Portugal’s Longest Corruption Trial Pauses Again as Sócrates Seeks New Lawyer

The courtroom drama that has riveted Portugal’s political and legal circles paused once more, as the marathon corruption case known as Operação Marquês was placed on ice until early December. For citizens long frustrated by drawn-out mega-trials, the latest interruption underscores both the fragility of defendants’ rights and the mounting fear that years of proceedings could collapse under the weight of their own delays.

Court Halts High-Profile Trial Again

Another twist unfolded inside the Lisbon Central Criminal Court when judge Susana Seca granted former prime minister José Sócrates a fresh suspension so he can pick a new lawyer. The ruling, delivered last week, pushes any further testimony to 04 December, extending a saga that began with Sócrates’s arrest eleven years ago. The bench openly criticised what it labelled manobras dilatórias, suggesting the defendant may be exploiting procedural rules, yet it also conceded that the right to choose counsel is a cornerstone of fair trial guarantees. For observers, the clash between defence rights and public scrutiny has seldom been so stark.

Why the Change of Lawyer Matters

The sudden exit of veteran litigator Pedro Delille, who cited “deontological reasons”, left Sócrates briefly under a court-appointed substitute. The former premier refused that arrangement, calling it a “degrading spectacle” and insisting on selecting his own mandatário. Legal scholars note that such swaps can be legitimate—ethical conflicts do arise—but they warn that repeated resignations risk eroding public trust and fueling claims that the accused is waging a broader political persecution narrative. Within the courtroom, Judge Seca signalled she will tolerate no further theatrics: any future resignation must come with an immediate replacement, or sanctions could follow.

Delays and the Ticking Clock of Prescription

Behind the procedural skirmishes looms a more alarming countdown. Key corruption charges tied to the Vale do Lobo real-estate deal may expire in the first half of 2026 if oral evidence is not completed. Prosecutors already conceded the lapse of certain forgery counts earlier this year, and the Ministry of Justice has labelled the file “urgent”. Yet the Constitution enshrines the defendant’s right to a chosen advocate, setting up a collision course between the clock of prescription deadlines and the shield of fair trial norms. Even the Supreme Court’s president recently admitted that while the process “has not gone badly”, the defence “has placed obstacles” that could threaten the system’s credibility.

How Portugal’s Megacases Compare

Operação Marquês is hardly alone in testing the endurance of Portuguese justice, but its timeline is now exceptional. By the moment the first witness was sworn in last July, the inquiry had already spanned more than ten years—outpacing scandals such as BES and Face Oculta. Economists struggle to compute the real cost; only the BES collapse offers a concrete yard-stick with over €8 B in public money committed to bail-outs. Across Europe, comparative data are scarce, yet specialists agree that Portugal’s mega-cases tend to linger beyond the continental average, feeding a perception of a system burdened by procedural complexity and financial burden.

What Happens Next

For the next three weeks, Sócrates will search for fresh counsel willing to inherit tens of thousands of pages of evidence and a defence strategy anchored in claims of persecution. If no one steps forward, the court may impose representation, risking further appeals and yet another pause. Meanwhile the public, fatigued by an affair that has spanned prime-ministerial mandates, economic cycles and even a pandemic, wonders whether the trial can ever move from preliminaries to verdict. Judicial reform advocates say the coming month will reveal whether Portugal’s legal architecture can balance twenty-day windows, respect for the accused, and society’s demand for closure. Whatever the former prime minister’s next move, the stakes—for the rule of law and for confidence in democratic institutions—could hardly be higher.