Trillanes says he never received a maleta from Zaldy Co. No suitcase for the ICC. Wonderful denial. Frankly, we believe him.

Nobody knows about the maleta. But if there’s one thing nobody can accuse Sonny of receiving, it’s closure.

We don’t think people appreciate the scale of commitment here.

The man spent 10 years chasing Duterte. That’s commitment. Loyalty. Marriage. If your enemy leaves office and you’re still working overtime, maybe you’re no longer chasing the man. You’re chasing the feeling.

Some people have a bucket list. Trillanes has a docket list. Some are more interested in who gave Sonny batteries. That’s the real mystery. Every morning, he parts the curtains, looks at the sunrise, and says, “How can I make this about Duterte?”

You don’t need a maleta to do that. Nobody works that hard for maletas that eventually run out. A suitcase suggests transaction. Eventually the contract would’ve expired.

The most successful thing Duterte ever built was Trillanes’ career.

Sonny says he’s suing the 18 former Marines again. Terrific. One question, Sonny: The nearest one or your usual one?

Regional Trial Court? Court of Appeals? Supreme Court? Or are we all just pretending not to know your favorite court?

Eighteen former Marines. The witnesses came in swinging. This guy. That guy. Money here. Girls there. Suitcases everywhere. Very productive afternoon.

What’s impressive wasn’t what they remembered. It was what they forgot.

We’re thinking: “Isn’t Jinggoy sitting in jail right now?”

Because, usually when 18 witnesses show up with stories, the guy in jail gets at least one paragraph. An aside. An honorable mention. Nothing? 

Somehow the only guy already behind bars came out with the cleanest afternoon. Not one Marine suddenly saying: “Before I leave, I have something to say about Jinggoy.”

At least Malacañang understood the assignment.

If you’re going to pretend to be fair, you have to occasionally prosecute someone from your own team. Otherwise, people notice.

They arrested Jinggoy and got Bonoan.

They read the charges. Then they read the illnesses. Heart failure. Kidney disease. Diabetes. Cancer. Back pain. Carcinoma.

When they got to the second cancer, even the first cancer was like: “I’m already here.”

It felt like arresting a man when he’s already being chased by seven bears.

“We’re arresting him.” Very serious. “But actually, if fate gets him first, we’ll accept the assist.”

The Marines accused so many people that we’re expecting: “And on the seventh day, Joel received a suitcase.”

Where is Joel? 

The Senate has two mysteries: Who’s running it? And where is Joel? The Ombudsman said he’s next.

We haven’t seen Joel in days. Which is strange. Because Joel normally appears whenever at least two or more senators are gathered in his name. Because they’re struggling to gather 13 in the name of a quorum. 

Everybody thought the hearing would destroy Chiz. Did you see his face when he joined the minority? Chiz joined the minority with all the enthusiasm of a man opening a letter from the Sandiganbayan.

Eighteen Marines talk about Martin. Chiz?

“Here it comes.”

“Any minute now.”

“They’re finally coming for me.”

Chiz spent the whole hearing in the world’s longest jump scare.

By hour four, Chiz wasn’t hoping to be cleared. He was hoping to be accused. Anything to end the suffering.

Very stressful. Every time a witness said, “I have another name…” Chiz’s soul briefly left his body. Then the name was somebody else’s. Soul comes back. He was listening for prepositions. “And…” “Also…” “Furthermore…”

Imagine waiting for a medical test result. Every five minutes somebody comes out and says: “We found something.” And then spends six hours looking around before naming anyone.

That was basically Chiz’s day.