It started with a flicker of memory.
I was a kid, ten or eleven when I first watched Charlton Heston ride out as El Cid – lifeless, yet heroic – his body strapped to a horse, sword in hand, still leading men into battle.
I was tucked into a wooden seat in our town’s old movie house, eyes wide as the screen filled with dust, steel, and legends. It was the era of cinematic titans – Hercules, Samson, Ulysses – and my favorite muscle-bound hero, Steve Reeves. Those films weren’t just action; they were myth-made flesh. They etched into my young mind the idea that power, once embodied, didn’t just vanish when a man was gone.
My Favorite Movies in Grade School
One morning, sipping my coffee, that memory stirred again – but not from a movie - from a headline.
“Duterte Seeks Interim Release From ICC,” Philstar reported.
According to the article, former President Rodrigo Duterte has petitioned the International Criminal Court (ICC) for interim release, asking to be transferred to an undisclosed state. His 16-page petition lists four reasons: he’s not a flight risk; he won’t interfere with proceedings; he won’t commit more crimes; and “humanitarian factors” supposedly support his release.
The ICC is investigating Duterte over crimes against humanity tied to his bloody “war on drugs” – a campaign that left thousands dead and left families shattered across the country.
The government has officially acknowledged 6,248 deaths due to the anti-drug campaign. The ICC prosecutor has said as many as 30,000 may have been killed by police or unidentified individuals over the years. But now, his legal defenders claim he is no longer the same man. No longer president. No longer powerful.
His petition states:
“Mr. Duterte is no longer the President of the Philippines and does not command the same influence or power he is said to have abused during the period of the alleged crimes.”
That line haunted me.
Interim Release Bid Headlines
And almost instantly, El Cid came galloping back into focus.
If you haven’t seen the 1961 film El Cid, here’s the quick version: Rodrigo (a serendipitous name for our article’s gist) Diaz de Vivar, a knight of medieval Spain, dies defending his people. But his death isn’t the end. His wife, knowing how much his diehard supporters-soldiers (another serendipitous phrase) revered him, has his corpse mounted on a horse, dressed in full armor. He rides one final time, sword drawn, as a symbol. The enemy, who has feared the sound of his name, sees him and flees in panic - victory, even in death.
The man was gone, but the myth – the fear, the power – remained.
El Cid The Movie
Now fast-forward to today. Duterte, still alive, still armored with influence, is attempting to ride again.
Imagine him being granted interim release. Alive. Erect. Back in familiar terrain. For Duterte Diehard Supporters (DDS), his loyal followers, he would not be a man returning to rest. He would be a man returning to reign. Not in office, but in myth. In memory. In menace.
It would be his own El Cid moment – not a symbol of honor, but of impunity.
Let’s be clear: Duterte doesn’t need the presidency to be dangerous. He has a loyal DDS, a twin trump cards: a military indebted to him for doubling their pay and his “old friend” China’s Xi, and a mythos built around fearlessness and defiance. His war on drugs wasn’t just a policy - it was a performance. And its impact – on the streets, in communities, in our collective psyche – has outlived his term.
So, when his lawyers argue that he’s now powerless, that his days of influence are over, they’re not just wrong. They’re trying to gaslight an entire nation.
Because the truth is this: power doesn’t only reside in position. It resides in memory. In myth. In fear.
In Duterte’s case, power also resides in the very real machinery of loyal political allies, social media echo chambers, and a public image carefully crafted to invoke strength and survival at any cost like the P10-million troll farms in the 2016 presidential election.
That’s what makes the idea of interim release not just misguided, but dangerous.
It risks becoming a symbolic resurrection - a chance for Duterte to mount the horse once more, not to fight for justice, but to ride over it.
And just like El Cid’s legendary ride sent enemies fleeing in awe, Duterte’s release could send waves through the justice system, the ICC proceedings, and the fragile spaces where victims still wait for accountability.
Because even now, his DDS remain loud. Vocal. Ready.
Duterte Diehard Supporters (DDS)
Interim release could embolden them. It could intimidate witnesses, destabilize narratives, and pollute discourse with the same old tactics of disinformation, fear, and revisionism.
Let’s not forget: this is a man who has already won back Davao’s mayoralty in a landslide. A man whose mere image still causes chills or cheers, depending on which part of the country you’re standing in.
He is not a flight risk. He is a symbolic threat.
His release isn’t a matter of logistics or legal nuance. It’s a matter of principle. Of precedent. Of whether the global justice system will stand firm in the face of myth and might.
Because if Duterte is allowed to walk free – even temporarily – the message won’t just echo in the halls of The Hague. It will resound in every barangay where justice still feels like a whisper.
Petitioning for the interim release, Duterte’s defenders will claim he’s no longer a man of influence. But history tells us that influence doesn’t need breath to live on. It just needs belief.
Just like El Cid, Duterte represents a story. A myth. A Legacy. One that, if not confronted, will keep riding.
And not every legend deserves a second march into battle.
Let the dead ride if they must. But the living must be held accountable.
Content & editing put together in collaboration with Grammarly & ChatGPT
Head collage photos and design courtesy of Getty Images, ICC, Microsoft Bing image creator & Canva
Still photos courtesy of IMDb, Amazon UK, Plex, GMA Network, Getty Images, IMDb, YouTube, East Asia Forum, iStock, & QuoteFancy
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