The Philippine National Police (PNP) has found itself at the center of a stormy debate over leadership, legacy, and the true architects behind some of the nation’s most consequential law enforcement operations. At the heart of this controversy is Gen. Nicolas Torre III, whose rapid ascent through the police ranks was widely attributed to his role in the high-profile arrests of televangelist Apollo Quiboloy and former President Rodrigo Duterte. These missions, which culminated in Duterte’s unprecedented transfer to the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague, have been hailed as defining moments in the country’s law enforcement history. Yet, as layers of myth are peeled back, a very different story is emerging—one that questions the narrative of individual heroism and spotlights the unsung figures who truly shaped these events.
According to a PNP insider cited by Tribune, the public image of Torre as the mastermind behind these operations is more fiction than fact. While Torre was the face of the missions—addressing the media, announcing breakthroughs, and becoming the symbol of police resolve—the real strategist was then PNP chief, P/Gen. Rommel Francisco Marbil. "It took a Nicolas Torre to haul Rodrigo Duterte to The Hague," one headline screamed after Duterte’s transfer to the ICC, but the insider insists that Torre was merely the implementer, not the architect, of these operations. The source put it bluntly: "Torre was a pawn, the one who spoke about it, but it was Marbil who moved the pieces."
This revelation has sent ripples through the police force and the broader political landscape. Torre’s rise to prominence was meteoric, built on the back of two operations that required not just operational precision but also immense political courage. The arrest of Quiboloy, a controversial religious leader, and the transfer of Duterte, a former head of state, to face international justice were unprecedented in the Philippines’ modern history. These acts demanded what the insider described as "steel will, courage, discipline, and command vision." Yet, according to the same source, it was Marbil’s leadership—his orchestration, intelligence validation, coordination with national and international counterparts, and execution of sensitive orders—that was the backbone of both missions.
For the public, the distinction between the face of an operation and its true leader can be blurry. Police officials, field commanders, and spokespersons like Torre play vital roles as communicators and implementers. They are the ones who stand before cameras, answer tough questions, and absorb both praise and criticism. But, as the insider emphasized to Tribune, "Their job was to face the public, explain developments, and act on operational orders. But the decision-making was not theirs." The real story, it seems, played out far from the spotlight, in rooms where strategies were crafted and risks weighed by Marbil and his trusted circle.
The consequences of these revelations are not merely academic. President Ferdinand R. Marcos Jr. recently removed Torre from his post as PNP chief, yet Torre continues to hold a four-star rank and remains active in the police service as of August 31, 2025. This unusual arrangement has created a bureaucratic bottleneck: under police force rules, only one four-star general may serve at a time. Thus, Torre’s successor, Lt. Gen. Jose Melencio Nartatez Jr., must wait in an acting capacity until Torre retires before he can fully assume the top post. The situation has left the PNP in a state of limbo, complicating leadership transitions at a time when clarity and stability are needed most.
Amid these internal shakeups, the international implications of the Duterte case continue to reverberate. As reported by ABS-CBN, counsel for the victims in the case involving Duterte is urging a flexible approach in pre-trial application proceedings as of August 31, 2025. The legal process surrounding Duterte’s transfer to The Hague is anything but straightforward, requiring careful navigation of both Philippine and international legal systems. The victims’ counsel’s call for flexibility underscores the complexity and sensitivity of prosecuting a former head of state, especially when the eyes of the world are watching.
For many Filipinos, these developments raise uncomfortable questions about accountability, transparency, and the nature of leadership. Was Torre’s public persona simply a convenient narrative for a nation hungry for justice and closure? Or does the real credit, as the PNP insider insists, belong to those who worked behind the scenes, away from the glare of cameras and the heat of public scrutiny? "For that, credit must be given where it is truly due—to then PNP Chief Rommel Francisco Marbil, whose leadership ensured the success of both missions," the source told Tribune. It’s a statement that challenges the very fabric of how heroism is constructed and remembered in the Philippines.
Meanwhile, the legacy of these operations remains complex. Torre’s reputation, once likened to a house of cards built on his perceived command of the Quiboloy and Duterte missions, has come under intense scrutiny following a series of indiscretions and the new revelations about Marbil’s role. The distinctions and honors that propelled him to the top PNP post now appear less solid, more the product of narrative convenience than of unassailable merit.
The ongoing leadership impasse at the PNP has also exposed the rigidities and peculiarities of police organizational rules. With Torre still technically in service, Nartatez must bide his time, serving in an acting capacity and unable to fully wield the authority of the top post. This arrangement, while procedurally correct, has left the police force in a holding pattern, with many officers and observers wondering when—and how—the logjam will finally break.
As the legal and institutional dust settles, the broader implications for Philippine law enforcement and governance are becoming clearer. The high-profile arrests and transfers that once symbolized decisive action now serve as reminders of the complexities and contradictions at the heart of public service. They force a reckoning with the stories we tell about leadership, the mechanisms of power, and the often invisible hands that shape the course of history.
In the end, the myth of Torre’s singular heroism has crumbled, replaced by a more nuanced—and perhaps more honest—understanding of how landmark operations are conceived and executed. The Philippine National Police, and the nation it serves, must now grapple with these truths as they chart a path forward in an era of heightened scrutiny and expectation.
