Build Build Build, Unmasked: A Research-Based Dissection of Systemic Corruption

A Researcher’s Regret, a Duterte Supporter’s Certainty

I actually finished this piece the other night.

The research was solid, the draft was almost ready, and I was about to save it—then I hit the wrong button. Gone. Just like that. Everything I wrote, everything I gathered, deleted. I sat there in silence, staring at an empty screen, wondering if I had the energy to do it all over again.

But I had to. Because it started with a comment I saw online.

A Duterte supporter—DDS, clearly—said with full conviction that the Build Build Build program was the “hallmark” of the former president’s administration. Not only that, he claimed it was free from corruption. He didn’t ask for a discussion. He wasn’t open to one. It was a pronouncement. Like gospel.

And that’s the problem.

Because when you state an opinion like it’s fact—without evidence, without context—you’re not informing. You’re preaching. And preaching doesn’t help. It closes the door on curiosity. It shuts down the possibility that something might be broken underneath the concrete and steel.

I’m not here to tell people what to believe. But if someone says the house is clean, I just want to know who swept the floors.

So I went looking. I dug through public reports, government press releases, COA findings, televised speeches, and old corruption cases—everything that could still be verified. And what I found wasn’t a story of infrastructure. It was a story of transactions, ghost projects, recycled contractors, and a system designed to keep going long after the cameras stopped rolling.

This article isn’t comfortable. It’s not meant to be. But if you’ve ever wondered how billions can be spent without anything real to show for it, this is one way to start asking the right questions.

Let’s begin.

The Big Picture: ₱662 Billion in 2017, But Where Did It Go?

In 2017, at the peak of the Build Build Build push, the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) was handed a budget of ₱662 billion (DPWH Performance Report 2017). That’s not a typo. That’s billion with a B.

To put that into perspective: that amount was more than the GDP of some countries. And it was just for one department, in one year.

This was supposed to be the start of the country’s “golden age of infrastructure.” A leap forward. A promise that Filipinos would finally get the roads, bridges, flood control, and public systems they were long overdue for.

But when the Commission on Audit and other observers looked into how much of that money was actually used, the number was far lower than expected:

₱222.66 billion.

That’s just 33.6% of the entire 2017 budget.

The rest? ₱439 billion—roughly two-thirds—went unspent. No disbursements. No completed projects. No return to the public.

While people wondered why their communities were still waiting for basic infrastructure, two-thirds of the funding meant to build it sat idle. And there were no clear answers, only silence and press briefings.

“The Build Build Build program wasn’t just inefficient. It was structured in a way that made non-delivery a feature, not a bug.” (Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism)

No one said the ₱439 billion disappeared. But it didn’t reach the people either. The projects it was supposed to fund didn’t break ground. The timelines slipped, or were never drawn in the first place.

And as you’ll see in the next section, the part of the budget that was disbursed? Some of it went to projects that only existed on paper.

If the unspent billions were a failure, the ghost projects were a betrayal.

Ghost Projects: The Signature Corruption Scheme

When people talk about government corruption, they usually imagine under-the-table deals, padded receipts, or favored contractors. But the most profitable scam during the Build Build Build era wasn’t just about overpricing or favoritism.

It was about building nothing at all.

“Ghost project” wasn’t some nickname critics came up with—it was a term used by President Duterte himself. In a televised statement, he admitted:

“Ang DPWH, ang pinaka raket diyan is ‘yung ghost project. Walang delivery, ghost project. Marami ’yan.”
(Philippine Star)

A ghost project is exactly what it sounds like: a project that exists on paper, appears in the budget, and may even show up in official photos—but never actually gets built.

And there were thousands of them.

According to DPWH data and audit reports, 2,334 projects worth ₱62.588 billion were either delayed, suspended, or never completed. Another 815 projects, worth ₱2.58 billion, were never even started (Manila Standard).

