Former President Rodrigo Duterte now confronts the final chapter of a life defined by power, controversy, and conviction. Before the judges of the International Criminal Court, the man once feared — and fiercely defended — at home stands accused on the world stage.
Yet what emerged during the final day of the confirmation of charges hearing was not the image of a broken leader pleading for sympathy. Instead, the defense presented a portrait of a man who appears ready to face judgment, while refusing to abandon the principles and decisions that shaped his presidency.
According to defense lawyer Nicholas Kaufman, Duterte has accepted the possibility that he may never again return home a free man. He may even die in prison. But acceptance, in Duterte’s case, does not mean surrender of belief.
When urged to review the prosecution’s evidence — witness accounts, hearings, and legal arguments painstakingly assembled against him — Duterte reportedly declined. The former prosecutor instead returned to a question that cuts through the complexity of international law: How, exactly, am I responsible?
It is a question both legal and political.
The prosecution’s case rests largely on the doctrine of indirect co-perpetration — the argument that a leader can be held criminally liable for actions carried out by others under an alleged shared plan. The defense counters that this transforms political rhetoric into criminal intent, replacing direct proof with interpretation.
Kaufman’s criticism was blunt. The case, he argued, leans heavily on testimonies from cooperating witnesses — individuals described as admitted perpetrators seeking leniency. Duterte himself reportedly struggled with the fairness of being accused on the strength of statements from criminals while he remains presumed innocent.
If there is irony in this moment, it is that Duterte — once a prosecutor who demanded accountability from others — now questions the very mechanisms seeking accountability from him.
But beyond legal doctrine lies something deeper: legacy.
Kaufman told the court that Duterte believes he has already fulfilled his duty to the Filipino people. He has asked his lawyers to continue fighting, even as he acknowledges he may no longer play an active role in his own defense. He wishes, the lawyer said, to be remembered simply as a “faithful servant of the people.”
Supporters continue to send letters, flowers, and messages of loyalty. Photos of his children reportedly lift his spirits. These personal glimpses humanize a figure often reduced to political slogans — hero to some, violator to others.
And therein lies the enduring divide.
To millions of supporters, Duterte was the leader who imposed order where fear once ruled the streets. To critics, his war on drugs crossed moral and legal boundaries that no democratic government should breach. The ICC proceedings now attempt to answer whether political will became criminal responsibility.
The defense’s final appeal was emotional but pointed: if Duterte is guilty of anything, it is harsh language — not murder.
Whether the judges agree will soon become clear. Within 60 days, they will decide if the case advances to trial. The ruling will not settle history’s debate, but it will determine whether the accusations meet the threshold for international prosecution.
What is certain is this: Rodrigo Duterte does not appear prepared to rewrite his past to secure mercy. He stands by his words, his decisions, and the legacy he believes history will ultimately judge more kindly than his critics do.
In The Hague, a former president waits — not asking for absolution, but insisting, to the very end, that he did what he believed was right.
The court will weigh the evidence.
History will weigh the man.
