When the Brazilian Mafia came for My Company, police and judges looked away.

When people linked to the PCC and Brazil’s fuel mafia came for my biodiesel company in the interior of São Paulo, this was not a business dispute. This was not a contractual disagreement. This was an intimidation driven takeover inside a regulated energy industry, carried out in a criminal environment that no lawful investor should ever face.

What happened to my company was obscene. It violated basic law, basic due process, and basic human rights. It destroyed a legitimate enterprise built under Brazil’s own national biodiesel policy and left my family living with the consequences of institutional collapse.

The takeover did not begin in a courtroom. It began with individuals acting as if they had authority they did not possess, as if corporate governance, legal representation, and ownership were irrelevant. A central figure, Mohammed Hussein Mourad, signed documents at a cartório that were then used as a paper shield for acts carried out in the name of my company, despite the fact that I never granted him lawful powers to represent the business.

From that point forward, the company’s name became a vehicle.

Methanol purchases began appearing in the company’s name without authorization. In a sector where methanol is a sensitive and tightly regulated input, that is not a clerical matter. That is a red flag for diversion. A red flag for fuel fraud. A red flag for the exact type of scheme Brazil itself later exposed in Operação Carbono Oculto, where methanol is diverted into illegal fuel that reaches gas stations and ultimately the public.

At the same time, a second red flag appeared. Cash.

Large cash deposits were made at Bank of Bradesco's branches by third parties with no legitimate relationship to the company, used to settle obligations connected to these methanol operations carried out in our name. In any serious anti money laundering system, this kind of pattern should trigger immediate alerts, blocking, reporting, and investigation.

I did what any lawful director is supposed to do. I reported it.

I filed police reports. I notified regulators. I sent formal written notices. I delivered corporate records, emails, and timelines showing that transactions were being conducted without lawful authorization in the middle of a criminal environment consistent with fuel sector infiltration.

And I did not do this once.

I did this repeatedly, in writing, at least nine separate times, formally warning the parties involved that the company’s name was being used without authorization under what was clearly a mafia driven invasion of the business.

Despite these written warnings, two major institutions continued to operate as if nothing was wrong.

Tricon Energy continued methanol sales in the name of my company after being explicitly notified that those transactions were unauthorized and illicit.

Banco Bradesco continued accepting large cash deposits from unrelated third parties to settle obligations tied to those same unauthorized operations, despite clear notice that these were not legitimate corporate transactions.

These actions did not occur in ignorance. They occurred after direct, written notification that the company was under criminal pressure and that the transactions were not recognized by its lawful director.

That is not passive behavior. That is enabling behavior.

While I was warning that a criminal environment had taken hold of the company, these institutions continued to provide the commercial and financial infrastructure that allowed the situation to continue. They aided and abetted, through action and omission, the operational reality created by the mafia inside my business.

What I encountered when I sought help was not protection. It was institutional abandonment.

The paper trail created by unauthorized actors was treated as if it conferred legitimacy. The practical control created through intimidation was allowed to harden into an accepted reality. The lawful director became an inconvenience. The whistleblower became the problem.

And the business collapsed.

I lost the entire biodiesel facility. The entire investment. Tens of millions invested into a modern plant aligned with Brazil’s clean energy policy were wiped out because the company was consumed by an illegal operation that the system failed to confront.

This is the part that investors need to understand. The danger is not only that organized crime can enter the fuel chain. The danger is when public and private institutions fail to confront it and, by omission and participation, allow criminal control to become operational.

Brazil’s own authorities have acknowledged that organized crime infiltrated the fuel sector. Operação Carbono Oculto showed how these schemes move through legal infrastructure while feeding criminal networks. My case shows what that looks like on the ground when a legitimate enterprise is targeted and the institutional response fails.

This is not a story about commercial risk. This is a story about what happens when a fuel mafia operates inside a regulated market and the rule of law does not respond.

If Brazil wants to be taken seriously as a destination for capital, innovation, and clean energy investment, it cannot treat cases like mine as collateral damage. It cannot allow the whistleblower to be destroyed while the actors who enabled the criminal environment remain untouched.

Because when the PCC mafia enters a business environment and the system looks away, the damage is not just to one company.

It is to the credibility of the Brazilian State itself.