The Accountant's Story

by David Fisher

  Beyond the zoo were the houses. There was intense security on every part of the property, some of it easily seen, but more of it concealed. No one could get through the gates to the house unless they were cleared personally by Pablo. If you didn’t have an invitation the armed guards turned you away. Even if people did have invitations the guards faxed them to the house for Pablo to check. Near the house was a lighted runway for the transportation planes to land. By the runway was Pablo’s collection of cars, and among them was an old bullet-holed car that he told everyone had belonged to Bonnie and Clyde and an old Pontiac that supposedly had belonged to Al Capone. The Bonnie and Clyde car had been sold to him by our friend in the United States who introduced us to Frank Sinatra. Frank Sinatra was real, I wasn’t so certain about those cars.

  By the main house were the lighted tennis courts, swimming pool, and basketball courts, the outdoor dining areas, and the game room. Everything for pleasure that could be wanted was there. The river on which we often held races with wave runners, spaces to play soccer, and long open pastures for my horseback riding and hiking. There were stables where the riding horses were kept, even a bullring where visiting matadors entertained our guests. For transportation and to race we had cars and motorcycles, some of them with sidecars for passengers, we had Jet Skis, boats, even hovercraft.

  The houses offered even more pleasures, swimming pools, Jacuzzis, large dining rooms, a theater for watching recently released movies, even a discotheque for parties. The professional kitchen was always open and if we wanted a special meal in the middle of the night it was prepared for us. The meals were so nicely prepared that for each meal there was a menu. During the meals Pablo would move among the tables, sitting with his workers, his guests, his bodyguards, and the family. He would stand up and recite poems, which he loved, or even sing tango music from Argentina to the music that seemed to be always playing, just like he always loved to sing opera in the shower.

  Every member of the family had their own bedroom and bathroom on the first floor, which were named for the letters of the alphabet. The second floor was the private floor where Pablo and Gustavo lived. There was always noise and life going on in the house. It was always fun. Pablo liked to have people around. He would sit with Gustavo or the Mexican relaxing and sometimes they would bet a lot of money. They would bet 50 or 100, but that meant thousands of dollars and they would not bet on the usual winning or losing, but instead it would be $100,000 if at 1:27 of the first half Nacional had the ball. The money meant nothing to any of them. There was more than they could spend.

  The parties were like those of Hollywood or even better. The performers would be the best singing groups from Colombia as well as all over South America. The most beautiful women were at these parties, the beauty contest winners. People from business. Artists. And, always, the people he worked with in the business. There was no better place for the politicians of Colombia to raise money for their campaigns. But remember, at that time Pablo’s true business was still hidden and he was accepted by the public as a successful real estate investor.

  There was also business done at Napoles. When those public crowds were gone, Pablo quietly entertained important people for the business. This included Colombian politicians, government leaders from nearby countries, people on the upper levels of the operation. This was one place where everyone could relax in complete privacy and safety. Flights to transit points took off from the runways. One incident I remember well was the afternoon an old friend named Walter came to visit. When Pablo was just starting out in contraband he had earned $10,000. This was right at the very beginning. “Do me a favor,” he had told Walter in 1973. “Hold this money for me. I’ll ask you for it in a couple of weeks.”

  When Pablo needed the money he reached out for Walter—who had taken the money and moved to the United States. He had disappeared. Ten years later Pablo was informed that Walter had returned to Medellín. Pablo said to a friend who knew them both, “Tell Walter you’re going to invite him to a nice farm for the weekend. Tell him it’s going to be a great party. But don’t tell him it’s me.”

  Walter came to Napoles. When he learned he was on the ranch of Pablo Escobar he was shaking worse than leaves in a hurricane. They brought him to the dining room, which easily sat fifty people. But only Pablo, myself, Walter, and the person who brought him there, our cousin Jaime, and an aunt and two daughters were there in the big room. “Long time no see,” Pablo said. “How are you?”

  We were laughing to ourselves to see this guy shaking. He’d stolen money from the wrong person.

  Walter could barely speak. “I’m sorry for the $10,000. I’ll find a way to pay you back. Just give me time, please.”

  “No, no, don’t worry about it,” Pablo said casually; his whole attitude was not angry. Then Pablo asked one of the bodyguards, “Hey, please bring me my gun.” Pablo’s favorite gun was a big Sig Sauer. When the bodyguard returned Pablo stuck the gun in the waistband of his jeans.

  Walter’s eyes popped open. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Pablo’s exact words were, “No, listen. I don’t kill anybody for money, and especially you because you were my friend when we were kids.”

  They ate lunch, but naturally Walter didn’t eat too much. After, Pablo offered to show him around the ranch. “That’s okay,” Walter said. “I already saw around.”

  “Come,” Pablo said.

  “I don’t want to go, Pablo.” He was afraid to leave the dining room.

  Pablo insisted, and when they stood up Pablo touched his gun. We thought Walter was going to jump through the ceiling. Pablo showed him his collection of beautiful cars, but still sometimes touching his gun. When they finished Pablo said, “Come to my bedroom upstairs. I want to show you something.”

