Nicolás Maduro is unlikely to beat his rap

When American prosecutors indict someone, they tend to keep it secret until an arrest is made lest the defendant skips town. But sometimes the charges are publicised first, especially when the target lives beyond the reach of the law. The point is symbolic: to name and shame. Think Russian hackers, Iranian sanctions-busters or even Venezuelan dictators. Indeed few thought much of it when prosecutors unveiled drug-trafficking charges against Nicolás Maduro in 2020.

Nearly six years and one abduction later, the prospects of Mr Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, look rather different. The two await trial in the Metropolitan Detention Centre, a grisly jail in Brooklyn that sits near a Costco and a self-storage site, and whose other recent residents have included Sam Bankman-Fried, Sean “Diddy” Combs and Luigi Mangione. Both Mr Maduro and his wife have pleaded not guilty. Barring a deal, they will probably spend the next year or more trying to persuade courts to toss the case, before their trial eventually opens in Manhattan.

The indictment alleges that the Maduros enriched themselves by helping traffickers smuggle cocaine to America over a 25-year period. Also charged are their son, two other government officials and the leader of Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan gang. Prosecutors say Mr Maduro gave drug-runners diplomatic cover and logistical support in return for a cut; he allegedly ordered the murder of one drug boss who crossed him. Since the State Department considers some of the gangs to be foreign terrorist organisations, one of the four charges against Mr Maduro is an allegation that he supported “narco-terrorism”.

Prosecutors in New York have plenty of experience with sprawling, high-profile narco cases. In 2016 they convicted two of Ms Flores’s nephews who had been recorded brokering a cocaine sale. They have also secured guilty verdicts against “El Chapo”, a Mexican drug lord; Mexico’s former head of public security; and Juan Orlando Hernández, an ex-president of Honduras (whom Donald Trump pardoned).

Mr Maduro’s case is thornier, with more grounds for him to challenge it. One concerns the manner of his capture, which flew in the face of international law. Officials in the Trump administration described it, absurdly, as a routine law-enforcement operation. Marco Rubio, the secretary of state, called Mr Maduro a “fugitive of American justice”. Even so, that is not licence to kidnap someone abroad. Yet this may not offer Mr Maduro relief: American courts recognise a principle called male captus, bene detentus (wrongly captured, properly detained). A dodgy apprehension doesn’t preclude a trial.

Mr Maduro will also say that he has immunity as a head of state. Manuel Noriega, the Panamanian dictator apprehended by American troops and convicted on drug charges, unsuccessfully tried this defence nearly 40 years ago. Unlike Noriega, who was never considered legitimate by the State Department, Mr Maduro was for a time recognised as Venezuela’s leader. But that ended in 2019 and courts tend to defer to the government’s determination.

Toing and froing with pre-trial motions will slow things down, but Mr Maduro’s bid to dismiss the charges will almost certainly fail. When the trial does get under way, it will look like any other narco case, meaning it will rest on the strength of the evidence. Prosecutors will need to tie Mr Maduro personally to the production or shipment of cocaine which he knew was bound for America. They will rely on co-operating insiders with credibility. As it happens two Venezuelan generals mentioned in the indictment have already pleaded guilty. Perhaps they will testify.

Prosecutors sometimes winnow charges before trial but they hardly ever lose mega-narco cases. That is because under the law the bar to show participation in a criminal conspiracy is low. It will not be hard for jurors to grasp that Venezuela is a waystation for Colombian cocaine and that its most senior officials knowingly enabled its transit, predicts Brendan Quigley, who prosecuted Ms Flores’s nephews. To believe this they will not need to see photos of Mr Maduro holding bricks of cocaine. There will probably be secret recordings, incriminating witness testimony and other evidence gathered over years. American prosecutors have been on this case since 2011, when the first set of charges was filed under seal.

Mr Maduro’s best chances, then, have less to do with the underlying facts of the case and more to do with its politics. His lawyers will try to paint the prosecution as one motivated by foreign-policy disagreement and Mr Trump’s own grievances. They will seek to exploit New Yorkers’ antipathy towards the president. For months Americans have watched him misuse the law against his enemies; many resent it. Only one holdout is required for a hung jury. That is not an acquittal, but Mr Maduro could still count it a success.

Or there could be a diplomatic off-ramp. High-profile indictments of foreigners have been dropped and defendants repatriated in the past few years, including Meng Wangzhou, a Chinese executive at Huawei, and Salvador Cienfuegos, a Mexican former defence minister. Viktor Bout, a convicted Russian arms dealer, was freed in a prisoner swap. Mr Maduro’s case will take years to resolve. As long as he is in America, he offers diplomatic leverage. And the one thing that Mr Trump enjoys more than a flash-bang Delta strike-force raid is leverage. ■