Prepare for Typhoon Inday.
In the Philippine Senate chamber, a nation watches its Vice President face the weight of history: Sara Duterte's impeachment trial opened its first week amid procedural battles, digital evidence of alleged assassination threats, and the quiet drama of a fractured political alliance playing out in crimson robes. The proceedings, unfolding in a chamber still echoing with chants from Manila Bay, remind us that democracies do not merely survive their crises — they are shaped by how openly they choose to confront them. What began as a constitutional question about who should preside has deepened into something far older: a reckoning between power, loyalty, and accountability.
- Before a single witness could speak, the trial was nearly derailed by a constitutional dispute over who had the right to preside — a fight that ended with explosive allegations of bank record surveillance and political coercion leveled against the newly elected presiding judge.
- An NBI agent took the stand carrying digital evidence of the Vice President allegedly soliciting the assassination of the sitting President, his wife, and a former Speaker — charges that cast a shadow of existential danger over the country's highest offices.
- The chamber itself became a theater of divided loyalties: minority senators arrived late, seats sat empty due to plunder charges and an ICC arrest warrant, and Senator Imee Marcos — once the architect of the Marcos-Duterte alliance — sat distracted beside her phone while testimony about her family's threatened remains was read aloud.
- Defense lawyers fought every question with objections that drew laughter from the gallery, while the prosecution's witness held his composure through three days of cross-examination, his calm a quiet rebuke to the surrounding chaos.
- As week one closed, the Vice President's own chief of staff was subpoenaed — and her parting words, 'Prepare for Typhoon Inday,' signaled that the storm has not yet made landfall.
The Senate chamber on July 6 held barely a dozen journalists, their view of history partially blocked by a concrete column. At 2 p.m., senator-judges emerged in crimson robes — though several minority bloc members arrived late, and three seats remained empty: two senators detained on plunder charges, and one still evading an International Criminal Court warrant tied to Rodrigo Duterte's drug war. From outside, near Manila Bay, chanting drifted in: "The people, the nation, is now fighting."
Before testimony could begin, the senator-judges turned on each other. Alan Peter Cayetano challenged the constitutionality of electing Senator Francis Escudero as presiding judge, arguing the Senate president should chair the proceedings. He went further, alleging that Escudero's financial records had been accessed inside the Office of the Senate President and that Escudero had switched political blocs under pressure from Malacañang. Escudero's face remained blank. The remarks were ruled out of order and stricken from the record.
On the second day, NBI agent John Mark Calilung testified about digital evidence of assassination threats allegedly made by Duterte against President Marcos Jr., the First Lady, and former Speaker Romualdez. As he read Duterte's warning — that she would exhume the elder Marcos's remains and throw them into the West Philippine Sea — Senator Imee Marcos, seated nearby, smirked. She spent much of the proceedings on her phone, at one point accidentally blasting audio at full volume. The irony was layered: it was Imee who had helped engineer the Marcos-Duterte alliance for the 2022 election, a decision she said in April 2026 she deeply regretted.
Defense lawyer Carlo Narvasa objected relentlessly, drawing chuckles from the gallery with each interruption. Prosecutor Amando Ligutan, expressive and raw-faced, absorbed every objection and returned to his questions without faltering. Calilung, appearing in his first impeachment trial but a veteran of over thirty court appearances involving digital evidence, remained composed throughout — his stillness a quiet contrast to the theater around him. When asked whether Duterte's threat was conditional or absolute, he gave both answers: conditional by the affidavit's language, absolute by his own investigator's judgment.
The first week closed on July 8 at 6:23 p.m. Waiting in the wings for week two is Zuleika Lopez, Duterte's chief of staff, subpoenaed on the same day she happened to visit the Senate on administrative business. She declined to speak to reporters. "Prepare for Typhoon Inday," she said — invoking the Vice President's childhood nickname — and left.
The Senate chamber on Monday, July 6, held fewer than a dozen journalists. We sat in a single cramped row on the left side, behind the staff desks of the senator-judges, our view of the proceedings interrupted by a concrete column that blocked the defense table. When Vice President Sara Duterte's lawyers spoke, we watched them mostly on the giant screens overhead. No phones were permitted. We wrote in notebooks and on loose sheets of paper, sometimes just initials—L for Ligutan, N for Narvasa, APC for Alan Peter Cayetano—to keep pace with the arguments unfolding in front of us.
