Of Bailout and Baloney: When VP Sara Duterte Plays the Victim Card to Evade the Law
If there is one thing the Duterte political dynasty excels at, it is turning basic legal accountability into a prime-time soap opera.
Vice President Sara Duterte proved that once again when she swept into the Quezon City Hall of Justice, transforming a standard court appearance into a high-stakes, tear-jerking thriller. Facing three counts of grave threats involving President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., First Lady Liza Marcos, and House Speaker Martin Romualdez, the embattled Vice President did not merely arrive to post bail—she came to put on a show.
Claims that she feared for her life, open expressions of distrust toward both the courts and the police, and dramatic pleas for news reporters to escort her to the fifth floor were all part of the act. She even left the press gallery with a chilling cliffhanger: "Who will be held accountable if I die tonight?"
It is an old trick straight out of her father’s playbook. When pressed to explain questionable actions—whether it is the politically charged millions in "confidential funds" under congressional scrutiny or her controversial stint as Education Secretary—the response remains identical: posture as the victim, attack the institution, and rally the loyal base.
House Prosecutor Representative Terry Ridon delivered the exact reality check the Vice President so desperately needed: Cut the theatrics and face the music.
"Who will be held accountable?" Ridon asked, firing Duterte’s own melodramatic question back at her. "You, Madam Vice President, are the one who must be held accountable and answer the allegations facing you. Enough with the drama. There would be no grave threats case today if not for the statements that formed the basis of the charges filed against you. Face the legal process and present your defense in court."
The sharp exchange lays bare the central hypocrisy of the Duterte political brand. While ordinary citizens caught in the cogs of the justice system face strict, unyielding procedures, the political elite enjoy a tailored version of the law.
Duterte walked out after posting her ₱360,000 bail without ever taking a standard mugshot. As Ridon pointed out, even high-profile politicians like Senator Rodante Marcoleta underwent the standard booking procedure, mugshot included, upon surrendering to the authorities. Yet, for the Vice President, the Philippine National Police quietly waived the rules.
"Let us not hold back on the descriptions: When an ordinary accused individual undergoes the booking process, there is a mugshot. But when the Vice President is the accused, suddenly there is no mugshot," Ridon snapped. "If there is a legal basis for an exemption, let them explain it. If there is none, that is special treatment. The law should treat all accused equally: an ordinary person, a Senator, or the Vice President. No special treatment."
"I do not feel safe," Duterte protested to the press crowd. "They harassed the place where my mother and my child are staying. Where am I supposed to go? If I post bail, the harassment will not stop. If I do not post bail and go to the police, I have no trust in the police. In fact, I have no trust in the court."
It is time to pull the curtain down on the theatrics. The core issue is not a shadowy conspiracy to derail her; it is her own on-the-record statements and her refusal to transparently justify the use of public funds. A true leader respects the rule of law rather than weaponizing paranoia to evade it.
Duterte wants the public to believe she is a victim of a rigged system. In reality, she is simply an official being called to answer for her actions—and no amount of courtroom drama should grant her a free pass.