In a political explosion that threatens to redefine the current administration, resigned Representative Zaldy Co, the former chairman of the powerful House Appropriations Committee, has directly implicated President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. and former Speaker Martin Romualdez as the alleged “masterminds” behind what is being called the “Greatest Corruption Scandal in recent History.”

In a stunning video statement that has since gone viral, Co, speaking from abroad, dropped a bombshell that confirmed the opposition’s worst fears: the highest offices in the land were not only aware of but allegedly orchestrated the insertion of billions of pesos in anomalous funds.

The core of the accusation centers on the 2025 national budget and, allegedly, those of previous years. Co, who as appropriations chair would have overseen the budget’s assembly, claimed he was directly instructed by Department of Budget and Management (DBM) Secretary Amena Pangandaman to insert a staggering 100 billion pesos into the budget, much of it earmarked for questionable flood control projects.

This is the very scenario the administration’s allies dreaded—not an attack from a political rival, but a confession from an insider, the very man who held the pen.

The fallout was immediate, sending shockwaves through the Senate, which has been conducting its own inquiry into the flood control issue. The reaction from the president’s allies, however, has been less one of shock and more one of calculated deflection.

Senator Win Gatchalian, when pressed for a reaction, appeared evasive. “I have to look at the video,” he stated, immediately planting a seed of doubt. “We have to check the validity… we don’t know if that’s AI.”

This “AI defense” is rapidly becoming the administration’s go-to shield, but critics were quick to point out the video was posted on Zaldy Co’s official, verified Facebook page, a platform that would lend it significant credibility.

Gatchalian quickly pivoted, shifting the focus from the content of the claim to the location of the claimant. “If you have nothing to hide, you should be here physically,” Gatchalian challenged. “Go to the hearing and face the accusations.”

This demand for a physical appearance was immediately decried by critics as an empty and dangerous challenge. They argue that Co is likely abroad precisely because he fears for his safety. To return and testify in person, having just accused the most powerful men in the country of massive plunder, would be a dire risk. Observers noted the irony: when the Senate wanted a witness, they dismissed them; now that a high-profile witness is speaking, they demand he place himself in a position of vulnerability.

This lukewarm reaction was mirrored by other senators. The transcript mocks Senator Ping Lacson, who had previously demanded a notarized affidavit from a lower-ranking witness, Master Sergeant Gotesa. The question now hangs in the air: Will Senator Lacson demand the same stringent notarization from a former Appropriations Chair who is implicating the president?

The Senate’s leadership also came under fire. The Senate President, after a lengthy hearing, turned to the resource persons—the very individuals exposing the scheme—and asked them for a solution. “What can we do? What law can we make?” This was seen as a stunning display of ineffectiveness, prompting ridicule from commentators. “That’s your job!” one narrator exclaimed. The Senate’s role is to take the testimony and create the legislation, not to ask the witnesses to do their work for them.

While the Senate fumbled, activist groups seized on the revelation. Eli San Fernando of the Kamanggagawa Party provided a stark contrast to the politicians’ evasiveness. He labeled Co’s testimony the “direct link” the public had been waiting for, connecting the anomalous projects directly to Malacañang and the Speaker’s office.

“We have long been saying it’s impossible for Speaker Romualdez and President Marcos not to know,” San Fernando declared. He emphasized that the President himself signed the 2025 General Appropriations Act, making him ultimately responsible for its contents.

San Fernando’s most powerful argument, however, was his pivot from the political to the personal. This, he argued, is not a simple game of numbers. It is a profound betrayal of the Filipino people.

“This isn’t just about stolen money,” he said passionately. “This is about the funds stolen from flood victims, from families whose homes were submerged, from those who lost their livelihoods, and from those who lost loved ones… their future was stolen from them.”

He called for a truly impartial and independent investigation, rejecting the commission formed by President Marcos himself as inherently compromised. “How can the accused investigate himself?” he asked. He demanded that any investigating body be composed of civil society organizations and ordinary citizens, free from any connection to the president.

Crucially, San Fernando and other commentators have stressed that this scandal transcends the usual political colors. This is not a “DDS” (pro-Duterte) versus “Pinklawan” (opposition) issue.

“We are being robbed in broad daylight,” one host declared, urging citizens to wake up. “Forget your political idols. The nation’s treasury is being emptied. This is not about being pro-Marcos or pro-Duterte. This is about accountability.”

The alleged motive for this “greatest corruption scandal” is, perhaps, the most cynical part of the entire affair. The transcript strongly suggests these billions in inserted funds were not just for personal enrichment but were intended to build a massive war chest for the 2025 midterm elections, to be distributed as ayuda (aid) and other projects to secure votes.

The administration’s defense, beyond claims of “AI,” has been weak. Gatchalian himself brought up that President Marcos had vetoed “almost 100… or 60 billion plus” from the budget. But critics immediately countered this, suggesting it was a smokescreen. The allegation is that the president’s circle inserted, for example, 112 billion, and the president then “heroically” vetoed 12 billion, appearing fiscally responsible while still securing the 100 billion he allegedly wanted all along.

Zaldy Co’s video, sarcastically released on the same day as Martin Romualdez’s birthday, has thrown the government into a crisis of legitimacy. While Co himself is deeply implicated—”You are one of those who profited,” the narrator admits—he has now pointed his finger higher up the food chain. The public’s anger, once directed at Co, is now being redirected toward the alleged “masterminds.”

The nation is now holding its breath. An insider has flipped. The highest offices stand accused. The question is no longer if the corruption is happening, but whether anyone will—or can—be held accountable.