I first met Juan Diego Arcila Henao, alias "El Tomate" and his brother Carlos Alberto Arcila Henao at their house in Marathon, Florida in 1983.According to the U.S. Justice Department files and the Columbian Government documents, All of us were considered "Tomates". Why tomatoes I have no idea other than signifying "Bloody", which Diego turned out to be.
The occasion was a barbecue and I had been invited to meet him and Carlos his brother both lieutenants in the Medellin cartel so they could "size me up". A friend of mine who was involved with trafficking the cartel's cocaine into Florida had offered me a partnership in the "Group" as one of the boat Captains running the coke from the Bahamas and Columbia into south Florida.
I have to say this before I go any farther. There were steaks on the grill and children playing in the yard. I have seen all the movies about big time wealthy coke traffickers. How they eat in fine restaurants with silver and fine wine. Well, these guys were multi-millionaires at that time and when it was time to eat, the steaks were picked up off the grill with their hands and eaten like the piece of meat that it was. No plates, no napkins, no potatoes, only Heineken beer in one hand and meat in the other. The children ate the same way. I did not realize at the time that it was a sign of exactly what kind of people I was getting involved with.
I was not so naïve as to be unaware of the ruthlessness they had shown on the streets of Miami and in their own country. Murdering anyone who got in the way or whom they perceived as being in the way. Informants, suspected informants, Police by the hundreds, Judges and politicians. But I was in the grip of the money and turned a blind eye to the violence. (1)
(1) All information can be found at "El Tiempo" online Columbian newspaper
6/28/14
4/21/09
Background
In February of 1987, I was underway in the Caribbean sailing toward my destination of Negril, Jamaica in my 40 foot trimaran "Windsong". On board, along with myself and two others, was my partner Matt. I had known Matt since I arrived in Marathon, Fl. in February, 1981. Later that year, I moved in with Matt and another fellow I had recently been introduced to named Bobby. The "Dome Home" on Grassy Key, just north of Marathon, Fl., was the local name for this house on stilts.
The "Dome Home" was known for being the first "geodesic dome" in Florida, manufactured by a company in California. Built sometime in the late sixties it consisted of identical fiberglass triangles fastened together to form a large dome. Sitting on a deck, with stilts 14' high, it was accessed by a 150 yard coral driveway, hidden from the view of passing traffic. It was blessed with a view that was breathtaking on a bad day, highlighted by the wide open Florida straits, a short 90 miles from Cuba. A very shallow sandy beach covered the coral & limestone making up the island underneath. Twenty feet from the shoreline were flats with bone fish in such consistent numbers that I made a daily ritual out of stalking, and landing at least one per day. On Grassy Key most folks knew each other and considered everyone neighbors. We left our doors unlocked, keys never removed from our cars. Life was easy and laid back, with most everyone caring for and about each other.
This was where Matt and I began to plan our journeys. We talked for hours about Coast Guard tactics, searching vessels, what caused suspicion, eventually deciding we could get away with smuggling ganja from Jamaica. We had already established a marijuana connection outside of Kingston, Jamaica in a place called "Spanish Town". (References along with descriptions of how this came about will be found in "Making the Connection")
Trips were made in any number of different sailboat designs. From very small single masted sloops to the present vessel, a 40ft. ketch trimaran I owned named "Windsong". A trimaran is a multi-hulled(3) sailboat with "wings" connecting the large crew occupied "middle" hull, with the two smaller "outer" hulls. The wings stretched out between the hulls for 5 feet, making a sort of "cabin" inside each port and starboard. These areas up on the wing platforms, were part of the inner cabin, stretching out to connect with the smaller hulls. The outer hulls were not accessible from inside the main hull. The auxiliary diesel engine was located underneath the cockpit directly up and out the companionway from inside the main cabin. The main hull continued behind the cockpit another 8ft. housing my private cabin.
Normally Matt and I would fly into Jamaica by air and negotiating the purchase of enough fields of Ganja to make about one thousand pounds. Once ready for harvest we would oversee the packaging of the ganja by our Jamaican associates, pay off the various Government Officials, and fly home to Marathon Fl., send the boat with myself and another crew member to have the Ganja delivered to the boat, hide it in the compartments and bring it back to Florida.
One particular trip to Negril we were having an exceptional trip, sea conditions had been calm most of the way. It was February, the days were fair with temperatures a pleasant eighty degrees during the day, cooling at night to around sixty eight degrees. Clear nights revealing ink black skies, filled with galaxies and star formations, always seemed more beautiful than the night preceding.
