News of a Kidnapping

by Gabriel García Márquez

  Epilogue

  At nine the next morning, as planned, Villamizar landed in Medellin with less than an hour's sleep. The night had been a boisterous celebration of resurrection. At four in the morning, when they were finally alone in the apartment, Maruja and he were so elated by the day's events that they stayed in the living room until dawn exchanging belated news. At the La Loma hacienda he was welcomed with the usual banquet, but this time baptized with the champagne of liberation. It was a brief respite, however, because now the one in a hurry was Pablo Escobar, hiding somewhere in the world without the protection of the hostages. His new emissary was very tall and loquacious, a pure blond with a long golden mustache who was called the Monkey and had full authority to negotiate the surrender.

  By order of President Cesar Gaviria, the entire legal debate with Escobar's lawyers had been carried out through Dr. Carlos Eduardo Mejia, who reported to the justice minister. For the physical surrender, Mejia would represent Rafael Pardo for the government's side, and the other side would be represented by Jorge Luis Ochoa, the Monkey, and Escobar himself from the shadows. Villamizar continued to be an active intermediary with the government, and Father Garcia Herreros, who was a moral guarantor for Escobar, would remain available in the event of a major crisis.

  Escobar's haste in having Villamizar come to Medellin the day after Maruja's release gave the impression that his surrender would be immediate, but it was soon evident that for him there were still a few diversionary tactics remaining. Everyone's greatest concern, Villamizar more than anyone, was that nothing happen to Escobar before he turned himself in. They had reason to worry: Villamizar knew that Escobar, or his survivors, would take it out of his hide if they even suspected him of not keeping his word. Escobar himself broke the ice when he telephoned him at La Loma and said without any preamble:

  "Dr. Villa, are you happy?"

  Villamizar had never seen or heard him, and he was struck by the absolute serenity of the voice that had no trace of his mythical aura. "I thank you for coming," Escobar continued without waiting for a reply, his earthly state revealed by his harsh shantytown diction. "You're a man of your word and I knew you wouldn't fail me." And then he came to the point:

  "Let's start to arrange how I'll turn myself in."

  In reality, Escobar already knew how he was going to turn himself in, but perhaps he wanted to review it again with a man in whom he had placed all his confidence. His lawyers and the director of Criminal Investigation, at times face-to-face and at times through the regional director, and always in coordination with the justice minister, had discussed every last detail of the surrender. When the legal questions stemming from each of their distinct interpretations of the presidential decrees had been clarified, the issues had been reduced to three: the prison, the staffing of the prison, and the role of the police and the army.

  The prison--in the former Rehabilitation Center for Drug Addicts in Envigado--was almost finished. Villamizar and the Monkey visited it at Escobar's request on the day following the release of Maruja and Pacho Santos. Piles of rubble in the corners and the devastating effects of that year's heavy rains gave it a somewhat depressing appearance. The technical problems of security had been resolved. There was a double fence, 2.8 meters high, with fifteen rows of five-thousand-volt electrified barbed wire and seven watch towers, in addition to the two that guarded the entrance. These two installations would be further reinforced, as much to keep Escobar from escaping as to prevent anyone from killing him.

  The only point that Villamizar found to criticize was an Italian-tiled bathroom in the room intended for Escobar, and he recommended changing it--and it was changed--to more sober decoration. The conclusion of his report was even more sober: "It seemed to me a very prisonlike prison." In fact, the folkloric splendor that would eventually shock the nation and compromise the government's prestige came later, from the inside, with an inconceivable program of bribery and intimidation.

  Escobar asked Villamizar for a clean telephone number in Bogota on which they could discuss the details of his physical surrender, and Villamizar gave him the number of his upstairs neighbor, Aseneth Velasquez. He thought no phone could be safer than hers, called at all hours of the day and night by writers and artists lunatic enough to unhinge the strongest-minded. The formula was simple and innocuous: An anonymous voice would call Villamizar's house and say, "In fifteen minutes, Doctor." Villamizar would go upstairs to Aseneth's apartment and Pablo Escobar himself would call a quarter of an hour later. On one occasion he was delayed in the elevator and Aseneth answered the phone. A raw Medellinese voice asked for Dr. Villamizar.

