A political firestorm is engulfing the administration, fueled by staggering allegations of a 100 billion-peso budget “insertion” and a dramatic public confrontation over the state’s alleged failure to protect key witnesses. The controversy, which strikes at the heart of the national budget process, has brought seasoned politicians to their knees, exposed the inner workings of legislative deal-making, and culminated in a stunning Senate hearing that has left the public demanding answers.

At the center of the storm is a whistleblower, known as “Zaldy,” who has come forward with explosive documents. These papers allegedly detail how a staggering 100 billion pesos were secretly inserted into the 2025 budget, purportedly under the directive of President Marcos Jr. himself. This has sent shockwaves through the political landscape, putting staunch defenders of the administration, like Senator Ping Lacson, in the hot seat.

The Failing Defense of a Seasoned Senator
Senator Lacson, a man who has built a career on a reputation for being a meticulous “budget watchdog,” has been thrust into the uncomfortable position of defending the administration. His primary argument, however, has been picked apart by critics. Lacson argues that the accusation defies “common sense.” Why, he asks, would the President resort to a secret “insertion” during the Bicameral Conference Committee (Bicam) when he has “complete control” over the National Expenditure Program (NEP) from the very beginning?

It’s a question that, on the surface, sounds logical. The President and his cabinet draft the NEP, which is the budget blueprint. Surely, they could just include the 100 billion there.

But this argument was swiftly dismantled by a devastatingly simple explanation, reportedly sourced by a netizen from an AI query. The answer highlights the crucial difference between the NEP and the Bicam.

The NEP is a public document. It is subjected to intense scrutiny from the media, civil society, analysts, and the Commission on Audit. Every single line item is defended by agency heads in open committee hearings, broadcast for all to see. Any “questionable allocation,” as the analysis noted, “gets exposed early.”

The Bicam, on the other hand, is notoriously “closed-door.”

This is where the true political maneuvering happens, far from the prying eyes of the public and the media. In the Bicam, a small group of senators and congressmen “reconcile” the two chambers’ versions of the budget. As the analysis chillingly concludes, “Only the final reconciled number appears, without showing who inserted what.”

This is precisely why the Bicam is the perfect venue for such an insertion. It bypasses all public scrutiny. The argument that the President wouldn’t do this because he could do it openly in the NEP falls flat. The entire point, critics allege, is to avoid the scrutiny of the NEP.

Lacson’s defense crumbled further as he attempted to discredit the whistleblower, Zaldy. The senator has been echoing the administration’s line, demanding that Zaldy return to the Philippines and testify “under oath” before the Blue Ribbon Committee, claiming his remote testimony has no “probative value.”

This, too, has been met with scorn. Zaldy, who has already provided a trove of documents, is being warned by supporters that returning to the country would be a grave, possibly fatal, mistake. The attacks on his credibility are seen as a desperate attempt to shift the focus from the evidence he has presented to the procedure of its presentation. The public, it seems, is far less concerned with how the information is being delivered and far more concerned with what the information reveals: a potential plundering of the national treasury.

The pressure appears to be mounting. In recent appearances, Senator Lacson’s voice was hoarse, his demeanor stressed—a visual critics immediately pointed to as a sign that the defense is flailing and the panic is setting in.

“You Are Abusing Your Discretion!”
As if the budget scandal weren’t enough, a second, equally dramatic confrontation unfolded in the Senate, revealing another facet of this alleged systemic blockade. The Blue Ribbon Committee hearing, ostensibly investigating the maligned flood control projects, pivoted to a stunning showdown between Senator Rodante Marcoleta and the Department of Justice (DOJ).

The issue at hand: the application of the “Disgaya couple,” key witnesses in the flood control scam, for the Witness Protection Program (WPP).

Senator Marcoleta, in a fiery interrogation, accused the DOJ—specifically under the influence of former Secretary Boying Remulla and now represented by Prosecutor General Richard Padulon—of deliberately blocking the couple’s application.

Marcoleta’s argument was surgical: the DOJ has been illegally demanding “restitution” from the Disgayas before they can even be processed for the WPP.

“I am trying to maintain what the law says!” Marcoleta declared, his voice rising. He pointed out that restitution is not, and has never been, a legal prerequisite for applying to the program. He accused the DOJ of “deviating from the law” and exercising a “selective process.”

Prosecutor Padulon, visibly on the defensive, tried to argue that such details are “confidential” and part of a potential Memorandum of Agreement (MOA) that is signed after a witness is admitted.

Marcoleta was having none of it. “The spring cannot rise higher than its source,” he lectured, quoting a legal maxim. “The source is the law itself… Why are you now creating a way to circumvent it?” He flatly accused the DOJ of “grave abuse of discretion,” warning that this illegal prerequisite is where corruption in the process could begin.

The Bombshell Testimony That Silenced the Room
The confrontation reached its peak when Mrs. Disgaya herself was allowed to speak. What she said next invalidated the DOJ’s entire defense.

She testified, under oath, that Prosecutor Padulon’s earlier statements were untrue. “We weren’t [given temporary security],” she stated clearly. “I had to get our own security for me and my kids after the session here…”

Then, she delivered the final blow. She confirmed that the DOJ did require them to restitute first. “We were ready to give [the affidavits] to the DOJ,” she said, “but we were required to restitute first.” When asked how much, she replied, “They didn’t say an amount,” highlighting the vague and arbitrary nature of the illegal demand.

The testimony was a bombshell. It directly contradicted the DOJ’s official narrative and confirmed Senator Marcoleta’s worst suspicions. Here was a witness, vital to a massive corruption case, being actively blocked by the very agency tasked with protecting her.

Even Senator Lacson’s attempt to intervene, suggesting it was all just a “miscommunication” or a “pledge,” was seen as a weak attempt to protect the DOJ. Marcoleta shut down that line of reasoning, insisting that forcing a “pledge” that isn’t in the law is just as wrong.

The two events, the 100 billion insertion and the witness blockade, are now being viewed as two sides of the same coin. Critics paint a damning picture of a government operating as a massive syndicate: one hand allegedly inserts billions in “closed-door” deals, while the other hand uses the power of the state to silence, discredit, or block anyone who tries to expose it.

The administration’s defenders are struggling, their arguments evaporating under public scrutiny. The public, meanwhile, is wide awake, watching as the convoluted defenses and procedural dodges fail to hide what appears to be the simple, ugly truth.