Maduros

Defence lawyers had asked for case to be thrown out, claiming Maduro’s rights were violated following US abduction.

The United States has agreed to ease certain sanctions on Venezuela in order to allow the country’s government to cover the legal fees for ex-president Nicolas Maduro, who is on federal trial in New York City for drug trafficking charges after being abducted by US forces in January.

Maduro’s lawyer, Barry Pollack, had asked the Manhattan-based US District Judge Alvin Hellerstein to toss out the case in February, arguing that a prohibition on the government in Caracas paying the legal fees constituted a violation of Maduro’s legal right to the counsel of his choice.

In a court filing, US Department of Justice lawyers agreed to modify US sanctions so that the Venezuelan government could pay Maduro’s defence lawyer. They said the change makes the defence’s motion to throw out the case “moot”.

The pivot is the latest update in a closely watched trial that has raised a series of legal questions based on Maduro’s status as a former head of state and how he was taken into US custody.

Critics have condemned the proceedings as fundamentally illegitimate, pointing to the extraordinary US military operation to abduct Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, from Venezuela. Legal experts have called the raid a blatant violation of international law.

The Trump administration has maintained that the abduction was a law enforcement operation supported by the military. It has argued that Washington does not recognise Maduro as the legitimate leader of Venezuela following several contested elections.

Under the international law concept of “head of state immunity”, sitting world leaders are typically granted immunity from foreign national courts.

After being spirited to the US, Maduro and Flores pleaded not guilty and remain jailed in Brooklyn, New York. Maduro has rejected the US charges as a false pretext for seizing control of the South American country’s natural resources.

US President Donald Trump has repeatedly expressed his desire for foreign companies to access Venezuela’s vast oil reserves.

During a hearing on March 26, Judge Hellerstein did not signal that he would throw out the trial, but did question whether the sanctions preventing the Venezuelan government from covering Maduro’s legal fees were a violation of constitutional rights.

All criminal defendants in the US have constitutional rights, regardless of whether or not they are US citizens.

Prosecutors, at the time, argued that the sanctions were based on national security interests and asserted that the executive branch, rather than the judiciary, oversees foreign policy.

They further argued that Maduro and Flores could use personal funds to pay for a lawyer of their choice.

“The defendant is here, Flores is here. They present no further national security threat,” said Hellerstein.

“The right that’s implicated, paramount over other rights, is the right to constitutional counsel.”

As has been widely reported, Nicolás Maduro has moved to dismiss the criminal charges of narco-terrorism conspiracy, cocaine importation conspiracy, and weapons-related offenses brought against him in the Southern District of New York, because the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela has not been able to pay the fees of the high-profile lawyer Maduro has chosen: Barry J. Pollack. At this point, Maduro is not asking the federal court in Manhattan to declare him innocent. What he is asking for right now is something narrower, but still potentially powerful: he wants the court to dismiss the criminal charges against him because, according to his lawyers, the United States is blocking the money he says is needed to pay the lawyer he chose to defend him.

That sounds technical, but not necessarily complicated. In a criminal case in the US, a defendant has a constitutional right to a fair chance to defend himself. Part of that right, in many circumstances, includes the right to be represented by counsel of his own choosing, so long as that lawyer is qualified and there is no conflict. Maduro says the government, through OFAC sanctions, first allowed his lawyer, Pollack, to be paid by the Venezuelan state and then quickly reversed itself, leaving him unable to fund the defense he wants. Maduro’s motion to dismiss the charges says that this kind of interference violates the Sixth Amendment and due process (protected by the Constitution of the United States).

The criminal case itself is serious and very concrete. It alleges that for years senior Venezuelan officials worked with major criminal and armed organizations to move large quantities of cocaine toward the United States. The indictment also names Cilia Flores de Maduro, Diosdado Cabello Rondón, Ramón Rodríguez Chacín, Nicolás Ernesto Maduro Guerra, and Héctor Rusthenford Guerrero Flores (the main leader of Tren de Aragua).

The present legal dispute is over whether the United States can prosecute Maduro while at the same time prevent the funding arrangement on which his chosen defense depends. That is why Maduro’s motion relies so heavily on the case of United States v. Stein, the Second Circuit case decided in 2006, cited as 435 F.Supp.2d 330 (S.D.N.Y. 2006), which affirmed dismissal after government pressure effectively cut off payment of legal fees by a third party. That precedent does not mean Maduro automatically wins, but it is not a frivolous citation either. It is the strongest case he has at this point.