  "He doesn't live here," said Aseneth.

  "Don't worry about that," said the voice with amusement. "He's on his way up."

  The person speaking was Pablo Escobar, live and direct, but Aseneth will know that only if she happens to read this book, for on that day Villamizar tried to tell her out of basic loyalty, and she--who is no fool--covered her ears.

  "I don't want to know anything about anything," she said. "Do whatever you want in my house but don't tell me about it."

  By this time Villamizar was traveling to Medellin several times a week. From the Hotel Intercontinental he would call Maria Lia, and she would send a car to take him to La Loma. On one of his early trips Maruja had gone with him to thank the Ochoas for their help. At lunch the question of her emerald and diamond ring came up, for it had not been returned to her on the night she was released. Villamizar had also mentioned it to the Ochoas, and they had sent a message to Escobar, but he did not reply. The Monkey, who was present, suggested giving her a new one, but Villamizar explained that Maruja wanted the ring for sentimental reasons, not for its monetary value. The Monkey promised to take the problem to Escobar.

  Escobar's first call to Aseneth's house had to do with a "God's Minute" on which Father Garcia Herreros accused him of being an unrepentant pornographer, and warned him to return to God's path. No one could understand his about-face. Escobar thought that if the priest had turned against him it must have been for a very significant reason, and he made his surrender conditional on an immediate public explanation. The worst thing for him was that his men had agreed to turn themselves in because of the faith they had in the father's word. Villamizar brought him to La Loma, and there the father made all kinds of explanations to Escobar by telephone. According to these, when the program was recorded an editing error made him say what in fact he had never said. Escobar taped the conversation, played it for his troops, and averted a crisis.

  But there was still more. The government insisted on combined army and national guard patrols for the exterior of the prison, on cutting down the adjoining woods to make a firing range, and on its right to have the guards selected from a list compiled by a tripartite commission representing the central government, the municipality of Envigado, and the Prosecutor General's Office, since the prison was both municipal and national. Escobar opposed having guards close by because his enemies could murder him in the prison. He opposed combined patrols because--his lawyers claimed--no military forces were permitted inside a jail, according to the Law on Prisons. He opposed cutting down the nearby forest because it would permit helicopter landings and because he assumed a firing range was an area where prisoners would be the targets, until he was convinced that in military terms, a firing range is nothing more than a field with good visibility. And that, in fact, was the great advantage of the Rehabilitation Center--for the government and for the prisoners--because from anywhere in the building one had a clear view of the valley and the mountains, allowing more than enough time to respond to an attack. Then, at the last minute, the national director of Criminal Investigation wanted to build a fortified wall around the prison in addition to the barbed-wire fence. Escobar was furious.

  On Thursday, May 30, El Espectador published a report--attributed to very reliable official sources--on the terms for surrender allegedly set by Escobar at a meeting between his lawyers and government spokesm
en. The most sensational of these--according to the article--was the exile of General Maza Marquez and the dismissals of General Miguel Gomez Padilla, commander of the National Police, and General Octavio Vargas Silva, commander of the Police Office of Judicial Investigation (DIJIN).

  President Gaviria met with General Maza Marquez in his office to clarify the origin of the report, which persons connected to the government had attributed to him. The interview lasted for half an hour, and knowing both men, it is impossible to imagine which of the two was more impassive. The general, in his soft, slow baritone, gave a detailed account of his inquiries into the case. The president listened in absolute silence. Twenty minutes later they said goodbye. The next day, the general sent the president an official six-page letter that repeated in minute detail what he had said, and documented their conversation.

