Blog Archives - My Experiences With A Drug Kingpin

My Experiences With A Drug Kingpin

A Good Friend

5/30/2014

Humberto Herrera was a leading figure in the Medellin Cartel. Though he didn’t get the press of Escobar and some of the others, he nonetheless was a man well-known within the cocaine world. He was also Jerry’s friend and confidante, often visiting Jerry in Fort Lauderdale. A man known for partying, he tried to convince Jerry to take the 77 foot yacht, the two of them sailing around the world, living the high life.

When Jerry went to prison, it was Herrera who offered him any assistance he needed, including help with escape. When Colombians were sent to a prison where Jerry was incarcerated, Herrera made certain they contacted Jerry to pay their respect. Herrera was one of the reasons inmates gave Jerry respect.

I don’t know if Herrera still lives, nor did Jerry. In the last few years, he had lost contact with the Colombians, though he contended to the end they would help him if asked.

Herrera would often be the one to pay Jerry the $2 million after each delivery. Jerry would drive his truck to Miami, where the money would be loaded into the truck, then driven back to Fort Lauderdale. Herrera offered to transfer the money to any place Jerry chose, but Jerry wanted it in his hands. Curiously, he only had one close call with the police during this transfer and was never robbed. The only robbery attempt was when someone broke into one of Jerry’s houses, but no money, fortunately, was there, since Jerry had moved it to another site.

Herrera enjoyed Jerry’s yacht, named THE BITUMINOUS because Jerry was posing as a coal baron. He would use it to entertain lady friends.

One of Jerry’s regrets was in not seeing his old friend before death visited.

Violent Associations

5/24/2014

Jerry was associated with violence beyond most of our comprehension, especially when he was younger. One of the violent men he knew was Jackie Layman. Layman stayed with Jerry for a time after escaping from Brushy Mountain State Prison, the prison where James Earl Ray was incarcerated. Layman then was involved in a robbery where his two accomplices tried to kill him to gain his share of the money. On Christmas Eve of 1975, Layman learned that these men would be at the Red Lantern Tavern in Newport, Tennessee, so he arrived with a shotgun and began shooting. When the battle ended, two were dead , including Layman, another was dragged outside and run over him a few times with a car. The event was called the Red Tavern Massacre and a song was later written about the battle. After all these years, rumors abound about what actually happened. I have the words to the song and will post them at a later date.

Another violent episode was when Jerry was the driver for a robbery of another crook. Two men were brought in from Detroit, told the robbery would be easy, but it turned out anything but, so they ran from the place without any money, jumped in the car and stuck a gun to Jerry’s head, ordering him to drive to the airport in Lexington, Ky. By the time they reached Kentucky, Jerry had talked them out of killing him since he knew nothing about the arrangement and had just been hired to drive. When he returned home, he told the “arranger” what had happened, and the “arranger” called Detroit and had the men murdered. This was when Jerry understood the man’s serious connections with organized crime.

CIA Concerns

5/22/2014

I’ve been asked if I worry about writing about the CIA, and the answer is sometimes. When I began seeing their involvement with Jerry and other cocaine smugglers, I did a lot of reading, and since there is no shortage of material I found enough information to give any reasonable person pause who is digging up old CIA bones. An excellent example is the story of Gary Webb.

Webb was a decorated investigative reporter for the San Jose Mercury News. In 1966 he wrote a series of articles about the CIA’s involvement with cocaine, crack, and the Contra rebels. The series attracted national attention and so much political heat was brought against the newspaper that they eventually backed off their support of Webb and released him.

Webb had supported his story with materials garnered through the Freedom of Information Act, including a report by the CIA Inspector General indicating that White House officials, including Oliver North, supported the CIA using money from drug trafficking to fund the Contras.

The Washington Post, long a supporter of White House policies, fiercely attacked Webb, soon joined by other media outlets. His book, Dark Alliance, was called by North a series of lies. Soon, Webb’s career as a journalist was finished. An editor for the Chicago Times said that Webb got the treatment that always comes to those who question aloud the bone fides of the establishment.

On December 10,2004, Webb was found dead, with two bullet holes in his head. After investigation, and because a note was found, his death was ruled a suicide. Yes, I didn’t miswrite: two bullets to the head and it was called a suicide.

So, yes I am often concerned.

His Death

5/19/2014

Jerry was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer while incarcerated at Forrest City, Arkansas, easily the worst prison I had visited. The guards were indifferent to the prisoners, mail would be delivered on an irregular basis, daily newspapers came once a week, and books might or might not get to the prisoner. It was a disaster that I complained about routinely, always falling on deaf ears. It was only after a lawyer's insistence that his daughter was informed that he was hospitalized, this one day before he was transferred to a medical center in North Carolina. When he was transported, they wouldn't even allow him to see out the window.

