The Foundation

Robbing a Colombian drug lord is not a trivial task.  Neither is staying married to a sociopath.  When my wife came to me with her idea, I realized I would have to do the first, if I wanted to continue doing the second.

I should have known it would come to this.  I was well aware before I married her, Jozefien and her girlfriends were bank robbers.  They had already committed a robbery similar to the one she was proposing.  When she tasered me, and they stole my money.

Candy, Barbie, and Sasha were my wife’s partners back in the day.  Each had a specific skill.  Together, they made a formidable team.  Barbie was the insider.  Her family owned a chain of banks and she had grown up in the business.  

In the robbery Jozefien was proposing, I would be the insider.  It would be up to me to work my way into one of the drug clans in my home country.  Not a simple task.  It would be risky.  I would be dealing with dangerous, paranoid men.  It would take years to build the trust and work my way up into the inner circle.  But I’d been successful in the business in America.  There was no reason I couldn’t pick up where I left off.

We discussed her idea for days before I agreed to go along.  It was fascinating.  I have never seen her talk so much.  There was no shark eye.  When I pointed out things that would be a problem with her plan, we talked them through, calmly.  She wrote down everything in a notebook.  

It became apparent how she and her girls had been able to get away with their crimes.  I’ve never met anyone more obsessed with details than Jozefien.  She is smart, patient, ruthless, and fearless.  That is a bad combination for anyone who ends up in her sights.  I know how that turned out for me.

It was a doable plan.  Insanely risky and dangerous, but we might just pull it off.  Working my way into a cartel would not be easy.  But, it fell within my set of skills.  I became the first male member of the Girlzilla gang.

I had to admire their discipline, patience and guts.  They were willing to uproot from their comfortable existence in Panama, move to Colombia, and spend years waiting and planning while I did my thing.  Then attempt a robbery, in what will certainly be a well guarded house.  And get away without being shot or arrested.

The first issue was how to justify my return to Colombia.  Drug lords tend to be paranoid.  There would be questions and background checks.  Jozefien had come up with a plausible story.   My parents were in their sixties and had health issues.  I  was returning to Bogota to be close to them. 

As far as Jozefien and her girlfriends, they were spoiled Americans, born into money.  I brought my wife with me.  Her girlfriends came along for the ride.  They moved in to an apartment in the expensive part of town.  

Jozefien and I rented a villa and my parents stayed with us.  I was amazed how far she was willing to go to support our story.  In her mind, my parents were nothing more than props.  Tools to be used during the execution of her current project.  

Yet she played the role of caring daughter-in-law convincingly.  My parents fell in love with her.  She never showed the shark eye in their presence.  I was reminded again to not underestimate a sociopath.

I looked up some childhood friends who, like me, had gotten their start on the streets of Bogota.  The smarter ones had survived.  Jorge was the most successful.  He’d made it into middle management.  He wasn’t an insider, but he was close.  Jorge’s boss reported to Sebastian Rojas, the man at the top.  

When Jorge hired me as a bodyguard and enforcer, Rojas became our target.

Pushing around losers is not a desirable job but you have to start somewhere.  I knew how to make money in this business.  It would just take time and effort to get the boss’s attention.  

It is easy to intimidate people who owe money to a dealer.  If they haven’t already received a beating from someone like me, they know someone who has.  Most of the time, I never had to say or do anything.  Frowning from behind the reflective sunglasses was enough to convince them to cough up the money.  Sometimes, it was jewelry, or a car, whatever made Jorge happy.

Those who didn’t pay became acquainted with my brass knuckles. Jozefien machined them in her shop, custom fit to my hands.  They were made of steel, not brass, and were quite effective.  Occasionally I removed the Glock from my shoulder holster.  A pistol barrel pushed into a man’s neck is an effective motivator.  I never had to pull the trigger.    

 

When Jorge found out one of his dealers was cutting the product and keeping the extra profit for himself, an opportunity for advancement opened up.  I administered the beating that let the cheater know he had been fired.  Then I took over his job.

Being cautious does not lead to spectacular profits.  But producing consistent, trouble free results will get you noticed eventually.  What I learned a long time ago in this business:  Making money is easy.  Avoiding the police, and not getting shot in a deal gone bad, that’s the hard part.  

I have a set of rules I never deviate from.  I avoid behavior that conflicts with a rule.  But most important, I am a good judge of people.  You have to be selective about who you do business with.  Trust is everything.  

The unforgiving nature of competition led to a certain amount of turnover.  Nine months after I moved into sales, I became a street boss like Jorge.  I would manage the dealers in Teusaquillo, a district near the center of Bogota.  And report directly to Jorge’s boss, Manuel Diaz.  One step away from Mr. Rojas.

Unfortunately, that was when real life validated our cover story.  My father had a massive coronary and went into a coma.  He never woke up and died days later.  My mother, already frail, did not get over the shock.  She stopped eating and withered away in a few months.

While this was happening, my life revolved around waiting rooms, consultations with doctors, and funerals.  Through it all, Jozefien was at my side.  I knew she had no emotional attachment to my parents.  She was not capable of understanding how I felt.  But her presence meant a lot.  At night, she did her best to comfort me, the only way she knew how.