No more fall guys

President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s recent order to conduct lifestyle checks on government officials, starting with the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH), is a move both necessary and long overdue. Sparked by an expanding investigation into alleged anomalies in flood control projects, this initiative has the potential to pierce through layers of deeply entrenched corruption. But only if it doesn’t stop at the bottom rung.

While lawmakers have pointed fingers at contractors as the lowest players in the corruption chain, focus continues to zero in on jailing one — a DPWH contractor allegedly caught bribing a Batangas congressman, who also happens to be the son of a veteran senator. This has fueled public perception that the government is once again hunting for a convenient scapegoat instead of confronting the broader web of collusion among public officials, legislators, and powerbrokers.

One pivotal player in this drama — the DPWH District Engineer implicated in the bribery scandal — holds the key to cracking the case wide open. Offered state witness protection, this official could expose the intricate mechanisms behind the corruption. But so far, no one has stepped up to be the fall guy. Not the District Engineer. Not even DPWH Secretary Manuel Bonoan, whose name is increasingly being whispered in political circles.

This silence is deafening.

The Discaya couple, a rags-to-riches contractor whose flashy lifestyle made headlines, seems like a made-for-media fall guy. Their wealth and extravagance, covered under the guise of a “lifestyle feature,” exposed more than just alleged misuse of public funds — it uncovered a dirty secret in Philippine journalism. Sponsored content masquerading as genuine reportage has long been a practice among some media practitioners, and the Discaya story is a glaring example. It was an exposé, yes — but it also functioned as a smokescreen. A distraction.

Meanwhile, the scandal’s political fallout is being expertly managed. The sudden replacement of the Philippine National Police Chief, rumored to be linked to internal power struggles or the contractor scandal itself, conveniently redirected the media spotlight. In a country with a notoriously short attention span for controversies, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect — if not deliberate.

And just like that, public discourse is being tugged in different directions: the retrieval of the skeletal remains of missing sabungeros, inflation-driven fare hikes for jeepney drivers, the push for mandatory drug testing among public officials (even the President), and escalating harassment by the Chinese Coast Guard in the West Philippine Sea. All pressing issues. All worthy of national attention.

Yet, none should eclipse the urgency of the corruption probe. Because beneath all the noise is a question Filipinos have asked too many times: Will anyone truly be held accountable?

Sadly, history tells us the pattern. Investigations are launched, heads roll — but only the small ones. The system finds its scapegoats, and life goes on. Corruption becomes a cycle. A show. A distraction.

This time, we need more than the spectacle. We need a credible whistleblower — not just to name names, but to break the culture of silence and impunity that allows the powerful to operate above the law. President Marcos Jr. has taken the first step. But the true test lies in whether this administration has the political will to go after the untouchables — lawmakers, department heads, and political allies alike.

Until then, the public will keep watching. But for how long?

Even tennis star Alex Eala, with her grace and brilliance on the global court, can’t forever distract a nation growing numb from recycled scandals and justice delayed.

It’s time to end the charade. Let there be no more fall guys. Let the real reckoning begin.