I found the North Carolina facility to be the most understanding of any I visited. When I visited I sensed he was in denial about the severity of his disease. Of course, I didn't say anything, though I understood the chances of survival were slim. He kept up his optimism but the disease progressed rapidly and a few weeks later, he died.

I've been asked if he had regrets, and the answer is yes---he had many regrets. But mainly he regretted getting his family in trouble. He understood the risk he was personally taking but he didn't want it to taint his family---and it did. Which he regretted. We discussed this on several occasions but he understood that what was done, was done, and he had to move on with his life. He talked about what he wanted to do when he was paroled this summer---he was due for mandatory parole this year---how he wanted to make amends with his family, including his grand-children. We discussed housing, cars, jobs---things ordinary people have. He was both apprehe

I found it interesting that once his death was known, over 2200 people contacted the funeral home to learn of the arrangements. That's a lot of inquiries.

I'll talk more about his last weeks during future posts.

More CIA

5/18/2014

Jerry’s death freed me to discuss matters that otherwise might have gotten him into trouble in prison, so let’s talk about the CIA’s involvement with cocaine a little more. In the early 80s—specifically 80 and 81---the agency was either flying coke directly or getting a percentage from Cartel members. They had safe airports in Arkansas, Texas, and a few other states, where planes could land and take off without much notice. Jerry knew names and places, not because of his position but because in Medellin this was common knowledge among smugglers. The CIA had immense stores of money so that was never a problem if someone needed to be bought, and they also had immense political clout, as they still do. They would store millions in their “own” banks, cash in safety deposit boxes or sometimes in phony accounts.

People have wondered why Jerry wasn’t concerned when the CIA contacted him in south Florida to work for them, the answer being that they were as dirty as him so why should he be concerned. The Colombians weren’t concerned either at that point.

Much of the money collected by the CIA was used to fund their involvement in various covert activities throughout the world, but a lot of it went into personal bank accounts as well, according to Jerry. Now, as you read this, you need to understand there is nothing anyone can do about it because too many high level people are involved. Think about all the Congressional investigations, all the books written, accusations by the media, and what has been the outcome? Zilch, that’s what. Jerry believed that the CIA rules the world and maybe he’s right.

Consider the $20 million a flight he was offered to fly cocaine into Europe and heroin back. This was upfront money so where was it coming from. Forget car washes and bake sales. We’re talking about $20 million, as much as $60 million a month, for as long as---well, until someone decided to kill him, I guess. You think that wasn’t tempting? But he knew all about the CIA, so passing up that kind of money told you how much he trusted them. Respect, yes he did, but not trust. Until his final breath last week, he didn’t trust them.

He would remind me the tragedy of Barry Seal. He trusted them until the afternoon he was gunned down in the street.

Mike Tyson, A Ponzi Scheme, and Stuff

5/16/2014

One of the many people I got to know through Jerry was a man who was a pal of Mike Tyson. They used to run together, eager to share their tales, he was a pleasant looking man in his thirties, with a large gap in his front teeth that looked like a picket fence when he smiled—which he did often. I won’t repeat the stories he shared other than they enjoyed women and drugs. He claimed to talk with Tyson on a regular basis and seemed to like Jerry.

Jerry was a likable man, without pretense, and always letting you know where you stood. So, he made many friends. He had the reputation within the system as a man who would keep his mouth shut and a man that you didn’t want to wrong. His last fight was when a much younger man tried to cheat him out of money. Jerry walked to his cell and without warning began hitting him, the fight lasting almost fifteen minutes before they were too tired to continue. The man paid the money the next day. Even as Jerry talked about this, he showed no anger toward the man; it was just part of prison life.

Another friend he met during his last months at the max security prison in Kentucky was a businessman I’ll call John, who was in prison because of a massive Ponzi scheme involving millions. John was in his early fifties, articulate, and like Tyson’s friend, eager to talk. He was awaiting appeal and was certain he would win. He didn’t. He was also interested in my writing a book about his life---that is yet to be decided. He was, however, an interesting person. His story was that he purchased a failing financial firm, rehabilitated it, and began selling shares to the public. Well, you see where this is going. He used sales proceeds to pay interest, etc, etc, until his lavish lifestyle began drawing attention of regulators and they discovered the scam.

The federal judge was so angry after the guilty verdict came in that she lashed out at John viciously and gave him a sentence of 50 years, which means he would be in his nineties before getting out. In all my times of reading court cases, I’d be hard pressed to find a more angered judge. But it could have been worse because the prosecution had sought a sentence of 225 years.

