Trump Cracks Down: U.S. Targets Maduro’s ‘Narco-Nephews’ and Oil Empire

Paul Riverbank, 12/12/2025US cracks down on Maduro’s “narco-nephews,” targeting Venezuela’s regime with new sanctions and military presence.

Let’s get this out of the way upfront: these are not unknown figures suddenly caught in the dragnet of U.S. policy. Efraín Antonio Campo Flores and Franqui Francisco Flores de Freitas—sometimes dubbed, in a nickname that has stuck like glue, the “narco-nephews”—are hardly strangers to scandal. Back in 2015, the two were caught red-handed in Haiti, embroiled in a cocaine scheme so brazen it might have been written for television. Convicted by a U.S. federal court the following year, they spent a stint behind bars that turned, in 2022, into a get-out-of-jail card courtesy of President Biden, who made the call as part of a prisoner trade. The theory at the time? Extend an olive branch, keep dialogue alive. But as Treasury officials now claim, once home, the nephews wasted no time before slipping back into Venezuela’s illicit networks—familiar territory, perhaps, for the Flores clan.

But if the U.S. is reopening old files, it’s also reviving familiar names. Carlos Erik Malpica Flores, another nephew, can practically recite the sanctions list he’s landed on over the years. A former top administrator in both Venezuela’s government finances and the state oil company PDVSA, Malpica was initially sanctioned back in 2017, then saw his fortunes momentarily brighten in 2022 when Washington eased up in hope of renewed negotiations. That brief window has now slammed shut: he’s firmly back in the crosshairs, a clear signal that the U.S. is not waiting on broken promises of reform or elections anymore.

The net cast by the Treasury isn’t limited to family. Ramón Carretero Napolitano, a businessman flagged for shuttling oil and managing arrangements for the Maduro-Flores nexus, finds himself on the blacklist as well. Six shipping companies—Myra Marine Limited, Arctic Voyager Inc., Poweroy Investment Ltd., Ready Great Ltd., Sino Marine Services Ltd., and Full Happy Ltd.—were named straight out. The web of vessels they control—White Crane, Kiara M, H. Constance, Lattafa, Tamia, and Monique—have reportedly been weaving through international waters in 2025, lights off, trackers silent, in what the insiders call “dark” shipping operations. It’s a cloak-and-dagger routine: switch off transponders, fudge location signals, dodge any digital paper trail as Venezuelan crude moves quietly toward Asian buyers.

The repercussions? They hit harder than simple bureaucratic blockades. Properties and financial interests connected to the named parties are now frozen wherever U.S. authorities can reach—which, given the tentacles of global finance, is a sobering prospect. Banks, insurers, and even unwitting traders now have to navigate a minefield; any transaction linked to the blacklisted individuals or ships could lead to serious legal headaches. The Treasury has made it clear: ignorance is no excuse, and enforcement will be unforgiving.

Yet, this phase of the standoff isn’t playing out purely in boardrooms or embassy backchannels. Recently, the world watched as an oil tanker was seized off Venezuelan shores, punctuating the administration’s new posture—a shift supported by U.S. military muscle in the Caribbean. The arrival of the USS Gerald R. Ford, alongside an escort of destroyers, set the tone: sanctions are only one prong of the strategy, the other is a ramped-up counter-narcotics campaign. The Maduro-aligned Cartel de los Soles—named by U.S. prosecutors and believed to have the president atop its hierarchy—has come into direct focus. If the language from Washington felt tough under Trump’s previous administration, it has returned with a familiar sharpness. Trump’s Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent made no effort to soften the narrative, stating bluntly that the Maduro regime, along with its “cronies,” continues to flood the American market with drugs, blaming the crisis squarely on Venezuela’s leadership.

The policy reversal is hardly subtle. After several years exploring deals and dialogue under the Biden administration, the United States appears to have lost all patience for incremental reform. Military deployments and financial warfare are now converging against those pillars—family, friends, and shadowy business networks—that prop up Venezuela’s embattled regime. The strategy is one of attrition: dry up the lifelines, isolate the enablers, and heighten the costs for anyone willing to play ball with Caracas.

Of course, one shouldn’t romanticize the efficacy of sanctions. History suggests that regimes well-versed in evasion rarely kneel at the first sign of pressure. Networks adapt, reroute assets, and invent creative ways around obstacles. But the message ringing out from Washington today isn’t subtle or half-hearted. The era of “waiting and seeing” has lost favor in the capital. Now, the U.S. seems prepared to keep ratcheting up the pain for Maduro’s inner circle, whatever loopholes they try to exploit next—and for those watching from afar, it’s a pointed warning that U.S. resolve in this corner of the world has not dulled.