These weren’t clerical errors or weather delays. They followed a pattern—one so common it might as well have been a template:

1. Announce a ₱100 million bridge project

2. Pay the contractor ₱30 million upfront

3. Show photos of some excavation or hollow blocks

4. Mark the project as “ongoing” for months, sometimes years

5. Let it quietly stall, redirect the rest of the funds, and hope no one asks questions
   

In some cases, contractors reportedly built just enough to take pictures, then removed the materials the next day. Because in reports and progress trackers, what mattered was that there were photos, not whether the bridge would ever carry a single vehicle.

The process was so streamlined it didn’t even require creativity—just a cooperative regional director, a contractor willing to play along, and the understanding that no one would really audit the work.

The result? Whole communities left waiting for roads that never came. Flood control systems that never stopped a single flood. Billions gone—not because they were spent poorly, but because they were spent on nothing.

This wasn’t mismanagement. It wasn’t a lack of planning. It was a machine that ran smoothly, quietly, and profitably.

They weren’t building bridges. They were building paperwork.

Kickback Culture: A Language of Its Own

You don’t need to dig deep to find out how infrastructure money gets lost in this country. Sometimes, the people in power just say it out loud.

President Duterte once admitted during a public address:

“Walang construction na uumpisa dito na walang transaction.”
(Philippine Star)

No transaction, no construction.

It wasn’t a slip. It wasn’t an offhand joke. It was a statement about how things worked—and how everyone involved already understood the cost of getting anything approved, awarded, or completed.

According to Senator Panfilo Lacson, kickbacks had an unofficial rate card within the DPWH. And just like in any system, there were internal labels—terms used to describe how "reasonable" or "greedy" someone was based on their cut.

• Officials who asked for 10% were considered “mabait” (kind, lenient)

• Those who demanded 20–30% were labeled “matakaw” (greedy)

• If they insisted on advance payment, they were called “balasubas” (rapacious)
  (Inquirer)
  
  

This wasn’t speculation. It was based on real conversations contractors had behind the backs of the officials they were dealing with.

These weren’t hush-hush terms—they were part of the vocabulary of doing business with the government. That’s how normalized the system had become. Everyone knew. Everyone adjusted. And everyone priced their proposals with these hidden percentages in mind.

It wasn’t even about fear anymore. It was math.

The real cost of a ₱100 million project was rarely ₱100 million. The real cost included the SOP. The mobilization "cut." The percentage on every billing. The extra for materials testing. The “allowance” for the district engineer. All of it invisible to the public—but very real to the people trying to get the job.

And it connects directly to the previous section: this is why ghost projects existed. Not just to inflate costs, but to manufacture opportunities for payout. Projects weren’t designed to solve problems. They were designed to be milked.

When the percentage you take becomes more important than the impact you leave, everything becomes negotiable—except integrity.

When corruption becomes culture, it stops looking like a crime. It starts looking like policy.

Brazen Extortion: When Engineers Became Bagmen

There’s a difference between a system that silently rewards corruption and one that actively demands it.

In the Build Build Build era, you didn’t always have to guess. Some government engineers weren’t just taking cuts under the table—they were caught negotiating the price, naming the terms, and accepting envelopes on camera.

One of the most blatant examples was the Roberto Nicolas case in 2016.

Nicolas, a DPWH district engineer, was caught in a video entrapment operation by the Presidential Anti-Corruption Commission (PACC). He was accompanied by four other individuals: Tess Orquia, Engineers Melody Dominguez and Luisito Ponancio, and alleged bagwoman Vilma Gomez.

The scheme? Nicolas asked for ₱4 million upfront as the initial cut of a ₱20 million “Standard Operating Procedure” fee, in exchange for guaranteeing that a contractor would win a ₱70 million steel parking structure project.

Just to win the bid—₱20 million.

When the footage reached Duterte, he was reportedly furious (PACC). But as with most things in this system, it didn’t stop anything. It just proved what many already knew.

Then came the Lorna Ricardo case in 2018.

Ricardo was the DPWH District Engineer in Ifugao. According to a video presented by PACC Commissioner Greco Belgica, Ricardo demanded ₱10 million in exchange for awarding the Lagawe-Caba-Ponghal Road Development Project to a specific contractor.

