Amid renewed debate on media credibility following Pasig City Mayor Vico Sotto’s explosive claim about a supposed “₱10-million paid interview,” former ABS-CBN senior reporter Niko Baua resurfaced a personal account from the 2013 pork barrel scam that highlighted how corruption also seeps into the newsroom.
In a series of Instagram stories last August 23, Baua looked back at one of the “biggest frustrations” of his reporting career. Weeks before the scandal broke, he and a small group of journalists from ABS-CBN, Inquirer, GMA, and TV5 already knew about the abduction of whistleblower Benhur Luy by Janet Lim-Napoles and his subsequent rescue by the NBI.
At the NBI’s request, they withheld the story to avoid jeopardizing the investigation. “We saw the value rin kasi of waiting for the agents to complete at least most of the documentary evidence, than reporting it piecemeal—which might jeopardize the whole investigation,” Baua explained.
But while the coverage was unfolding, Baua discovered that the story was not just about politicians. “Napoles wasn’t just friends with senators and congressmen, but also with reporters and anchors, generals, society figures, even members of the clergy,” he recalled.
Baua recounted that he was surprised when Luy refused to grant ABS-CBN an interview, despite NBI agents vouching for him. Initially, he thought it was a matter of preference, joking that maybe Luy was simply a “Kapuso fan.”
Later, however, he was told the real reason: “Some of the whistleblowers personally knew that certain reporters and anchors were in a payola funded by the scam.”
“I was amused by that list, kasi bukod sa political reporters may showbiz reporters din. Marami sila, and they came from different media outfits,” he added.
Baua further disclosed that one of the names mentioned was an anchorman he had previously worked with—which he believed cost him the chance to get Luy’s side.
“Bribery in the industry, much like in government, is hard to prove. There are red flags though, and you can tell… With this particular anchor, marami naghihinala. Pero in this instance, may nag-confirm, and I didn’t have any reason to doubt,” he said.
Irritated by the experience, Baua recalled once confronting the anchorman in the hallway: “Hi [redacted], baka matulungan mo ako. Ayaw magpainterview sa akin nung whistleblowers. Sabi nila kausapin daw kita, close daw kayo ni Janet.” He said the anchorman froze and stammered that he was merely an acquaintance of Napoles.
Looking back, Baua said he often tells this story to aspiring reporters as a cautionary tale: “I always tell this story to young reporters as a warning that bribes aren’t worth it, bukod sa mali. Sure we’re poor, but do you want to be depraved as well? It’s a small industry… mahiya ka dapat kapag alam mong mapaguusapan ka sa ganyang paraan.”
The practice, often called “envelopmental journalism,” has long haunted the Philippine media industry—where certain reporters allegedly accept money in exchange for favorable coverage or silence. As Baua pointed out, while it is difficult to prove, its effects on public trust are lasting.
His revelations come as the media community faces renewed scrutiny over integrity, with the ongoing word war between Mayor Vico and seasoned broadcasters Korina Sanchez and Julius Babao. The resurfacing of Baua’s 2013 account has reignited discussions on how journalists must continuously guard their credibility in the face of political and financial pressures.
