In a nation accustomed to political drama, it takes a lot to truly shock the public. But the defense being mounted for former congressman Elizalde “Zaldy” Co has managed to do just that, sparking a firestorm of public fury that is burning hotter than any political scandal in recent memory.

As the Senate Blue Ribbon Committee, now helmed by a returning Senator Ping Lacson, prepares to dissect a flood control scandal of potentially trillion-peso proportions, the one man everyone wants to hear from is conspicuously absent. And according to his legal counsel, Roy Rondain, he has no intention of returning.

The reasons, laid out in a stunning media interview, have been met with nationwide disbelief.

First, the hearing, set for this Friday, is simply “too close” for Co to travel back from his undisclosed location abroad. Second, and more contentiously, Co apparently fears for his “safety,” citing the “mob protests” from a public rightfully enraged by the very scandal he is being asked to explain.

It’s an excuse that rings hollow for millions. Critics online were quick to point out the bitter irony: the man whose alleged actions—or inactions—left countless Filipinos vulnerable to devastating floods is now claiming he is the one who is unsafe.

But the real masterstroke of legal evasion came when the topic of a virtual appearance via Zoom was raised. Rondain expressed “concerns,” not about national security or technological feasibility, but about his own inability to be “seated beside him.” He lamented the “technological limitations,” like a time lag, that would prevent him from, in his own words, “nudging” his client or telling him “don’t answer that.”

It was a jaw-dropping admission, one that critics immediately seized upon as a confession: the goal is not to facilitate testimony, but to control it.

The ‘Paper Shield’ That Makes a Man Untouchable
While the personal excuses were baffling, it was Rondain’s core legal argument that sent shockwaves through the political establishment. He presented a legal technicality so brazen it borders on contemptuous.

According to Rondain, his client cannot be compelled to attend. Why? Because under Senate rules, a subpoena must be served personally, “hand to hand.” Since Zaldy Co is abroad, and his exact whereabouts are a mystery, no one can physically hand him the document.

Therefore, Rondain argues, Co can never be officially “disobeying” the Senate. He cannot be cited in contempt, and no warrant can be issued for his arrest.

If this argument holds, Zaldy Co has effectively been rendered untouchable by the legislative body, shielded from accountability by a simple airline ticket. He has, as one commentator put it, discovered the ultimate “accountability-proof vest”: just leave the country. This “paper shield” tactic, while perhaps legally sound in a vacuum, is seen by the public as a flagrant abuse of the system, a loophole designed for the powerful while ordinary citizens face the full force of the law.

From Php 4 Billion to Php 19 Billion: Following the Money
So, why is the Senate so desperate to speak with Zaldy Co? The answer, as it so often is, lies in the numbers. And the numbers here are not just big; they are astronomical.

Zaldy Co is not just any congressman. He is the former chairman of the powerful House Appropriations Committee, the man who held the nation’s purse strings. In 2019, before he took on that role, he declared a net worth of a staggering Php 4.1 billion, making him one of the wealthiest public servants in the country.

He is also the founder of Sunwest, a construction firm he claims to have “divested” from in 2019. But it’s the fortunes of Sunwest after Co became Appropriations Chair that have raised alarms.

Let’s look at the timeline of its government contracts:

2019: Approximately Php 5 billion

2021: Approximately Php 4 billion

2022 (Co becomes Appropriations Chair): Contracts jump to Php 16 billion—a 400% increase in a single year.

2023: Contracts climb to Php 17 billion.

2024: Contracts reach Php 19 billion.

This exponential explosion of government projects awarded to a company so closely linked to the Appropriations Chair is, for many, the very definition of a smoking gun. Co was also identified as the “proponent” for Php 13 billion in projects under the 2025 budget.

The real-world implications of these contracts are devastating. An independent commission for infrastructure (ICI) has already recommended criminal and administrative charges against Sunwest related to a flood control project in Oriental Mindoro. The report alleges the company was paid for 15 meters of sheet pile, but inspectors found only 3 meters were actually used.

When confronted with this, Rondain’s response was another flashpoint of public anger. He dismissed it as “poorly done” implementation, a problem for the executive branch, not his client.

For the families who lost their homes and livelihoods in the resulting floods, “poorly done” is not the term they would use. They call it corruption. They call it theft. They call it a crime.

A Calculated Distraction?
As this core scandal boils over, a bizarre subplot has unfolded, one that many believe is a calculated distraction. This week, reports, seemingly originating from Ombudsman “Boying” Remulla, claimed that an “electronic copy” of an ICC arrest warrant for Senator Bato de la Rosa had been seen.

The story was quickly walked back by his brother, DILG Secretary John Vic Remulla, who clarified it was from a “third source” and just “looked official.”

The incident was dismissed as “fake news,” but not before it served its purpose. For 48 hours, the media cycle was diverted. Critics argue this was a classic political maneuver: throw a grenade to distract the crowd. With the Marcos Jr. administration under fire for the flood scandal, what better way to change the topic than to reignite the feud with Duterte allies over the ICC?

But the public, it seems, is no longer falling for it. The focus has snapped back with a vengeance to the man who is not here, the lawyer who speaks for him, and the billions that are missing.

While lawyers debate technicalities in air-conditioned studios, and politicians float conspiracy theories, the inconvenient truth remains submerged in the mud-caked streets of flooded towns. The people are left with an empty chair in the Senate, an absent billionaire, and a rising tide of questions that demand answers. The nation is watching, and its patience has run out.