But that was just the start. She reportedly had a breakdown of additional "charges," like it was a government service menu:

• 1% of the 10% mobilization fund

• 5% on every progress billing

• ₱20,000 for each Statement of Work Accomplished

• 1% of the ₱100 million contract for material testing

• ₱1 million for vehicle rental for DPWH engineers
  

All of it was captured on video. Secretary Mark Villar relieved her from her post almost immediately after the footage aired (Philippine Star).

The Nicolas and Ricardo cases weren’t anomalies. They followed a pattern: upfront demands, percentage cuts, coded language, accomplices. The difference was, these ones got caught on camera.

And still—no convictions.

The real takeaway isn’t just that engineers were asking for money. It’s that they were confident enough to do it openly, assuming the system would absorb the damage and keep moving.

The problem wasn’t just who was asking for money.
It was that there were always people ready to pay.

Contractor Shell Games: The Blacklist That Didn’t Stick

Between 2016 and 2020, the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) blacklisted 25 contractors—a number touted as the highest in two decades (DPWH News), (Philstar), (Philippine News Agency).

At first glance, it looked like the system was working. Bad actors were being removed. Government meant business.

But blacklisting, it turns out, doesn’t mean much when you can just reapply under a new name.

The RC Tagala / Syndtite Loop

RC Tagala Construction was awarded ₱5.7 billion in public contracts during the first 18 months of the Duterte administration (PCIJ). One of those projects—the Labo Bridge in Camarines Norte—was terminated in 2017 for contract violations. But instead of being pushed out of the system, the company simply rebranded.

RC Tagala re-registered as Syndtite Construction Corporation:

• Same owner: Rosanno C. Tagala

• Same office address

• Same record of poor project performance

Syndtite was later blacklisted too—this time over a flood control project in Cagayan with more than 15% negative slippage (Mindanao Gold Star Daily / PCIJ). That means they were more than 15% behind schedule—yet they still managed to win new contracts before being caught again.

Even worse: DPWH took 13 months to formally blacklist RC Tagala after terminating the contract. That delay gave the company time to slip back into the system under a new identity (Inquirer).

The St. Gerrard Example

Then there’s St. Gerrard Construction General Contractor & Development Corporation, which held a staggering ₱8.861 billion worth of contracts before it was blacklisted in January 2020 (Manila Bulletin), (Philstar), (PNA).

The reason? Delays in a school building project in Indang, Cavite.

That’s it. One school building derailed nearly ₱9 billion worth of awarded contracts. And just like the RC Tagala case, this wasn’t about capability—it was about how far a company could go before finally getting caught.

The formal order to blacklist St. Gerrard is documented in DPWH Department Order 182, Series of 2020 (DPWH Department Order).

Blacklists That Don’t Stick

Here’s the problem: blacklisting didn’t mean permanent disqualification. In most cases, it simply meant taking a short break, switching names, and going back to business as usual.

There was no centralized tracking system to flag recycled owners or rebranded shell companies. As long as the paperwork passed, bids could be submitted—and often won.

RC Tagala became Syndtite. Others followed similar patterns. And the DPWH, even with geo-tagging tools and internal tracking systems, either couldn’t—or wouldn’t—connect the dots.

This wasn’t a loophole. It was the process working exactly as expected.

In a system built on familiarity, even the blacklist came with a workaround.

And many of these contractors weren’t just working with district engineers.
Some had friends in much higher places.

Lawmakers Named in Corruption Allegations

On December 28, 2020, President Rodrigo Duterte publicly read the names of lawmakers included in a corruption list submitted by the Presidential Anti-Corruption Commission (PACC). While Duterte emphasized that the list was not a formal indictment, his decision to broadcast their names on national television fueled public interest—and debate.

At least nine lawmakers were mentioned across major media outlets for alleged involvement in DPWH-related corruption during the Build Build Build era. Some were linked to anomalous projects, others to regional kickback networks or questionable ties to contractors. All of them denied wrongdoing.

