In a dramatic and visibly furious press conference, Senator Christopher “Bong” Go declared that a systematic campaign is underway to “eliminate” allies of former President Rodrigo Duterte. The senator, long considered Duterte’s most trusted aide, lashed out as a new, multi-front legal and political battle threatens to engulf him, turning his carefully crafted image of a humble public servant into a portrait of a man under siege.

“They are eliminating us one by one, those identified with the past President Duterte,” Go proclaimed at the October 16 press briefing. His words, dripping with accusation, were aimed at the current administration, implying a coordinated political purge.

But this claim of “elimination” was immediately met with stark contrast by political observers. Commentators were quick to point out that the “elimination” Go fears involves legal charges and investigations—a far cry from the violent, literal elimination that defined the drug war under his former boss. Now, it seems, the very mechanisms of justice he once wielded are turning their focus on him.

This firestorm isn’t emerging from a vacuum. It is the culmination of simmering scandals and a dramatic shift in the country’s political winds. The protective barrier that once surrounded the Duterte administration has crumbled, and the new gatekeepers are knocking.

The most significant tremor comes from the Office of the Ombudsman. According to reports, Ombudsman Boying Remulla has directed DPWH Secretary Vince Dizon to launch a deep-dive investigation into government contracts awarded to the families of both Senator Go and the controversial Discaya contractors. This move signals a new, aggressive chapter in the government’s anti-corruption drive, one that is no longer shying away from the previous administration.

At the heart of this new probe are the Discaya couple, contractors who reaped massive profits from flood control projects, allegedly seeing their assets balloon by 1,000% during the Duterte years. The Discayas, who had previously been cooperating with investigators, have suddenly gone silent.

This sudden refusal to cooperate triggered alarms. Ombudsman Remulla, in a stunning public statement, claimed the Discayas were protecting someone. When pressed by journalist Pinky Webb to name who, Remulla reportedly did not mince words: “Bong Go and others among the Dutertes.”

The implication is explosive. It suggests that the Discayas’ silence is a shield for high-level officials, and Remulla has just publicly named his primary target. For Senator Go, this transforms a distant probe into an immediate and personal threat.

As if an Ombudsman investigation weren’t enough, another ghost from Go’s past has returned. Former Senator Antonio Trillanes IV, one of the Duterte administration’s most relentless critics, announced that he will file a plunder case against Bong Go next week. This isn’t a mere threat; it’s a concrete legal bomb, and Trillanes is known for his meticulous, document-heavy complaints.

This confluence of threats—an irate senator, a silent contractor, a new Ombudsman, and a vengeful political foe—is systematically dismantling the “simple aide” persona Go has spent years perfecting.

For six years, Go was the ubiquitous “alalay” (aide), always by Duterte’s side, holding his phone, and curating the image of a man whose only “vice is to serve” (“Bisyo ko ang magserbisyo”). His “Malasakit Centers” (Compassion Centers) became his signature project, painting him as a man of the people.

But critics and whistleblowers have long argued this was merely camouflage. The source of Trillanes’s confidence, and Remulla’s suspicion, likely stems from a series of allegations that paint Go not as an aide, but as a central nervous system for the Duterte regime’s most controversial dealings.

First are the allegations concerning the P7 billion in contracts awarded to CLTG Construction, a firm owned by Go’s father and half-brother. The company’s name itself, “CLTG,” is widely believed to be the initials of Christopher Lawrence Tesoro Go. Critics have long questioned how a small, Davao-based firm could suddenly secure billions in government projects without high-level influence.

Then there is the shadow of the drug war. High-profile witnesses, such as former police official Rena Garma, have alleged that Go was the direct intermediary for Duterte’s darkest orders. According to these claims, Go was the conduit through whom orders for the national death squads were passed, and through whom rewards were allegedly distributed. If true, this shatters the image of a passive assistant and recasts him as an active participant.

Furthermore, his influence allegedly extended deep into government appointments. He is accused of being the “bridge” to Duterte, the man one had to go through to secure a position. The most infamous example is Lloyd Christopher Lao, the former budget official at the center of both the multi-billion-peso Pharmally scandal and the overpriced laptop controversy. Lao, also from Davao, was reportedly Go’s “man,” brought into the government and placed in a key procurement role. These scandals, which defined the pandemic era, all lead back to a man allegedly appointed through Go’s influence.

Even the controversial Frigate Deal, a modernization project for the Philippine Navy, was marred by allegations that Go’s office intervened, with documents surfacing that bore his initials.

For years, these accusations struggled to gain traction. The previous Ombudsman, Samuel Martires, was widely seen as a protector of the Duterte administration, and cases against its officials languished. But Martires’s term is over. “The weather has changed,” as one commentator put it.

Ombudsman Remulla is proving to be a different kind of arbiter, one apparently unafraid to pursue figures from the previous administration. The political calculus has shifted. The marching orders from President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr. were initially to investigate the top contractors in his own administration (2022-present). But with the Discayas’ non-cooperation, the probe has naturally and forcefully pivoted to the 2016-2022 period, where their wealth and influence first exploded.

This is the “day of reckoning” that critics have long awaited. Senator Go’s angry press conference is seen by many not as the righteous indignation of an innocent man, but as the panicked lashing out of a powerful figure who has just lost his shield. His complaint that the investigation is being “shifted” to him now that it’s “getting close to the mastermind” is ironic; for many, he is the mastermind, or at the very least, a primary architect.

As he faces a potential plunder case from Trillanes and a sweeping investigation from Remulla, the irony of his “Malasakit” slogan is not lost on his critics. The man who promised compassion, they say, is now facing a future of “malas at sakit” (misfortune and pain). The coming weeks will determine if this is merely a political storm or a final, devastating judgment.