Aaron Schock (45) was born for politics and public relations. He has charisma, audacity, eloquence, and determination. But above all, he always had something essential, what often separates success from failure: a lot of luck. To be in the right place at the right time, to meet the key person. To always land on his feet. Schock was already popular in high school and won his first professional elections, for the local school board in his district, at 19. He did it driven by anger after local authorities in Peoria (Illinois) prevented him from graduating early despite completing the academic requirements. According to his family, telling him he couldn't do something was almost the surest way to get him to do it.
Four years later, with a campaign against bureaucracy, he was its president. From there, he jumped to the state legislature and, at just 27, he reached a seat in Congress in Washington, the first millennial to do so. He was young, handsome, with enormous talent for networking and standing out. The prototype of the future Republican capable of facing the Obama wave: photogenic, disciplined, effective fundraiser, skilled on television, even featured on the cover of Men's Health with impressive six-pack abs. But also with unbridled ambition and a taste for luxury that neither his public salary nor his real estate ventures could satisfy.
In 2015, his personal life and excesses began to catch up with him. The Style section of The Washington Post published a report on his "ostentatious office," inspired by the red room in the series Downton Abbey. "I'm different. I arrived in Congress at 27, and when I take a vacation, I don't stay on the beach. And I don't go live in a cave either. So when I post a photo on Instagram with my friends, as Taylor Swift said: 'Haters gonna hate,'" he said back then.
Shortly after, his career ended amid fraud accusations and using taxpayers' money for his whims. It was $800 from the duty-free in Rio de Janeiro, luxury dinners in New Delhi justified as fundraising expenses, dozens of flights on donors' private planes, $40,000 in undeclared gifts. Schock returned part of the money and admitted to wrongdoing. In April of that year, while the prosecution had already convened a grand jury, Schock resigned from his position in Congress. Prosecutors argued that he had billed over $100,000 in personal expenses to taxpayers and campaign committees, crimes that could carry an 80-year sentence. Schock maintained his innocence but distanced himself from Washington and started a new life as a real estate developer in California. Until 2025.
Politico recently published a fascinating story. It details the maneuvers of Harry Sargeant III, a Florida tycoon close to Trump whose family has amassed a huge fortune with refined oil and asphalt products. Sargeant made headlines shortly after the 2024 presidential elections when his attempts to persuade Trump to ease pressure on the Nicolás Maduro regime became known, as he stands to lose billions in his business dealings with Caracas. His initial steps were successful, but he quickly encountered a major problem: Marco Rubio, Secretary of State with a deep hatred for Castroism and Chavism.
The Politico article details a plot created to try to minimize Rubio and his team's position regarding Venezuela and extend a hand to Maduro. For this, Sargeant relied heavily on Richard Grenell, the president's special envoy, who achieved significant successes in liberating American prisoners in Venezuela, for example. And in the midst of these maneuvers, Schock unexpectedly reappears, now a fixer, a facilitator, an unexpected lobbyist.
The connection is unusual. From California, Schock, who came out in 2021 and is almost an influencer on social media, has courted the MAGA movement and Trumpism. From afar, but not too far. The most direct connection is with Grenell, whom he met at gatherings of the most important gay group in the Republican Party. The idea was for the former congressman to help design a strategy to influence the Administration and improve ties with Maduro and, above all, Delcy Rodríguez, the new president. To do this, Schock tried to "recruit" Laura Loomer, a friend of Trump, a digital agitator, queen of conspiracies, involved in a thousand daily fights, but with an inexplicable power in the Administration.
The lobbyists' move worked out, more or less, although the exact role of Schock or anyone else is unclear. Trump adores Delcy Rodríguez and there are no major changes. The only certainty, as Politico explains, is that after his first trip to Caracas, Schock returned obsessed. Not with politics, diplomacy, or even oil, but with gold. Specifically, with the mine that, he claimed, Delcy Rodríguez had promised him if he managed to curb the White House's expansionist ambitions and helped prevent a regime change.
His friends and partners say he repeated that he saw a clear potential benefit of millions of dollars and even sought gold refining specialists to study how to monetize the operation. One of his collaborators, Benjamin Papermaster, who ended up disillusioned and lashing out against Schock, warns that the mine idea seems like a scam at best and suicide at worst, as many operations are under the influence of armed criminal groups. Nevertheless, according to the report, Schock continued enthusiastically. And while billing Sargeant again for airplane tickets, stays at ski resorts, and even several subscriptions to OnlyFans as part of his representation expenses, he talks about nothing else. His last trip to the country was not even to Caracas, but to Valencia, in search of El Dorado.