Below are the lawmakers named, along with contextual links and how their names came up:

1. Josephine Ramirez-Sato (Occidental Mindoro)

Named in Duterte’s televised announcement, Sato was linked to DPWH project irregularities in her province. She denied the allegations and said political rivals were behind the smear campaign (Inquirer News).

2. Teodoro “Teddy” Baguilat Jr. (Ifugao, former congressman)

Although no longer in office when the list was released, Baguilat was mentioned in connection with questionable infrastructure projects in Ifugao. He welcomed any investigation to clear his name (Philstar, Amianan Balita Ngayon).

3. Alfred Vargas (Quezon City, 5th District)

Vargas' name surfaced in connection with misuse of public funds related to the TUPAD program, and was reportedly included in the same DPWH-linked list. A full exposé appeared on Remate Online.

4. Henry Oaminal (Misamis Occidental)

Oaminal was directly named by Duterte and was quick to welcome an investigation. He claimed his inclusion was politically motivated and sought to clear his name through legal means (Philippine News Agency, Serbisyo PH).

5. Alyssa Sheena Tan (Isabela, 4th District)

She responded swiftly, calling the accusations “absolutely not true” and suggested that her inclusion had no factual basis (ABS-CBN News).

6. Paul Daza (Northern Samar, 1st District)

Named in connection with kickback schemes involving DPWH projects, Daza firmly denied the accusations and suggested the allegations were politically driven. Separately, a Kahimyang article discussed broader issues tied to the Daza dynasty, though not directly tied to the PACC list (PNA).

7. Angelina “Helen” Tan (Quezon, 4th District)

She was included in Duterte's announcement and faced heightened scrutiny not only due to her political role but also because her husband, a DPWH official, was allegedly involved in questionable financial practices. Media outlets reported that he was seen “throwing cash in the air at a party,” leading to formal graft complaints (Inquirer News, Journal Online, GMA News).

8. Eric Yap (ACT-CIS Party-list, Benguet caretaker)

Yap was among those publicly named, although no detailed cases were cited in the reports. He maintained that all his projects followed procurement guidelines (Philstar).

9. Geraldine Roman (Bataan, 1st District)

Roman also appeared on the televised list. Like others, she expressed surprise and denied the allegations, citing her clean record and full cooperation with DPWH audits (Philstar).

Reflections on the Naming

None of the lawmakers were charged or convicted in connection with these allegations as of this writing. However, the public naming was politically significant. For some observers, it raised questions: Was it a genuine anti-corruption effort, or was it selective naming to gain political leverage?

In the absence of full investigations or legal closure, the act of naming—without charging—becomes a gray zone. Whether this was transparency or tactic depends on who you ask.

Engineering Kickback Ecosystems: How Local Corruption Thrives

Not all corruption is national. In fact, most of it isn’t. A big chunk of the DPWH mess doesn’t even require a lawmaker’s name—just a few signatures from the right district engineer and the perfect contractor to match.

These are the small, day-to-day systems that run quietly in the background. They don’t go viral. They don’t make headlines. But they bleed taxpayers dry, one ghost project at a time.

The Power of the District Engineer

District engineers serve as the local nerve centers of the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH). Their signatures approve contracts, validate deliveries, and release payments. This makes them powerful—and in many districts, untouchable.

In theory, they’re supposed to implement transparent procurement rules, review project scopes, and verify contractor performance. In practice? Many of them form cozy relationships with contractors who already know the drill: win the bid, overprice the work, share the loot.

And if a contractor falls out of favor or gets blacklisted? No problem. They just come back with a new name. Different label, same machinery, same people. The practice is known internally as “contractor rotation.”

The Kickback Pipeline

According to a 2018 investigation by the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism (PCIJ), the standard kickback ranges from 10% to 20% per project. This is split between local DPWH officers, regional engineers, and sometimes even city or provincial officials.

How does it work?

• Overpricing: Materials are padded by 2x or 3x the actual cost. Example: a bag of cement that costs ₱250 ends up billed at ₱700.

• Ghost Deliveries: Contractors submit fake receipts and completion photos for work that was never done.

