Opinion: Washington Captured the Man Who Justified a Year of Killings at Sea. The Killings Didn't Stop.
A year after the first lethal strike on a suspected drug boat, Nicolás Maduro sits in a Brooklyn cell awaiting trial — and the campaign that was supposed to end with him has outlived its own justification, while Congress keeps declining to vote it down.

A year ago this month, the United States military fired on a small boat in the Caribbean Sea and killed everyone aboard. The Pentagon called the nine dead "narco-terrorists." No court reviewed the evidence. No indictment was filed. The strike was the first of a campaign that has not stopped since, and the architect of the policy, Nicolás Maduro, is no longer in Caracas to answer for it. He is in a federal detention center in Brooklyn, awaiting a trial date in June 2027 on narco-trafficking charges, after an American raid flew him out of Venezuela in January.
That ought to have been the campaign's natural end point. The stated premise of the strikes, repeated by administration officials for a year, was that Venezuela's government had become a state-sponsored narcotics operation that ordinary law enforcement could not reach, and that only military force could stop the flow of cocaine moving north through Caribbean and Pacific waters. Maduro is now in American custody. The strikes continued anyway. Weeks after his capture, forces conducted what news organizations reported as the first strike of the post-Maduro period in the eastern Pacific, killing two more people. They have not let up since.
A War That Outlived Its Own Justification
The monitoring group Airwars had tallied at least 227 deaths in the campaign by late August. U.S. Southern Command announced two more strikes in September alone, on the 9th and the 19th, carried out by a unit called Joint Task Force Western Hemisphere, created in August specifically to run this operation on a standing basis. Seven more people died in those two strikes. The arithmetic points toward a toll well past 230 people, more than a year into a campaign that the government still has not formally named a war, has not asked Congress to authorize, and has not subjected to any public accounting of who, exactly, was on each boat.
That absence of accounting is not incidental. It is the whole design. The administration's legal theory, laid out in reports to Congress, treats the strikes as self-defense against designated terrorist organizations in a "non-international armed conflict," a framing that borrows the vocabulary of war without the constraints that normally come with it: no requirement to show an individual posed an imminent threat, no judicial process, no public casualty accounting of the kind the Pentagon produces, however imperfectly, in actual war zones. Independent monitors who track survivors have found the gap especially stark. Reporting in May found that at least 22 people who survived an initial strike were never located afterward, and that information about survivors the military says it passes to the Coast Guard has often gone nowhere.
Congress Voted Twice. Twice It Declined.
Congress has not been silent. Senator Tim Kaine, joined by Senators Rand Paul and Adam Schiff, forced two Senate votes last fall on a joint resolution directing the president to end the use of armed forces against Venezuela absent explicit congressional authorization. An initial procedural vote advanced on a bipartisan basis. The decisive one did not: on November 6, 2025, a motion to discharge the resolution from committee failed on the Senate floor, 49 to 51, with only Paul and Lisa Murkowski crossing party lines. The chamber that the Constitution assigns the power to declare war looked directly at a campaign that had already killed well over a hundred people without trial, and could not muster a majority to even debate stopping it.
Nothing has materially changed in the year since to answer the objections that failed vote left unresolved. The strikes have expanded rather than contracted. The military unit running them has become permanent. The death toll has roughly doubled. And the event that was supposed to be the campaign's culmination — the removal of Maduro — has already happened, with no accompanying wind-down.
"When someone is accused of a crime outside of armed conflict, they get a trial, not a summary execution," the Center for Civilians in Conflict said of the campaign, arguing the strikes amount to unlawful killing of people who, whatever their alleged offense, were not combatants in any recognized conflict.
What the Courts Are Being Asked to Decide
With the legislature unwilling to act, the question of legality has moved into federal court, where it moves far more slowly. In January, the families of two Trinidadian men, Chad Joseph and Rishi Samaroo, killed in an October 2025 strike while returning home from Venezuela by boat, filed the first wrongful-death suit over the campaign. The case, Burnley v. United States, brought by the ACLU and the Center for Constitutional Rights in federal court in Massachusetts, invokes the Death on the High Seas Act and the Alien Tort Statute and calls the strike that killed the two men an extrajudicial execution carried out against civilians who posed no threat. It remains pending. Courts adjudicate one death, one plaintiff, one set of facts at a time; a campaign that has killed well over two hundred people in a year will not be resolved, even in the most favorable scenario for the families bringing suit, before many more boats are hit.
International bodies have been more direct, if no more binding. At the U.N. Security Council, Venezuela's government and other member states have repeatedly pressed for an accounting of strikes they describe as extrajudicial killings in international waters, while independent U.N. human rights experts separately concluded the strikes violate the international law of the sea. None of that carries enforcement power inside the United States. The raid that captured Maduro was itself a demonstration of how far the executive branch is willing to go unilaterally when it has decided a threat warrants it — more than 150 aircraft, 20 bases, a detainee flown to a Navy ship and then to New York, all without a declaration of war or specific statutory authorization beyond the administration's own reading of Article II.
A Precedent, Not a Policy
The point of examining this anniversary is not that the drug trade through the Caribbean is imaginary, or that interdiction is illegitimate. It is that a year of lethal strikes conducted on executive say-so, against targets never named in advance, under a legal theory invented for the occasion, has now outlasted the one event — the fall of a hostile government — that gave it the clearest claim to urgency. If the strikes were truly bound to that cause, they should have been reconsidered when Maduro was taken into American custody. They were not. If they are not bound to that cause, then neither is their prospective end date. What began as an emergency measure against a specific adversary has become a standing capability, run by a standing task force, defended by a legal theory that forecloses judicial review and that Congress has twice declined to challenge. That is not a counter-narcotics policy. It is a precedent for how a future president, facing a future emergency real or invented, can kill people at sea indefinitely while the only branch of government empowered to stop it keeps finding reasons not to vote.
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