At 1:44 in the afternoon, the House prosecutors entered and gathered in a circle to pray. Minutes later, Duterte's legal team arrived. The two sides met at the defense table and shook hands. At exactly 2 p.m., the senator-judges emerged in matching crimson robes. Not all came together. Senator Imee Marcos arrived at 2:02 p.m., followed by Bong Go, Camille Villar, Mark Villar, Robin Padilla, and Alan Peter Cayetano—all members of the minority bloc. Three seats remained empty. Senators Jinggoy Estrada and Rodante Marcoleta, both detained on plunder charges, were absent. Bato dela Rosa's seat was vacant as he continued to evade an International Criminal Court arrest warrant related to alleged crimes against humanity tied to Rodrigo Duterte's war on drugs. From outside, near Manila Bay, the sound of chanting drifted into the chamber: "Ang tao, ang bayan, ngayon ang lumalaban." The people, the nation, is now fighting.
Before the prosecutors and defense could begin their case, the senator-judges argued among themselves. Alan and Pia Cayetano, both lawyers, insisted that Senate President Win Gatchalian should preside over the impeachment court. Weeks earlier, Gatchalian-led senators had changed the impeachment rules to allow someone other than the Senate president to chair the proceedings. The Cayetano siblings rarely sat still, repeatedly stepping to the sidelines to consult staff, flipping through a maroon-bound copy of Senate rules and constitutional notes. Alan, the ousted Senate president, turned toward Gatchalian and asked why they needed to vote for a presiding officer at all. "The Senate president is more than capable," he said. "He said he is willing. He said he is ready." The chamber eventually elected Senator Francis "Chiz" Escudero. Alan insisted the election was unconstitutional and then made a startling allegation: he claimed that Escudero's two decades of Anti-Money Laundering Council records—his bank and credit card statements—had been accessed inside the Office of the Senate President. Alan also alleged that Escudero had left his political bloc and joined Gatchalian's under pressure from Malacañang. Escudero's face remained blank. Gatchalian ruled the remarks out of order and had them stricken from the record. The session was suspended.
On the second day, July 7, National Bureau of Investigation senior agent John Mark Calilung took the stand to authenticate digital evidence and videos of assassination threats allegedly made by Duterte against top government officials. A dispute arose over whether to play a two-hour video or just a two-minute clip. Senator Imee Marcos suddenly blurted out, "Edited," referring to the prosecution's evidence. Senator Juan Miguel Zubiri, seated in front of her, turned around and shushed her, saying he could not hear the proceedings. A day later, Escudero instructed the senator-judges to lower their voices, noting that their conversations could be heard throughout the chamber. Marcos seemed perpetually distracted, her eyes fixed on her phone. At one point she accidentally played a sound at full volume. She frequently picked up an inhaler and spent much of her time talking with her seatmate, actor-turned-senator Robin Padilla.
As Calilung recounted Duterte's remarks, he read a statement in which the Vice President recalled warning Marcos that if her family did not stop what they were doing, she would exhume the remains of her father, former dictator Ferdinand Marcos, and throw them into the West Philippine Sea. Marcos smirked as the agent read the words. It was Sara's father, former president Rodrigo Duterte, who had allowed the former dictator to be buried at the Libingan ng mga Bayani in 2016. When the video was later played in the chamber, Marcos remained glued to her phone while other senator-judges watched the footage on the screens. Despite Sara's bitter split with President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., Imee remained one of the Dutertes' closest political allies and had been instrumental in bringing the two families together for the 2022 election. In April 2026, Imee said she regretted that decision and felt guilty about how events had unfolded. She added that had she known what would happen, former president Duterte might still be in the Philippines and free. Under Marcos Jr.'s administration, the elder Duterte had been arrested and sent to The Hague to face allegations of crimes against humanity before the International Criminal Court. Like his daughter, he is currently on trial.