• Unfinished Projects Marked Complete: Some roads are declared “100% finished” but exist only on paper.

• Split Contracts: Big projects are broken down into smaller ones to bypass required bidding protocols and scrutiny.
  

These aren’t isolated schemes—they’re systemic features. Designed to minimize oversight, normalize theft, and make the whole thing look like business as usual.

Protected by Politics

One reason district engineers can keep operating this way is political protection.

In many provinces, district engineers are directly appointed with the endorsement of local congressmen or governors. Once installed, they rarely face consequences unless the politics shift. And even then, they’re just moved—not fired.

It’s a revolving door: engineers rotate from one district to another, bringing their preferred contractors with them. Even when DPWH blacklists these contractors, the enforcement is spotty at best. Some return after just a few months with a new SEC-registered name and zero penalty.

As one Mindanao Gold Star Daily report put it:

“The same people keep winning. The names change, the problems stay.” (Mindanao Gold Star Daily)

Department Orders That Don’t Bite

DPWH has issued multiple department orders meant to strengthen enforcement—blacklist repeat violators, ban contractors who abandon work, and restrict engineers who enable them. But on the ground, these orders are often ignored or delayed.

For instance, Department Order No. 39, s.2015 outlines the criteria for blacklisting contractors. It’s a solid policy—on paper. But many of the contractors blacklisted between 2016–2019 reappeared in new projects just a year or two later, often under slightly altered names.
(DPWH Order – Scribd)

The system allows them to file motions for reconsideration, appeal to regional offices, or simply dissolve and reincorporate. In the meantime, construction continues.

And so does the money.

Collusion Is the Default

When contractors, district engineers, and local officials work in sync, audits become futile. It’s not just one corrupt actor—it’s an ecosystem. Documents match. Signatures are clean. Project photos are submitted on time.

You won’t find smoking guns here. You’ll find patterns. Too many contracts awarded to the same set of firms. Too many “completed” projects that look like ruins on Google Maps. Too many contractors on paper that don’t even have a website, much less heavy equipment.

If this sounds organized, that’s because it is. And it’s happening in districts all across the country.

COA Red Flags: A Pattern of Delays, Deficiencies, and Disbursement Issues

From the very beginning of the Build Build Build program, the Commission on Audit (COA) had already been raising red flags. Its annual reports show a disturbing pattern: bloated budgets, disbursed funds with no corresponding output, and a long list of delayed, unimplemented, or defective projects. The numbers weren’t small. And they kept repeating year after year.

In 2017, during the ramp-up of the program, the DPWH was allocated ₱662.18 billion. Of that amount, ₱610 billion was obligated (about 92.19%), but only ₱222.66 billion was actually disbursed—just 33.6% of the total budget (GMA News).

By 2018, the same problems persisted. ₱118.4 billion worth of DPWH projects were either delayed or not implemented at all, according to that year’s audit report (Inquirer).

The trend continued in 2019. COA reported 2,411 infrastructure projects under the DPWH that were still ongoing, with 1,740 of them worth ₱65.9 billion delayed beyond their contract deadlines (Philstar).

In 2020, the DPWH was again flagged—this time for 2,411 projects worth ₱101.6 billion that were either delayed or not implemented (GMA News).

And in 2021, the problem still hadn't been addressed. COA found 2,395 delayed DPWH projects worth ₱96.219 billion (Philstar).

The recurring delays and underperformance suggest deep-rooted inefficiencies, mismanagement, or worse. But despite being flagged consistently by the country’s highest government audit agency, no large-scale investigation, legislative inquiry, or criminal charges were filed in connection with these findings—not even as a preventive measure.

In fact, the program was continually praised and publicly defended, even when it became clear that the numbers weren’t matching the ground realities. While COA did its job year after year, it seemed like nobody in power was really listening.

