by Mia Flores
Mia
Peter got hundreds and hundreds of phone calls on his burner phones every day, and he recorded each one. He figured it would just be easier to stay home, where he always had his recording devices set up and could use his two-way earbud in private. Outside it was much more dangerous. What if he was out on the street, got a call, and had to put his ear bud in and turn the recorder on? Somebody would see that, and he’d be dead.
At home, he kept his earpiece in when he was on calls, or if people were around, he’d take it out and hide it. He stashed it in drawers, next to the TV, or anywhere else that no one could see. Even though the government told him explicitly not to record in person, he had to sometimes. I remember him hiding the cord in the back of a book, with the bud sticking out from the pages. When he met with people in his office, he’d try to position himself as close as possible to the bookshelf, with them sitting nearby, so he could be sure every word they said got on tape.
The whole thing made me a nervous wreck, and I did everything I could to make his days better, less stressful. Then, anytime anyone came over, I’d spend half an hour running around making sure the recorders were hidden. After they’d arrive, I’d try to figure out what to do with myself.
I’d tell Peter, “I don’t know what to do when people are here and you’re recording. What if they can read my face and body language and know I’m hiding something?”
“Relax,” Peter would say. “Just try not to be around.”
So I’d go in the other room and pretend to be busy, all the time worrying that the battery on the recorder would run down and start beeping.
I just didn’t want us to die. It was as simple as that. I didn’t want to be tortured or have my baby gutted out of me, and I knew that was a real possibility if we got caught.
Olivia
Many of the calls Peter and Junior made were to their associates in Chicago, making sure that the shipments were arriving where they needed to be, on time. They had to keep their business moving along, yet no one could know they were undercover. So they were constantly hitting the feds with information like “There’s a load in LA,” or “There’s a stash house in this neighborhood in Chicago.” Then the feds would swoop in and bust those locations, seizing the drugs and arresting everyone. Little by little, everyone they were working with in the United States was going to get hauled in.
Mia
The first seizure was one of the most stressful things they’d ever been through.
On August 9, 2008, Junior and Peter were expecting a load from a line they’d been working in Mexicali. This shipment in particular was 250 kilos, which was about the norm. The load had made its way through a network of tunnels, crossed the border, was placed on tractor-trailers, and was en route to Chicago, with a precise pick up time of six a.m. Saturday.
As always, Junior and Peter had done a dry run before the shipment hit the road, so everything was running like clockwork. They had the fastest routes picked out and knew the best ways to avoid taking too many streets. They’d planned to stick to highways and busy roads so that the trucks would just blend in.
Olivia
Peter had given the feds the exact address of the warehouse in Melrose Park, outside of Chicago, walking them through the location using Google Earth so they knew exactly where to park without anyone noticing them. The night before, Eric and Matt went there and staked the place out.
Then, they set up an undercover DEA agent to receive the load, called a controlled delivery, explaining to their workers that there was “this new guy” there for pick up. Peter called the coordinator who was in charge of the shipment to Chicago and started speaking in code.
“Is Pancho there?” he asked in Spanish.
“On behalf of whom?” asked the coordinator.
“On behalf of Donald Trump.”
He’d cracked the combination. Things were ready to move.
Mia
After he hung up, Peter was a wreck. We had this little white Maltese named Gigi who was his baby. That dog followed him everywhere, and I swear, if he had to choose between me or the dog, he would have chosen her for sure. The entire night before the raid, Peter kept walking back and forth to his computer, checking Google Earth to see which streets the agents could park on. Gigi hung right at his heels, her tiny pink painted toenails clacking on the floor. As I struggled to fall asleep that night, thinking about the choices he and Junior had made, and how exhausted Peter was by this life, all I could hear were those toenails, back and forth on the hardwood.
Olivia
The next morning, the workers were in place, ready to receive the load; the feds were on the ground; and Peter, Junior, Mia, and I were up bright and early, stationed near the phone. Eric finally called.
“The truck just pulled in. We’re ready to go.”
Hours later, when Eric rang and said that they’d taken down the truck and confiscated the kilos, Peter called Olivares, Chapo’s right-hand man, to let him know that the load had been caught.
“Well, whatever,” Olivares said. “Too bad. It happens.”
To Olivares, it was just another raid, just another shipment lost. But to Peter and Junior, it was the beginning of the end.
Mia
It went on and on like that for months. A raid here, a raid there, kilos and kilos of drugs being seized. They were losing millions of dollars in potential revenue because they were responsible for their loads, and when they got seized, they lost the 10 percent that they’d paid up front. Junior and Peter personally paid back $5 million on their first seizure alone.
And at the same time their workers and associates in Chicago, LA, and every other city where they did business were getting arrested. These were people they’d known all their lives, men and women they loved. They felt guilty; we all did.
