RECENT revelations by a so-called whistleblower named “Totoy” about the disappearance of dozens of “sabungeros,” or cockfighting aficionados, have once again gripped the imagination of the Filipino public, feeding our national appetite for conspiracy and drama. Totoy’s tale had all the ingredients of a sensational narrative. It involved a popular gambler-turned-tycoon and his stunning celebrity partner who has long been considered one of the most beautiful faces in Philippine showbiz. The sabungeros were reported missing after joining livestreamed cockfight matches during the immediate post-coronavirus pandemic years. Then came the reports from families that their loved ones were never seen again. Totoy, a former farm manager and head of security of the business tycoon, said the missing sabungeros were summarily executed and dumped in Taal Lake for rigging cockfight matches. Three years after the disappearances, he pointed directly to the couple as the supposed masterminds. The story is cinematic — too cinematic for its own good.
This is exactly the kind of whistleblowing where society must draw the red line between the pursuit of justice and the reckless destruction of people’s reputations. Stories like Totoy’s are very gripping and captivating, driving media ratings and intriguing viewers like plot twists in a movie. But without solid evidence, they often amount to nothing but character assassination. We’ve seen how this plays out before:...
The Minister of State in charge of Government Communications, Felix Kwakye Ofosu, has called out the Member of Parliament for Old Tafo, Vincent Ekow Assafuah, for peddling falsehoods about Mahama'...
