Changing the paradigm for analyzing illicit supply and drug trafficking in France

Colombia’s Caribbean coast plays a central role in the global cocaine trade. Due to its strategic location and the range of maritime exit points, it has become a key transit corridor for shipments bound for Europe over the past decade.

Stretching along one of the Caribbean’s longest and most complex coastlines, Colombia’s maritime corridor moves vast volumes of goods each year, providing ideal cover for illicit flows. The Caribbean region alone handles 87% of the country’s 180 million tonnes of cargo, with the port of Santa Marta accounting for 6.7% of the total. This may seem small in relative terms, but the port sees constant container and bulk traffic. Within this dense web of ships, trucks and warehouses, cocaine moves quietly alongside legitimate exports.

In the backstreets near the port, daily life unfolds with an uneasy normality: trucks pass fruit stalls, fishermen unload their catch and dockworkers move between sites. In the background, however, the illicit operations centre known as ‘La Oficina’ operates. In an unremarkable building, calls are made behind closed doors, payments are arranged and shipments are coordinated. Individuals arrive discreetly to discuss routes, buyers and which containers will be ‘protected’ on their way to the docks. Outside, the flow of everyday activity continues, as deals are struck that will send tonnes of cocaine towards Europe. Hidden in plain sight, ‘La Oficina’ anchors a system that connects Santa Marta to global trafficking routes.
Rather than being a single criminal group, ‘La Oficina’ is a coalition of powerful local families with roots in the drug trade dating back to the 1970s. Drawing on their control over land, businesses and local institutions, they shape how cocaine moves through the port.

Traffickers exploit several maritime methods, each tailored to different cargo types and vulnerabilities in the port system. Banana shipments, which must move quickly, allow cocaine to be hidden in boxes that undergo limited inspection. Coal exports, transported in bulk rather than containers, provide opportunities to conceal drugs within large loads that are difficult to check thoroughly. Standard containers remain widely used: they can be tampered with before arrival or altered with false seals. Divers also use the ‘parasite’ technique, attaching waterproof bundles to ship hulls, taking advantage of limited underwater inspections. Meanwhile, go-fast boats operate outside the formal port system to reach offshore transfer points.
Barranquilla, Cartagena and Santa Marta each play distinct roles in the Caribbean trafficking landscape, creating overlapping interests that fuel competition. As Colombia’s most efficient and connected port, Cartagena handles the largest container volumes and attracts sophisticated cargo-contamination schemes. Barranquilla relies more on controlling access roads and using vehicle-based methods, which has led to violent disputes over port and river routes. Santa Marta stands apart: here, trafficking is shaped less by logistics and more by a criminal–political coalition.
Across the corridor, trafficking relies on long-standing relationships between local elites, port actors and criminal networks. In Santa Marta, families linked to ‘La Oficina’ use positions in local institutions to influence port operations and protect collaborators. In Cartagena and Barranquilla, corruption extends into customs, port security and access routes, allowing contaminated cargo to move with minimal risk. The result is a resilient protection system that adapts to enforcement pressure and keeps cocaine flowing despite periodic seizures and arrests.