by Chanel Smith
“Do you believe in forgiveness and grace?” Jairo asked. “I’m not going to get religious on you and start preaching, Don Monty. It’s just a question.”
The question surprised me and it took me a moment to wrap my mind around an answer. “I don’t think that a person can avoid them and keep their sanity.”
Jairo chuckled. “There’s much more to it than that, but I’ll accept that. What I was getting at, however, is that without forgiveness and grace, there is no power to change and certainly no power to move on. For me, with the long list of things that I’ve done, I have to make it a daily practice. Like what I did with Juan David’s spirit last night. From that and from helping him to set, whatever it is that he did, right, I can move forward. I have the strength to move forward.”
Another element had just been added to my struggle for finding balance. It was amazing that I had come to Medellin a skeptic. It was amazing, though Ellen had talked to me about it a number of times, that getting a grasp on balance hadn’t really hit me until we were deep into our case at El Castillo. Was it because I’d been forced into my old, police officer mindset that I’d also been forced to take a new look at balance? I still had a lot to work through and didn’t really have the time. We had only one more midnight left and we had to convince Juan David Ochoa’s brother to join us at El Castillo in the garden by the big fountain at midnight.
“Speaking of what happened with Juan David’s spirit last night,” I began. “Have you figured out how we’re going to convince Miguelito to join us?”
Jairo started laughing as he spoke. “This whole ghost story thing is a pretty tough sell, isn’t it?”
“You tell me,” I replied. It was impossible not to laugh along with him. “You fell for it.”
“Yeah,” he answered with a wide smile still on his face. “But I’m a sucker for new things and Miguelito is a pretty hardcore, straight down the road type. You know, tried and true, by the book and all of those other clichés.”
“I know the type,” I mused. “I’ve known a lot of them and was one, well, until Ellen got a hold of me and started running me through the ringer.”
“I doubt there have been many dull moments in her company.”
“Not many that I can remember. There have been several that have made the hair stand up on my neck.”
“I’m not sure if mine have laid back down yet.” He reached to the back of his neck like he was smoothing them down with his palm.
“You know Miguelito better than I do. How do we get him to join us?”
“I’ve got some ideas, one of whom is completely irresistible to him.”
“One of which, you mean?” I corrected him. “Ideas aren’t usually referred to as being a ‘who.’”
“No, I mean who. My idea is a who.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke. “It’s a certain Paisa that can get Miguelito to do anything that she asks.”
“Ah, okay, I get it. You’re bringing out the big guns.”
“My plan is to get her to invite him to a picnic here in order to watch the fireworks; make it out like a special invitation. I’ll see if I can’t get Ariel to help set things up just right.”
“How are you going to explain Ellen and me?”
“I’m just working on Lucia at the moment. I’ve got to get her to bite on what we’re doing.”
His cell phone rang as we were speaking.
“There she is now. Wish me luck,” he said as he pressed the button to connect the call.
From the side of the conversation that I heard, Jairo was inviting Lucia to come and meet with some friends of his from the U.S. He didn’t give her much in the way of details, but it was enough to get her to agree to come meet with us at Hard Rock Café, which was across the street and down the way a couple of blocks. He disconnected the call and held up his thumb.
“Phase one is under way.”
Ellen, having been allowed to rest, was able to join us for our meeting, which was a plus for the difficult task that we had ahead of us. Thankfully, Jairo had a good report with Lucia and she was eager to listen to the plan that we laid out for her.
“You think you can get him to come?” Jairo asked after the plan and its purpose had been laid out to her.
Lucia, who was, basically, an older version of Jovani, looked at him with a surprised expression. “I thought you knew that Jorgito will do anything that I ask him to do. Isn’t that why you called me?”
“We just need to explain Ellen and me,” I put in.
“Don’t worry over that,” she grinned. “I’ll come up with something.”
“The prospect of dealing with a ghost doesn’t bother you?” Ellen asked. “I can assure you that Juan David’s spirit will be there. This isn’t just a lark.”
“I have an aunt with the gift,” she replied. “It sends a chill up my spine, but I can keep myself under control, if that’s what you mean. You probably need to be more concerned with Jorgito.”
Chapter Twenty
Miguelito, Jorgito, Jorge—all the same person, of course—was exactly as Jairo had described him. He was the by-the-book type and was a little bit put out by the presence of all of us together in the garden at El Castillo. We’d gotten him there a couple of hours before midnight, unsure of how to go about explaining our purpose and what we needed from him.
“What’s this all about, Popeye?” Jorge Luis asked. “You roped Lucia into it, so it must be something that I’ll say no to.”
“What makes you think that I’m behind it?” Jairo replied with wide eyes and a wide smile.
“Because I know how you do things,” he replied. “How much is it going to cost me?”
He studied Ellen and me, wondering what business we were in and what Jairo was trying to rope him into. We remained silent for the moment and allowed Lucia and Jairo to carry out whatever plan the two of them had come up with.
