Rodrigo Duterte always prided himself on loyalty. He surrounded himself with men and women who swore their allegiance, who followed his orders without question, who defended his every crime. He believed that his inner circle was impenetrable, that his allies would stand by him until the bitter end.
But today, as he sits in a cell, disgraced and humiliated, it’s clear that someone from his own camp has betrayed him.
The man who once ruled with an iron fist—ordering mass executions, silencing critics, and wielding fear as his greatest weapon—was not taken down by foreign powers or opposition figures. No, he was sold out by one of his own.
The question is: Who?
The whispers started the moment Duterte’s plane touched down. Why would he return to a country where his enemies were sharpening their knives? He had escaped, secured his protection, and could have lived out his remaining years under the wing of a powerful ally abroad.
But someone told him it was safe to come back. Someone he trusted, someone who had been by his side for years, convinced him that he was still untouchable.
That man—a senator seeking re-election—whispered reassurances into his ear, telling him that deals had been made, that the people in power would shield him, that he still had control over the system. Duterte, drunk on his own delusions of invincibility, believed it. He walked right into a trap set by his own most trusted lieutenant.
And now, while Duterte sits in detention, abandoned and powerless, his former right-hand man walks free.
Betrayal in politics is nothing new. Every dictator, every tyrant, every so-called strongman eventually learns that power is fleeting. The very people who built them up will eventually tear them down.
Duterte’s betrayal is not just a story of justice catching up to a mass murderer—it is a masterclass in political survival. His former allies knew that his time was up. They had a choice: go down with him or cut a deal.
They chose to survive.
And this particular betrayer—the once-loyal enforcer of Duterte’s dirty work—made sure to position himself as the hero of the new era. He made backdoor negotiations, secured his own safety, and in doing so, delivered Duterte’s head on a silver platter.
For years, the Davao Death Squad (DDS)—later rebranded as Diehard Duterte Supporters—stood by their leader, justifying his brutality, spreading propaganda, and attacking anyone who dared speak the truth.
Now that Duterte has fallen, will they rally behind him? Or will they follow the lead of their new master?
If history has taught us anything, it’s that loyalty in Philippine politics is as thin as a sheet of paper. Expect the same people who once worshipped Duterte to suddenly forget his name. They will rewrite history, claiming they never supported the killings, that they were “misled,” that they were simply following orders.
And the senator who betrayed him? He will act as if he was never part of Duterte’s blood-soaked regime, portraying himself as a patriot who helped cleanse the country of its past sins.
It is the ultimate act of hypocrisy.
Duterte built his empire on intimidation, deception, and brute force. But in the end, it wasn’t his enemies who destroyed him.
It was his own people.
The betrayal of Rodrigo Duterte should serve as a warning to all those who believe in absolute power. The people who cheer for you today will throw you to the wolves tomorrow.
And the man who betrayed him? He walks free, preparing for his next move, ready to rewrite his own role in history.
But Filipinos will not forget. We will not forget the names of those who enabled Duterte’s reign of terror. And we will not let his betrayer escape the weight of his own sins.