An unusual case

Barry Pollack, Maduro’s lawyer, is not just any lawyer. He is a well-known white collar and national security defense attorney, and he represented Julian Assange and negotiated the plea agreement that secured Assange’s release. Maduro is not complaining about the quality of available appointed counsel (public defenders) in the abstract. He is claiming a right to keep the specific lawyer he retained.

Still, Maduro’s argument has an obvious weakness. The money he wants to use is not his own personal money. It is money that the current Venezuelan authorities, i.e., Delcy Eloina Rodriguez et al., say they are willing to use for his defense, and Maduro’s defense says Venezuelan law and practice require that support.

But that underlying proposition is not something the New York court necessarily has to decide in any definitive way. The judge may conclude that even if there is a dispute under Venezuelan public law about whether the Republic should pay to defend a former ruler accused of running a criminal enterprise, that is not the immediate federal constitutional question before him. The immediate question is narrower: has the United States, by its own OFAC sanctions, interfered with Maduro’s ability to have the lawyer of his choice?

Can the Executive Branch of the United States selectively block a payment source in a way that undermines the fairness of the criminal process?

That distinction is crucial. A Venezuelan lawyer, taxpayer, legislator, or court might frame the issue one way: can public money legally be used to defend a former head of state accused of crimes that, if true, look personal, corrupt, and far outside any legitimate official duty? Things could be different for acts like war crimes or crimes against humanity carried out through the use of state power, such as directing the armed forces. Those types of conduct are often treated as acts performed in an official capacity for purposes of attribution to the State, even though they can also give rise to individual criminal responsibility. Maduro is not currently being prosecuted for those.

A US federal judge, however, may frame the question entirely differently: once the United States has brought this defendant into an American courtroom, can the Executive Branch of the United States selectively block a payment source in a way that undermines the fairness of the criminal process?

Public law systems generally do not treat the treasury as an open-ended insurance policy for any conduct by any officeholder. A serious argument can be made that the state should defend officials for acts tied to the exercise of public office, but not for allegedly private criminal enterprises carried out under cover of office. If the accusation is that an official used the state as a shell for drug trafficking, bribery, or cartel protection, then the argument for mandatory public funding becomes much weaker. That does not make the issue easy. It just means it is not nearly as obvious as Maduro’s motion to dismiss suggests.

There is another layer too. The legitimacy of Maduro’s political authority matters in the background, even if it may not control this problem. The Carter Center said the 2024 Venezuelan presidential election did not meet international standards and could not be verified or corroborated. Reuters reported the same at the time. There are strong public grounds to reject the idea that Maduro’s continued hold on power after the 2024 election reflected a democratic mandate.

But even that does not end the question. US courts often care less about democratic theory than about practical recognition and real-world control. And here the geopolitical situation moved quickly. Washington recognized Delcy Rodríguez’s government in March 2026 and then lifted personal sanctions on her on April 1, 2026. That change is relevant because it undercuts any simplistic claim that all Venezuelan state funds remain equally untouchable in all contexts.

The cleanest way out for the government would be to authorize payment from a clearly identified, untainted funding source subject to tight conditions and reporting. 

That is part of why Judge Alvin Hellerstein pressed the government at the March 26 hearing. Public reports show that he did not dismiss the indictment on the spot. In fact, he signaled the opposite. But he also questioned the coherence of the government’s position and wanted more explanation for why a government now being courted for commercial engagement by the Trump afdministration could not fund a criminal defense. The judge was not ready to throw the case out, but was also not fully satisfied with the prosecution’s answer.

OFAC’s public conduct cuts both ways. Sanctions law often does restrict dealings with blocked governments and blocked persons. However, OFAC publicly issued a series of Venezuela related general licenses in February 2026, including General License 47 on diluents, updated General Licenses 30B, 46A, and 48 on port and airport operations, Venezuelan origin oil, and oil and gas support, and then General Licenses 49 and 50 on contingent investments and certain oil and gas sector operations. Maduro’s lawyers use that sequence to say, in essence: if the Treasury Department can authorize business, investment, and energy transactions involving Venezuela, why can it not authorize payment for criminal defense fees that implicate an express constitutional concern?

The prosecutors, of course, have their own answer. Public reporting says they argued Maduro and Flores could use personal funds, but not Venezuelan state funds, because those public funds are tied to the sanctions framework and, in their view, to illicit proceeds or national security concerns. That position is not irrational. If the government believes the Venezuelan state under Maduro was itself part of the alleged criminal machinery, then letting that same state bankroll the defense may look, from the prosecution’s perspective, like forcing the United States to tolerate the use of tainted sovereign resources to resist prosecution in an American court.