  Walter was convinced that was where he was going to be killed. As they walked up the stairs Pablo asked him what he was doing. “I have a taxi in Medellín that I drive. I just bought a house. I promise, Pablo, I’ll pay you the money little by little.”

  Instead, when they reached the bedroom Pablo opened up a suitcase filled with cash. He reached and took a pack of bills. I don’t know how much it was, but a lot. “Here,” he said, handing it to Walter. “But listen to me. Don’t ever ever steal anything from me again, because I won’t take it.”

  Walter was crying, but he wanted to get out of there. He couldn’t believe Pablo would let him go. He did a kind of walk that was really running, and went back to Medellín with the money Pablo gave him. We never heard a word about him again.

  What made our lives change forever was Pablo’s decision to run for the Congress of Colombia. This was to be the beginning of his campaign to become the president of our country. At no time did he believe his business would prevent him from having a political career. The tradition of corruption was very strong in Colombian politics, many of the country’s elected officials had accepted his money without complaint, and he also knew from experience that the leaders of other Central and South American countries were doing business. Even in America it was well known that the father of the beloved JFK had made a fortune from the sale of illegal alcohol. What all of these men had in common was that they had power before they were elected, military or financial. Pablo had the financial power. He believed that once he had the political power his career in the drug business could be put away. The whole idea of getting involved in politics seemed very bad to both me and Gustavo. We were very much against it. In the business we were in, the last thing you want is attention; in politics, attention is first and necessary. I predicted it would cause us great problems. “Don’t do this, Pablo,” I told him. “That’s the biggest mistake you are going to make. We should stay calm and quiet.”

  Gustavo also argued this with him, but Pablo was firm. “I’m going to be the president of Colombia,” he still insisted. “We already have money. I don’t have to worry about my family having a place to sleep or getting food. We’ve been established, Roberto. I want to help people the lega
l way. And I’m going to stay away from this.”

  I believe that was true. He was always talking about one day being president. He felt certain it would happen. And he promised that he would be the president of the poor people, he would work for them. Colombia had been ruled for so long by the same class, “the Men of Always,” as they were called at that time. Maybe the faces of the leaders changed, but their policies were always against the poor.

  Now, other people say that his real reason for joining politics was that he was worried about the laws passed by America and Colombia allowing drug dealers to be extradited to the United States. I agree that was also true. Pablo often said he would rather lie dead in Colombian dirt than be alive in an American prison. By Colombian law, as a member of Congress he would be immune from prosecution. Also, he believed that by being an elected representative he could begin his campaign to make it illegal for Colombia to extradite people in the drug business to the United States.

  The first race he would make, he decided, would be for representative. The system in Colombia works a little different from that of the United States. Our representatives in Congress are elected with alternates, so if they are sick or absent the alternate will take their place. Pablo ran for office as an alternate for the municipality of Envigado. It’s probably true that Pablo supported much of the primary candidate’s positions. Pablo could have been the main candidate, but this was better. It attracted less attention. To start, he was to be a candidate for alternate for the New Liberal Party, a people’s movement against the traditional ruling class. But the leader of that party, Luis Carlos Galán, insisted he knew where Pablo’s fortune had been made. Galán had heard the rumors. When Pablo refused to reply, he and his running mate were cut out from the party. Instead they became candidates of the Liberal Party. Pablo didn’t lose his temper, but I know inside he was angry at all the politicians who were happy to take his money but then ran away from him.

  Pablo’s strongest supporters were always the poor people. During his campaign Pablo held most of his rallies in the poorest towns in the election district. His campaign slogan was “Pablo Escobar: A Man of the People. A Man of Action! A Man of His Word!” Many thousands came to these events, and sometimes after the speeches money was handed out to the people. To begin these appearances our little niece and nephew, María and Luis Lucho, would sing the campaign song that had been written by our mother, Hermilda: A human person has just been born, a very human person. As very good Pablito citizens we are here to show our support. The new politician. The people run and run and run and jump and jump and jump. They run to go and vote. Everyone is so happy they can go and vote for Pablo Escobar!

  Pablo liked to campaign. He would always dress as a man of the people, in his jeans and sneakers, but well groomed of course. Nothing fancy. During those times when he was speaking to the people, I believe in his mind he was able to move himself into another world, a world away from the business. He could see his future. “I’m tired of the powerful people running this country,” he would tell them. “This is a fight between those powerful people and the poor and the weak people, we have to start with that. Being powerful doesn’t mean you can abuse the poor.”

  After giving his speech Pablo had his bodyguards around the stage and he opened some cases with money. People came close to the stage and Pablo had his bodyguards handing money person to person. He told the bodyguards to give money to everyone but especially to old people and young people. The people loved him. They would kiss his hands. Pablo didn’t like that touching, but he would put his hands on the person’s back and hug them, saying, “Do well.”

  It was funny. Some politicians find secret ways of buying votes. Pablo just handed out money to the poor people, but not demanding anything in return. Sometimes instead of rallies he would have his airplanes fly over small towns dropping flyers, “Vote for Pablo!” And money. Of course the people loved him.