  According to his investigations--the letter said--the source of the report was Martha Nieves Ochoa, who had given it days before as an exclusive to the legal reporters at El Tiempo--the only ones who had it--and they could not understand how it had been published first in El Espectador. The general stated that he was a fervent supporter of Pablo Escobar's surrender. He reiterated his loyalty to his principles, obligations, and duties, and concluded: "For reasons known to you, Mr. President, many persons and entities are intent upon destabilizing my career, perhaps with the aim of placing me in a situation of risk that will allow them to carry out their plans against me."

  Martha Nieves Ochoa denied being the source of the article, and did not speak of the matter again. Three months later, however--when Escobar was already in prison--Fabio Villegas, the secretary general to the president, asked General Maza to his office on behalf of the president, invited him into the Blue Room and, walking from one end to the other as if he were out for a Sunday stroll, communicated the president's decision to have him retire. Maza left convinced that this was evidence of an agreement with Escobar that the government had denied. In his words, "I was negotiated."

  In any case, before this occurred, Escobar had let Maza know that the war between them had ended, that he had forgotten everything and was serious about his surrender: He was stopping the attacks, disbanding his men, and turning in his dynamite. As proof he sent him a list of hiding places for seven hundred kilos of explosives. Later, from prison, he would continue to disclose to the brigade in Medellin a series of caches totaling two tons. But Maza never trusted him.

  Impatient over the delay in his surrender, the government appointed a man from Boyaca--Luis Jorge Pataquiva Silva--as director of the prison instead of an Antioquian, as well as twenty national guards from various departments, none from Antioquia. "In any event," said Villamizar, "if they want to bribe someone it makes no difference if he's from Antioquia or somewhere else." Escobar, weary of all the twisting and turning, barely discussed it. In the end it was agreed that the army and not the police would guard the entrance, and that exceptional measures would be taken to ease Escobar's fear that his food in prison might be poisoned.

  The National Board of Prisons, on the other hand, adopted the same regulations regarding visits that applied to the Ochoa brothers in the maximum security block of Itagui prison. The time for waking up was seven in the morning; the time for being confined and placed under lock and key in one's cell was eight in the evening. Escobar and his prison mates could have women visitors every Sunday, from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon; men could visit on Saturdays, and minors on the first and third Sunday of every month.

  In the middle of the night on June 9, troops from the battalion of military police in Medellin relieved the cavalry unit that was guarding the sector, began to assemble an impressive security array, cleared the surrounding mountains of people who did not live in the area, and assumed total control of earth and heaven. There were no more excuses. Villamizar let Escobar know--with utmost sincerity--that he was grateful to him for Maruja's release, but was not prepared to take any more risks just so he could keep putting off his surrender. And he sent him a serious message: "From now on I'm not responsible." Escobar made his decision in two days, with one final condition: that the prosecutor general also be present at the surrender.

  An unexpected problem could have caused a new delay: Escobar did not have an official identification document that would prove he was in fact the man giving himself up. One of his lawyers raised the issue with the government and requested official citizenship papers for him, not taking into account that Escobar, hunted by every armed force in the country, would have to go in person to the appropriate office of the Civil Registry. The emergency solution was that he would identify himself with his fingerprints and an old identification card he had once used and had notarized, declaring at the same time that he could not produce the card because it had been lost.

  The monkey woke Villamizar when he phoned at midnight on June 18 to tell him to go upstairs to take an urgent call. It was very late, but Aseneth's apartment resembled a happy inferno, with the accordion of Egidio Cuadrado and his vallenatos combo. Villamizar had to elbow his way through a frenetic jungle of elite cultural gossip. Aseneth, in typical fashion, blocked his path.

  "I know now who's calling you," she said. "Be careful, because one false step and they'll have your balls."

  She let him into her bedroom just as the phone rang. In the uproar that filled the house, Villamizar could barely make out what was most essential:

  "Ready: Come to Medellin first thing tomorrow."

  Rafael Pardo arranged for a Civil Aeronautics plane to be available at seven o'clock for the official committee that would witness the surrender. Villamizar, fearful of leaks, was at Father Garcia Herreros's house by five. He found him in the oratory, the inevitable poncho over his cassock, just as he finished saying mass.

