15/07/2025
EDITORIAL
Someone Died. The First Lady Was There. Why Is No One Asking Questions?
In September 2017, the son of a sitting president sat in the Senate hot seat.
Paolo Duterte, along with brother-in-law Mans Carpio, was summoned over whispers—yes, just whispers—of links to drug smuggling. No hard evidence, no dead body, just one senator’s suspicions and a slideshow.
But President Rodrigo Duterte didn’t shield his son. In fact, he told him to go. “Harapin mo ‘yan. Huwag kang matakot kung wala kang tinatago.”
That was leadership.
Now, in 2025, someone is dead.
Paolo “Paowee” Tantoco, a young father, a businessman, a member of a respected family, died far from home in Los Angeles. The cause? Co***ne overdose. Official. Confirmed. Undisputed.
But the whispers? They’re back—and this time they’re louder, more specific, and far more dangerous.
Because now they include the entourage of First Lady Liza Marcos.
The pain of losing a loved one to drugs is deep, raw, and lasting. Families don’t get to forget. They don’t get to move on. Paolo Tantoco’s family deserves truth. And the public deserves accountability.
So why the silence?
Was the First Lady present? Was it an official trip? Were government funds used? Were public officials part of this group? These are not tabloid questions. These are questions of governance, accountability, and justice.
If the First Lady’s party used taxpayer money, the public has the right to know what happened. If someone died during an official or semi-official engagement, that is a matter of national interest.
If government officials were complicit—or complacent—while a young man overdosed on co***ne, the people deserve to see who they are.
Where is the Senate now?
They grilled Paolo Duterte for accusations without a co**se. Are they now too afraid—or too compromised—to demand the same accountability when a life was actually lost?
Is this the price of power now? That the closer someone is to the palace, the further they are from consequence?
We are not just mourning a death. We are mourning the death of fairness.
And it’s not just about the Marcoses or the Tantocos. It’s about the dangerous message this silence sends: that if you have the right friends, the right connections, the right title beside your name—you can escape questions, hearings, scrutiny.
But Paolo Tantoco’s family deserves more than silence.
They deserve a Senate hearing.
The Filipino people deserve the truth.
And the First Lady? She deserves no special treatment—not when a young man has died under the shadow of her circle.
Because if our leaders can’t face the truth, maybe they shouldn’t be leading at all.