Bernie Ecclestone and the Shotgun in the Suitcase: When an F1 Legend Faces Portuguese Law

I have followed Bernie Ecclestone since his days behind the wheel of a lightweight racer at Brands Hatch, until he became the most powerful architect in Formula 1. At 95, most people would choose to settle by the fireplace, telling old stories to their grandchildren. But Ecclestone, as always, still chooses to make headlines in the most unexpected way. This time, not for a multi-billion-dollar television rights deal, but for an undocumented shotgun found on his private jet in Portugal. Let me tell you about that moment. A Monday afternoon at a Portuguese airport, security personnel conducting a routine check of a private jet. They found no drugs, no excess cash, but a shotgun tucked in the luggage of a 95-year-old man. The gun had no import permit, no weapons registry. A situation any traveler could face if unfamiliar with local laws, but it became an international incident when it involved the man who once ran the entire commercial machinery of the world's most prestigious racing series. Bernie Ecclestone is no stranger to legal troubles. In 2026, he was arrested in Brazil for carrying an undeclared pistol upon entry. That case ended with a fine and his release. But this time in Portugal, the story seems slightly more complicated. According to Ecclestone's account via PA Media, he was en route to a clay pigeon shooting competition. His wife, Fabiana Flosi, a Brazilian, had arranged a last-minute shooting event, and the shotgun was placed in his luggage as part of his equipment. The problem is that this gun was not on the weapons declaration list when entering Portugal. I have witnessed similar cases throughout my reporting career. Professional shooters typically must prepare a thick legal dossier before each international flight, including weapons transport permits, advance notice to destination customs, and even official invitations from event organizers. An Olympic clay pigeon shooter I once interviewed said he must send complete information about his gun to host country authorities at least 30 days before competing. Ecclestone, a man accustomed to having rules written to serve him during 40 years of running F1, perhaps did not anticipate this. The interesting part here is not the legal detail of the case, but how it reflects the personality of this man. Ecclestone has never been one to blindly follow rules. He is the man who renegotiated F1's entire commercial contracts in the 1980s, transforming an outdated racing series into a global media empire worth billions. He took F1 to new markets like Bahrain, Abu Dhabi, and Azerbaijan, despite opposition from traditional teams. He held the sport's commercial rights in his hands like a tiger clutching its prey, until Liberty Media acquired them in 2026. For a man accustomed to creating his own rules, overlooking a small detail like a shotgun import permit could be seen as a very human oversight. But there is another angle I want to explore here. Look at how Ecclestone handled this case. Not by staying silent while lawyers resolve it, but by proactively explaining, even adding a touch of humor to the story. He said his wife arranged a last-minute clay pigeon competition, and he brought the shotgun as part of his equipment. This storytelling approach shows a man still very sharp, still knowing how to turn a situation around with words. It reminds me of his press conferences during F1's golden era, when he could turn a question about track safety into a story about operating costs, and turn criticism into an opportunity to promote the series. The Portugal incident also raises a bigger question about Ecclestone's legacy in F1 history. Many view him as a villain, a man concerned only with money and power. But I, with 38 years of following this sport, see him differently. Ecclestone saved F1 from collapse in the 1980s when teams constantly threatened to boycott races over revenue disputes. He built close relationships with broadcasters worldwide, making F1 one of the most-watched sports on the planet. He created a business model that Liberty Media later purchased for 8 billion dollars. Whatever people may hate about him, modern F1 bears the imprint of Bernie Ecclestone. Back to the shotgun. Portuguese authorities seized the gun and required Ecclestone to pay a fine or complete temporary import procedures. The case outcome has not been announced, but for a man who has faced billion-dollar lawsuits, this is probably just a small scratch on his armor. What matters more is how this story is told within the broader context of F1 history. I recall an interview with Ecclestone in 2026, when he still ran F1. I asked about his retirement plans, and he replied with a mischievous smile: "Retire? I don't know what that word means. I will work until I can't work anymore." And indeed, at 95, he still makes headlines, still makes people talk about him. Perhaps this is an unfortunate incident, but perhaps it is also an unintentional reminder that Bernie Ecclestone is still here, still part of the F1 story. The Portugal case also reveals another aspect of Ecclestone's post-retirement life. He and his wife, Fabiana Flosi, 46 years his junior, purchased a mansion in Portugal in what is said to be the largest private real estate deal in the country's history. His participation in a clay pigeon competition, a sport popular among the European elite, shows he maintains an active lifestyle. But it also raises questions about whether a 95-year-old man can still manage the complex legal details of private jet travel with firearms. I have witnessed many sports legends struggle with life after leaving the spotlight. Some choose to disappear completely, some maintain presence through charity or business. Ecclestone belongs to a third group: those who cannot separate themselves from their own story. He still appears at racetracks, still makes controversial comments about current drivers, still an indispensable figure in the F1 landscape. The shotgun incident is just a new chapter in the long story of a man who never knew how to live a peaceful life. From a legal perspective, this case could be resolved smoothly. Ecclestone has the financial means to hire the best lawyers, and he has a strong support team. But there is an aspect no lawyer can resolve: how the public perceives him. In an era where every action of a celebrity is scrutinized under a microscope, an incident like this could damage the legacy of a man who spent his life building a sports empire. But perhaps Ecclestone doesn't care about that. He has lived his entire life his own way, and he will continue to do so until his last breath. I want to end this article with an observation I have distilled from years of following this sport: the greatest figures in sports history never truly leave the stage. They may no longer compete, no longer manage, but they remain present in every story, every record, every debate. Bernie Ecclestone, with an undocumented shotgun on his private jet in Portugal, has just reminded us that legends never die, they simply transition to a different role. And perhaps, in some way, this is how he wants to be remembered: not as a cold operator, but as a human being with all his flaws, mistakes, and moments that make people shake their heads in exasperation. Every museum eventually has to clear out its storage, and Bernie Ecclestone has just proven he still has the strength to sweep the floor himself.