Cartel Wives

by Mia Flores

  Joe had come to realize what we had: that Junior and Peter were making an unheard-of decision, by far the most difficult one they’d ever made. They were doing what few people in their right minds would even consider: risking their lives by walking away from the drug trade at the height of their careers.

  We finally heard from a DEA agent named Sam in April, who wanted to set up an initial meeting between Peter and the feds in Cancún soon. To Junior and Peter, it was one of the most gut-wrenching conversations of their lives. The second they picked up the phone and said “hello,” they officially became rats.

  Olivia

  I think that call made the whole situation hit home. After that, they were beyond sick. They completely went against everything that had been instilled in them since childhood because growing up, the feds were the bad guys, the enemies. They were the people who’d sent their dad away before they were born. They were the guys who’d helped put away Adrian. In their minds, they’d always been doing what they needed to do to support their families. Sure, they were making excuses to justify their wrongdoings, but coming from where they did and being bred into the world they were, that was the way it had always been.

  I knew Junior was scared of walking away and giving up the only life he’d ever known. On top of that, he was worried I’d lose respect for him. But he’d seen how I’d grown into a different woman since we’d met; I didn’t care about what people thought anymore. I loved my family so much I was willing to accept my husband becoming an informant. He was willing to change his life for me and our children, and I respected and loved him for making such a courageous decision. It was the ultimate gift.

  To make things right, they knew they had to sacrifice themselves, walk away from their loved ones, and go to prison for a very long time. They were heading down an unknown path, and their lives were going to turn upside down and become a living hell because of it. But they had to break this cycle and do what was right. It was the only thing—and the most selfless thing—they could do for our families and the well-being of our children.

  Junior and Peter had always said, “It’s easier to do wrong and so hard to do right.” In the weeks leading up to their first meeting with the feds, for the first real time in their lives, they began doing the latter.

  CHAPTER 19

  The Feds

  Mia

  The feds scrapped the Cancún meeting. A few weeks later, they set up another one in Cabo San Lucas, but when Peter and I arrived there, we found out that it had been canceled, too. The feds hadn’t been able to get clearance from the Justice Department.

  Traveling back home to Guadalajara, we were in a panic. At the airport, the garbage man taking out the bathroom trash looked like a cartel member. Then we saw two American men eating at a fast food restaurant, and I froze up.

  “Peter,” I said. “They look like undercover agents.”

  “Just keep walking and look ahead,” he answered. But I realized, He didn’t disagree with me. He knows as well as I do that dozens of people know about his meeting. We could be ambushed at any moment from both sides: the cartel and the feds.

  Olivia

  Thank God, Mia and Peter came home safely. When they did, we continued to discuss our plans almost every day. Some discussions were vague and some were specific with names and dates and details. We were scared, so we’d huddle in the bathroom in my house, running all the spa jets, the rain showers, and the six-person Jacuzzi and whispering together in case one of Chapo’s employees was driving by, picking up conversations from the airwaves.

  During one of our bathroom conferences, we came up with a plan B. If Junior or Peter were ever separated from us, Mia and I would get on a private plane and fly to a safe house in Mexicali. There, we’d wait for further instructions. But if they were ever captured or killed, we’d have to flee Mexico and make it to safety in the United States.

  Then, finally, in May 2008, the feds called again. They wanted Peter to hop on a flight to Monterrey, Mexico, and be prepared to talk—for hours. The feds were ready to hear what he and Junior planned to disclose and who they wanted to betray, and they were prepared to give them instructions on how to become federal informants.

  Apparently, though, they weren’t at all ready for a case this big.

  Mia

  Peter and I hated the idea of going to Monterrey, not just because it was so close to the border but because we’d be entering enemy territory. Monterrey was controlled by Los Zetas, one of Mexico’s most dangerous and violent cartels, and they were at war with Sinaloa. The second we got there, Peter was looking over his shoulder.

  But that didn’t stop us from taking a walk the night before his meeting, something we did every night we were together.

  “If this doesn’t work out, you know where I’m going. I want you to know that I love you, and I did this for us. We’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” Peter said to me that night.

  For the first time since he’d decided to cooperate, I began to believe that maybe he was right. Even though the possibility of him going to jail the next day felt very real to us, I thought to myself, If I was strong enough to agree that Peter should change his life, I’m strong enough to live on my own. Joe hadn’t given him any promises about what would happen when he sat down with the feds, so we knew an arrest right then and there was possible. Still, I felt a small pocket of strength stirring somewhere deep inside me.

  I needed that confidence the next morning, though. When we woke up and sat together on the edge of the bed, holding hands, our hearts pounding, part of me was convinced it was all going to go south. I couldn’t stop thinking, Oh my God, this is it. It doesn’t matter what he says or does, I’m going to have to raise our baby by myself.

  “I love you,” Peter said as he pulled me toward him. “But I may have to let you go for a little while so I can hold on to you forever.”

  I was sobbing. “This is the hardest thing we’ve ever had to do. What if they don’t let you come back to me?”