There was danger on every corner, too. Not just to them and to us, but to everyone they were even remotely connected to. After they repaid Olivares for a seized 250 kilo shipment, he confronted Junior and Peter because too many loads were falling, one after another.
“I think it was the trucker who ratted you out. It was his first run. We don’t know him, and it’s suspicious that the feds let him go.”
Peter said, “No, no. I checked him out. He’s not a snitch.”
Peter and Junior kept arguing and eventually saved the driver’s life, but it planted a particular kind of terror in their minds: Even with just the smallest bit of suspicion from the cartels, with just the tiniest shred of doubt about their honesty, the cartels wouldn’t hesitate to have them killed.
CHAPTER 21
The Countdown to the End
Olivia
During the summer and fall of 2008, nothing in our lives was certain. I was super pregnant and taking care of Brandon, Junior and Peter were recording as much as they could, and with every call, they were positive their world was about to come crashing down.
They knew their cooperation couldn’t go on forever, yet there was no end date, no exit strategy, no direction, and, in their minds, no plan in place. They were just hanging by a thread trying to stay alive, and sooner or later, after dozens of raids and millions of dollars of lost revenue, their money was going to run out. If they couldn’t repay the cartels, their days were numbered.
That’s why, early that fall, they did what they felt they had to do in order to make a payment: they shipped a load of 276 kilos into Chicago without reporting it to the feds. Honestly, they were worried that the US government wasn’t going to ensure that the cartels didn’t come after them or us, so while they knew not disclosing the sale was wrong, they felt they had no choice. They were responsible for keeping their family alive.
Mia
It wasn’t just their phone conversations that left them exposed. That summer and fall, they were frequently called into the mountains by Chapo. There, they had to look him in the eyes, knowing they were betraying him.
One mountaintop meeting was especially rough. As Peter and Junior sat at Chapo’s tabl
e with his top lieutenants, discussing business as usual, Chapo spoke up.
“Everyone, leave. All of you but the Flores brothers.”
There was an army of men in the palapa, and one by one, each of them stood up and filed out the door. Knowing that Chapo was all too aware that their loads kept getting seized by the feds, Peter and Junior were terrified. There had always been a silent language between them, a way they could communicate just by looking at each other, but they couldn’t do that here; Chapo was watching them, dead serious. They thought the worst; the boss had found out they were snitches, and they were about to die.
“I know everything you do,” Chapo said. Junior and Peter looked around and saw guns on the table and ammo hanging on the walls. “I know who you work with and how you make every dollar.”
Junior breathed in, slowly. He had no idea where Chapo was going, but not talking would look suspicious. “Yes,” he responded. “And we hope it’s benefiting you. Right, Señor?”
Chapo paused, and you could have heard a pin drop in the room. Finally, he smiled. “Yes, yes! I have your backs one thousand percent.” Then, he got serious. “I know you’re businessmen, but I need to say this. From now on you are only to work with us. Not my enemies. Let this be your first and final warning.”
Peter was so relieved that someone hadn’t come in the room and shot him and his brother in the back of their heads, but he put his game face on. “I understand, but we need to make money.”
Chapo interrupted. “And I’m happy you make money! You’re good at it, too. If you were triplets, you’d be the richest people on earth. But understand me; I need you on my side.”
So this wasn’t about Peter and Junior being informants; it was about them being caught between the cartels. It wasn’t the last breath they’d take after all. Chapo had simply put them on notice.
Olivia
That September was such an emotional time for me and Junior. We were so excited about having our second baby, and yet every time their customers and Chapo’s associates called, Junior wired up, ready to record, and we instantly became terrified.
Still, I knew what Junior and Peter were doing was for the best, and that gave me some peace. We weren’t chasing the cartel life anymore; we were chasing what my parents had. Despite the fact that my husband was going to go to prison, one day this was going to give our children the simplicity I always wanted. We were on our way to creating a new story for them, and I felt deep down it was one that would someday have a happy ending.
Early one morning that month, Junior and I left Brandon with Mia and Peter at our house and drove to the hospital before the sun came up. After I checked myself in and got into a room, Junior and I held hands and couldn’t stop looking at each other. I don’t know what it is, but knowing you’re bringing a baby into this world is the warmest, most loving feeling you can ever have. I felt like I was living a dream. The moment that the doctors laid our beautiful son, Benjamin, on my chest, it literally took my breath away. As he wiggled on my body, I felt safe and protected, like I always had with Junior. A warmth washed over me that was so calm and peaceful, and I wanted to hold on to that moment forever.
