DAVAO CITY (August 27) —Nicolas “Nick” Torre III joined the Philippine National Police Academy with only one desire—to make his late father, Rodolfo “Dolfing” Torre, proud of his son. That was his compass. Everything else, the sacrifices, the long marches, the endless duties, came second.
I was one of the first to feel the sting of then 1-star General Torre when he assumed his post as Regional Director of the Philippine National Police in Davao Region.
My only offense? Reporting that, for the first time, a Regional Director had called for a command conference at 4:00 in the morning.
He didn’t like it. He hit back hard, even calling me out in public. But as expected of me, I stood by my story. Days later, through his friends, Torre got my number and called. He wanted to explain. That was the first time I felt the duality of the man: sharp, strict, but still willing to reach out.
Then came the KOJC saga—the endless nights, the harassment of journalists, the absence of protection in Davao. We had no one to turn to. Not the politicians. Not the so-called powers-that-be. We had to set up our own little shelter at the Office of Civil Defense XI just to breathe, to work, to survive.
I still remember Torre’s words to me during that time:
“Sabihin nyo lang ang totoo. Pero dahil wala kayong masandalan sa security, humanap kayo ng kaibigan—yong taga-Davao na pulis. Si Hansel (Marantan), mabait yan, puede kayong tulungan kung gipit na kayo.”
Those words stayed with me. At a time when we felt abandoned, Torre told us to lean on the truth—and on the integrity of a few good men.
He was not one to sugarcoat reality. When Quiboloy was still in hiding, Torre confided:
“Mahirap ito. Sinabihan ko si Chief PNP (General Rommel Marbil), I will lead and I assume full responsibility. Alam ko naman if hindi successful ito, baka tagawalis lang sa Camp Crame ang bagsak ko. Pero tanggap ko yon. Tanggap na rin ng pamilya ko. Trabaho lang, Ate.”
That was Torre, staking everything, even his career, for a mission.
On March 11, his 55th birthday, I greeted him early in the morning. By noon, I learned he was at NAIA, leading the arrest of former President Rodrigo Duterte. Shocked, I confronted him:
“Bakit mo ginawa kay Digong? Kaidad lang ng tatay mo si Digong. Inhuman ka ba?”
His answer was plain:
“May order sa akin. Sinunod ko lang.”
I pressed: Was this ambition? His path to becoming Chief PNP? Torre simply replied:
“Trabaho ko yon. If not me, then who?”
That was Torre, duty above everything, even if it meant standing in the line of fire of public anger.
When he finally wore the four stars on June 2, I asked if he was ready to carry the weight of history: a boy born in Jolo, raised in South Cotabato, the first graduate of the PNPA to become Chief PNP. The PMA “elites” would never easily accept it.
His answer was simple: “Trabaho lang naman ito hindi personal.”
But simplicity has its price. His loyalty was praised by some, mocked by others. When Secretary Jonvic Remulla called him a “Pitbull,” I wondered, was it loyalty or blindness?
Yet one thing stood out. When people called him names, Torre would only say:
“Sanay na ako d’yan, nagtatrabaho lang ako.”
And up to Camp Crame, he remained the same probinsyano. On top of his table, I saw no elite food—only paksiw na isda, talbos ng kamote, itlog, and sabaw. A rural boy in Camp Crame, carrying four stars on his shoulders.
For me, that was Torre: he followed many unpopular orders, but he always took full responsibility. When he was branded a “pitbull,” he just smiled.
Then came the blow no pitbull could withstand. The National Police Commission (Napolcom) issued an order questioning Torre’s relief of Lt. Gen. Jose Melencio Nartatez and other officers aligned with the Palace. Many said he went “beyond his authority.” Even Senator Ping Lacson was blunt: the relief of high-ranking PNP officials cannot be done unilaterally by the Chief PNP—it must be cleared with the President or the DILG Secretary.
Camp Crame insiders whispered the same verdict: “He acted on his own.”
From the 4:00 AM command conferences to the KOJC siege, from Duterte’s arrest to the Napolcom order, Torre’s story is one of loyalty, defiance, and ultimately, consequence.
I will always remember our last talk in July. I asked him to send Davao policemen home after months in Luzon. Quietly, without fanfare, he granted the wish for four families. Fifty-six others remained deployed, but for those four families, Torre made a difference.
That was him: a man who could follow orders that shook the nation, yet still spare a thought for families waiting to come home.
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