Operacion Dragon May 2026

By the early 2000s, a loose federation of three families—the Charlines, the Míguez, and the Padín—controlled the route. They would meet Colombian "go-fast" boats (known as planeadoras ) 200 miles off the Portuguese coast, transfer the drugs, and then blend into the thousands of legitimate fishing vessels returning to port. They were ghosts.

The dragon was slain, but the lesson remains: along the coast of Galicia, when the fog rolls in and a fishing boat runs without lights, old habits die hard. Operacion Dragon

As the first rope hit the bollard, heavily armed officers of the Grupo Especial de Actuaciones (GEO) swarmed the deck. They didn’t find fish. Hidden beneath a false floor in the refrigerated hold, wrapped in lead foil and submerged in wax to avoid radar and sniffer dogs, were 650 kilograms of pure cocaine. By the early 2000s, a loose federation of

On a foggy November morning in 2005, a commercial fishing trawler named Punta Candieira slipped into the port of Vigo, Spain. To the dockworkers, it was just another vessel returning from a long, fruitless haul in the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. The crew looked exhausted; the nets were clean. But the Spanish Civil Guard had been waiting for this ship for six months. The dragon was slain, but the lesson remains:

The operation’s masterstroke was electronic. Spanish agents, with help from the US DEA and the UK’s SOCA, managed to jam the clan’s satellite phone system. For 48 hours before the Punta Candieira docked, the bosses in their luxury villas in A Illa de Arousa heard only static. They couldn’t warn the crew that the port was surrounded.