It was a Senate hearing that quickly turned into a spectacle. On Thursday’s session of the Blue Ribbon Committee, eyes were not on the star witness but on the senator who introduced him—Rodante Marcoleta.
Marcoleta presented Orly Regala Guteza, a former Marine introduced by ex-congressman Mike Defensor, as a key witness in the ongoing probe into the multibillion-peso flood control scam. Guteza claimed he once served as a bodyguard to Rep. Zaldy Co and had direct knowledge of alleged kickback transactions that supposedly involved Co and Rep. Martin Romualdez.
But instead of delivering damning revelations, Guteza fumbled. His halting delivery drew laughter when Marcoleta himself stepped in—not just to coach, but to practically take over the reading of the affidavit. At one point, the senator urged the witness to slow down and “just read what’s written,” before finally handing him his own copy. Observers could not help but note that Marcoleta seemed more familiar with the sworn statement than the man who supposedly swore to it.
The optics were damaging. A witness meant to bolster a case appeared ill-prepared, while the lawmaker pushing the testimony looked like its most polished narrator. The irony was not lost on the public, who flooded social media with quips about who was really “on the stand.”
Adding to the controversy, lawyer Petchie Rose Espera flatly denied notarizing or preparing Guteza’s affidavit. She publicly disowned the document, calling the attribution of her signature and notarial details “fraudulent and unauthorized.” Her disavowal cast further doubt on the credibility of both the testimony and the process that brought it before the Senate.
The episode left more questions than answers: Was Guteza truly a whistleblower, or merely a prop in a political theater piece? And if Marcoleta could recite the affidavit more convincingly than the witness himself, whose story was really being told?
For critics, the hearing was less about uncovering corruption in flood control projects and more about exposing the performative nature of Philippine politics—where affidavits can look like scripts, and senators appear to play director, narrator, and lead actor all at once.