Even so, the government’s position has vulnerabilities. The strongest is not political but doctrinal. The U.S. Supreme Court has treated wrongful denial of counsel of choice as a structural problem, not just an ordinary trial error. And Stein remains a serious Second Circuit precedent where government interference with third party fee payments led to dismissal. Maduro’s legal team is therefore not asking for some exotic new rule. It is trying to fit this unusual case into an existing line of Sixth Amendment and Due Process law.

Maduro’s case involves sanctions, foreign policy, blocked sovereign funds, and a defendant accused of using state power as part of the criminal conduct itself. A judge could reasonably decide that the Stein precedent is relevant but not controlling. A judge could also decide that the proper remedy, if there is a constitutional problem, is not dismissal now but some narrower effort to clarify what funding sources are actually available, whether untainted personal or third-party funds exist, and whether appointed counsel would eliminate any immediate prejudice. That appears to be why Judge Hellerstein has so far resisted the defense’s request for instant dismissal.

This is where the “indigent defendant” point needs to be stated carefully. If Maduro truly had no usable money at all, the court could appoint a public defender under the Criminal Justice Act. That would solve one problem, but not necessarily the one Maduro wants to litigate. His claim is not merely that he wants a lawyer. It is that the government unlawfully blocked the lawyer he picked. Those are related but different ideas. In constitutional terms, appointed counsel is not always a complete answer to an alleged denial of retained counsel of choice.  At the March 26, 2026 hearing, judge Hellerstein offered Maduro’s lawyer an easy off-ramp: should Pollack quit the case, the judge would simply appoint a public defender and carry on with the proceeding.  Pollack, naturally, did not take that off-ramp. And here, again, what Maduro and Delcy are saying is that they (or rather, Venezuelan taxpayers) indeed have the funds, but are being improperly prevented from using such funds.

A process under the American rule of law

So where does that leave matters? In practical terms, somewhere in the middle. Maduro has not shown, at least not yet in public, that dismissal is proper. But the government also has not made the issue disappear by pointing to the possibility of appointed counsel (a public defender). The more OFAC authorizes broad commercial re-engagement with Venezuela while continuing to refuse this narrow defense related authorization, the more uncomfortable the constitutional optics become. I do not believe that Venezuela should pay for Maduro’s legal defense; the problem, however, is that Venezuela wants to pay.

The cleanest way out for the government would be to authorize payment from a clearly identified, untainted funding source subject to tight conditions and reporting. That would preserve the prosecution, avoid turning this pretrial funding dispute into the central drama of the case, and reduce the risk that any eventual conviction is shadowed by a serious Sixth Amendment (Due Process) fight. If the government refuses to do that, it keeps feeding the argument that it wants to control not only the prosecution but also the defense.

The larger irony is hard to miss. Maduro now invokes constitutional protections that his own regime routinely denied to political prisoners, dissidents, and disappeared persons. But American courts are not supposed to ration constitutional rights according to moral sympathy. If the United States has chosen to bring him before a federal court, it must be prepared to give him the process the Constitution requires. The real question is not whether Maduro deserves indulgence.

At least for now, Judge Hellerstein seems unwilling to end the case on that basis alone. But he also seems unwilling to accept a lazy answer. And that may be the most important point of all. This is no longer just a sanctions issue or a Venezuela issue. It is a rule of law issue inside an American courtroom.

Nicolás Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores appeared this Thursday at the US Southern District Court in lower Manhattan for the second hearing since their extraction in January, this time to argue that the US government’s refusal to let Venezuela foot their legal bill amounts to a constitutional violation. Judge Alvin Hellerstein said he wouldn’t dismiss the case, but no decision was taken over the issue of Maduro’s lawyer fees. 

Outside, in the street, New York was doing what New York does, moving fast and with indifference, while dozens of people brought twenty-five years worth of receipts to show to a multitude of pro-Maduro advocates and those leaving the courthouse. This is what I saw.

On the way to 500 Pearl Street, I passed two men wearing matching grey Nike tech sets, the now infamous outfit that Maduro was wearing in the first image after his extraction. They weren’t there for the protest, surprisingly, but your brain does what it does.