Disbursement Doesn’t Equal Delivery

The Duterte administration often celebrated its Build, Build, Build (BBB) program by citing record-high budget allocations to the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH). In 2017 alone, DPWH was allocated ₱662.69 billion, with 92.19% (₱610.93 billion) obligated for projects. But a closer look at the Commission on Audit (COA) reports shows a very different reality: only ₱222.66 billion—or 33.6%—was actually disbursed and spent within that year .

This isn't just a paperwork problem. The disbursement rate is the clearest measure of how much of the promised infrastructure was actually delivered. More than two-thirds of the obligated funds remained idle in 2017, meaning projects were either severely delayed, poorly implemented, or not implemented at all.

According to COA's findings:

• 2,334 projects amounting to ₱62.588 billion were not completed within contract time
  
  

• Of those:
  
  

  • 135 projects worth ₱6.07 billion were suspended

  • 15 projects worth ₱2.1 billion were terminated

  • 815 projects worth ₱2.58 billion were never implemented at all
    
    

And even among completed projects, 334 were found to have technical defects, costing the government an estimated ₱40.92 million and depriving the public of fully functional infrastructure.

In past versions of this section, some figures were previously cited without solid source support. Here's the clarification:

• The often-quoted claim that ₱51.57 billion was returned to the National Treasury is not verifiable based on public records. While unused obligated funds are typically reverted, no official report confirms that specific amount for 2017.
  

• Similarly, the claim that ₱27.64 million in commitment fees was paid due to delayed foreign-assisted projects lacks direct confirmation for 2017. However, from 2015 to 2019, the government incurred ₱101.405 million in such fees, suggesting that 2017 may have seen a share of this burden .
  

The underlying issue isn’t the size of the budget—it’s how little of it reached completion. In a year where the administration claimed a construction boom, COA documented a trend of ghost projects, idle funds, and expensive delays. Some causes were external, like typhoons or right-of-way disputes. But many were internal: poor planning, late procurement, and weak contractor performance, all within DPWH’s control .

Worse, this wasn’t unique to 2017. COA noted similar low disbursement rates in earlier years:

• 2016: 34.14% (₱185.12 billion of ₱542.23 billion)

• 2015: 34.03% (₱148.23 billion of ₱435.58 billion)

In fairness, several flagship projects were completed that year—including the NAIA Expressway, Cagayan de Oro Coastal Road, and Tarlac–Pangasinan–La Union Expressway . But the broader pattern was clear: disbursement didn’t match the promises. The numbers painted a story of inflated expectations, incomplete execution, and money that sat still when it should’ve moved the country forward.

White Elephants and Ghost Projects: The Infrastructure that Never Was

While some Build Build Build projects were completed late, others were never completed at all. Worse, some never existed beyond paper.

President Rodrigo Duterte himself pointed to these anomalies during his presidency, saying:
"Ang pinaka raket diyan is 'yung ghost project. Walang delivery, ghost project. Marami 'yan."
He directly blamed the DPWH regional directors, asserting they were primarily responsible for approving and profiting from these phantom contracts (Philstar, GMA News).

The Commission on Audit (COA) confirmed this in multiple reports. Projects were flagged for having no physical progress, or being funded despite the absence of right-of-way clearances, feasibility studies, or mobilization from contractors. This wasn’t accidental—there was a systemic pattern of rushed procurement processes, poor planning, and questionable disbursements (Inquirer, GMA News).

The ₱400 Million Ghost Projects in Lubang Island

One of the most documented cases of ghost projects during this period happened in Lubang Island, Oriental Mindoro.

In 2017, Mayor Roberto Sanchez filed a formal complaint to DPWH Secretary Mark Villar, exposing 19 road projects worth ₱315.483 million that were reported as 90–98% complete, despite having barely started—or not started at all. These were validated through on-ground inspections and photographic evidence.

Among the most egregious was the ₱3.228 million Lubang Water System improvement project, which was claimed to be 95% complete as of March 2017, but no actual construction had begun. The contractors involved included Algimar, CL Carandang, and Kejamarenik—all of whom were allegedly paid for infrastructure that didn’t exist (Manila Standard).

The Senate took notice. Then-Senator JV Ejercito called for a plunder case to be filed, describing the DPWH’s response as sluggish and evasive. Despite the mounting evidence, no one was held publicly accountable.

