Editor’s Note: In this week’s The Rabbit Hole, reporter Peter Beck, examines the recent history of federal prosecutions against Americans who attempted to overthrow governments overseas. These motley crews of hardened mercenaries and naive twenty-somethings had visions of coups but ultimately ended up with criminal convictions. A reminder for our new readers, our Sunday Series, The Rabbit Hole, is only available to paid subscribers, but you can always upgrade here. Our Friday court record roundup is always free. - Seamus

When 1,500 men, many of them Americans, landed on Cuba’s Bay of Pigs in 1961 they had the covert backing of the United States. Many were executed, others freed through diplomatic negotiations, and some would even go on to serve in the U.S. government. But what happens when Americans attempt a coup overseas without the government’s sign off? 

In more modern times, consider the case of Jordan Goudreau and Alex Alvarez, who are set to go to trial in June for conspiracy, smuggling, export control, and gun charges. Their real crime might be, however, jumping the gun too soon on an operation to depose Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro. Goudreau and Alvarez are but two of the at least 11 individuals facing federal criminal prosecutions for attempting to overthrow foreign governments in recent years. 

The stories range from the absolute bizarre to meticulously planned details that could come straight out of a John Le Carre novel. Yet, successful or not in their attempts to sack a foreign government, the coup plotters have found themselves at the mercy of the U.S. courts, creating a fascinating overlap between Article III and American international relations.

The following uses court records to take a look at five recent alleged coups, why their plans went awry, how they ended up in the U.S. justice system, and where the eclectic group of American rebels are now. In at least Goudreau’s case, his target ended up in federal custody before he did, but perhaps not for the reason one would expect.

The Democratic Republic of the Congo 2024

On May 19, 2024, a group of several dozen gunmen that included three U.S. citizens stormed the Democratic Republic of the Congo’s Palais de la Nation, the version of its president’s White House, in an attempt to overthrow the government and begin a new regime that the group called “New Zaire.” Its leader, Christian Malanga, was a 41-year-old citizen of the Congo who lived in Salt Lake City, Utah, intermittently for the better part of 20 years, where he founded the “New Zaire Government in Exile” and declared himself as Congo’s rightful president.

The assault in Kenasha began several hours before the group seized the Palais when Christian fatally shot a civilian while carjacking his Range Rover. He then raced with the group of gunmen to the minister of defense’s house, but came up empty when he wasn’t there. The rebels moved on to the deputy prime minister’s house, where police officers confronted them, leading to a shootout that killed one of Christian’s men and two police officers. Finally, the ‘New Zaire’ soldiers arrived at the Palais and took control of the building, but with the Congo’s president nowhere to be found. 

The three Americans in the group were Christian’s 21-year-old son Marcel, his alleged chief of staff Benjamin Zalman-Polun, and Marcel’s best friend and high school football teammate Tyler Thompson. The trio had reportedly spent years back in Utah with Christian planning the attack, allegedly enlisting the help of a fourth American man, 67-year-old Joseph Moesser, to build explosives. 

According to a criminal complaint in the case, the group had tried to build bombs for the attack that could be dropped from a drone, inspired in part by tactics used in the Russia-Ukraine War. They had also even gone so far as to allegedly attempt to attach a flamethrower device to a drone to light people on fire. The group purportedly made their own camouflage uniforms, featuring custom military patches that depicted the former Republic of Zaire’s flag. 

U.S. v. In the Matter of Snapchat Account, Utah Federal. (Christian Malanga). “In the [instagram] posts he labeled the photos, “war,” “more war,” “some more war,” and “war ready.”

Meanwhile, Christian, Marcel, and Polun reportedly tried to recruit other Americans into the rebel conspiracy, with money and promises of glory in the Congolese streets. Three months before the coup, Christian allegedly posted to his Snapchat story, “If you want to make $50-100k message me (warriors only)” and told a friend that they were “about to go take out some terrorists… like Call of Duty stuff.” Polun reportedly told someone that the rebels would appear on television and that people would cheer for them like “heroes.” The FBI said that person later told agents that the idea sounded like it was out of a movie.

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