Jadue is in Rio for a FIFA “workshop.” A knock on the door. It’s Burzaco , now with two bottles of Dom Pérignon and a laptop. “Time to meet the partners.” On a crackly video call: Nicolás Leoz (Paraguay, old, frail, but eyes like razors) and Ricardo Teixeira (Brazil, loud, laughing). They don’t talk about soccer. They talk about markets. “Chile is a small market,” Leoz croaks. “But a loyal one. You sign over the media rights for the next three friendlies… and we make you a king.” Jadue, drunk on champagne and power, says, “Show me where to sign.”

La Firma (The Signature) Runtime: 52 mins Quality: HD-CAM (noticeable but tolerable watermarks, occasional head in lower left corner, crisp dialogue)

Extreme close-up of Jadue’s eye. It twitches. Then, a slow zoom out to reveal he is now in a witness protection safe house. He’s alone. He turns on a TV. A soccer match is playing. He changes the channel. It’s a nature documentary about spiders. He turns it off.

Jimena (Karla Souza) is on her laptop, cross-referencing shell companies. Her husband, a journalist, brings her tea. “You’re obsessed with the little man from Calama.” She zooms in on a scanned document: a wire transfer from a Delaware LLC to a bank account in the Caymans. The beneficiary: Deportes Jadue SpA. “He’s not little,” she says. “He’s a spider. And the web just got bigger.” Her phone rings. She ignores it. It rings again. A blocked number.

The episode opens not in Chile, but in a dimly lit parking garage in Miami. Sergio Jadue (Andrés Parra), now in FBI custody, is led in handcuffs to a nondescript sedan. An American agent holds an umbrella over his head. Jadue’s face is a mask of terrified arrogance. He whispers to his lawyer, “They promised me a sandwich. Tuna. I want Chilean tuna.” The agent opens the car door. Inside, a folder labeled “Operation Purple Star.” Cut to black. Title card.

Here is the story for El Presidente Season 1, Episode 2, presented in the style of a scene-by-scene breakdown, as if from a high-quality HD-CAM screener.

Back to the present. The tuna sandwich arrives. Jadue doesn’t eat it. Across the table, an FBI agent (the same one from the cold open) pushes a photograph: a man in a suit, leaving a Geneva bank. “Joseph Blatter.” Jadue freezes. The agent leans in. “You’re small fish, Sergio. We don’t want you. We want the shark. Help us, and you walk. Refuse… and we release your ‘contracts’ to La Tercera tomorrow.” Jadue looks at the sandwich. Then at the folder. He takes a bite. Then he speaks. “You want the president? I can get you the president. But you have to understand… he doesn’t take money. He takes souls. ”

Jadue, still the upstart president of the Chilean Football Federation, walks these hallowed halls like a kid in a candy store. He’s ignored by the old guard. Juan Ángel Napout (Paulina Gaitán) – a subtle but powerful figure – watches him from a balcony. She sips mate. Her aide whispers, “The Chilean is asking about television rights.” Napout smirks. “He’s not asking. He’s begging.”