Noose tightens on Quiboloy
One imagines the disgruntlement and frustration that must have driven those anonymous citizens to offer P15 million of their own money just to see Apollo Quiboloy and his five associates behind bars on charges of human trafficking and child sexual abuse.
And who could blame them? After more than three months of a futile manhunt, not a shadow of the slippery leader of the Davao-based Kingdom of Jesus Christ (KOJC) sect had been seen since the search began in April—an indictment indeed on the competence of the law enforcers tasked with arresting him.
Announcing the reward money last week, Interior Secretary Benhur Abalos gave no clue regarding the identities of his “friends” who had donated the bounty, except that they were “frustrated about what’s happening” in Quiboloy’s cases.
Now the reward money has started to work its wonders, as within days of the announcement, the chase is one-sixths finished, with the arrest of Quiboloy’s coaccused Paulene Canada on Thursday.
The question is: Would it work on Quiboloy himself?
Certainly, P15 million is a tempting sum (P10 million for the pastor and P1 million for each of his subordinates), but it remains to be seen if that is tempting enough for his church followers—and protectors—to turn him in to the authorities, considering Quiboloy could presumably match that amount to the last centavo given his own storied riches (if the money-laundering allegations are to be believed).
Obstruction of justice
Responding to the protestations of Quiboloy’s camp against the cash reward, an irate President Marcos challenged the KOJC founder to “show himself” instead.
“He can question [the donors’] motives as much as he wants to, but he should show himself,” Mr. Marcos said on Wednesday. “Why not? They want to help us bring a fugitive to justice. You know, he is a fugitive. He is hiding from the law,” the Chief Executive said, not bothering to hide his irritation.
That Mr. Marcos seemed irked by the lack of progress in the hunt for Quiboloy must sound pleasing to at least one former official keen on coddling his spiritual adviser and close family friend. On June 30, former president Rodrigo Duterte told reporters in Tacloban City that he was aware of the pastor’s whereabouts, “but it’s a secret.”
The taunt had rankled even the Philippine National Police chief Gen. Rommel Marbil that he ordered his lieutenants to study whether a complaint for obstruction of justice could be filed against Duterte for his statement. The PNP chief noted that under Presidential Decree No. 1829, a person may be criminally liable for “harboring or concealing, or facilitating the escape of, any person he knows, or has reasonable ground to believe or suspect, has committed any offense under existing penal laws in order to prevent his arrest, prosecution, and conviction.”
High-profile fugitives
But who is Marbil kidding? If someone like Quiboloy could run circles around his arresting officers, what more when it’s Duterte doing the running? Other high-profile fugitives like former corrections chief Gerald Bantag and, until recently, expelled Negros Oriental Rep. Arnolfo Teves Jr., are living testaments to the authorities’ ineptitude at catching criminals. The exception, of course, is when the suspects are poor or poorly connected, in which case they are more likely to wind up dead than in hiding.
So, where is Quiboloy?
The longer the preacher is unaccounted for, the more credence is added to speculations that he has already left the country, laughing at the authorities from far away. On Friday, Abalos denied the scuttlebutt that Quiboloy might be in China, where Duterte happens to have many friends.
Meanwhile, the police force in Quiboloy and Duterte’s hometown is in shambles. To date, no connection has yet been established between the revamp of police station commanders across Davao City and the disastrous attempts to flush out Quiboloy, but it’s evident that the latter should have played a part in the former at the very least.
President’s growing displeasure
Following the replacement of all 19 station commanders in the city last week, the Davao City Police Office found itself under the command of three chiefs in a span of 13 hours, with each new appointee being relieved one after the other. When the dust settled in the evening of July 10, it was Col. Hansel Marantan, of the infamous 2013 “rubout” case in Atimonan, Quezon, who took the helm.
As questionable as the circumstances are, the infusion of new blood in the Davao police is a positive development overall, breathing energy into the chase for the fugitives, as they seek to prove themselves worthy of their mission.
There are three reasons to be optimistic that the pursuit of Quiboloy and his associates will bear fruit: the huge bounty for their capture, Davao’s new police leadership, and the President’s growing displeasure, all of which help tighten the noose on the missing preacher. Wherever Quiboloy is hiding, the long arm of the law is closing in on him fast.
