A man who started from zero in electoral terms became the alternative to the left
De la Espriella, a Trump admirer and self-made millionaire, defied polls to become the top vote-getter in his first political campaign with his far-right Defensores de la Patria movement. The 47-year-old lawyer built wealth defending controversial clients and created a lifestyle brand; he appeals to religious voters with family-focused messaging and promises iron-fisted security policies.
- Abelardo de la Espriella, 47, won the most votes in Colombia's first presidential round on May 31, 2026
- He is a criminal defense lawyer and self-made millionaire running his first political campaign
- The runoff against leftist Iván Cepeda is scheduled for June 21, 2026
- De la Espriella leads the far-right Defensores de la Patria movement and is a Trump admirer
Abelardo de la Espriella, a criminal defense lawyer and far-right outsider, unexpectedly won Colombia's first presidential round, advancing to a June 21 runoff against leftist Iván Cepeda.
Abelardo de la Espriella walked into Colombian politics as a complete outsider and walked out of Sunday's election as the frontrunner. The 47-year-old criminal defense lawyer, known to his supporters as "the Tiger," defied every poll and finished with more votes than any other candidate in the first round of voting, securing his place in a runoff scheduled for June 21st against leftist Iván Cepeda.
De la Espriella's path to this moment was built in courtrooms and boardrooms, not legislative chambers. He made his fortune as a defense attorney representing clients most lawyers would avoid—the Colombian-Venezuelan businessman Alex Saab, now imprisoned in the United States, and David Murcia Guzmán, architect of Colombia's largest pyramid scheme. That legal success transformed into business success. He became a millionaire and then a brand: De la Espriella Style, a lifestyle empire that includes his own rum label, wine, custom hats bearing his name, and a menswear line selling silk scarves and tailored shirts to those who wanted to dress like him. He even recorded two albums showcasing his tenor voice, both celebrating his Italian heritage.
When he decided to enter politics for the first time, he created the far-right movement Defensores de la Patria with a single stated purpose: to prevent the Colombian left from continuing its hold on power after President Gustavo Petro's administration. De la Espriella, born in Bogotá but with Caribbean roots in Córdoba and Italian citizenship alongside his American passport, positioned himself as the antidote to traditional politics. He had never held public office, he argued, which was not a weakness but a strength—he owed nothing to political machines or economic power brokers. His credential was success itself. He promised to transform Colombia into a "miracle nation" like South Korea or Ireland, a country of entrepreneurs. In his ten-point government plan, he outlined miraculous solutions for security, health, education, agriculture, the environment, culture, women's issues, animal welfare, mining and energy, and corruption. He even spoke casually of enlisting tech billionaire Elon Musk—calling him "compadre"—to help realize this vision.
His appeal proved potent across multiple constituencies. Religious voters, both Catholic and evangelical, saw in him a family man opposed to abortion and what he calls "gender ideology." Videos surfaced on social media showing him declaring himself an atheist more than a decade ago, but he explained that he had recovered his faith six years prior. His messaging borrowed heavily from the playbook of El Salvador's President Nayib Bukele, whom he resembles both physically and ideologically. De la Espriella promised to fight criminals, the corrupt, and the unpunished with an iron fist. He deployed patriotic rhetoric, military salutes, and invocations of God. He has faced criticism for machismo in his public comments and conduct, yet this did not prevent him from reaching voters hungry for a sharp break from the left.
He selected José Manuel Restrepo as his running mate for vice president—an economist with a master's degree from the London School of Economics and a doctorate from the University of Bath, credentials that lent academic weight to a campaign built largely on personality and business mythology. De la Espriella is married to Ana Lucía Pineda, a business administrator with whom he has four children. She has begun appearing alongside him at campaign rallies.
Now, with three weeks until the runoff, de la Espriella faces Cepeda, the continuation candidate from Petro's Historical Pact coalition. The first round has already redrawn the map of Colombian politics. A man who started from zero in electoral terms, who built his reputation in private practice and personal enterprise, has positioned himself as the alternative to the established left. Whether voters will choose his vision of Colombia as a nation of entrepreneurs, guided by a self-made millionaire with no political debts, will be decided on June 21st.
Citas Notables
He promised to transform Colombia into a 'miracle nation' like South Korea or Ireland, a country of entrepreneurs— De la Espriella's campaign platform
He argued that never holding public office was not a weakness but a strength—he owed nothing to political machines or economic power brokers— De la Espriella's response to critics
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
How does a criminal defense lawyer with no political experience become the frontrunner in a presidential election?
He offered something the electorate was actively seeking—a complete outsider who could claim he owed nothing to the political establishment. His wealth and business success became his credential, not his liability.
But surely his clients—Saab, Murcia Guzmán—those are serious vulnerabilities?
You'd think so. But he reframed it. He was the best at what he did, which is exactly what he says Colombia needs now. The logic is: if he could win impossible cases, he can fix impossible problems.
The religious voters seem central to his coalition. How does a man who called himself an atheist on video win that trust?
He said he found faith again six years ago. Whether people believe that or not, what matters is that he's offering them something the left hasn't—explicit opposition to abortion and gender ideology, family-centered messaging, patriotic language. For many voters, that's enough.
Is he actually planning to bring in Elon Musk, or is that just campaign talk?
It's aspirational rhetoric. He's signaling that he thinks big, that he'll recruit global talent and resources. Whether it happens is secondary to what it communicates about his ambitions.
What does his lifestyle brand—the rum, the hats, the albums—tell us about him as a political figure?
It reveals someone who sees himself as a total package, a lifestyle to be consumed and imitated. He's not just offering policy; he's offering an image of success and taste. That's either deeply appealing or deeply off-putting, depending on who you ask.
And Bukele—why keep bringing up that comparison?
Because Bukele is the template. Outsider, tough-on-crime, willing to break norms, charismatic, business-minded. De la Espriella is essentially running the Bukele playbook in Colombia, and it's working.