  “If they don’t,” Peter answered, “please take care of yourself and my baby.” Then he turned and looked me straight in the eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Keep the door locked, and if you see anyone suspicious, leave right away.” He stood up and leaned down to kiss me, then my belly. Then he walked out the door.

  I didn’t know when he’d be back, so I stayed in that room, pacing back and forth nervously all day. I kept thinking, What did I let him do? I didn’t open up the curtains. I took a few bites of food I’d pulled out of the minibar, but nothing tasted good. I tried to turn on the television, but I was terrified I’d see a news report with Peter’s mugshot plastered on the screen, saying he’d been taken away. I’d slept so badly the night before, but I couldn’t nap. All I could do was wait, and wait.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what might be happening. I knew how corrupt the cops in Mexico were, especially near the border, and the barbarism of Los Zetas made me sick to my stomach. Peter had demanded that there be no officials from Mexico in the room, but there were going to be American agents in the meeting who were stationed in Mexico. How could we be sure the cartels didn’t know what was going on? For all I knew, Peter had walked into that hotel and been shot in the elevator.

  The only thing that really reassured me was that our lawyer, Joe, would be there, along with two DEA agents who knew their case better than anyone. The agent from Chicago’s name was Eric, and he was young, smart, and eager. A case this big was a new world for him, and he needed to learn from Peter and Junior to advance in his career, so he was taking it on with an open mind. He wasn’t cocky, like all the other agents they’d run into in the past, and he didn’t treat them like criminals. He actually seemed astounded by their courage in putting themselves in such a dangerous predicament. He realized this was a big decision for them, and he knew they wanted to make a difference in their lives.

  His colleague from Milwaukee was named Matt, and he’d actually been the guy who’d raided Peter and Junior’s houses, along wit
h their sister’s house, back in February 2004. Peter and Junior knew he’d just been doing his job, though.

  Still, Eric, Matt, and Joe were the only guys Peter felt comfortable with in that room. Everyone else was an unknown, and that was a risk.

  I sat there in the dark for six long hours before Peter walked in.

  “Baby! You’re back!” I screamed and ran to him.

  He looked almost as bad as he’d been when he came home from being kidnapped. He was pale, and his face was sunken. He seemed bone tired. He slumped toward the bed, sat down, pulled me close, and started bawling. He looked absolutely defeated. Finally, he began talking.

  “We went to a hotel and entered through the basement. I took the elevator up with Joe. I thought I was going to throw up, but he was so relaxed, like totally nonchalant. He knocked on the door, and when someone answered, he walked right past him and started talking with everyone else in the room.”

  “How many people were there?”

  “About eight, other than me, and Joe knew all of them,” he said. “The federal prosecutor, whose name is Tom, some US Marshals, a few FBI officials, Eric and his colleague, this agent named Matt, another DEA agent, and Joe. Someone frisked me for weapons, sat me down, and started asking questions.”

  At this point he’d settled down a little bit. I was trying my best to be calm, but I was terrified.

  “How did it start?”

  “I began when I was a kid. I talked about Junior, Adrian, and our dad. I went through everything—getting kidnapped in Chicago, leaving the country, building up our business from here, and how it all works. I went from A to Z.”

  “How did they react?”

  “Everyone except Joe sat there with their mouths open. Some female agent from Milwaukee was running the show.” He paused. “Joe sat there with his feet kicked up on the end table half the time.”

  I couldn’t fucking believe it. My husband was about to rat out the cartels, and not only was a small-town agent running things, but our lawyer was acting like he was thinking about hitting the beach. Then again, he was a distinguished lawyer in the biggest, most dangerous case of his career. Maybe he actually did need a long vacation to deal with all of this.

  “They kept asking about numbers, like they couldn’t get how big we are. They couldn’t comprehend the level we’re on.” He paused to hold me tighter, and then started getting worked up again. “They were asking about street dealers, for God’s sake. And customers. They wanted to know about Chicago, not Mexico. I was sitting there saying, ‘I’ll give you Chapo and Mayo,’ and they were like, ‘Tell us more about where your stash houses are.’ I was talking submarines and cartel members, and they were asking about all these little people.”

  Peter was usually so calm, but he could go from zero to ten, with ten being totally furious, in seconds. He was at about an eight right then.

  “They’re clueless. They have no idea what they’re fucking doing. Can they handle this information? I’m about to give them Chapo, the most violent, dangerous, and powerful criminal in the world, plus everyone who’s helped build his empire. This is bigger than Chicago; it’s a global issue. It’s fucking narcoterrorism. Yet they asked me to draw a diagram of who’s on top in the cartels and where Junior and I fit in.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was from one of those notepads you find next to a hotel bed, with a ballpoint pen on top. Written in Peter’s handwriting was this:

  I was floored. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, right? All this time I thought they knew everything about us, that they were building this huge case against me and Junior and could grab us at any minute, and they knew jack shit. They’re in over their heads. I finally couldn’t take it anymore and said, ‘You’re going to do this my way. If you want information out of me, this is the way we have to do it.’”

  “Did they agree?”