I got there around 10 am with a Venezuelan flag, a phone and a jacket that I quickly regretted bringing. Even the maracuchos were struggling with the heat after a while. By the time I arrived, the scene outside the courthouse had long organized itself into two blocs. On one side: baseball jerseys, suits, delivery backpacks, seven and eight-starred flags, and handmade signs. Hanging from a tree like a piñata that had made bad life choices, a Maduro life-size figure in a prison uniform courtesy of artist Jorge Torrealba. A Spanish man held up a sign with the faces of Maduro, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero and Pedro Sánchez below the word Criminales. A woman from Catatumbo, Zulia held a sign that read Libertad para Fernando Loaiza, the democratically elected mayor of her local government who was detained last March by Maduro security forces and still remains in prison without trial.

On the other side of the barricade, mass produced laminated signs asking for the release of Maduro and Flores and chants delivered with little conviction. The early birds reported that the crowd arrived around 8 am. Although I found no public call from the expected culprits (The People’s Forum, Codepink, and other usual suspects) they assembled around 20 people from different socialist groups, holding our flag with the slightly uncertain grip of someone who had picked it up that morning. Their chants were about US imperialism, sovereignty, and international law. All real things. All also, somehow, beside the point.

The pro-Maduro crowd chanted back: “Free them all.” For a second I thought we were agreeing on the immediate and unconditional release of Venezuelan political prisoners.

When Venezuelan citizens addressed the crowd in Spanish, there was mostly no reaction. Some of them got out a word or two, with the confidence of a born-and-raised Venezuelan yet the persuasiveness of a no sabo kid. When we spoke their language, American English, they either ignored us, flipped us off, or played dumb.  

The Venezuelan ensemble erupted into “A mí no me pagaron, yo vine porque quise” (I didn’t get paid, I came because I wanted to) with the exasperated tone of a people who have been chanting this phrase for decades. In the background, a t-shirt with an all caps text stood out: I’M VENEZUELAN. NO PROPAGANDA.

Our Gloria al Bravo Pueblo was sung at least six times, drowning out the chants of the US protesters without fail every single time. Tambores weren’t lacking, either. The chant that carried the morning was ¿Quiénes somos? Venezuela. ¿Qué queremos? Libertad. ¿Qué queremos? Justicia. Over and over. 

Ironically, the pro-Maduro crowd chanted back: “Free them all.” For a second I thought we were agreeing on the immediate and unconditional release of the 503 political prisoners that Delcy Rodríguez and Diosdado Cabello still refuse to let out. There’s a particular kind of cognitive dissonance that works like a splinter. I started drifting toward the ones within hearing range.

There was a pride flag next to a Free Maduro sign. I asked about Yendri Velázquez, LGBTQ+ activist shot alongside Luis Peche in a targeted attack in Colombia, both of them driven into exile by the regime they exposed. They too await justice to be served. I asked them about the socialist Gran Polo Patriótico bloc that has spent years with the government’s full blessing refusing to address abortion rights or same-sex marriage in the National Assembly. By 2025, Pride in Caracas had been stripped of its activist organizations, and groups that chose to march did so “as discreetly as possible” because of Maduro & Co.’s post-28J crackdown. 

Almost everyone was wearing a Palestinian keffiyeh, which made the next question unavoidable. In 2017, then-Foreign Minister Delcy Rodríguez expressed Venezuela’s desire to restore full ties with Israel. The following year, Maduro welcomed Jerusalem’s Sephardic chief rabbi to Miraflores tweeting about it warmly and awarding him with the Libertadoras y Libertadores medal. Venezuela never stopped trading with Israel either, not even after Chávez cut diplomatic relations. Anti-Zionism is a costume worn for the cameras and removed at Miraflores. A useful one the international left has used to dismiss criticisms against Maduro in the name of anti-imperialism.

The man who spent decades making sure others couldn’t speak now needs a translator to follow the room.

The international left has a type when it comes to diasporas: the refugee, the grieving exile, the cautionary tale of imperialism. Step out of those lines and you become brainwashed, biased, or on somebody’s payroll. We’re victims or foe. Noble savages or CIA plants. The crowd outside the courthouse on Thursday didn’t fit any of those categories, and didn’t try to. They are the people who have spent years being told their grief is too close to be credible and their knowledge too lived-in to count as such.

Around noon, the pro-Maduro contingent quickly cleared out. Clocked out, if you will. The hearing ended at one, giving me just enough time to gather some impressions before heading uptown for my afternoon class.

