4 years after Haiti's president was killed, the investigation drags on

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti — Not one suspect imprisoned in Haiti has faced trial after being charged in the killing of President Jovenel Moïse, who was gunned down at his home in the nation's capital nearly four years ago. Gang violence, death threats and a crumbling judicial system have stalled an ongoing investigation defined by outbursts and tense exchanges between suspects and judges. "You failed in your mission. And you are not ashamed to declare yourself innocent," Judge Claude Jean said in a booming voice as he stood and faced a Haitian policeman responsible for protecting the president, who was shot 12 times in Port-au-Prince on July 7, 2021. Jean is one of six Haitian judges investigating whether there is enough evidence to warrant a trial for the 20 suspects held in the troubled Caribbean country. Authorities said some of the suspects envisioned a coup, not an assassination, leading to lucrative contracts under a new administration. The suspects include 17 former soldiers from Colombia and three Haitian officials: an ex-mayor, a former policeman and a former Haiti Ministry of Justice employee who worked on an anti-corruption unit. Missing are several key Haitian suspects who escaped last year after a powerful gang federation raided Haiti's two biggest prisons, including Dimitri Hérard, ex-head of security at Haiti's National Palace. Three other suspects, all Colombians, were killed hours after Moïse was slain, while a key suspect in the case, Haitian Superior Court Judge Windelle Coq Thélot, died in January while still a fugitive. Courthouse under siege The investigation was repeatedly halted by the resignation of judges who feared for their lives. Defense attorneys then appealed after the court ruled there was sufficient evidence for trial. Jean and five other judges are now tasked with restarting the inquiry. But determining complicity among 51 suspects is only one of numerous challenges. Last year, powerful gangs seized control of the downtown Port-au-Prince courthouse where the judges were interrogating suspects. The hearings were suspended until the government rented a home in Pacot, a neighborhood once considered safe enough for the French embassy. But gangs controlling 85% of Haiti's capital recently attacked and forced the government to move again. The hearings restarted in May, this time in a private home in Pétion-Ville, a community trying to defend itself from gangs seeking full control of Port-au-Prince. 'Nothing we could do' As a fan swirled lazily in the background, Judge Phemond Damicy grilled Ronald Guerrier in late May. One of several police officers tasked with protecting the president, Guerrier insisted he never entered Moïse's home and couldn't fight the intruders because he was dazed by a stun grenade. "The attackers were dressed all in black. They wore balaclavas and blinded us with their flashlights. I couldn't identify anyone," Guerrier testified, adding they used a megaphone to claim they were U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration agents. "The attackers operated as if they were entering their own home. It seemed they knew the place perfectly." Damicy asked if they shot at drones that Guerrier said were buzzing above the president's home. "The attackers covered the entire area with their fire," Guerrier replied. "There was nothing we could do." Damicy grew exasperated. "Under no circumstances should an enemy cross you with impunity to commit his crime," he said. "In your place, I would fire on the enemy. I would even die, if necessary." 'I don't know' Inside the investigation's heavily guarded, stone-and-concrete headquarters in a leafy residential community, raised voices have dominated tense interrogations. One judge stood and thundered a question about a gun: "On the day of the death of President Jovenel Moïse, were you in possession of a Galil?" In another outburst in March, a judge repeatedly pressed Joseph Badio, the former Ministry of Justice official who spent two years on the run, about his call to former Prime Minister Ariel Henry after the assassination. At the time, Henry had only been nominated as prime minister by Moïse. "You can say whatever you want with your mouth," Badio told the judge, who ordered him to sit as he rose while speaking. "There is no prohibition for me to communicate with anyone I want." The tension has carried over into interrogations of the Colombian suspects, who maintain they were hired by a Miami-based security firm to provide security for power and water treatment plants and diplomatic officials, as well as train Haitian police and soldiers. The Colombians have denied involvement, while their attorney, Nathalie Delisca, said there has been no presumption of innocence during the interrogations. "The treatment inflicted on the detainees was inhumane," she said, alleging mistreatment by authorities after their arrest. The former soldiers said they were beaten, threatened with death, forced to sign documents in a language they don't understand and barred from communicating with their lawyers and families for long stretches. "I have been subjected to degrading treatment. I have been subjected to physical and psychological torture," Jheyner Alberto Carmona Flores said during a recent hearing. He spoke Spanish in a clear and loud voice, sometimes correcting an interpreter translating his testimony into French. "I have no involvement because I don't know when or where the president was assassinated," Carmona Flores said, claiming he was summoned to provide security at the perimeter of Moïse's house and did not know the president had been fatally shot. Working under threat While the case in Haiti has stalled, the U.S. has charged 11 extradited suspects, with five already pleading guilty to conspiring to kill Moïse. Five other suspects are awaiting trial, which is now scheduled for March 2026. They include Anthony "Tony" Intriago, owner of Miami-based CTU Security, and Haitian-Americans James Solages, a key suspect, and Christian Emmanuel Sanon, a pastor, doctor and failed businessman who envisioned himself as Haiti's new leader. Moïse's widow, Martine Moïse, is expected to testify in the U.S. case. She was injured in the attack and accused by a Haitian judge of complicity and criminal association, which her attorneys deny. Court documents say the plan was to detain Jovenel Moïse and whisk him away, but changed after the suspects failed to find a plane or sufficient weapons. A day before Moïse died, Solages falsely told other suspects it was a CIA operation and the mission was to kill the president, the documents allege. Bruner Ulysse, a lawyer and history professor in Haiti, lamented how the local investigation has highlighted what he called "profound challenges" in Haiti's judicial system. "While international efforts have yielded some results, the quest for justice in Haiti remains elusive," Ulysse said. "Judges, prosecutors and lawyers operate under constant threat."