Duterte's defense lawyer Carlo Narvasa repeatedly objected to House prosecutor Amando Ligutan's questions about the video recording of the Vice President allegedly soliciting an assassin to kill Marcos Jr., First Lady Liza Araneta-Marcos, and former speaker Martin Romualdez. Ligutan's face was raw and expressive—he frowned, smirked, covered his mouth when annoyed—but he did not falter, returning to his questions with a solid, clear voice. When Ligutan asked Calilung what particular statements of the Vice President he had investigated, Narvasa objected that the question was vague. "Ooohhh," Ligutan reacted, visibly frustrated but composed. Each objection drew chuckles from the gallery. Some Senate staff held up signs reading, "Silence please." A woman in the gallery shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "Not again."
On the third day, July 8, Narvasa cross-examined Calilung, who remained calm and composed, showing almost no expression. With a lapel microphone attached to his white barong, the sound of Narvasa sniffing could occasionally be heard. Narvasa tried to question Calilung's credibility and expertise. When asked what prompted the investigation, Calilung answered that it was a motu proprio investigation—an investigation initiated by the NBI without a complainant. When Narvasa tried to quiz him on the meaning of the term, Calilung answered plainly. It was Calilung's first impeachment trial, but he had appeared in other courts more than 30 times to present digital evidence, and it showed. In stark contrast to Ligutan's expressive reactions, Calilung's face remained blank. When Narvasa tried to cut off Ligutan with objections, Ligutan constantly objected to Narvasa's questions. When Alan Peter Cayetano asked if the threat was a "conditional threat," Calilung confirmed it was, based on the affidavit. Cayetano also asked for Calilung's personal assessment as an investigator outside the NBI, to which Calilung said the threat was "absolute." Ligutan nodded in agreement with every point and made a quick gesture by pointing both index fingers toward Calilung. The prosecution chose not to conduct a redirect examination. The third day ended at 6:23 p.m.
In the second week, another set of witnesses will take the stand. Among them is Zuleika Lopez, Sara Duterte's chief of staff. She went to the Senate on Thursday, July 9, to attend to administrative matters on the same day the impeachment court subpoenaed her. She declined interviews. "Prepare for Typhoon Inday," she said—a reference to Duterte's childhood nickname.
Citações Notáveis
I want to avoid that this impeachment trial will be declared null and void. I want to avoid walkouts. I want to avoid any delays.— Senator Alan Peter Cayetano, arguing over presiding officer selection
If you don't stop what you're doing, I'll dig up your father and throw him into the West Philippine Sea.— Vice President Sara Duterte, as read from NBI investigator's notes by agent Calilung, referencing a statement made to Senator Imee Marcos
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
What struck you most about being in that room, watching it happen in person rather than through a screen?
The things the camera doesn't catch. The handshakes between prosecutors and defense lawyers before it all began. Imee Marcos smirking when her father's threat was read aloud. The sound of Narvasa sniffing during cross-examination. These small human moments that tell you something about how people actually feel, not what they want the record to show.
You mentioned the concrete column blocking your view. Did that feel symbolic—that even the journalists covering this couldn't see everything clearly?
It felt like a metaphor for the whole trial, honestly. Everyone's watching through screens, through intermediaries, through edited clips. The truth is always partially obscured. You're taking notes on loose paper, spelling names phonetically, trying to keep up. The system itself makes perfect clarity impossible.
Alan Cayetano's accusation about Escudero's financial records being accessed—that's a serious allegation. Why did it seem to matter so little in the moment?
Because it was ruled out of order immediately. Gatchalian struck it from the record. But the fact that Cayetano said it at all, in front of everyone, tells you something about how fractured the Senate is. He's not even trying to hide the accusation. He's making it publicly, knowing it will be erased. That's a different kind of power play.
Imee Marcos seemed almost checked out—on her phone, distracted. How did that affect the gravity of what was being discussed?
It was jarring. You're listening to testimony about assassination threats against the sitting president, and one of the judges is scrolling. But maybe that's the point. Maybe that's how you survive being in a room where your closest political ally is on trial for trying to kill your family. You become numb to it. You pick up your inhaler. You talk to Robin Padilla.
What did Calilung's composure tell you about how this trial might unfold?
That the prosecution has a witness who won't break, who won't get flustered by Narvasa's sniffing or Alan Cayetano's constitutional arguments. Calilung answered every question directly. He'd done this 30 times before. He knew what he was doing. That kind of steadiness, in a trial this chaotic, is dangerous for the defense.