A familiar script in the missing sabungeros case

In what is fast becoming a recurring theme in the Philippine justice system, the case of the missing sabungeros—now four years old—has once again made headlines, this time reignited by Justice Secretary Jesus Crispin Remulla’s bold insinuation that powerful personalities are involved in the apparent abductions.

While this should have signaled a serious escalation in the investigation, it instead triggered another disturbing sequence of events: an imprudent media interview, a libel complaint, a suspect whistleblower, and an all-too-familiar scent of orchestrated distraction.

The chain reaction began when a prominent news anchor aired an exclusive interview with one of the accused individuals. While media must remain vigilant in the pursuit of truth, there is a thin line between journalistic boldness and recklessness. Broadcasting an unverified story from someone already accused, in a case steeped in mystery and blood, undermines due process and potentially compromises the integrity of the investigation.

Predictably, this misstep was met with a libel complaint from a business tycoon allegedly linked to gambling operations—a knee-jerk reaction that serves to intimidate and stifle further media inquiry.

Making matters murkier is the credibility of the so-called whistleblower. According to the businessman’s top-rated legal counsel, the whistleblower has existing convictions in different courts—thus casting doubt on his reliability. Yet, anyone who has followed Philippine political and criminal sagas knows this tactic well: discredit the accuser, question the motives, and hint at paid testimony. Should this individual later retract his claims, it would not be a surprise. The narrative arc appears almost scripted.

This leads to a troubling possibility—that the unfolding drama may be less about justice for the families of the missing sabungeros, and more about political theater, a well-worn distraction tactic. It has all the hallmarks: influential names, high-stakes business intrigue, and a conveniently flawed witness. It would not be unthinkable that the accused businessman is being targeted not purely for justice, but perhaps by business rivals or political enemies seeking to settle scores.

This is where the justice system must step in—not for appearances, but for results. President Bongbong Marcos has ordered a renewed push into the case, a statement that sounds impressive but so far lacks the grit to reassure the public. The danger is that this turns into yet another “Alice Guo” situation—an endlessly tangled investigation rife with denials, Senate hearings, and press releases, but bereft of genuine accountability.

One must ask: what is the real purpose of this public spectacle? Are we being distracted from larger systemic rot—illegal gambling operations, state complicity, or perhaps more politically explosive crimes? As the scandal deepens, it risks becoming less about the missing men and more about controlling the narrative.

The public deserves more than press briefings and courtroom dramas. The families of the sabungeros deserve answers, not soundbytes. And media practitioners must remember that their role is not just to tell stories, but to do so with discernment, especially when the stakes involve both lives and liberties.

The Senate and House are expected to jump into the fray—as they always do—with televised inquiries and familiar faces grandstanding behind microphones. But if these investigations merely repeat the cycle of noise without resolution, then the only winners here are those who thrive in shadows.

The justice system, the press, and the presidency all face a moment of reckoning. Whether they rise to it or succumb to the scripted distractions remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: the script is tired, and the nation is watching.