The Kalinga Farm-to-Market Road That Didn’t Exist

In 2019, COA flagged another ghost project in Kalinga Province: a ₱2.29 million farm-to-market road in the Mangali-Banagao area. According to the project documents, construction was already completed. But when auditors visited the site, not a single item of work had been started. The completion report was entirely fabricated.

COA issued a Notice of Disallowance, effectively demanding accountability and recovery of the funds (Baguio Herald Express, Philstar).

DPWH’s Attempted Tech Fix: The PCMA System

To address growing scrutiny, the DPWH introduced the Project and Contract Management Procedures and Application (PCMA)—a digital system requiring contractors to submit geo-tagged photos as proof of progress. This move aimed to detect ghost projects in real-time and provide documentary evidence before any payment could be made.

While a step in the right direction, critics argue that technology cannot solve what is ultimately a human problem of corruption and impunity. Without political will and internal accountability, even digital safeguards can be bypassed (DPWH News).

Final Words: “Nobody Went to Jail”

Mark Villar resigned as Secretary of the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) in October 2021 to run for Senate. He won. Duterte didn’t fire him. He didn’t even scold him publicly — not once — despite all the scandals tied to his department.

Instead, Duterte went on air and said, “Si Mark, honest ‘yan. Mayaman ‘yan. Hindi ‘yan mangungurakot.”
And then he reminded the public again that DPWH was the most corrupt agency in government.

The contradiction wasn’t lost on people paying attention.

When ghost projects became national headlines, the DPWH scrambled to do damage control. They formed their own Task Force Against Graft and Corruption (TAG) in October 2020. Meanwhile, the Office of the President launched the Task Force Against Corruption (TFAC) and transferred ongoing investigations from the PACC to the DOJ.

But the investigations didn’t really go anywhere.
DOJ Secretary Menardo Guevarra himself admitted: many complaints lacked sufficient evidence to warrant filing cases.

A few weeks later, 14 district engineers were relieved — but not fired or charged. Most of them were simply reassigned.

There was even a time when Duterte reportedly said, “Quit now or I’ll be forced to name you.”
But that quote can’t be found in any official transcript. What can be verified is his usual threat: “Resign now, kasi pagdating ng panahon, you'll be prosecuted administratively and criminally.”

And then, silence.

Meanwhile, Mark Villar quietly filed his COC for Senator.
His name was included in the Marcos-Duterte slate. He won a Senate seat. And nobody asked any serious questions.

The Real Picture

Some people did go to jail.
But they were mostly low-ranking DPWH personnel and contractors.
No Cabinet member. No undersecretary. Not even a regional director during Duterte’s term ever faced public trial, much less jail time.

The central issue isn’t that nobody was punished — it’s that the system punished only the expendables.

The ones with titles, influence, or endorsements walked away.

Confirmed Convictions and Cases

Here’s what actually happened during Duterte’s term:

• 2016: 11 people convicted in a ₱13M DPWH vehicle repair scam. Sentenced to up to 60 years.

• 2017: 7 DPWH officials convicted in a ₱7.8M ghost vehicle repair scam. Sentenced to 6–20 years.

• 2020: 13 people, including a regional DPWH director, convicted in an ₱83.95M ASEAN-related scam.

• 2022: Sandiganbayan denied bail to a contractor in an ₱82M infrastructure scam.
  

There were also pending cases:

• 2018: Former DPWH Secretary Rogelio Singson and 33 others charged with plunder over the ₱8.7B road right-of-way scam.

• 2023: 6 Cebu DPWH officials faced trial for graft.

• 2025: DPWH Region 6 officials hit with new corruption charges related to billions in infrastructure funds.
  
  

And yet… ask any ordinary person on the street, and they’ll still say:
“Eh wala namang nakulong.”

Because if the public never hears about the convictions — if the media never follows up — if the big names never fall — then what difference did it really make?