The diplomatic gloves have come off—Washington has once again tightened the screws on Nicolás Maduro’s circle in Venezuela, and this time, the targets are as familiar as they are notorious. The U.S. Treasury, abandoning the earlier patience of delicate talks, has lobbed a fresh volley of sanctions straight at the heart of the president’s inner sanctum: three of First Lady Cilia Flores’s nephews, along with a string of shipping companies and one businessman tied tightly to the president’s fortunes.Let’s get this out of the way upfront: these are not unknown figures suddenly caught in the dragnet of U.S. policy. Efraín Antonio Campo Flores and Franqui Francisco Flores de Freitas—sometimes dubbed, in a nickname that has stuck like glue, the “narco-nephews”—are hardly strangers to scandal. Back in 2015, the two were caught red-handed in Haiti, embroiled in a cocaine scheme so brazen it might have been written for television. Convicted by a U.S. federal court the following year, they spent a stint behind bars that turned, in 2022, into a get-out-of-jail card courtesy of President Biden, who made the call as part of a prisoner trade. The theory at the time? Extend an olive branch, keep dialogue alive. But as Treasury officials now claim, once home, the nephews wasted no time before slipping back into Venezuela’s illicit networks—familiar territory, perhaps, for the Flores clan.But if the U.S. is reopening old files, it’s also reviving familiar names. Carlos Erik Malpica Flores, another nephew, can practically recite the sanctions list he’s landed on over the years. A former top administrator in both Venezuela’s government finances and the state oil company PDVSA, Malpica was initially sanctioned back in 2017, then saw his fortunes momentarily brighten in 2022 when Washington eased up in hope of renewed negotiations. That brief window has now slammed shut: he’s firmly back in the crosshairs, a clear signal that the U.S. is not waiting on broken promises of reform or elections anymore.The net cast by the Treasury isn’t limited to family. Ramón Carretero Napolitano, a businessman flagged for shuttling oil and managing arrangements for the Maduro-Flores nexus, finds himself on the blacklist as well. Six shipping companies—Myra Marine Limited, Arctic Voyager Inc., Poweroy Investment Ltd., Ready Great Ltd., Sino Marine Services Ltd., and Full Happy Ltd.—were named straight out. The web of vessels they control—White Crane, Kiara M, H. Constance, Lattafa, Tamia, and Monique—have reportedly been weaving through international waters in 2025, lights off, trackers silent, in what the insiders call “dark” shipping operations. It’s a cloak-and-dagger routine: switch off transponders, fudge location signals, dodge any digital paper trail as Venezuelan crude moves quietly toward Asian buyers.The repercussions? They hit harder than simple bureaucratic blockades. Properties and financial interests connected to the named parties are now frozen wherever U.S. authorities can reach—which, given the tentacles of global finance, is a sobering prospect. Banks, insurers, and even unwitting traders now have to navigate a minefield; any transaction linked to the blacklisted individuals or ships could lead to serious legal headaches. The Treasury has made it clear: ignorance is no excuse, and enforcement will be unforgiving.Yet, this phase of the standoff isn’t playing out purely in boardrooms or embassy backchannels. Recently, the world watched as an oil tanker was seized off Venezuelan shores, punctuating the administration’s new posture—a shift supported by U.S. military muscle in the Caribbean. The arrival of the USS Gerald R. Ford, alongside an escort of destroyers, set the tone: sanctions are only one prong of the strategy, the other is a ramped-up counter-narcotics campaign. The Maduro-aligned Cartel de los Soles—named by U.S. prosecutors and believed to have the president atop its hierarchy—has come into direct focus. If the language from Washington felt tough under Trump’s previous administration, it has returned with a familiar sharpness. Trump’s Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent made no effort to soften the narrative, stating bluntly that the Maduro regime, along with its “cronies,” continues to flood the American market with drugs, blaming the crisis squarely on Venezuela’s leadership.The policy reversal is hardly subtle. After several years exploring deals and dialogue under the Biden administration, the United States appears to have lost all patience for incremental reform. Military deployments and financial warfare are now converging against those pillars—family, friends, and shadowy business networks—that prop up Venezuela’s embattled regime. The strategy is one of attrition: dry up the lifelines, isolate the enablers, and heighten the costs for anyone willing to play ball with Caracas.Of course, one shouldn’t romanticize the efficacy of sanctions. History suggests that regimes well-versed in evasion rarely kneel at the first sign of pressure. Networks adapt, reroute assets, and invent creative ways around obstacles. But the message ringing out from Washington today isn’t subtle or half-hearted. The era of “waiting and seeing” has lost favor in the capital. Now, the U.S. seems prepared to keep ratcheting up the pain for Maduro’s inner circle, whatever loopholes they try to exploit next—and for those watching from afar, it’s a pointed warning that U.S. resolve in this corner of the world has not dulled.