Thirty six hours after sailing through the Windward Passage, into the Caribbean, we were making 15 knots on a port tack, powered by a brisk easterly trade wind of 25 knots. At around eleven a.m., heading directly toward Negril, Jamaica 25 miles to the southeast, I spotted something off to the east northeast that appeared to be a small white boat. It is not unusual to come across abandoned little gems, sacrificed to King Neptune, while in the open sea. I reached for my binoculars, perched on the hook right next to me, in the cockpit of "Windsong". Mark and Glenn, just as curious as I was, grabbed the other two pairs off the same hook. I changed course heading for the floating mystery that was being blown towards Mexico 350 miles away. As we moved to within sight, I saw something that even today sends a shiver through me. It wasn't the 12ft. sunfish sailer, it's mast and sail laying in the water, that caught me by surprise. No, it was the two young women stranded on the rental, from the beach in Negril, lost to the trade winds blowing out to sea. I eased "Windsong", helping them both aboard.Without our arrival they most certainly would have perished.
Of course, the women were very happy to be found and we were glad to have found them. Knowing that they had been in some sort of peril really hadn't sunk into their heads yet. Already knowing, how they happened to be 25 miles from shore, I asked for their benefit.
"We started sailing out from the beach, we were doing pretty well until we tried to reverse our course and go back in. We had no idea how to make the boat go into the wind. After trying for over an hour, we were exhausted and just laid down on the boat, hoping that someone would miss us and come to get us. We haven't been able to see the land for a long time". I calculated that they were drifting at about 3 knots to the west. Although they were headed for Mexico, the straits of Yucatan would have sucked the little boat out between Cuba and Mexico in about 4 days time. Of course the boat would have been empty by that time having lost both passengers to the Caribbean Sea.
When we arrived off of Negril, I weighed anchor and took the two into the beach in my 10ft. rubber dinghy. I was friends with the Jamaican who rented the sailing equipment out and headed straight for him."Rocky...do you know where I found these two girls"? "Oh mahn, I was wondering where they were. Ya ladies been found by da Hook(my nickname in Jah) Da pirate of de Careeb". His attempt at levity worked pretty well giving all of us smiles. But inside of me I couldn't help but think about how things could have turned out very different for the two women I had found.
The "Dome Home" was known for being the first "geodesic dome" in Florida, manufactured by a company in California. Built sometime in the late sixties it consisted of identical fiberglass triangles fastened together to form a large dome. Sitting on a deck, with stilts 14' high, it was accessed by a 150 yard coral driveway, hidden from the view of passing traffic. It was blessed with a view that was breathtaking on a bad day, highlighted by the wide open Florida straits, a short 90 miles from Cuba. A very shallow sandy beach covered the coral & limestone making up the island underneath. Twenty feet from the shoreline were flats with bone fish in such consistent numbers that I made a daily ritual out of stalking, and landing at least one per day. On Grassy Key most folks knew each other and considered everyone neighbors. We left our doors unlocked, keys never removed from our cars. Life was easy and laid back, with most everyone caring for and about each other.
This was where Matt and I began to plan our journeys. We talked for hours about Coast Guard tactics, searching vessels, what caused suspicion, eventually deciding we could get away with smuggling ganja from Jamaica. We had already established a marijuana connection outside of Kingston, Jamaica in a place called "Spanish Town". (References along with descriptions of how this came about will be found in "Making the Connection")
Trips were made in any number of different sailboat designs. From very small single masted sloops to the present vessel, a 40ft. ketch trimaran I owned named "Windsong". A trimaran is a multi-hulled(3) sailboat with "wings" connecting the large crew occupied "middle" hull, with the two smaller "outer" hulls. The wings stretched out between the hulls for 5 feet, making a sort of "cabin" inside each port and starboard. These areas up on the wing platforms, were part of the inner cabin, stretching out to connect with the smaller hulls. The outer hulls were not accessible from inside the main hull. The auxiliary diesel engine was located underneath the cockpit directly up and out the companionway from inside the main cabin. The main hull continued behind the cockpit another 8ft. housing my private cabin.
Normally Matt and I would fly into Jamaica by air and negotiating the purchase of enough fields of Ganja to make about one thousand pounds. Once ready for harvest we would oversee the packaging of the ganja by our Jamaican associates, pay off the various Government Officials, and fly home to Marathon Fl., send the boat with myself and another crew member to have the Ganja delivered to the boat, hide it in the compartments and bring it back to Florida.
One particular trip to Negril we were having an exceptional trip, sea conditions had been calm most of the way. It was February, the days were fair with temperatures a pleasant eighty degrees during the day, cooling at night to around sixty eight degrees. Clear nights revealing ink black skies, filled with galaxies and star formations, always seemed more beautiful than the night preceding.
Thirty six hours after sailing through the Windward Passage, into the Caribbean, we were making 15 knots on a port tack, powered by a brisk easterly trade wind of 25 knots. At around eleven a.m., heading directly toward Negril, Jamaica 25 miles to the southeast, I spotted something off to the east northeast that appeared to be a small white boat. It is not unusual to come across abandoned little gems, sacrificed to King Neptune, while in the open sea. I reached for my binoculars, perched on the hook right next to me, in the cockpit of "Windsong". Mark and Glenn, just as curious as I was, grabbed the other two pairs off the same hook. I changed course heading for the floating mystery that was being blown towards Mexico 350 miles away. As we moved to within sight, I saw something that even today sends a shiver through me. It wasn't the 12ft. sunfish sailer, it's mast and sail laying in the water, that caught me by surprise. No, it was the two young women stranded on the rental, from the beach in Negril, lost to the trade winds blowing out to sea. I eased "Windsong", helping them both aboard.Without our arrival they most certainly would have perished.