  “Yes, they had to. They have to. Everyone in that room understood how important informants are, and that a huge case like this doesn’t just fall into their laps. I worry that they aren’t grasping the complexity and how huge this case is going to be. I don’t think they realize that we can dismantle everything. Like the entire North American drug trade. We can bring in Chapo if we do this right.”

  Olivia

  Junior and Peter knew they could be the most important informants the feds had ever encountered. The work they were going to do wasn’t just a matter of law and order; it was about changing their lives and the world around them.

  Yet right from the beginning, they knew they were taking a leap of faith, praying that everything would work out for the best. There were no promises, no sense of security, and absolutely no guidance.

  And, unfortunately, when they started to record, things didn’t get much better.

  CHAPTER 20

  Recordings, Raids, and Seizures

  Olivia

  Junior and Peter’s agreement with the feds was basically unheard of in the history of US drug trafficking investigations. They’d tape all their conversations and phone calls, gather information and intelligence, facilitate massive seizures of drugs and money, and secure indictments and extraditions of the United States’ and Mexico’s highest-ranking cartel members. If their workers unloaded a shipment of drugs in Chicago and Peter was on the line to supervise it, it went on tape. If Peter arranged distribution to the wholesalers, it was recorded. If Junior negotiated prices for their loads, the DEA and US Attorneys were going to hear it.

  Mia

  Who everyone really hoped to get, though, were the leaders of the Sinaloa Cartel and the BLO. In 2008, there wasn’t much direct criminal evidence against El Chapo, El Mayo, Alfredo Beltrán, or any other member of the two cartels. Sure, there was a trail of clues that may or may not have led back to them, and a pile of bodies building up on either side of the cartel wars, but no one had the leaders on tape. In fact, there weren’t any recent photos of Chapo, and even his appearance remained a mystery to US authorities. In order to get an indictment against him, they needed solid evidence that would prove that the heads of the Sinaloa Cartel were actually involved in drug conspiracy in the United States—and especially in Chicago.

  That’s what they were counting on Peter and Junior for.

  Olivia

  In exchange for all the information Junior and Peter gathered and turned in, they’d receive leniency when it came to their crimes. But as with everything involved in their cooperation, there were no promises. They might get five years or they might get thirty. In fact, the specifics weren’t even discussed during their conversations with the lawyers or the agents; they couldn’t be because the ultimate sentencing decision—which might not happen for years—was up to a federal judge.

  Mia

  The guidance they received about recording was just as unclear. If you think the feds came into our houses and put secret cameras in our walls or microphones in our ink pens, like in a James Bond movie, you’re dead wrong. Peter and Junior had the opportunity to unravel the entire North American drug trade, but they didn’t even have the necessary equipment. They had to buy their own recorders at places like Radio Shack. They’d fill up a few recorders a week, upload the conversations onto USB drives, then hand them over to the agents.

  Worse than that, the government couldn’t be responsible for their lives, so they wouldn’t advise them on what they were supposed to say when they recorded. Everything they did or said was at their own risk.

  Olivia

  Junior and Peter worked with the DEA’s and US Attorney’s offices in Chicago. All information came from Chicago, and all reporting went back to them. There were government officials, such as the DEA, FBI, US Marshals, and Homeland Security stationed in Guadalajara, but those agents had no jurisdiction in Mexico, so they were powerless. The cartels could run right over them if they’d wanted to.

  In fact, it seemed like anyone might be able to. In our part of Guadalajara, we used to see them around, just out and about like sitting ducks. They weren’t hard
to miss; they looked like American tourists and drove around in cars with diplomat plates. One used to work out at Junior’s gym, and when Junior would walk in, he’d just smile and nod at him. There was no reason to be scared; Junior was protected by the cartels, and there was nothing some random fed could do about it.

  On a few occasions after they started cooperating, Junior and Peter were debriefed and questioned at random hotels or hidden side streets, but the agents just fed information up the pipeline to Chicago. They’d tell Peter and Junior what was happening in Mexico, though. One time, they revealed to my husband and brother-in-law that an informant had just been killed. Believe me, that scared the shit out of all of us.

  Mia

  Another big problem was that the Chicago office was making things up as they went along. Or at least that’s how we felt. There had been cartel bosses that had cooperated in the past, but after the fact, once they were captured and sent to prison. There hadn’t been any on-the-streets and in-the-mountains federal informants on Peter and Junior’s scale in anyone’s lifetime, and especially not ratting out the heads of the cartels. Our husbands had reached the peak of the drug trade, and because of that, the DEA’s office had no idea what kind of information they’d be getting from them. It wasn’t like they could prepare Junior and Peter or even guide them.

  Olivia

  Even as anxious and unsatisfied as they were, Junior and Peter felt a huge sense of responsibility when it came to the agents they were working with. Undercover agents stationed in Guadalajara were putting their lives in our husbands’ hands, and if the cartels found out who they were, they’d be executed on the spot. Because of that, Junior and Peter were amazed at the degree of bravery and integrity these guys possessed. They were doing the right things for the right reasons. And by ensuring their safety, our husbands were finding hidden depths in their own integrity.