Jorge Luis, the middle brother of the three Ochoas, was the logistical mastermind behind the Medellin cartel, as well as being the one who trained the security teams. When you got right down to it, he had been the engine of the operation, along with Carlos Lehder, who was a trusted friend of Escobar. Jorge Luis was not one who would allow you to pull the wool over his eyes and he was a little more than irritated by being led into something that he wasn’t familiar with. For a moment, I was afraid that, even though Lucia and Jairo were there to lend credibility, he would walk out on us before we ever had a chance to ask for his help.
“Do you know anything about this place?” Jairo asked.
“This place?” he asked waving his hand at the garden and turning to indicate the castle. “It’s a museum, gardens, cultural center and fine arts school, from what I’ve heard.”
“It’s a beautiful place, don’t you think?” Lucia said, leaning in close.
“Sure,” he replied. “Probably a good place to watch the fireworks too, but the two of you and maybe, though I don’t know you well.” Then, he motioned toward Ellen and me. “The two of you have something that you’re not telling me.”
Jairo and Lucia exchanged glances and then Jairo sighed.
“I had a conversation with your brother last night.”
“You spoke to Fabio?” He wrinkled his brow. “Last night?”
“I spoke to Juanito, last night,” Jairo replied.
“You’re out of your fuckin’ mind.” Jorge started to rise to his feet.
“Here me out,” Jairo snapped.
Jorge settled back into his chair, crossed his arms and glared at Jairo. “I came here on the pretense of watching the fireworks with Lucia and some friends. This had better be good, Popeye.”
“Doña Ellen is a psychic medium,” Jairo began. “She and Don Monty were called here, because for the past two years, during the week leading up to the Alborrada, the museum has been haunted by a spirit. They called me in because they were having trouble finding out who that spirit was and what he wanted. I didn’t believe at first, but I saw the spirit with my own eyes and even talked to
him. It’s Juanito and he asked for you to meet him here tonight when the Alborrada starts, I swear to God.”
“Sounds like a load of crap to me,” Juanito replied. “If this is some sort of joke that you and Lucia are playing on me, just remember that getting even is much more fun.”
“It’s not a joke,” Jairo responded. “You remember how Juanito used to take abuse and take abuse and take abuse? You remember how he would push down his anger over and over until he finally exploded?”
“Yeah,” Jorge unwillingly volunteered.
“He’s been trashing this place, just like he used to do when he finally exploded,” Jairo laughed. “You remember that time that he had to buy Tia Lidia a brand new sala because he’d broken everything?”
“Damn it, Popeye,” Jorge replied. “Why are you doing this? Why are you digging this up and then telling me that you saw his spirit and talked to him? This isn’t funny at all.”
“I would never play such a cruel joke on you, Miguelito. You know that; we’re primos, but we’re like brothers. You have to believe me.”
He looked at Lucia. “Did you see him too?”
“No, but Popeye isn’t playing a joke on you, I promise,” she replied.
He looked at Ellen and me. “No disrespect, but I’m not really buying all of this.”
“It’s not an easy thing to believe,” Ellen responded. “But it would be a very cruel joke for us to be telling you this and it not be true. Monty and I would never be a part of something like that.”
“You’re really a psychic medium?”
“Would you like to see my card?” She passed a business card across to him.
“She’s the one with the gift,” I grinned. “I just pack around the equipment.”
“I’m still not sure about this,” he said, passing the card back to her.
“The museum spent good money bringing us down here to help them with their problem. They believe in us,” Ellen added.
“A fool and his money…” Jorge began the line, but did not finish it.
Ellen allowed a pause for a few moments and then pressed forward with confidence, not allowing Jorge to believe for even a fraction of a second that what she was telling him was anything but the absolute truth. “He asked for Miguelito when he talked to Jairo last night. He said that you would know something about some shameful thing that needed to be set right…” She let that linger a moment.
I watched recognition of something come into Jorge’s eyes and also watched him push it aside.
Ellen started in again. “And he said that he needed you to help him set it right.”
Jorge shook his head slowly. “When did this alleged haunting start to happen?”
“November of 2013,” I replied. “Midnight of the 25th and lasted until the midnight of the Alborrada.”
“Juanito died in July of 2013,” he whispered.
We waited several moments watching his silent struggle with all that he had been told. He wasn’t yet willing to grab onto it, but he had completely dismissed it, rose up out of his chair and left either.
“Don Jorge,” Ellen began in a firm tone. “I’m going to tell you something that you need to know. If you reject it, then it’s on your own head, not ours. Unless you stick around here, meet with your brother’s spirit and help him set right whatever shameful thing was done, then you will never allow him to go free. Your brother’s spirit is trapped in a state of limbo and cannot find peace until this is resolved. You either help him do it tonight, next year, in five years, ten years, however many years you have left on this earth, or you force him to wander without rest for eternity. It’s up to you.”
Most of the time, Ellen was soft spoken and tried to coat whatever she said with honey. She always told the truth, even if it was in a gentler way that was easier to swallow. When she came right out and laid it down the way she did with Jorge Luis, however, it was impossible for a person to continue to defy her. The true talent in what she did, was in knowing who and when to use honey or straight talk. Once again, she had chosen correctly.