Of course, the women were very happy to be found and we were glad to have found them. Knowing that they had been in some sort of peril really hadn't sunk into their heads yet. Already knowing, how they happened to be 25 miles from shore, I asked for their benefit.
"We started sailing out from the beach, we were doing pretty well until we tried to reverse our course and go back in. We had no idea how to make the boat go into the wind. After trying for over an hour, we were exhausted and just laid down on the boat, hoping that someone would miss us and come to get us. We haven't been able to see the land for a long time". I calculated that they were drifting at about 3 knots to the west. Although they were headed for Mexico, the straits of Yucatan would have sucked the little boat out between Cuba and Mexico in about 4 days time. Of course the boat would have been empty by that time having lost both passengers to the Caribbean Sea.
When we arrived off of Negril, I weighed anchor and took the two into the beach in my 10ft. rubber dinghy. I was friends with the Jamaican who rented the sailing equipment out and headed straight for him."Rocky...do you know where I found these two girls"? "Oh mahn, I was wondering where they were. Ya ladies been found by da Hook(my nickname in Jah) Da pirate of de Careeb". His attempt at levity worked pretty well giving all of us smiles. But inside of me I couldn't help but think about how things could have turned out very different for the two women I had found.
4/18/09
Some background
I have flown and sailed into and out of dangerous areas of Central American, South American and other Caribbean countries, meeting with, and working for dangerous violent men who live, and have lived, in these countries (May they rest in peace), My survival,was based on carefully observing and intuitively checking my behavior to avoid confrontation, or diffuse a dangerous situatuion, when operating in territory that could spell the end of my fun and games. . with regard for others secondary.
Now I don't wish anyone to misunderstand, even though drug trafficking is dangerous, ignoring the danger most of the time is the only way to keep one's sanity(somewhat). I love to sail in the open ocean and smuggling long distance is all about sailing the open sea. I transported weed and cocaine in sailboats. Some very small and others much larger. Whatever the size boat I was on, once the drugs were safely stowed away, the only thing left for me to do was get it safely home.
As I sail through my story for you I will tell you what goes on behind the business of smuggling, some parts are amusing others not so much. I like to think that I was addicted to excitement, with smuggling the most exciting thing that I could find.
Now I don't wish anyone to misunderstand, even though drug trafficking is dangerous, ignoring the danger most of the time is the only way to keep one's sanity(somewhat). I love to sail in the open ocean and smuggling long distance is all about sailing the open sea. I transported weed and cocaine in sailboats. Some very small and others much larger. Whatever the size boat I was on, once the drugs were safely stowed away, the only thing left for me to do was get it safely home.
As I sail through my story for you I will tell you what goes on behind the business of smuggling, some parts are amusing others not so much. I like to think that I was addicted to excitement, with smuggling the most exciting thing that I could find.
4/17/09
Who IS this guy?
I am just a guy from Norfolk,Virginia who loves being on or in the sea, who departed Norfolk for the life of "Island Living", starting in Hatteras North Carolina where I was a local surfer, commercial and sport fisherman, drinking, smoking and sniffing right into getting caught smuggling 50 lbs. of weed from Hatteras to Norfolk, Virginia in 1977.
It was time for me to find another island. I looked at a coastal map, noticing islands down below Florida called Florida Keys. On February 11, 1981, with 32.00 in my pocket, I boarded a Greyhound for Marathon, Florida in the middle of the Keys, where I sport fished professionally, got involved in drug smuggling, money laundering and official pay offs, continuing to drink, smoke and sniff right into being broken, indicted, convicted, sentenced, imprisoned and released after sentence completion, by The United States Department of Justice, for multiple counts of conspiracy to import narcotics i.e. Marijuana & Cocaine into the U.S. during the 1980's.
I lived and worked in the Caribbean and I have a story my friends have convinced me to tell. I will try to keep your interest and welcome your comments or questions.
It was time for me to find another island. I looked at a coastal map, noticing islands down below Florida called Florida Keys. On February 11, 1981, with 32.00 in my pocket, I boarded a Greyhound for Marathon, Florida in the middle of the Keys, where I sport fished professionally, got involved in drug smuggling, money laundering and official pay offs, continuing to drink, smoke and sniff right into being broken, indicted, convicted, sentenced, imprisoned and released after sentence completion, by The United States Department of Justice, for multiple counts of conspiracy to import narcotics i.e. Marijuana & Cocaine into the U.S. during the 1980's.
I lived and worked in the Caribbean and I have a story my friends have convinced me to tell. I will try to keep your interest and welcome your comments or questions.
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