clean Up the Philippines’ Most Corrupt Courts?

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — July 9, 2025

LET’S give the Philippine Supreme Court a slow clap: three years after 34 cockfighting fans vanished—allegedly strangled and dumped like garbage by a gambling kingpin—they’ve finally noticed something’s amiss. Justice Secretary Jesus Crispin Remulla, meanwhile, has been doing their job for them: hauling whistleblowers into protective custody, badgering Chief Justice Gesmundo, and all but spelling out that the judiciary smells worse than Taal Lake’s hypothetical corpses. Bravo, Your Honors—your “investigation” is as visible as the sabungeros’ remains!

1. The Hypocrisy Olympics: Judges on the Take, Whistleblowers on the Cross

The grotesque irony here would be laughable if it weren’t so vile. Julie “Totoy” Patidongan—a flawed man with blood on his hands—risks his neck to expose how judges allegedly took bribes to protect Charlie “Atong” Ang, the gaming tycoon accused of turning 34 people into fish food. Meanwhile, the courts drag him through the mud, revoking his bail while Ang files laughable counter-complaints about “slander.” How touching that Ang suddenly cares about reputations—after 34 families were left begging for bones.

The Supreme Court’s response? A whisper-quiet probe into “behavior detrimental to the justice system.” Remulla, ever the diplomat, insists they’re “not onion-skinned.” No kidding—they’d need skin thick enough to armor a tank to ignore the stench of corpses and corruption.

2. Atong Ang’s Circus of Deflection (And the Clowns Who Enable Him)

Ang’s defense is a masterclass in audacious absurdity: “The whistleblower is lying!” Never mind that Patidongan’s claims are corroborated by the PNP’s “voluminous evidence,” or that 15 cops—including a lieutenant colonel—are under restrictive custody for alleged complicity. Ang’s countermove? Filing a complaint against Patidongan for “grave threats.” Yes, because nothing says “innocent” like suing the guy who claims you ordered 34 murders.

And let’s not forget Gretchen Barretto, the actress roped into this mess. Ang’s camp dismisses Patidongan as a “fabricator,” but Remulla isn’t buying it. “Even the Supreme Court isn’t immune to corruption,” he warns—a rare bureaucrat daring to name the rot. Compare that to the judiciary’s “discreet” investigation, which is about as transparent as Taal Lake’s murky depths.

3. The Stain of Impunity: From Taal Lake to the Halls of Power

This case isn’t just about 34 missing men—it’s a microcosm of the Philippines’ justice crisis. Bodies vanish into lakes. Cops take monthly payola from accused killers. Judges allegedly fix cases for the highest bidder. Remulla’s push for witness protection and SC accountability isn’t just commendable—it’s a lifeline for a drowning rule of law.

The PNP’s revelation that Taal Lake is just one dumping ground underscores the scale of this horror. Yet Batangas Governor Vilma Santos frets about fishermen’s livelihoods. Priorities, Madame Governor: the dead can’t eat tawilis.

4. Remulla: The Reluctant Reformer in a Den of Crocodiles

In a government still haunted by Duterte’s ICC-defying bravado, Remulla is the rare official actually doing his job. He’s coordinating with the PNP, pressuring the SC, and hinting that the “former judge” fixing cases is just the tip of the iceberg. Remulla isn’t just cleaning house; he’s wading through a septic tank with a teaspoon.

Contrast this with the Supreme Court’s “sensitivity”—a euphemism for glacial inertia. Three years. Thirty-four lives. And all they’ve mustered is a probe so opaque it could be sponsored by a blindfold.

5. A Glimmer of Hope? (Or Just Another False Dawn?)

Yes, the system is broken. But if Remulla’s gamble pays off, this might finally be the case that forces the Philippines to choose: justice or jueteng? The world is watching. Will the Supreme Court rise to the occasion—or will Taal Lake’s secrets stay buried forever?

Final Thought: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” In Manila today, the “good men” are either under police guard or hiding behind judicial robes. Remulla, at least, is swinging a shovel.