Mia
It was back to business almost immediately. Peter and Junior kept recording, they kept seeing their loads get seized, and through it all, we feared that every day could be our last in Mexico. When Chapo summoned Peter and Junior up to the mountains in October, saying he had an incredibly important meeting, they really believed it was do-or-die time. If the feds couldn’t catch Chapo at that meeting, was their cooperation even worth it?
Olivia
When Chapo called a group of his people together, it was always a big deal. But this one promised to be bigger: Mayo, Olivares, Vincente, and one hundred of his top lieutenants would be there, together in one room for the first time ever.
“I think you should stay behind,” Junior said to Peter. “If someone there finds out we’re informants, they’ll kill both of us.”
Mia
The truth was that most of the time, Junior went to the mountains alone because Peter needed to stay with the phones. Meetings with Chapo lasted all day and were drawn out, so someone needed to be at home running the day-in, day-out operations.
This time, however, they prayed Chapo wouldn’t call attention to Peter’s absence. It was such a big meeting, and Chapo had asked them both to come, but they hoped to hell no one would think things were off.
“I’ll stay, Junior,” agreed Peter. “But, just please, be safe.”
Olivia
Junior called Eric and the DEA’s office beforehand.
“Eric, everyone’s flying in. One hundred cartel members are expected to be there. I can tell you the exact coordinates of where the meeting is. All of these people have never been in the same room together, and this is your chance to get them all. This only happens once in a lifetime, and I’ll even take an agent with me.”
But Eric refused. “It doesn’t work like that, Junior. I can’t risk any of my agents.”
“Then give me a wire or a camera.”
“I can’t take that risk, even with you.”
Junior was getting frustrated. “Peter and I will gift Chapo a plane. We just need you to install a GPS tracker on it. Chapo trusts us so much, there’s no way in hell he’ll have it searched.”
“I’m sorry, Junior,” Eric answered. “It doesn’t work that way.”
Mia
Peter got so upset when he heard what Eric had said. “What’s the point of recording if we’re giving them Chapo’s exact location?” he yelled. “I don’t understand why they just don’t go get him.”
But that was the nature of the game. Record, wait, conduct business as usual, put on a brave face, and record more.
Olivia
Like he’d done more times than he could count, Junior hopped on a tiny plane in Culiacán, and less than an hour later, landed uphill in the mountains, the plane kicking up dust all around him. He followed the same path with the same people, probably rode in the same Jeep. But when he got there, Chapo looked disappointed.
“Where’s your brother?” he said.
Junior laughed it off. “We can’t both be here. Who’s going to take care of business and get you paid if we’re both stuck in the mountains?”
Chapo started laughing, too, but Junior wondered if it was genuine.
Mia
All the while, their loads kept getting seized. They’d always pay the cartels back, but after a while, it started to look suspicious.
Olivia
Felipe Cabrera Sarabia was one of Chapo’s top lieutenants. That fall, during one particularly big seizure early one morning, Felipe called Peter, unprompted.
“Someone’s tailing my driver,” he said. “What’s going on? Are you rats?”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Peter said, then talked him down and brushed it off more. He put Felipe at ease, but not himself. He was so freaked out he ran into our house at probably six a.m. and woke Junior up. When I saw the look on his face, I knew it was serious.
“Junior, Junior,” Peter said. “Something’s wrong. Felipe Sarabia’s on to us. The feds are all over his driver. He accused us of being rats.”
“Let me call Eric,” Junior said.
Junior called the DEA agent and woke him up. He started yelling so loudly that Benjamin began crying. As I held my baby in my arms and gave him a bottle, I could hear my husband screaming.
“You’re going to get us killed! How can you leave us out in the open like this? Tell your agents to back off because you could have blown everything! I’m here in Guadalajara like a sitting duck. I have my family and a newborn baby, for God’s sake, and Peter’s wife is pregnant. Don’t you know the cartels could come kill our whole fucking family?”
Eric couldn’t really say a thing. After all, he knew Junior was right. He and Peter had everything to lose, and the DEA had everything to gain.
Mia
Unfortunately, though, Peter and
Junior still didn’t have Chapo on tape. Through all their meetings with him that summer and early fall, they’d never recorded him saying anything that was incriminating.
On November 15, 2008, when I was so pregnant I couldn’t see my toes, all that changed.
Olivia
Two weeks before their baby was due, Mia and Peter walked over to our house. Just like he always did, Peter had his recorder in his pocket.
Mia
Everything seemed normal. Junior had some friends and associates over, and we were all planning to sit down outside and have dinner. A few people commented about my big belly, but in a cute way. Peter kept looking over at me and smiling. “My beautiful, pregnant wife,” he’d say, and I’d squeeze his hand under the table.
After dinner, Peter spoke up. “I have to call Chapo,” he said, then pushed back his chair and headed inside and up the stairs.
He returned not two minutes later.
Olivia
