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KWEBA ni BAROK

Dong Gonzales and the ₱611 Million Family Heist: When “Cleared” Means “Not Caught… Yet”

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Louis ‘Barok’ Biraogo

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Dong Gonzales and the ₱611 Million Family Heist: When “Cleared” Means “Not Caught… Yet”
How Daddy’s Pork Barrel Became the Kids’ College Fund (and Mansion Fund, and Yacht Fund)

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — November 23, 2025

MGA ka-kweba, ladies and gentlemen of this miserable republic, gather ’round the cave fire because the stench coming out of Pampanga’s 3rd District is making even the rats gag. Former Senior Deputy Speaker Aurelio “Dong” Gonzales Jr. — the man who once helped steer the national budget like it was his personal ATM — is back in the headlines, smiling that oily smile, telling reporters the Office of the Ombudsman already “cleared” him in 2023. Cleared. Dismissed for “lack of merit.” Rehashed, recycled, old news, he says with a shrug, as if ₱611 million worth of flood-control projects just accidentally fell into the bank account of a construction company conveniently run by his own children.

Naku, Dong. Bless your heart. You really think “dismissed for lack of merit” in 2023 is the same as innocent? Pare, that’s like a drug lord bragging that the last raid found no shabu in his house — because he moved it to his kids’ bedroom the night before.

Double jeopardy? More like double-entry bookkeeping—with the family as both debit and credit.

The “Cleared” Canard: A Masterclass in Political Gaslighting

Let’s start with the magic words: “dismissed for lack of merit.” That phrase is the favorite lingerie of every corrupt official — soft, silky, and hides absolutely everything underneath. In plain English, it usually means the complainant in 2023 couldn’t produce enough hard evidence at the preliminary investigation stage to convince the Ombudsman there was probable cause. It is NOT an acquittal after trial. It is NOT a finding of innocence. It is a bureaucratic “meh, not enough paper right now.”

And guess what? Dismissals at the preliminary investigation stage do not trigger double jeopardy. The Supreme Court has said this so many times even a first-year law student is bored of citing Suero v. People (G.R. No. 156408, 2005) and every Supreme Court decision after it: jeopardy only locks the door forever if the case ended in acquittal, conviction, or dismissal without the accused’s express consent. Anything less? The prosecution can knock again — and harder. Hello, Ombudsman Samuel Martires’ successor, Jesus Crispin “Boying” Remulla.

So when Dong waves that 2023 dismissal like a papal indulgence, he’s not holding a shield. He’s holding a “Get Out of Jail Free” card that expired the moment someone finally decided to actually look.

The Web of Conflict: A Family That Builds Together, Steals Together

Picture this: You are the powerful congressman from Pampanga’s 3rd District. You sit on committees that influence the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) budget. You glad-hand regional directors. And — whoopsie daisy! — a company called AD Gonzales Jr. Construction & Trading Inc. (top officers: your own children) suddenly bags three juicy flood-control projects in San Fernando, Mexico, and Bacolor. Total take? ₱611.578 million of taxpayer money.

Section 3(h) of Republic Act No. 3019 (Anti-Graft and Corrupt Practices Act) is giggling right now. It explicitly prohibits public officials from having any “direct or indirect financial or pecuniary interest” in any contract with the government. Indirect, Dong. That word was written precisely for situations where politicians park the loot under their children’s names and pretend they’re just proud parents watching the kids “succeed.”

This isn’t conflict of interest. This is interest with a side of family reunion.

Legal Smokescreens vs. The State’s Nuclear Hammers

Dong and his lawyers will scream double jeopardy until their lungs collapse. Let them collapse. It’s noise. As long as no court ever arraigned him and took his plea, double jeopardy is a ghost — and ghosts don’t file motions.

But the real fun begins when the Solicitor General wakes up, dusts off Republic Act No. 1379 (Forfeiture of Ill-Gotten Wealth), and files a forfeiture petition. Because RA 1379 doesn’t care if you were “cleared” in a criminal case. It doesn’t care about prescription. It doesn’t even care if the money is now under the name of your favorite daughter. The moment the State shows your family’s wealth is manifestly out of proportion to your lawful income — poof — the burden shifts to you to explain every peso. Fail? Everything gets forfeited.

That mansion? Forfeited.
The SUVs? Forfeited.
The company shares? Forfeited.
The cash that multiplied like rabbits during your term? Forfeited.

This is the nuclear option politicians fear more than prison, because prison ends. Forfeiture is forever.

The Road to Accountability: A To-Do List for People Who Still Believe in Justice

  1. Ombudsman Remulla: Stop “looking into” and start indicting. File the RA 3019 cases in the Sandiganbayan now.
  2. Solicitor General Berberabe: File the RA 1379 forfeiture petition tomorrow morning. Seize first, let them explain later.
  3. Commission on Audit (COA): Issue disallowances on every centavo paid to AD Gonzales Construction. Make them refund with interest.
  4. Government Procurement Policy Board (GPPB): Blacklist the company permanently. No more government contracts for the Gonzales clan, ever.
  5. Congress: Launch a real investigation into the “Contractor-Congressman” plague — Elizaldy Co, Edwin Gardiola, and every other lawmaker who turned DPWH into their family’s cash cow.

Kweba ni Barok’s Verdict

Aurelio “Dong” Gonzales Jr. did not just stumble into a conflict of interest. He built an entire family empire on it, one flood-control project at a time, while laughing at the very laws he swore to uphold. His 2023 “clearance” is toilet paper. His “rehashed and recycled” excuse is the last gasp of a man who knows the walls are closing in.

This is no longer about one greedy congressman from Pampanga. This is about a Congress infested with contractors who write the budget by day and award it to their own blood by night. Until we start seizing their houses, their cars, their companies — until we make the cost of corruption higher than the profit — nothing will change.

Dong, the Kweba is watching.
And this time, we’re not blinking.

Key Citations

Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo

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