Something about the story of the 18 “ex-Marines” has begun to feel strangely familiar. Readers may recall what happened at Valle Verde Country Club last week about that non-press conference.

Reporters were invited to question the men who claimed they had delivered suitcases of cash to powerful officials. The arrangement, we were told, would allow journalists to speak with them one by one.

Instead of individual questioning, the event dissolved into general statements and hurried exits. What was supposed to strengthen the credibility of the allegations ended up doing the opposite. The unanswered questions did not disappear; they multiplied.

Now, the pattern appears to be repeating itself inside a formal investigation. The Ombudsman has tasked the National Bureau of Investigation to verify the identities and backgrounds of the 18 men after conflicting information surfaced about who they are and whether they had actually served in the Marines.

Alongside that, the Ombudsman asked the group to submit separate affidavits rather than rely solely on their joint affidavit. That move should not surprise anyone familiar with investigations. A joint affidavit describing numerous events in exactly the same way naturally invites scrutiny.

Statements prepared together can produce narratives that sound strikingly similar across multiple witnesses. Real recollections rarely look like that. Memory does not operate in chorus. One witness may remember the gate, another the time, a third the vehicle or the person who opened the door. Details overlap, but they are seldom identical.

That is why investigators ask for individual statements and one-on-one interviews. Each witness must tell the story in his own words. When accounts converge naturally, credibility grows. When they do not, investigators know they have a problem.

The process is known as a case build-up. Before anyone named in an affidavit can be summoned as an accused, authorities must first determine whether the witnesses themselves are credible. The narrative must hold together well enough to meet evidentiary standards. If it already contains cracks at this stage, the case may never reach a courtroom.

Yet reports indicate that most of the 18 men refused to be interviewed individually by the NBI. To be fair, their reluctance may not necessarily be an admission of weakness. The group may simply believe they are unlikely to receive a fair hearing from institutions they perceive as aligned with the very officials they are accusing.

In politically charged cases, witnesses sometimes worry that individual questioning can be used not only to test credibility but to dismantle a narrative before it ever reaches a courtroom. From that vantage point, declining to be interviewed could be a defensive move rather than an evasive one.

The men’s handlers argue that investigators should instead question the officials named in the affidavit, including President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. and former Speaker Martin Romualdez. That argument may have some logic, but it reverses the sequence of how investigations normally proceed.

The burden of proof lies with the accuser. Those making the allegations must first establish that their claims can withstand scrutiny. Legal counsel may well advise witnesses to limit their exposure at this stage — that is their right. But exercising that right comes at a cost. Credibility is not built by declining to be questioned; it is built by answering.

Investigations, like journalism, do not work on the witnesses’ preferred terms. In court, they are called to the stand one at a time, each answering to his own recollection, each facing cross-examination alone. If a story cannot withstand individual questioning now, it is difficult to imagine how it will survive the far harsher environment of a trial.