Jorge Luis studied her for a few minutes and then let a half grin turn up the corner of his mouth. “You talk pretty straight, don’t you?”
“When teaching a burro to lead, it’s sometimes necessary to use a whip.”
I had no idea where she came across that saying, but it was a good one and it had the effect that she’d been hoping for.
“Alright, Doña Ellen, though I’m still skeptical, I stick around and enjoy the picnic and the fireworks here in the gardens of El Castillo with you folks.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Though he was less than thrilled, Jorge Luis Ochoa had agreed to stick around. There was no guarantee that he wasn’t going to faint or have a heart attack when he saw his brother’s spirit, but we had, at least, won part of the battle. There were still a lot of questions in our minds, but answering questions and understanding why a spirit did what they did, though sometimes helpful, was always secondary to getting them to move out of limbo and into the next world. We were well on our way toward that goal when I glanced at my watch at ten minutes until midnight.
“Don Monty,” Jorge said. “I need to tell you that I’m not particularly impressed with the way this was all set up, but I do believe that wife of yours. She talks straight and she seems to be honest. I stayed because I respect that.”
“She doesn’t just seem to be honest, Don Jorge,” I replied. “She is honest. I hope you’re prepared to see your brother’s spirit.”
“How does one prepare for something of which he is skeptical?” he asked.
The question was much more profound that he knew. “Well, sir,” I grinned. “I guess you can’t. However, from experience, I can tell you that the first time that you see a ghost, it scares the crap out of you.”
“Come on, now, Don Monty,” he said. “You haven’t really seen any ghosts, have you?”
“Several of them, actually,” he said. “I lied to you earlier. I do a little bit more than carry the equipment, but only on occasion. She is still the real talent in this operation.”
“I’ll confess that I want to believe you. I would love the chance to see my brother’s spirit, talk to him and enjoy another Alborrada just like we used to, but I…” He didn’t finish the sentence and was lost in thought for a few moments. “Juanito and I watched our first Alborrada from just a little way up the hill. That first one was to honor Don Berna, after that, we added Pablo’s birthday into our celebration. Most Paisas just see it as kicking off the Christmas season now. I guess that’s okay. What Pablo did, what we all did… well, they are things that are better off forgotten. Let it kick off the Christmas season.”
“I think, Don Jorge,” I responded. “When you help your brother pass on to peace tonight, you’ll celebrate this night in an entirely new light.”
“You meant, if I help my brother,” he smiled.
“No, I meant, when.” For effect, I walked away from him and joined Ellen.
I had no sooner reached Ellen’s side than the first explosions began to light thunder throughout the valley. The cacophony that followed and the explosions of color in the sky went far beyond any 4th of July celebration that either of us had ever witnessed. It was such a spectacular sight that we didn’t notice, at first, the appearance of the ghostly form of Juan David Ochoa. In fact, it was Lucia’s involuntary gasp that made me look to see what was going on.
The drama that unfolded under the brightly lit sky of the Alborrada was close to comical. The spirit of Juan David strolled up to his younger brother, who had his eyes turned skyward and spoke to him in a low tone that we didn’t hear. Immediately, Jorge Luis staggered backward and nearly tumbled to the ground, much to the delight of his older brother’s spirit, whose laughter we could hear over the noise that was completely filling the Aburra Valley and the surrounding slopes from one end to the other.
Though we could not hear their conversation, I watched them interact. It took Jorge Luis a few mo
ments to really believe that his brother’s spirit was there in front of him, but when he did, he seemed to relax and converse with him, even while his brother’s spirit gazed up at the sky and took in the spectacle that was taking place there.
The fireworks continued for close to 30 minutes. Mixed within the explosions of light and color, were the globos, small hot air balloons, slowly drifting heavenward. Long before the celebration of the Alborrada died out, we—especially Jorge Luis—watched the glowing spirit of Juan David begin a similar drift into the night sky. In time, his glowing was mixed in with that of the other globos. It seemed like the most fitting way for his spirit to finally be set free. I squeezed Ellen’s hand and glanced down at her. We’d solved another one together.
“I still have a lot of questions,” she said as the bulk of the fireworks finished and we started to gather up the scattered items that had been a part of our midnight picnic in front of El Castillo.
“We may never know the answers,” I replied.
We were just about finished packing things together when Jorge Luis spoke up. “I need to tell all of you something.”
The announcement had everyone’s immediate attention and all eyes were focused on him in the dim light.
“In 1971, just before my 22nd birthday, Juanito and I did something stupid and impulsive… or as Juanito correctly labeled it: shameful,” he began. “We lived not far from here and had often seen Don Diego Echeverria, the man who had just turned this property over to the city of Medellin, going to and from here at El Castillo to his home in his limousine.
“I don’t remember who came up with the idea first or if we both came up with it together, but we decided to kidnap the don and hold him for ransom. He and Doña Dita were among the wealthiest—if not the wealthiest couple—in Medellin at that time and very high profile. Juanito and I were convinced that the ransom would be paid and that we would walk away with a sizable sum.