The Unanswered Questions

What happened to the ₱400 million ghost project scandal in Lubang Island?
Where is District Engineer Josefino Mergal today?
Was anyone ever convicted?

The case was forwarded to the proper authorities. But the outcome?
It disappeared from the news cycle like so many others.

Duterte once said in a press conference: “Ang pinaka-raket diyan, ghost project. Walang delivery. Marami ‘yan.”

But when asked why nobody from the top was ever punished, his answer was always the same:
“Si Mark, mayaman ‘yan. Hindi ‘yan corrupt.”

So we go back to the central point of this entire exposé:

Selective Accountability Is Still Impunity

If only the powerless are punished, then justice was never the goal.
It was damage control.

And as long as politicians can say “mayaman naman siya” as proof of innocence, then ghost projects will keep happening — on paper, on budget, but never on site.

1. GMA News – “COA: DPWH underspent on ‘Build Build Build’ budget” – https://www.gmanetwork.com/news/money/economy/659733/coa-dpwh-underspent-on-build-build-build-budget/story/

2. Business Inquirer – “Despite ‘Build, Build, Build’ push, DPWH spent a third of 2017 budget” – https://business.inquirer.net/253689/despite-build-build-build-push-dpwh-spent-third-2017-budget

3. Philippine Star – “Only 34% of DPWH 2017 budget utilized” – https://www.philstar.com/headlines/2018/07/08/1831586/only-34-dpwh-2017-budget-utilized

4. Inquirer Opinion – “Fool’s Gold” – https://opinion.inquirer.net/117344/fools-gold

5. StudyLib – “DPWH ES2017 Performance Report” – https://studylib.net/doc/25225031/dpwh-es2017

6. Manila Bulletin – “BuildBuildBuild: Ten roads opened this 2017” – https://mb.com.ph/2017/12/23/buildbuildbuild-ten-roads-opened-this-2017/

7. Manila Standard – “P400 million ghost projects bared in Lubang” – https://manilastandard.net/?p=248857

8. Philippine Star – “COA hits DPWH over delayed, defective projects” – https://www.philstar.com/headlines/2020/10/19/2050641/coa-hits-dpwh-delayed-defective-projects

9. NEDA – “Cumulative Commitment Fees Paid per Project (2003-2021)” PDF – https://neda.gov.ph/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Annex-3-G-Cumulative-Commitment-Fees-Paid-per-Project-CY-2003-to-CY-2021.pdf

10. GMA News – “COA flags DPWH over ₱118-B delayed, non-implemented projects” – https://www.gmanetwork.com/news/money/economy/706584/coa-flags-dpwh-over-p118-billion-of-delayed-non-implemented-projects/story/

11. Inquirer News – “₱118.4-B of DPWH projects either delayed or not implemented – COA” – https://newsinfo.inquirer.net/1160056/p118-4-b-of-dpwh-projects-either-delayed-or-not-implemented-coa

12. Philippine Star – “Duterte says ghost projects rampant in DPWH” – https://www.philstar.com/headlines/2020/11/06/2055006/duterte-says-ghost-projects-rampant-dpwh

13. GMA News – “Duterte orders audit of DPWH projects amid gov’t-wide corruption probe” – https://www.gmanetwork.com/news/topstories/nation/762965/duterte-orders-audit-of-dpwh-projects-amid-gov-t-wide-corruption-probe/story/

14. Baguio Herald Express – “COA uncovers ghost, defective projects in Kalinga” – https://baguioheraldexpressonline.com/coa-uncovers-ghost-defective-projects-in-kalinga-2/

15. Philippine Star – “Ghost projects, ghost expenses” – https://www.philstar.com/opinion/2024/06/02/2359764/ghost-projects-ghost-expenses

16. DPWH News – “DPWH rolls out geo-tagging to monitor projects” – https://www.dpwh.gov.ph/dpwh/news/1611

Sources:

Support This Independent Work
If this deep-dive helped you understand the issues better or gave you something to think about, consider supporting more content like this.
☕ Click here to become a sponsor or donor: https://www.morningcoffeethoughts.org/sponsors-and-donors