Corruption’s Final Bow: Reyes vs. Patidongan in the Sabungero Spectacle

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — July 11, 2025

IN THE Philippines, corruption scandals unfold like a tired soap opera, each new drama blending into the last with predictable flair. The latest episode features Felix Reyes, the Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office (PCSO) chairman and retired judge, squaring off against Julie “Dondon” Patidongan, a self-proclaimed whistleblower whose credibility wobbles like a jeepney on a potholed road. Their clash over alleged case-fixing for gaming tycoon Charlie “Atong” Ang in the missing sabungeros case—a grim tale of vanished cockfighters reportedly dumped in Taal Lake—is less a pursuit of truth than a spectacle of accusations and denials. Investigations, as ever, move at the pace of a bureaucracy on siesta, leaving the public to watch, weary from the rerun. Welcome to Manila’s endless circus, where the only sure thing is someone’s bending the truth, and the only question is who cracks first.

Reyes: Noble Judge or Master Obfuscator?

How convenient for Felix Reyes to demand “specific evidence” from his accuser, as if the PCSO, an agency with a storied history of graft, were a temple of purity. Reyes, a former Regional Trial Court judge now perched atop the PCSO, is appalled—appalled!—at Patidongan’s claim that he fixed cases for Atong Ang. His defense? A bold challenge to name a single case, coupled with a gesture of transparency: he’s authorized the Bureau of Immigration to release his travel records since retiring in 2021. Because, of course, shady deals only happen on foreign junkets, never in Manila’s dim-lit karaoke joints.

The timing of this drama is pure theater. Patidongan’s accusations surfaced the day after Reyes applied to be Ombudsman, the nation’s anti-corruption watchdog. You couldn’t script better irony—Reyes, accused of abetting corruption, vying to lead the fight against it. He hints at a conspiracy to derail his bid, and his offer to cooperate with investigations sounds earnest, but it’s a classic play: project openness while holding the fort, hoping the storm blows over (ABS-CBN News, 2025).

Patidongan: Hero or Hustler?

Enter Julie Patidongan, a former accused kidnapper turned whistleblower, whose tale of case-fixing smells like a desperate bid to rewrite his own story. He claims a “former judge” (read: Reyes) fixed cases for Atong Ang, complete with overseas trips alongside prosecutors and judges. It’s a headline-grabbing charge, but where’s the proof? Unlike Sandra Cam, who spilled names in her jueteng exposés before her own PCSO scandals tarnished her shine, Patidongan’s allegations are thin on details. Cam at least gave specifics before her fall; Patidongan offers a radio interview and little else.

Is Patidongan a pawn in a bigger game? The Department of Justice’s interest, with ongoing leads and Taal Lake searches, suggests his claims are being taken seriously, but the timing raises eyebrows. Is this about pinning Ang, a gambling mogul with plenty of foes, or sabotaging Reyes’ Ombudsman bid for a rival’s gain? Patidongan, under PNP protective custody, may be singing to dodge his own legal troubles—he’s already sidestepped kidnapping charges in this case (Rappler, 2025). His “whistleblower” status feels more like a plea deal with a side of bravado.

Law Enforcement’s ‘Investigation’: A Dark Comedy

The Philippine National Police have Patidongan in “protective custody”—a term that, in this country, can mean either a shield or a muzzle. The Supreme Court’s “probe” into judicial influence is less inspiring than it sounds. This is the same judiciary that let Senator Ramon Revilla Jr. walk on plunder charges while petty thieves rot in jail. The idea of the high court cleaning house is like expecting a fox to tidy the henhouse.

The DOJ’s push to search Taal Lake for bodies is a stark metaphor for a justice system that only stirs when the evidence is too dead to ignore (Inquirer, 2025). The PNP’s talk of monitoring “more personalities” and restricting 15 cops to Camp Crame feels like a performance of diligence, not the real deal. This isn’t justice; it’s a tragicomedy where everyone plays their part. The police, the courts, the DOJ—all move with the urgency of a system that knows the public’s attention will fade by the next headline.

The sabungeros case, unresolved since 2022, festers like an open wound, and these theatrics only deepen the cynicism. If Patidongan’s claims hold any truth, it’s buried under layers of posturing, and no one seems eager to dig.

Recommendations: Stop Feeding the Circus

To Felix Reyes: Step down from the PCSO to “clear your name.” Nothing says innocence like walking away from power. Holding tight while eyeing the Ombudsman’s seat only fuels suspicion.
To Julie Patidongan: Put up or shut up. Show bank records, wiretaps, or a single case file. If this is a desperate ploy to dodge your past, come clean before the libel suits stack up.
To the media: Quit amplifying unproven claims like they’re fact. Running with Patidongan’s vague accusations without demanding proof isn’t journalism—it’s tossing peanuts to the circus.

In a land where judges dine with prosecutors and whistleblowers rise from the ranks of accomplices, this scandal is less about truth than about which liar stumbles first. The sabungeros’ families deserve closure, but they won’t get it from this cast. The real tragedy isn’t the accusations or denials—it’s a justice system as murky as Taal Lake, hiding whatever lies beneath.