Gone forever?

The forced exile of Rodrigo Duterte, the firebrand former president, was calculated to banish the popular former leader forever.

He is now a prisoner of the International Criminal Court (ICC) after he was handed over by the Marcos administration.

Lawyers Edward Chico and Howard Calleja, who were interviewed on Daily Tribune’s Straight Talk yesterday, painted grim prospects for Duterte.

Lifting off from Villamor Air Base bound for The Hague, Duterte’s 20-hour flight — including a refueling stop in Dubai where he won’t be let off the plane — marks the beginning of the end.

The jet’s engines hum a grim requiem for a man who got clipped apparently due to his boasts of killing criminals without remorse.

When that Gulfstream touches down at Rotterdam Airport, there will be no cheering crowds, no loyalists to shield him.

Instead, a prison van awaits, ready to ferry him on a 21 to 24-minute ride to a cell in Scheveningen, The Hague — a far cry from the chaotic streets of Davao he once lorded over.

That cell, a concrete box in a foreign land, will likely be his home for at least six years, possibly 12, as the ICC’s wheels of justice grind slowly through its docket.

And when the gavel finally falls — when he’s convicted, as many expect — he won’t be shipped back to the Philippines to face a hero’s welcome or a martyr’s lament. He’ll be shuttled off to another ICC member state, a forgotten man in a foreign cage.

For Duterte, now 79, the sobering reality is stark: he will never see Davao again.

Thus Duterte’s fate now lies in the hands of the lawyers who will represent him and try to prove that his rhetoric was not orders to kill and maim.

Of false prophets

The Bible warns us about false prophets, and this foreign consultant walks around as if he’s God’s gift to one of the country’s most popular sports. After years of clout-chasing and making noise on social media, this European “expert” finally secured a job back on the local scene, following a forgettable stint nearly a decade ago.

However, it seems that he doesn’t know his place. Game officials had to enlist the help of venue marshals to prevent him from interfering in a team huddle, as he had no business calling the shots for a team led by a capable coach and assisted by competent deputies. The marshals promptly escorted him away from the back of the bench.

This guy may think he’s fabulous, but in the sport’s tightly-knit community, he’s regarded as a mental case.