Witness Protection’s Ethical Earthquake: Remulla’s Moral Might vs. Marcoleta’s Legal Lip Service

Marcoleta’s Legal Lipstick and the Discayas’ Desperate Masquerade

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — September 24, 2025

SUSMAROK! Grab your popcorn for this Senate Blue Ribbon Committee showdown, a theatrical slugfest where ₱545 billion in flood control funds vanished faster than a politician’s campaign promises—a saga we first dissected in Kweba ni Barok‘s September 17, 2025, scorcher (Link).

In one corner, Justice Secretary Jesus Crispin Remulla, the weathered captain of Moral Fortitude, steers the ship of justice through a storm of graft. In the other, Senator Rodante Marcoleta, the self-crowned Czar of Procedural Pomp, wields his legal checklist like a sword, slashing at ethics with the flair of a telenovela villain.

This isn’t a debate—it’s a high-stakes cage match in the Witness Protection Program (WPP) arena, administered under Republic Act No. 6981 (R.A. 6981), where the Discayas’ desperate dive for immunity fuels a clash that could sink accountability or save it. As threats of disbarment and populist platitudes fly, the plot thickens: will Remulla’s moral anchor hold, or will Marcoleta’s pedantic preening drown justice in a flood of legalese?

Crashing the Corruption Carnival: Framing the Ethical-Legal Clash

The Senate’s latest probe into the ghost-ridden flood control scandal—where billions meant to tame rivers built nothing but contractors’ car collections—has morphed into a gladiatorial showdown over the WPP under Republic Act No. 6981. At stake? Whether aspiring state witnesses must show “good faith” by coughing up ill-gotten gains before slipping into protection. Remulla insists it’s a moral must, even if not in the law’s fine print. Marcoleta? He’s clutching Rule 119, Sections 17-19 of the Revised Rules of Criminal Procedure like a holy relic, screaming that restitution is a post-conviction chore. Let’s slice through this circus with Kweba ni Barok‘s signature snark, holding both to account but champions Remulla’s ethical fortitude for its robust moral clarity.

Marcoleta’s Legal Masquerade: Grandstanding Over Good Faith

Senator Marcoleta strides into the hearing like a daytime TV lawyer, all righteous indignation and procedural purity. “There is a process,” he declares, as if he’s Moses with the Ten Commandments. “In the process, restitution is not one of the requisites.” When Remulla floats his good-faith test, Marcoleta escalates to Defcon 1: “I am articulating a provision of law. You do not change a provision of law. You may be disbarred for doing this.” Disbarred? Really, Senator? That’s not a legal argument; it’s a tantrum dressed in a barong, a cheap shot to intimidate rather than illuminate. It’s the kind of theatrical power play that screams, “I’m out of ideas, so let’s threaten careers!”

Marcoleta’s obsession with Rule 119‘s checklist—necessity, corroboration, not the most guilty—reduces justice to a bureaucratic to-do list, sidestepping the moral rot at the scandal’s core. He scoffs at preemptive restitution: “Papaano mo sasabihin na magre-restitute ang isang tao? Mayroon na bang findings kung magkano ire-restitute? On how it can be restituted? Nag-a-apply pa lang eh.” (How can you say a person will restitute? Has there been findings on how much? How? They’re just applying.) Fair point on timing, but let’s get real: in a ₱545-billion fraud fest where contractors like the Discayas flaunt Ferraris, is a witness clutching every stolen centavo until a judge’s gavel really acting in good faith? Marcoleta’s legalism is a coward’s dodge, a refusal to grapple with the ethical weight of a scandal that’s drowned communities in neglect. Worse, it opens the door to chaos, as Senator Erwin Tulfo’s populist zinger proves: “Wala ho tayong pakialam sa batas na ‘yan. Sometimes, you have to bend the law to please the people. Mas mataas po ang taong bayan sa batas.” (We don’t care about that law. Sometimes, you bend the law to please the people. The people’s will is higher than the law.) Marcoleta’s rigid dogma ironically fuels this lawless rhetoric, proving that worshipping procedure can be as dangerous as ignoring it.

“**Wala po ‘yan sa patakaran, pero it’s a test po kung reliable po ‘yang witness or hindi.”**

Remulla’s Moral High Ground: A Shaky but Noble Stand

In this maelstrom, Remulla emerges as the battered knight of Moral Fortitude, wielding ethics where statutes fall short. “Ang pagbabalik ng pera, ‘yan po ay inuutos ng korte,” he admits, nodding to Rule 119‘s judicial domain. But then he lands the gut punch: “Pero para makita po natin ang good faith ng isang testigo… ‘Yun po ‘yung isang test natin. Wala po ‘yan sa patakaran, pero it’s a test po kung reliable po ‘yang witness or hindi.” (To see the good faith of a witness… It’s not in the rules, but it’s a test of reliability.) This isn’t legal freelancing; it’s a pragmatic shield for R.A. 6981‘s spirit—to protect truthful whistleblowers, not reward calculating crooks. In a scandal where public trust is as eroded as flood-prone barangays, demanding good faith is a lifeline to credibility.

But let’s not canonize Remulla just yet. His stance is legally wobbly, a tightrope walk over Marcoleta’s pedantic traps. By admitting the test isn’t “in the rules,” he hands the senator a megaphone to cry, “You’re amending the law!” His retort—”We’re operating on a unique set of facts… The more assets we preserve at the outset, the better for our country”—nobly underscores the scandal’s stakes but flirts with extra-legal territory. It’s a vulnerability Marcoleta exploits with glee, and it risks chilling whistleblowers who fear arbitrary hurdles. Yet Remulla’s moral compass shines through, backed by Senator Francis “Kiko” Pangilinan’s bombshell: former Bulacan engineer Brice Hernandez already surrendered assets to the Independent Commission on Infrastructure (ICI). “So, therefore, ‘you know this restitution issue, while it is the law, [it] does not prevent the government from being broader… lalo na kapag voluntary ang pagbigay,” Pangilinan says. (It doesn’t prevent broader implementation, especially when voluntary.) There it is, folks: proof that Remulla’s good-faith test isn’t a pipe dream—it’s working, dismantling Marcoleta’s checklist like a house of cards in a typhoon.

The Next Act: Will Justice Sink or Swim?

As Remulla drags former Bulacan engineer Henry Alcantara to the Department of Justice (DOJ) for vetting, the curtain hasn’t fallen—it’s barely risen. This moral maelstrom exposes a truth sharper than a bolo: Marcoleta’s procedural pageantry sacrifices ethics for footnotes, while Remulla’s ethical stand, though legally frail, fights for the soul of justice. But the wild ride careens on, dear reader. With Republic Act No. 3019 (Anti-Graft and Corrupt Practices Act) prosecutions hanging in the balance and billions still unaccounted for, the next act looms. Will Marcoleta’s grandstanding shield the corrupt, or will Remulla’s moral gamble drain the swamp? Grab your life vests—this flood of fraud isn’t done yet.

Barok out, still wading through the muck.