Today was the day. After several delays requested by his defense team, Judge Vernon S. Broderick of the Southern District of New York had the final sentencing hearing for 70-year-old Carlos Eduardo Orense Azócar, a convicted international drug trafficker and illegal gun possessor. The prosecution is seeking precisely 40 years: the mandatory minimum (10 years for conspiracy to import more than five kilos of cocaine + 30 consecutive years for the 924(c) firearms charge). For a man his age, that number is effectively a life sentence.
Orense arrived in court wearing the khaki uniform of the MDC Brooklyn, looking visibly older than during his 2023 trial. He has spent over three and a half years locked up in one of the worst federal detention centers in the country, the same place where Hugo Carvajal Barrios and other Venezuelan criminals are held.
The defense, led by attorney Eylan Schulman, submitted a 13-page sentencing memorandum accompanied by several letters from family members. The message was clear: “Forty years is already a death sentence. Adding even one more day would be an act of unnecessary cruelty.”
In cases like this, the defense of a man convicted of serious crimes typically attempts to portray the accused as a victim of circumstances. This is a well-known strategy: criminals plead for mercy when justice finally catches up to them, even after years of trying to elude the system. The man tenderly described by his children is not the same person the jury saw, nor the one who operated in the shadows of an international criminal framework for over a decade.
During the trial, the prosecution portrayed Orense Azócar as a “key logistical coordinator” for the Cartel de los Soles from the early 2000s until 2016, an operator who—according to informants—facilitated clandestine airstrips, handled multimillion-dollar payments, and secured loads of several tons with the help of Venezuelan military and FARC members. Evidence came from four witnesses, all seeking leniency, but it was enough for a jury to convict him. The fact that “not a gram of cocaine” was found in his possession, or a direct transfer, does not erase the pattern: high-ranking drug traffickers rarely handle the drugs themselves; they delegate and protect themselves. Still, the jury acquitted him of the most serious charge: possession of grenade launchers or destructive devices.
In contrast, the defense attempted to impose another narrative: that of a fatherless, hard-working man, responsible for his family in Anaco, a former customs official, financial inspector, and dairy farm owner for nearly two decades. A father and grandfather who, according to his children, is “the pillar of the home,” who continues to bless his grandchildren from prison as they ask, not understanding, “When are you coming, grandpa?” But justice is not determined by affection; it is determined by facts, and the facts have already been deliberated by a jury.
The most heart-wrenching letter came from his daughter Virmaryz: “My children cry and ask me to call their grandpa. In the few minutes they are given, he only blesses them and says ‘soon’. How do I explain that they might never see him again?” It’s the human drama that often surfaces at the end of the road, when the accused has already lost power, connections, and privileges. Yet the family’s suffering does not erase the crimes for which he was found guilty.
A “minimum” that equals life in prison
The law is clear and makes no exceptions for age or illness: 10 years for drug trafficking + 30 mandatory for the firearms charge (even though the jury did not accept that they were rocket launchers). Total: 480 months. At 70, with hypertension, type 2 diabetes, and prostate issues, Orense Azócar’s actuarial life expectancy does not exceed 82-84 years. In other words: he will die in prison even with the minimum sentence.
The defense, in a final effort, emphasized that the conditions at MDC Brooklyn over these three and a half years have been a form of anticipatory punishment: power outages, prolonged confinement, lack of medical attention, and daily violence. They even cited decisions from judges in the same district, like Furman and Brown, who have reduced sentences for such reasons. But this argument circles back to the same point: when sentencing day arrives, organized crime defendants always claim suffering, injustice, or ill health, never responsibility.
Justice, however, does not operate on family perceptions or late pleas. It operates on verdicts. And in this case, the verdict has already spoken.
What did Judge Broderick decide?
Judge Broderick accepted the defense’s request and agreed to review the arguments from the attorneys and prosecutors during this Tuesday’s status hearing.
The judge announced that he will issue a new written decision in the coming days, but indicated that “he will consider all factors under 3553(a), including the defendant’s advanced age, lack of prior criminal history, family letters, and conditions of confinement.”