I’ll continue with John’s story later but need to add a note here. In this post I referred to Jerry in the past tense because yesterday he died from pancreatic cancer. He was diagnosed a few months ago and had been undergoing treatment at the Butner Medical Center in North Carolina. He had become a friend and I will miss him. However, now that he is no longer at the mercy of the archaic prison system, I’m free to share more with you , including my anger at the way we treat other human beings. So, stay turned.

Sabotage---part 3

5/14/2014

There was a constant struggle within Colombia to see who would remain at the top of the cocaine heap, but the top five would have to be Griselda Blanco, Pablo Escobar Jorge Ochoa, Carlos Lehder, and Jose Gacha. All of these were interesting characters and one of the more interesting was Gacha who used cocaine funds to buy soccer teams, horses, and land. Jerry knew them all and understood the violence they would deal out if they thought a traitor was in their midst, which was one of the reasons he was undecided on how to handle the person responsible for him losing the airplane tonight, nearly losing his life in the process.

When the man finally arrived, looking somewhat surprised to see Jerry, after hearing what had occurred, he was quick to apologize for his mistake, explaining that he had been preoccupied, promising it would never happen again. The promise was unnecessary because Jerry wasn’t going to give him another chance. Jerry listened as the man pleaded his case, fully understanding what could happen. He said he had delayed the cocaine delivery because he had some personal business to take care of, had explained it to the others, and knew it was against Jerry’s policy but hadn’t thought it could hurt this one time. Jerry listened quietly, not interrupting, just watching and waiting until he was finished talking.

Finally, even before the man had stopped making excuses, stopped pleading, Jerry had decided. He was going to let the man live, for many reasons---friendship, not wanting to get the Colombians involved, etc--- but the man would no longer have anything to do with deliveries unless there was an emergency.

Later, he wondered if the decision was a mistake, setting a bad example. “I just didn’t know,” he said to me, “but I had other concerns to deal with.” Those concerns were to explain to the Cartel leaders that he had lost the airplane, and probably had lost the ability to land more flights at this airport.

The Cartel person he directly reported to was named Humberto Herrera. Humberto was a short, handsome man with a good sense of humor, and a good friend of Jerry’s. He had taken Jerry under his wing, introduced him to the right people, and made sure he was adequately financially compensated. But Jerry was unsure how he would respond to losing an airplane, would he question him closely, or just accept his story. Fortunately, Humberto did the latter and said they had plenty of airplanes. Jerry never mentioned the sordid part of the event, nor would he ever.

Later, the man responsible for the near crash was shot in the head in a parking lot in a nearby town. At the time of his murder, Jerry was in prison. During the subsequent investigation, it came out that he had been an FBI informant.

Sabotage-----part 2

5/13/2014

As Jerry approached the airport, he worried about the remaining fuel sloshing around inside the plane. One spark and it would burst into flames. He also began hatching up an escape plan if the plane landed safely. From his marijuana days, he’d had experience in running from this airport so he had an idea what to do, though it wouldn’t be easy. After that, things were unclear in his mind.

Just as he feared, he saw the man’s truck at the control tower. He was a man obsessed with aviation and each night after work would arrive and just sit in the tower, not doing much, but probably soaking up the ambience of aviation. He would bring the truck out even before Jerry’s plane rolled to a stop, curious to see, unknowing of the possible danger he could face. Jerry eased down the landing gear, praying there was no incident, no small spark, nothing, relieved when it snapped into place and the wheels touched down smoothly. The first part of the job was accomplished.

He pushed open the door and jumped out, the truck racing down the runway, and began running toward the trees. The last time he had been forced to do this, a plane with a spotlight had been circling overhead and people had been shooting at him, but this time there was only moonlight and no gunfire.

An hour later, he was standing outside a phone booth, wondering which direction he was going to take. The man who loaded the barrels had been his friend for a long time, so he tried the argument that it had just been a mistake. But it wasn’t convincing. There wasn’t just one mistake, but a series of errors that should have led to his death if not for both his skill and a bounty of luck. Still, he thought he would offer the benefit of some doubt.

He was picked up thirty minutes later and taken to the house where the man was staying. He wasn’t home, nor should he be because he would be on his way to south Florida with the cocaine, but as Jerry looked around, what he found was beyond belief. The cocaine was stored in a room.

This made no sense. He might be dumb enough to try to kill Jerry, but to steal from the Colombians was far too stupid, even for him. Yet, there was the cocaine. And what about the other men? Were they a part of it as well? He would not believe that.

He made a few phone calls and let it be known that he was alive and expecting the man to come to him within two hours---or else. Then, he sat back and waited.

(To be continued next post.)

