Wazzup Pilipinas!?
The abrupt dismissal of Police General Nicolas Torre III from his post as Chief of the Philippine National Police (PNP) has left the nation reeling, not least because Torre had become the very face of a police force willing to execute orders many considered unthinkable. In his brief yet meteoric ascent, Torre carried out missions that others dared not: the arrest of the once-untouchable Rodrigo Duterte, delivered to face charges before the International Criminal Court, and the pursuit of the elusive preacher Apollo Quiboloy, whose Kingdom of Jesus Christ had long evaded accountability.
For these alone, Torre’s promotions—from brigadier general to four-star general—were seen not as gifts but as wages earned in fire and blood. His tenure shortened the path to Camp Crame and gave the PNP a rare moment of decisive muscle. And yet, just as suddenly, he was gone.
The Torre Puzzle: Why Now, Why Him?
What led President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. to remove a man who executed his most politically sensitive orders? The explanations offered so far ring hollow. The talk of a “new assignment” is wrapped in a haze of vagueness; Torre himself has neither confirmed nor denied any such offer, and days after his ouster, the supposed post remains phantasmal. Official spokesmen insist it was the President’s decision—personal, final, unassailable.
But whispers in the corridors of power suggest more turbulent undercurrents.
Observers point to the tense relationship between Torre and Cavite Governor Jonvic Remulla. During Duterte’s dramatic arrest, insiders noted the absence of chemistry, replaced by the polite frost of two men too proud to bend to each other. That friction grew sharper when the question of appointments—always the sore nerve of political influence—emerged. Enter Ralph Calinisan, vice chair and executive officer of the National Police Commission, a man aligned with Remulla’s orbit. Civilian oversight was the official justification. But the deeper story, as always, seems to be one of power, pride, and egos clashing in smoke-filled rooms.
Optics and Betrayal
To Duterte loyalists, Torre’s sacking is nothing short of betrayal. Was this not the man who risked curses, bruises, and even the flung cellphone of an enraged ex-president, all in the line of duty? And this is his reward?
To Marcos critics, the removal confirms their thesis: one cannot trust a Marcos. “You don’t discard a good soldier who obeyed the dirtiest of orders,” they argue. The optics, indeed, are damning.
Meanwhile, cynics strip the issue bare: this is about power and money, and sooner rather than later, the true motives will crawl into the light.
Torre’s Quiet Exit, Nartatez’s Uneasy Entrance
For his part, Torre offered no drama. “No hard feelings,” he said, his four stars still glinting on his shoulders. He remains a general until retirement—set for 2027 unless he takes another assignment earlier. His successor, General Jose Melencio Nartatez Jr., steps into the command with the blessing of being Ilocano like the President, but also with the burden of leading in Torre’s long shadow. After all, there can only be one four-star general at a time, and Torre’s lingering presence will haunt the PNP for years to come.
Distraction or Design?
For journalists, the Torre episode is both scandal and smokescreen. While headlines whirl around Camp Crame, other stories risk being buried: the questionable flood control projects, the PrimeWater controversies tied to the Villars, and the Supreme Court’s critical rulings in the impeachment saga of Sara Duterte.
But make no mistake—these threads are not forgotten. On the contrary, Torre’s fall has only sharpened the appetite for truth.
The Flooded Truths
Because beneath the uniformed drama lies a more insidious story: the flood control racket.
The trail begins with Senator Chiz Escudero, linked to contractor Lawrence Lubiano of Centerways Construction and Development Inc.—a firm curiously ranking seventh in the Marcos administration’s list of flood control contractors with the biggest slices of the pie. But Centerways is only one cog in a machinery of rot.
Party-list Representative Edwin Gardiola of Construction Workers Solidarity provides another cautionary tale. By navigating the labyrinth of Congress with precision, he has transformed public contracts into private luxury, flaunting an opulent lifestyle while his constituents wade through waist-deep floods.
The Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH), perpetually in the crosshairs of corruption, stands once again accused of collusion. The narrative is depressingly familiar: politicians, contractors, and projects bound together not by service to the public, but by the greed of those willing to bleed the nation’s coffers dry.
What Comes Next
The fall of Torre is not an isolated event—it is a signal. It tells us that power in the Philippines remains transactional, fragile, and ruthless. It warns us that today’s enforcer can be tomorrow’s scapegoat. It reminds us that behind the pageantry of stars and uniforms lies a deeper rot that floodwaters, both literal and metaphorical, cannot conceal.
As Torre contemplates his future and Nartatez carries his new burden, the real story is still unfolding—not just in the PNP, but in the halls of power where contracts are carved, loyalties traded, and ordinary Filipinos are left to drown.
And so, we dig deeper. Because the floods are rising, and the truth, however buried, cannot be dammed forever.
Ross is known as the Pambansang Blogger ng Pilipinas - An Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Professional by profession and a Social Media Evangelist by heart.
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