The phone call usually comes at a bad time. A client tells me they've just learned — sometimes from a lawyer, sometimes from a border agent, occasionally from a journalist who called for comment before they called their own family — that another country wants them extradited. What follows can feel like a black box. It isn't. Extradition has a fairly predictable sequence, even though the pace and specifics shift depending on which two countries are involved and whether a treaty governs the relationship.
Here's roughly how it unfolds.
Step one: the request itself. A foreign state (the "requesting state") submits a formal extradition request through diplomatic or designated channels — often the foreign ministry or a central authority like a justice department. This isn't a phone call between prosecutors. It's a formal package: identifying information about the person sought, a description of the alleged offense, the relevant criminal statute, and usually an arrest warrant or, if there's already been a conviction, the judgment. In many cases, this comes after a provisional arrest — the person is already in custody by the time the full paperwork arrives.
Step two: review by the requested state's authorities. The country where the person is located (the "requested state") reviews the request for basic compliance with its treaty obligations and domestic law. This is a gatekeeping function, not a full merits review yet. Officials check things like: is there a treaty in force, does the offense meet the minimum sentencing threshold, is the documentation complete.
Step three: arrest and a judicial hearing. If the person isn't already in custody, an arrest is made — sometimes on a provisional warrant while formal documents catch up. The person is then brought before a court, often called an extradition or committal hearing, though the terminology and exact procedure vary by country. This is where the legal fight actually happens. Grounds for opposing extradition — dual criminality, human rights concerns, the political offense exception, statute of limitations, whatever applies — get raised here.
Step four: the executive decision. In most systems, even after a court finds extradition legally permissible, a government minister or official (often the justice minister or equivalent) still has to sign off. Courts decide whether extradition is lawful; the executive branch often retains final discretion over whether it actually happens. I've seen cases where a court clears extradition and the political level still pauses, usually because of last-minute human rights submissions or a change in circumstances abroad.
Step five: appeal, if pursued. Nearly every extradition-friendly legal system allows some form of appeal, though the window to file is often short — sometimes just two or three weeks after the decision. Appeals typically focus on legal error rather than re-litigating facts.
Step six: surrender. If extradition is ultimately approved and no appeal succeeds, the person is physically handed over to authorities from the requesting state, usually accompanied by law enforcement escorts on a scheduled flight.
The whole process can take anywhere from a few months to several years. I've had cases resolve in under six months and others — usually involving serious human rights arguments or multiple rounds of appeal — that stretched past three years. The person's custody status during all of this depends on bail eligibility, which itself varies enormously by jurisdiction and by flight-risk assessment.
Let me flesh out a few of these steps, because the summary version tends to make the process sound more mechanical than it actually is.
On the arrest itself. Sometimes it happens the way people picture it — officers at the door early in the morning, warrant in hand. More often, in my experience, it happens somewhere more mundane: a routine traffic stop that flags an INTERPOL Red Notice, a border check when someone's passport pings a database they didn't know existed, or a scheduled appearance for an unrelated matter that turns into something much bigger the moment a name gets run. The person frequently has no advance warning at all, which is part of why the first hours matter so much.
On the committal hearing. This is worth dwelling on because it's where the real substance of a case gets decided, even though final approval still sits with an executive official in many systems. The judge isn't asked to determine guilt or innocence on the underlying charge — that's for the requesting country's own courts to sort out later. What the judge is deciding is narrower but still consequential: does this request satisfy the treaty's requirements, is there a legally sufficient basis to believe an extraditable offense occurred, and do any of the recognized bars to extradition apply. Depending on the jurisdiction, this can look more like a full evidentiary hearing with witnesses and expert testimony, or it can be a more streamlined documentary review. Knowing which model applies changes how a defense team prepares months in advance.
On bail during the process. I mentioned this varies a lot, and it's worth being blunt about why. Courts weigh flight risk heavily in extradition cases specifically because, unlike an ordinary domestic charge, the person facing extradition often has an obvious and powerful incentive to disappear — leaving the country isn't even necessary, since blending into a large city while contesting the case can be enough to frustrate the whole proceeding. Strong ties to the community, surrendered travel documents, electronic monitoring, and substantial sureties are the kinds of things that move a bail decision in a client's favor, and none of them are persuasive if assembled the week of the hearing rather than well in advance.
On voluntary surrender. Not every case ends in a contested fight to the finish. Sometimes, once the legal landscape is clear and the odds have been honestly assessed, a client decides that contesting every possible ground isn't in their actual interest — particularly if a negotiated surrender might lead to better treatment, a clearer plea posture, or simply an end to years of uncertainty. This isn't giving up; done well, it's a deliberate strategic choice, and I've seen it produce better outcomes than a losing fight dragged out to its final possible appeal.
What I want people to take from this timeline is simple: there are multiple decision points, and each one is an opportunity to build a record, not just react to the last one. Waiting until the hearing to think strategically is usually too late.
This article is provided for general informational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice. Extradition, INTERPOL, and international criminal matters are highly fact-specific. Readers facing an actual or anticipated matter should seek advice from qualified counsel before making decisions.