US Citizens Accused of Orchestrating Congo Coup

Gunfire erupted in the heart of Kinshasa, the sprawling capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo, as armed men stormed the Palais de la Nation. It was no random assault. The attackers, clad in camouflage and wielding an arsenal of weapons, aimed to topple the government of President Félix Tshisekedi. At the same time, a separate group riddled the private residence of Deputy Prime Minister Vital Kamerhe with bullets. The violence left at least six dead, including two police officers and one civilian caught in the crossfire. What seemed like a local uprising took a startling turn when U.S. authorities revealed the plot’s architects were American citizens.

On April 9, 2025, the U.S. Department of Justice unsealed a criminal complaint in Utah, charging four men, Marcel Malanga, Tyler Thompson, Benjamin Zalman-Polun, and Joseph Peter Moesser, with orchestrating this audacious coup attempt. The group’s plan? Overthrow the DRC government and install a new regime, dubbed 'New Zaire,' with Christian Malanga, now deceased, as its leader. The case, unfolding across continents, pulls back the curtain on a tangled web of international law, advanced weaponry, and the murky role of foreign actors in fragile states.

The complaint paints a vivid picture of a conspiracy years in the making. Christian Malanga, a Congolese exile living in the U.S., led the charge, with his son Marcel stepping up as a self-proclaimed 'Chief of Staff' of the rebel forces. Polun served as a trusted aide, while Moesser brought explosives expertise to the table, and Thompson handled drones and soldiering duties. Together, they recruited fighters, some lured with cash, and amassed a stockpile of firearms, communication gear, and drones rigged with bombs and flamethrowers. Their targets included government buildings and top officials, with killing Tshisekedi and Kamerhe as a clear objective.

Evidence shows the group didn’t just dream big, they acted on it. They scouted locations, trained in the U.S. and Africa, and shipped weapons across borders. The use of drones, a growing trend among non-state actors, added a chilling layer to their scheme. Drones, once a military luxury, are now cheap and accessible, letting groups like this punch above their weight. The attack’s failure didn’t erase its impact, six lives were lost, and the DRC’s fragile stability took another hit.

Now, the four defendants face a slew of charges in U.S. federal court, from conspiring to provide material support to a rebel army to plotting with weapons of mass destruction. If convicted, they could see decades, even life, behind bars. Their initial court appearances split between New York and Utah, with further proceedings set for Salt Lake City, reflect the case’s sprawling reach. Prosecutors argue the men knowingly broke U.S. laws that bar citizens from aiding foreign armed groups, a stance reinforced by past rulings like the 2010 Supreme Court decision on material support. Yet, the defendants claim coercion, a defense that’ll be tested in court.

Beyond the courtroom, the case stirs bigger questions. Some DRC officials see it as meddling by outsiders, pointing to ongoing U.S.-DRC talks over mineral rights as a backdrop. Others, including legal experts, frame it as a test of how nations handle citizens who wage war abroad. International law offers tools like universal jurisdiction, where states can prosecute crimes regardless of where they happened, but applying it is tricky. The Ljubljana Convention, adopted in 2024, pushes for cooperation on such cases, yet sovereignty clashes often slow progress.

What sets this plot apart is its tech edge. Drones armed with explosives and flamethrowers signal a leap in how small groups can wreak havoc. Globally, 2024 saw over 1,100 drone incidents tied to non-state actors, from Hamas disabling defenses to Myanmar insurgents striking targets. This isn’t sci-fi, it’s reality, and it’s forcing militaries to rethink defenses. For the DRC, a nation rich in cobalt and copper but plagued by unrest, the attack underscores how local woes, like poverty and corruption, can draw foreign opportunists.

Ideologically, the coup blended political ambition with extremist flair. Christian Malanga’s vision of 'New Zaire' tapped into historical grievances, echoing past rebellions in Congo’s turbulent history. Analysts see parallels with groups like ISIS-K, which mix ideology and opportunism to rally support across borders. Whether driven by zeal or power, the plotters’ actions ripple beyond Kinshasa, spotlighting the challenge of tracking transnational threats in a connected world.

As the legal gears grind, the human cost of the failed coup stays sharp. Families mourn the dead, while Kinshasa’s bullet-scarred buildings stand as grim reminders. The U.S. case against Malanga, Thompson, Polun, and Moesser will hinge on hard evidence, texts, weapons shipments, training logs, not speculation. Still, their guilt or innocence won’t erase the breach of trust felt by many in the DRC, where foreign hands in local strife are a sore point.

This saga leaves us grappling with messy realities. How do nations stop their citizens from fueling chaos abroad? Can laws keep pace with drones and borderless plots? The answers aren’t clear, but the stakes are. For the DRC, it’s about healing and holding firm. For the world, it’s a wake-up call to a threat that’s evolving faster than we’d like to admit.