Carlos Mariz De Oliveira Teixeira .pdf May 2026

In an age of summary judgment, both online and offline, that phrase sounds almost quaint. But Mariz de Oliveira has built a life out of speaking it into the record—loud enough to be heard, quiet enough to be ignored, and persistent enough to outlast the outrage.

Mariz de Oliveira joined Cabral’s legal team in 2017, just as public outrage peaked. The decision was explosive. Cabral was widely reviled—nicknamed “the governor of the toll” for allegedly charging contractors for every public work. Many lawyers had refused the case. Mariz de Oliveira did not hesitate. carlos mariz de oliveira teixeira .pdf

“Someone has to read the indictment when everyone else is throwing stones,” he told Folha de S.Paulo . In an age of summary judgment, both online

He earned his law degree from the Universidade do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (UERJ) and quickly added a master’s in criminal procedure from the Universidade de São Paulo (USP). Fluent in English, Spanish, and French, he also obtained a license to practice in Portugal, giving him a transatlantic reach rare among Brazilian litigators. By the late 1980s, he had co-founded the firm that would become Mariz de Oliveira & Sociedade de Advogados, known for taking cases that other firms refused—often on principle. The decision was explosive

“He never calculated the public relations cost,” recalls a former associate who asked to remain anonymous. “If a client had been demonized by the press, Carlos would lean in harder. He saw media conviction as the first form of illegal punishment.” Mariz de Oliveira’s first major public crucible came with Cesar Maia, the economist and politician who served as mayor of Rio de Janeiro (1993–1996) and later as governor of Rio state. Maia was a polarizing figure: praised for fiscal austerity but accused of shady privatization deals. When allegations of contract fraud in the city’s cleaning services (Comlurb) emerged, Maia faced impeachment proceedings and criminal probes.

“I do not defend a client’s past,” he once told a Brazilian legal journal. “I defend their constitutional future.” Born in Rio de Janeiro in the early 1950s, Mariz de Oliveira came of age during the military dictatorship (1964–1985). Unlike many young lawyers who fled into corporate law or leftist activism, he chose criminal defense—at a time when political prisoners filled secret jails and habeas corpus was often a polite fiction. His early mentors were the old-guard trial lawyers who taught him to read a case file for its silences, not just its statements.

“Justice delayed is not justice denied,” he said after a 2021 hearing. “But it is justice wounded. I will not abandon the wound.” In a move that surprised many, Mariz de Oliveira agreed in 2022 to represent former president Jair Bolsonaro’s son, Carlos Bolsonaro, a Rio de Janeiro city councilman, in a case involving alleged digital militias and spying on political opponents. The younger Bolsonaro faced accusations of running a disinformation network. Mariz de Oliveira again leaned on procedural defenses—arguing that the investigation violated constitutional separation of powers.