Those who had been inside began filtering out into the streets and the gathering. Among them was Jorge Torrealba, wearing a colorful outfit and holding a stack of papers. A crowd formed around him immediately. He shuffled through his sketches of the hearing as questions came from every direction: What did he look like? ¿Cómo lo viste? When is the next hearing? Did he say anything?

He looked skinnier, Torrealba said. And quiet. That tracked. Unlike the January arraignment, when Maduro delivered a several-minutes-long speech professing his innocence from the defense table, he said nothing in court on Thursday. Neither did anyone in the audience. He sat in his grey prison uniform with headphones on, jotting notes, occasionally leaning over to whisper to his lawyer through an interpreter.

The man who spent decades making sure others couldn’t speak now needs a translator to follow the room. We didn’t need one to tell each other—and the world—what it costs to have been right for twenty-five years and to finally not have to whisper it.

A United States judge has said that he will not dismiss the drug-trafficking and weapons possession charges brought against former Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores.

But in a Thursday court hearing, Judge Alvin Hellerstein questioned whether the US government has the right to bar Venezuela from funding Maduro’s legal expenses.

The hearing was the first for Maduro and his wife since a brief January arraignment, where they pleaded not guilty.

Maduro and Flores have sought to have the charges against them thrown out. Hellerstein declined to do so, but he pressed the prosecution on some of the issues Maduro’s legal team raised in its petition to dismiss the case.

Among them was a decision by the administration of US President Donald Trump to prevent the Venezuelan government from financing Maduro’s defence.

Federal prosecutors argued that national security reasons prevented the US from allowing such payments. They also pointed to ongoing sanctions against the Venezuelan government.

But Hellerstein pushed back against that argument, noting that Trump had eased sanctions against Venezuela since Maduro’s abduction on January 3. He also questioned how Maduro might pose a security threat while imprisoned in New York.

“The defendant is here. Flores is here. They present no further national security threat,” said Hellerstein. “I see no abiding interest of national security on the right to defend themselves.”

Hellerstein emphasised that, in the US, all criminal defendants have the right to a vigorous defence, as part of the Constitution’s Sixth Amendment.

“The right that’s implicated, paramount over other rights, is the right to constitutional counsel,” he said.

Maduro, who led Venezuela from 2013 to 2026, has been charged with four criminal counts, including narco-terrorism conspiracy, conspiracy to import cocaine, the possession of machine guns and the conspiracy to possess machine guns and other destructive devices.

He and his wife were taken into US custody on January 3, after Trump launched an attack on Venezuela.

The Trump administration has framed the military operation as a “law enforcement function”, but experts say it was widely considered illegal under international law, which protects local sovereignty.

Maduro has cited his status as the leader of a foreign country as part of his push to see the case dismissed.

When he last appeared in court, on January 5, he told the judge, “I’m still the president of my country.”

In a February hearing, his defence team sought to dismiss the charges on the basis that preventing Venezuela from paying his legal fees was “interfering with Mr Maduro’s ability to retain counsel and, therefore, his right under the Sixth Amendment to counsel of his choice”.

In an interview with the news agency AFP on Thursday, Maduro’s son, Venezuelan lawmaker Nicolas Maduro Guerra, said that he trusts the US legal system but believes that his father’s trial has been mishandled.

“This trial has vestiges of illegitimacy from the start, because of the capture, the kidnapping, of an elected president in a military operation,” Maduro Guerra said in Caracas.

Protests and counter-protests took place in front of the New York City courthouse on Thursday, with some condemning the US’s actions and others holding signs in support of the trial with slogans like, “Maduro rot in prison.”

Trump himself weighed in on the proceedings during a Thursday cabinet meeting, hinting that further charges could be brought against Maduro.

“He emptied his prisons in Venezuela, emptied his prisons into our country,” Trump said of Maduro, reiterating an unsubstantiated claim.

“And I hope that charge will be brought at some point. Because that was a big charge that hasn’t been brought yet. It should be brought.”

Trump has had an adversarial relationship with Maduro since his first term in office, when he issued a bounty for the Venezuelan leader’s arrest. He has frequently repeated baseless claims that Maduro intentionally sent immigrants and drugs to the US in a bid to destabilise the country.

Those claims have served as a pretext for Trump claiming emergency powers in realms such as immigration and national security. On Thursday, Trump emphasised that, while he expected a “fair trial”, he expected more legal action to be taken against Maduro.

“I would imagine there are other trials coming because they’ve really sued him just at a fraction of the kind of things that he’s done,” Trump said. “Other cases are going to be brought, as you probably know.”