  "Well, Father, let's go," he said. "We're flying to Medellin because Escobar's ready to surrender."

  Traveling in the plane with them were Fernando Garcia Herreros, one of the father's nephews who acted as his occasional assistant; Jaime Vazquez, from the Council on Public Information; Dr. Carlos Gustavo Arrieta, the prosecutor general for the republic; and Dr. Jaime Cordoba Trivino, the special prosecutor for human rights. At Olaya Herrera airport, in the center of Medellin, Maria Lia and Martha Nieves Ochoa were waiting for them.

  The official committee was taken to the capitol building of the department of Antioquia. Villamizar and the father went to Maria Lia's apartment to have breakfast while last-minute arrangements were made for the surrender. There he learned that Escobar was already on his way, traveling by car and on foot to avoid the frequent police checkpoints. He was an expert in those evasive strategies.

  Once again the father's nerves were on edge. One of his contact lenses fell out, he stepped on it, and was so exasperated that Martha Nieves had to take him to San Ignacio Opticians, where they solved his problem with a pair of normal glasses. The city teemed with rigorous checkpoints, and they were stopped at almost all of them, not to be searched but so the men could thank the good father for everything he was doing for Medellin. In that city where everything was possible, the best-kept secret in the world was already public knowledge.

  The Monk came to Maria Lia's apartment at two-thirty, dressed for a day in the country with a light jacket and soft-soled shoes.

  "Ready," he said to Villamizar. "Let's go to the capitol building. You take your car and I'll take mine."

  He drove off alone. Maria Lia drove Villamizar, Father Garcia Herreros, and Martha Nieves in her car. The two men got out at the capitol building. The women waited outside. The Monkey, no longer a cold, efficient technician, was trying to hide inside his own skin. He put on dark glasses and a golfer's hat, and kept in the background, behind Villamizar. Someone who saw him walking in with the priest rushed to telephone Rafael Pardo to say that Escobar--very blond, very tall and elegant--had just surrendered at the capitol building.

  As they were preparing to leave, the Monkey received a call on his two-way radio informing him that a plan
e was heading for the airspace over the city. It was a military ambulance carrying several soldiers wounded in a clash with guerrillas in Uraba. It was getting late and the authorities were troubled, because the helicopters could not fly as dusk was falling, and delaying the surrender until the next day would be calamitous. Villamizar called Rafael Pardo, who rerouted the flight and repeated his categorical order that the sky be kept clear. As he waited for this to be settled, he wrote in his personal diary: "Not even birds will fly over Medellin today."

  The first helicopter--a six-passenger Bell 206--took off from the roof of the capitol building a little after three, with the prosecutor general and Jaime Vazquez, Fernando Garcia Herreros, and Luis Alirio Calle, a radio journalist whose enormous popularity was one more guarantee for Pablo Escobar's peace of mind. A security official would show the pilot the direct route to the prison.

  The second helicopter--a twelve-passenger Bell 412--took off ten minutes later, when the Monkey received the order on his two-way radio. Villamizar flew with him and the father. As soon as they had taken off, they heard a report on the radio that the government's position had suffered a defeat in the Constituent Assembly, where non-extradition of nationals had just been approved by a vote of fifty-one to thirteen, with five abstentions, in a preliminary ballot that would be ratified later. Though there were no indications it had been planned, it was almost childish not to think Escobar had known ahead of time and had waited for that precise moment to surrender.

  The pilots followed the Monkey's directions to the site where they would pick up Pablo Escobar and take him to prison. It was a very short flight, and at so low an altitude the directions seemed the kind you would give in a car: Take Eighth, keep going, turn right, more, a little more, to the park, that's it. Behind a grove of trees there suddenly appeared a splendid mansion surrounded by the bright colors of tropical flowers, with a soccer field as smooth as an enormous billiard table in the middle of El Poblado's traffic.