Over the past five years, Sergio Moro lived in three completely different moments. As a judge for Operation Car Wash, he earned national hero status when he broke with the tradition of impunity for the powerful and imprisoned a group of corrupt politicians and dishonest businessmen who stole from the public treasury. Later, he was invited to head the Ministry of Justice in Bolsonaro’s government. He imagined the post would pave the way for a fictional vacancy on the Federal Supreme Court. The project failed. He fell out with Jair Bolsonaro, resigned and accused the former captain of interfering with the federal police to protect his children. This attitude helped reinforce the magistrate’s image of the magistrate’s intransigence towards wrongdoing, leading to the third major moment in his career: a candidate for the presidency of the republic. Opposing Lula, who was sent to prison, and Bolsonaro, who was sent to prison, the former judge rose to prominence as an alternative that could attract some of the 37 million voters who were not going to vote for the PT or the incumbent at the time. In November, Moro pompously joined Podemos. What no one imagined was that from now on, he would enter an unimaginable process of miniaturization.

At first, it seemed that Moreau’s aspirations would pay off. He even reached an astonishing 10% intent to vote – an impressive mark for a newcomer, second only to the favorites. Lula e Bolsonaro. There is, however, a rule that politics is not for dilettantes. The former judge discovered this in practice. Gradually, he accumulated a series of techniques that, in varying degrees of intensity, show his unpreparedness for battle in an unknown arena. From Podemos he received a promise that he would have the financial and political conditions to secure himself as a so-called Third Way candidate. There was a little bit of everything in his party, except for what was promised: intrigues, power struggles, monetary fury and betrayals. Suspecting that the party was simply using his name as a bargaining chip for negotiations and a political settlement, in March he defected to União Brasil, the fourth largest association in Congress. There, he imagined he would get the support he needed to finally make his presidential campaign viable—or so he was told. Two months later, his plans became even more complicated. Not Podemos, a short man with only eight deputies in Congress, Moro was still a giant. In Uniao, where there are seventy congressmen and regional leaders of various calibers, he is just another one.

For example, to run for president, he would need three-fifths of the seventeen votes cast by the party’s executive committee, a hypothesis considered very unlikely since the DEM, which merged with the PSL to form the party, has important leaders who do not support the idea. have Moreau as a partner and controls eight collegiate votes. For a seat in the Senate in São Paulo, he also meets resistance. Despite performing well in early polls in polls ranging from 14% to 22%, the former minister will face São Paulo City Council President Milton Leite, a historic DEM figure in the state and the Union’s pre-candidate for the office, as well as deputies and candidates in deputies who, in an informal poll conducted by the association, said that tying their election projects to the name of a former judge would deprive them of their votes. Apparently, Moreau is in an alley from which there are very few exits.

Pushed aside by the political class, ex-presidential candidates, ex-ministers and ex-judges are shrinking in several ways. Contrary to what he imagined, his name did not infect the Brazilian middle class. His accusations also failed. The day before the switch from Podemos to União, the federal police announced they had found no evidence that President Jair Bolsonaro was illegally interfering with the corporation to protect family members and allies. With no definite political future, the man who represented the largest anti-corruption operation in the country’s history now spends most of his days running parochial programs in São Paulo’s municipalities, visiting hospitals and steakhouses, and increasingly distancing himself from major national issues. “Sergio Moro was a good judge, but in the political world, his inability will cost him dearly,” says Senator Soraya Tronicke, who was listed as a vice on a list led by Luciano Bivar, the boss who took the former magistrate into the Union. and who now announces that he intends to run for president himself.

Although he still hopes to get to the Planalto Palace, the former minister knows that his project is sinking. What seemed unlikely is now proving almost impossible, so much so that he himself openly admits Plan B: run for the Senate from São Paulo. Union leaders, in turn, take it for granted that Sergio Moro will remain in contention for a seat in the Chamber of Deputies. With the popularity he still has, they believe he fits the bill to be one of those voting champions like the clown Tiririka in the last election. The former minister, however, guarantees that this plan C does not exist even in the area of ​​the hypotheses under consideration. The fact is that after all these ups and downs, Moreau has shrunk in size – and the audacious political adventure on which he put all his chips could end in a monumental failure.

Published in VEJA May 18, 2022 Issue #2789.