What is Chiz hiding?

Wow. Chiz Escudero. Statesman barong, polished to a high mirror shine. He talks smart, talks slow (the way you might in bed), maybe thinking we’ll swoon like Heart.

Chiz admitted he took P30 million from his “friend,” government contractor Lawrence Lubiano, straight into his 2022 campaign.

Lubiano’s little fishball stand, Centerways (P45 million in capital) suddenly joined the 15 “giants” that BBM said took 20 percent of half a trillion pesos worth of flood projects.

Makes sense? Nope. 5.4-billion-peso contracts: that’s a sari-sari store winning the franchise to run all the SM malls.

Chiz said it’s all genuine “help from a long-time acquaintance.” That Lubiano is really from Sorsogon. That the bulk of the company’s contracts came before he even joined the Senate. That’s important.

Does Chiz really care what pocket it came out of?

Centerways was established in 2009. It had DPWH dealings before 2022.

Whether it’s the left pocket or the right, it’s still the same pair of pants. The Omnibus Election Code is very clear: people with government contracts can’t give campaign money. Not directly, not indirectly, not personally, nor corporately.

A gift of “friendship,” Lubiano’s mayor and councilor brothers, flood contracts all tie up with a nice bow that sounds “Pay me politically, and your interests will be protected.”

Chiz deflects. “I wasn’t a senator then.”

Even if the contracts only started raining after he stepped down as Sorsogon governor, an itchy skull may ask: “Who set the approvals, the infrastructure plans, the relationships that made this possible?”

Can influence truly vanish on inauguration day? A fishball stand walking away with billions? Somebody paved the way.

Any ordinary observer would ask: Why would a friend drop P30 million right before a flood contract exploded in Chiz’s home province?

Chiz: Look over there. Don’t look at me. Look at the other lawmakers, the “cong-tractors.”

It tells you everything about his moral compass: he doesn’t measure his actions against what’s right, only whether he’s the worst offender in the room.

It’s the logical ethic of a pickpocket caught on the jeep: “At least I didn’t steal the whole jeep!”

Have you noticed the Senate President always points fingers at the House of Representatives?

And don’t forget the Sara Duterte impeach fiasco, very scary, saliva regardless of where it lands. The veep said there will be a bloodbath, code for “Yoo-hoo, I will tell...”

Who sat on it until it was “prolonged” till next year? Chiz. Bongbong’s ally, technically Sara’s enemy. He doesn’t even like her. He kept pointing it’s the House, the House, it’s their problem, their timing. Classic stall. Why? To curry favor with the DDS? Play both sides? Chiz saving Sara? Chiz saving Chiz?

He dragged the trial without bloodying his hands, looks loyal to Marcos, merciful to Sara, walks away clean.

When somebody parses blame that much, stalls that much, you better believe they might be afraid the trial opens some door. And once the floodgates open, you don’t get to control what leaks out.

What was so dangerous, so ugly, that a delayed impeachment serves both purposes at once?

Fairness is the man’s perfect alibi. And he’s very, very fair.

Fairness sounds noble but, in practice, it’s delay. Delay kills cases. Delay buries evidence.

Because when we have 55 flood projects raining down your province the moment you left office, a P30-million “friendship,” a friend’s fishball empire walking off with P5.4 billion, you don’t want people asking questions. You don’t want someone’s crucifixion moving fast. You want controversies bigger than yours.

You want time. You want fog. You want “fairness.”