Sabotage

5/12/2014

For all the people Jerry dealt with, and those I've interviewed, there was one who remains an enigma. I discuss him in some detail in the book, but in this post he shall remain anonymous. After gathering all the evidence I could, I fretted about how I would treat him because he had been one of Jerry friends for a decade. I finally concluded I would just report what I knew, withhold my personal opinion, even soften Jerry's thoughts after 30 years of reflection, and let the reader make his own conclusion. With that, here's the story:

In the late 70s, a cocaine war was going on in Miami. Machine guns had hit the street and Colombians were being killed---by other Colombians. Longtime Colombian drug sellers were arriving from New York, augmented by illegals from places like Medellin and Cali. The price of cocaine was surging----Jerry made $2,000,000 for one plane load---and control was valuable enough to warrant murder. People were gunned down in mid-day and bodies were routinely found in canals. And Jerry had to walk a fine line between various factions.

But he was the delivery man, the point guard distributing the basketball to the stars, so for the most part he was left alone. Fly the plane, bring the white powder to south Florida, and collect his money. Do that and everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

It was a sunshine day when he and his co-pilot left Medellin and began the long journey to Madisonville, Tennessee. The plane was fully loaded, the fuel barrels were tied down, and the two men were in good spirits. The co-pilot has asked Jerry if he could stay behind to visit family in Atlanta and Jerry had agreed. The co-pilot did no flying, in fact, he wasn’t a pilot at all, his job simply to switch the fuel barrels and dump the empties into the ocean. And while having to do this by himself was an inconvenience, Jerry was certain he could handle it. He would pick up the man on the next trip.

They landed at dusk and rolled to a stop. There was a window of safety at the airport so Jerry expected no trouble. He bid goodbye to the co-pilot and said he hoped he enjoyed the visit, then he stretched his legs and ate something one of his men had brought. He watched as they unloaded the cocaine and placed it in the cars, then watched another man load the new fuel barrels into the plane. The fuel barrels were Jerry’s invention, much better than the fuel bladder some pilots used, which in his opinion was a bomb waiting to explode.

But there was one danger in the barrels; they had to be securely fastened so they wouldn’t slide around, upsetting the plane’s center of gravity. But his men were aware of this and no problem had ever existed in any of his flights.

When everything was ready, he took off. As he began to climb, he noticed a slight shift in the plane, a small shudder like a gust of wind had pushed under the wings. Then, the plane began tilting backwards and the stall warning signal blared in his ear. He knew immediately what was happening, the fuel barrels were sliding toward the rear of the plane. He fought the controls to level out the plane but it was difficult, and he feared he was actually going to tumble out of the sky. He brought forth all his knowledge of aviation, having experienced a lot of problems in flying marijuana out of the Jamaican mountains, and after nearly ten minutes he was able to gain control.

But there was another problem staring at him; the smell of fuel in the airplane. When he reached altitude, he engaged the autopilot and assessed the damage. One of the barrels had turned over and fuel was spilling out. Not only had the barrels not been secured properly, the hose connections were incorrectly attached.

He had no choice but to turn around and return to the airfield, which brought in play two major problems. One spark from the landing gear could turn the plane into a ball of fire. The second problem was that the plane had Colombian markings and by now people would be at the control tower, curious why someone would be landing this late.

Another issue was that someone had tried to get him killed.

(In the next post, I’ll continue the story.)

Jerry and George Jung

5/10/2014

I was asked the question, “Does Jerry’s career connect with George Jung?” Jung was the subject of the book, BLOW, a story about cocaine and the Medellin Cartel. The book was interesting, the movie more, and Jung had some parallels with Jerry’s career, but while Jung tried to act “bad,” Jerry was bad. He was also more efficient. That was my answer to this man in the prison waiting room. Jerry was an efficient businessman that no one wanted to cross. He wasn’t mean spirited, or malicious, but he had a code of honor that he held to, and he made it clear to everyone. As I interviewed people who had been around him, or worked for him, that’s what I came away with.

Jerry had an ingenious business model for smuggling cocaine. Once the plane landed somewhere in the southeast, the coke would be loaded into cars for delivery to south Florida. The entourage included a wrecker driven by a skilled mechanic, in case one of the cars had trouble, and a man with a fast car. This man, if a car happened to be pulled over by the police, would race by the cop to draw his attention, perhaps even stage a wreck, just to get the cop to leave. Then, the drug car would get “out of Dodge.” It was brilliant.

Some of the parallels between Jung and Jerry are the associations with cartel members. Jerry knew them all but unlike Jung, he knew better than to use coke in their presence. In fact, as I’ve said before, he never used at all. And he didn’t allow his people to use either. He was in a business to make money, not to pleasure himself.

He did, however, have a beautiful Colombian girlfriend. She worked as a translator for an oil firm in Medellin. She remained his girlfriend, at least one of them, when he moved to Florida. He says she was intelligent and nice. And she enjoyed his status in Medellin.

I don’t know much about George Jung, other than what I read in the book and saw in the movie, but Jerry’s life seems to me to have been more dangerous and exciting.