In a country exhausted by corruption scandals and cynical political games, the public deserves truth rooted in logic — not the fever-dream testimony of a fugitive suddenly rebranded as a hero by the very same forces that once called him a thief. Zaldy Co’s so-called “bombshell” alleging that President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. ordered a P100-billion insertion into the 2025 budget is not merely weak — it is structurally impossible, procedurally ignorant, and politically convenient in the most obvious way.
But before we dissect the absurdity of Co’s claim, let us expose the hypocrisy currently poisoning public discourse.
For months, the Duterte camp — including Vice President Sara Duterte — repeatedly portrayed Zaldy Co as a central figure in corruption. Sara accused him of playing a key role in the multibillion-peso DepEd laptop scam under her father’s administration. She even demanded that he be forced to return to the Philippines to face accountability for allegedly inserting billions into flood control projects and pocketing kickbacks along the way. Influencers and propagandists from the DDS echo chamber parroted her line: Co was corrupt, unreliable, evasive, and cowardly.
And then, out of nowhere, Co releases a video from abroad pointing a finger at Marcos — and suddenly the same people who sought his arrest now declare him a hero.
Yesterday: “Isoli! I-uwi! Ikulong!”
Today: “Protect him! Believe him! He’s the lone truth-teller!”
The speed of this transformation is not ideological — it is opportunistic. Co’s story is not being believed; it is being used.
Let us now go to the core of Co’s narrative, which collapses the moment it encounters basic budget logic.
Co claims that Marcos ordered a P100-billion insertion during the bicameral conference committee. This is a procedural impossibility. If a president wants to embed funds quietly, safely, and strategically, he does so where he actually has full authority: the preparation of the National Expenditure Program.
The NEP is called the President’s Budget for a reason. It is drafted by the Development Budget Coordination Committee — composed entirely of executive agencies. This is the cleanest, safest, quietest stage for embedding allocations. No lawmakers. No bicam. No leaks. No political combat. The President has 100 percent control.
So why would Marcos wait for the bicam — the only stage where the Executive has zero control, zero vote, and zero power — to insert a massive P100 billion?
The Executive is not even seated at the bicam table. They cannot force insertions. They cannot dictate amendments. They cannot impose anything. It is Congress — House and Senate contingents — that negotiate, haggle, and horse-trade the budget.
But Co’s story gets more absurd when you consider this:
Marcos vetoed P194 billion from the 2025 budget.
Let that sink in.
Why would a president “insert” P100 billion only to veto over P100 billion in the final document?
It makes as much sense as someone breaking into their own house to steal their own appliances.
If Marcos truly wanted that money, he had full control during the NEP drafting, the ability to embed allocations quietly, and no need for bicam intervention.
And even if — for the sake of argument — he inserted P100 billion late in the process, why would he immediately veto amounts that exceeded the alleged insertion? Co’s claim defies not only logic but documented presidential action.
Meanwhile, the actual discrepancy between the NEP and Congress’ final version is more than P200 billion — double Co’s claimed amount. So where did the other half come from? Who inserted it? Which bloc? Which committee? Which senator or representative?
Co provides no names, no timeline, no documents, no hearings, no context — only a politically convenient narrative that points upward while refusing to implicate the bodies that actually wield insertion power: the House small committee, the Senate finance committee, and the bicam negotiating panels.
These are the real architects of budget manipulation, the true power centers of pork, the traditional chokepoints where billions shift based on political bargains. But in Co’s story, these groups vanish like ghosts. He shields the very machinery where he once operated.
And why? Because exposing the real insertion structure would expose the real players — many of whom were his allies.
The truth is painfully obvious: Zaldy Co’s story is not a revelation. It is a deflection. It is a survival tactic. It is a political weapon embraced by a faction hungry to damage Marcos, even if it means elevating a man they once condemned as a scammer.
And Co conveniently delivers all this from abroad, free from oath, free from cross-examination, and free from accountability.
If he wants credibility, he must come home, testify under oath, open his own records, name real insertion brokers, and face the scandals he himself is accused of fueling.
Until then, his “bombshell” remains what it truly is: a desperate fairy tale, amplified by opportunists, and designed to manipulate an already enraged public.
The Filipino people deserve truth — not the shifting narratives of those who rewrite their loyalties as quickly as they rewrite their lies.