  Also like every politician at these rallies he would make promises about what he was going to do. “I’m going to put good lights on the football field . . . I’m going to paint the church . . . Provide books for the schools . . . I’m going to do this and that for you . . .” He said the things he would do—but what was different from other politicians is that within a few days his men would begin doing what Pablo had promised.

  At these rallies Pablo often spoke out strongly against extradition. “This is our country,” he would say. “Why do we let the Americans make policy for us? We don’t need American judges to be in charge of Colombian law. Colombians should be free to take care of Colombia’s problems. As a Colombian every person who makes a mistake against the law should be judged in Colombia, nowhere else!” The fact that President Ronald Reagan in 1982 declared trafficking in drugs a threat to American national security was understood in Colombia to mean that people in the business would be considered the same as terrorists. If they were allowed to be extradited they would be treated very harshly, they would spend their life in an American prison.

  One of the principals who helped Pablo throughout his campaign was Alberto Santofimio, a Colombian politician with experience. He had been a minister and a senator and he very much wanted to be president. I remember he used to promise Pablo that when he became president he would eliminate all extradition, and he suggested that if Pablo helped him become president, after his term ended Pablo should become the president. That was exactly what Pablo wanted to believe. Now it seems easy to see that it was never possible, but during that time it really did seem like it might happen. Politics in Colombia was always dirty, and many times before the voters had forgiven the past.

  In 2007, in Colombia, Santofimio was convicted of being the mastermind behind the killing of New Liberal Party presidential candidate Luis Galán during the campaign of 1988. During the trial it was testified that Santofimio was always telling Pablo that he had to kill people to move ahead. But that would come much later, and was nothing that Pablo ever spoke of to me.

  One big issue of the campaign of 1982 was called “hot money.” That meant money given to politicians by drug organizations. All of the different drug groups supported candidates who were sympathetic to them. The New Liberal Party, the group that had broken away from the traditional Liberal Party, particularly accused Pablo and his running mate, Jairo Ortega, of being supported by the “drug mafia,” as these organizations were called in Colombia. The word “cartel” wasn’t heard for a few more years. This was the first time that Pablo was accused publicly of being connected to the cocaine organizations.

  The media was pretty fair to Pablo, sometimes calling him “a real Robin Hood.” They wrote about him as a philanthropist, a man who easily gave away his money to people who needed it. They also wondered where his fortune had been made, but most of the media didn’t write about the drug business. The people didn’t care how Pablo got rich. He came from them and had become the equal of the wealthy class, and didn’t forget them, so they loved him for it. On election day I rented buses for my three hundred employees to drive them to the voting station so they could vote for Pablo. But truthfully, I didn’t vote for my brother. He knew that I thought this was a big mistake and I couldn’t personally support it. So I didn’t vote at all.

  No matter of importance. Pablo easily was elected as a deputy/alternate representative to the Chamber of Representatives of the Colombian Congress. The Congress is in Bogotá. On the first day he was to take office I was there with him, but I was to leave the country to go do business for my bicycle company, my right business. I don’t remember Pablo being excited; as with his anger he kept his joy inside. I know he was proud and believed this was his new beginning. I dropped Pablo at the Congress and went to the airport, so I didn’t know what was erupting there.

  One thing, Pablo never wore a tie. He was wearing an expensive respectable suit, but no tie. The rules said that all members of Colombia’s Congress must wear a tie. So the guard refused to allow him to enter the chamber. Pablo was upset by that. He said, “
Here in Colombia the people know that members of the Congress wear nice suits and expensive ties and then they go and steal money. What does appearance have anything to do with the work?”

  The radio reporters told their listeners that a congressman was stopped at the door because he didn’t want to wear a tie. It became a big story. Meantime, because of traffic I missed my plane. That was okay, I decided, if I miss this trip it is because it is no good for me. So I returned to the hotel to see this mess going on with Pablo. His very first day and he was attracting attention.

  Finally a guard said to him, “Mr. Pablo, Mr. Escobar, here is my tie. Just use it.”

  Pablo put on the tie and entered the Congress. Then when he sat down he took off the tie. Basically he was telling everyone that the tie wasn’t essential, I’m here and I don’t want to wear this tie and it has nothing to do with the job that we are supposed to do. That was Pablo’s introduction to government.

  One of his first official duties was to travel to Madrid with others from the Congress for the inauguration of Spain’s prime minister, Felipe González. He met the new prime minister at an official meeting. At that time the operation was opening up Europe, so Pablo also met some important businessmen and politicians knowing that they might become sympathetic. It’s accurate to say that some of the most successful people in the legal business world in Spain today made their first fortune with Pablo. From Madrid, Pablo visited other countries in Europe, including the small principality of Monaco. Monaco impressed Pablo, with its freedom and fun. So eventually when he decided to build a lovely modern building for himself in Medellín, he named it Monaco.

  Under the law of my country, our president must give several cabinet posts to members of the opposition parties. President Belisario Betancur awarded the Ministry of Justice to the New Liberals, who named Senator Rodrigo Lara Bonilla to the position in 1983. Lara was one of the strongest speakers in the government against the influence of the drug mafias, against the hot money.