Cartel Wives

by Mia Flores

  Whatever was going through their minds, the US Attorneys were playing hardball, not budging one inch. They were offering Junior and Peter ten to sixteen years, and that was just what it was going to be.

  After two months, Peter finally decided to sign his plea agreement. He did so the day before Junior did, and then he appeared in front of the federal judge.

  Olivia

  Unlike civil and criminal cases in state and county courts, federal courts don’t use juries to approve plea agreements and determine sentences. Instead, there’s one appointed official who reviews them and later decides how many days, weeks, or years a defendant gets. In Junior and Peter’s case, the judge who was going to decide their fate was the chief judge for the United States Court of the Northern District of Illinois, Ruben Castillo.

  Mia

  Like Peter and Junior, Judge Castillo had done better than his parents. He’d been born in Chicago to a Puerto Rican mom and a Mexican dad and was the first member of his family to go to college. When he was appointed by Bill Clinton to the US District Court in 1994, he was the first Latino federal judge in the state of Illinois. Castillo had grown up in a tough neighborhood, and many of his friends ended up in prison.

  Olivia

  In a lot of ways, he and our husbands were two sides of the same coin. But while one had gone to law school and risen to the highest ranks of his profession, the others had run the most lucrative drug operation in the United States. We all know that growing up in a bad neighborhood is very different than being raised in a home where you’re trained to sell drugs, but still, we all wondered: Is what makes them similar and different going to make him sympathetic, or repel him?

  Mia

  When Peter walked into the courtroom, Judge Castillo was sitting in his oversized chair, front and center, way up high, looking like he was playing God. The courtroom is built to make you feel intimidated, but Peter was experiencing that and more.

  “I was humiliated,” Peter said. “But I was ready to apologize. I couldn’t believe the destruction I’d caused in my life and the lives of others.”

  I wasn’t there, but Peter told me that while Judge Castillo read out his charges, he’d never felt sorrier about anything. He wanted to denounce his whole life right then and there.

  “Still, I wished I could tell the judge one good thing about myself,” he told me.

  But he knew he was fooling himself. The time for defending himself was over; he had to be man enough to stand in front of a judge, feel intense remorse, and accept his fate.

  Olivia

  Junior couldn’t imagine being alone, in jail, for sixteen years. Our babies and Samantha and Sasha were growing up without him, and the six-year difference he was fighting for determined whether he’d be home before Brandon graduated from high school. He might even miss his girls’ college graduations. Junior and I love each other enough to get through anything, but it’s our kids we worry the most about, and we knew that a few years makes a huge difference in a young child’s life.

  So when our lawyer, David, called me one evening and pleaded with me not to let Junior make the biggest mistake of his life, I didn’t know what to think. Do I fight, like I always have, or do we just accept it? If there’s anything I’ve learned in my marriage, it’s to trust my husband 100 percent, and so I decided to agree with Junior, whatever he wanted to do.

  Junior fought to the very last day, right up until the minute the US Marshals flew him to Chicago. When he landed, Tom and David were there to greet him.

  “Peter already signed the papers, Junior,” David said.

  The US Attorney added, “And if you don’t sign them, too, it’s possible the judge will rip up the plea agreement, and you’ll be looking at life.”

  Junior was shocked and hurt, and he knew he was backed up against the wall. He and his twin brother had always been on the same page, but Peter had gone ahead and signed the papers without telling him.

  Why the hell did my brother do that? he thought to himself. Now I don’t have two legs to stand on.

  Deep down, he realized what had really happened. Peter hadn’t done anything wrong, and he’d never meant to catch Junior short. It had just been too hard trying to negotiate through their attorneys. For the first real time in their lives, at such a critical moment, they hadn’t been able to communicate. They hadn’t been able to read each other’s minds.

  As Junior signed his plea agreement, minutes before going in front of the judge, tears fell from his eyes. In a room full of men, all of whom were staring at him at his most vulnerable moment, he felt degraded. Worse, he worried that he was giving up, that he was letting me down.

  Then, as he stood before Judge Castillo, who was draped in a big, black cloak, with the United States of America emblem behind him and the stars and stripes beside him, Junior felt the power of the court. When Judge Castillo read him his charges, he fully understood the severity of his crimes and the harm he’d done to society, and he realized: I’m ashamed of the damage that I’ve caused, and I’m ready to pay for my crimes. It’s the right thing to do.

  Judge Castillo pulled his glasses down, looked my husband in the eye, almost surprised, and said, “Mr. Flores, do you understand everything that you’re admitting to?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” he answered, struggling to get the words out. Accepting responsibility was hard, and listening to all he’d done was painful. Suddenly, he knew he’d done the right thing, and later, he told me as much.

  “Liv, we’ve been living in this bubble. I can’t believe everything we did; it sounded so bad. I can’t believe I fought with my attorneys and almost lost my deal. I could have spent the rest of my life in prison. I’m so grateful I got the plea agreement I did. I realize now how severe my case was.”

  “I can’t believe we were living like that for so long. I’m glad it’s over. We’re going to get through this. I’m proud of you,” I said. Then I added, “How are you feeling?”

  “Relieved.”

  He looked it. Right then and there, I knew our attorneys had been right, and I felt bad for second-guessing them and giving them such a hard time. They’d had his best interests at heart, and I’d just been so passionate, so determined to have my children grow up with their dad. We’d risked our lives, after all, and our husbands were going to have years and years in prison to think about it.

  CHAPTER 30

  Sentencing

  Olivia

  Sentencing was scheduled for Tuesday, January 27, 2015, and getting to that day had taken forever. We’d waited over two years since Junior and Peter had signed their plea agreement.

  Mia

  Over all that time, the government had to make sure all testimony that Junior and Peter had given them was fact, and they had to corroborate their testimony with other witnesses. They weren’t in a hurry; on a case this big, they had to do things right.

  Olivia

  But for two years, we all hung in the balance, and we were worried about so many things. One of them was the judge.

  Mia

  Judge Castillo had served on something called the Federal Sentencing Commission, which was a committee that outlined the levels that determine sentences for federal crimes. We were so afraid of him because, clearly, having been on that committee, he believed in the federal guidelines, and he was there to enforce them.

  Olivia

  Federal crimes go up to level 43, weighing what your crime is with your criminal history. Given all that they’d done, Junior and Peter were off the charts. They would have been looking at life if they hadn’t cooperated.

  But here’s the thing. The judge could throw out the plea agreement and sentence them to whatever he thought was best; 99.9 percent of the time the judge would go with the US Attorney’s recommendation, but there was still that 0.1 percent chance he might decide on something else entirely.

  Mia

  The other issue at hand concerned something called a 5K.1.1 motion, which the US Attorney had recently filed. A 5K.1.1 asks
the judge to consider a defendant’s “substantial assistance to authorities” when he hands down a sentence. The US Attorney had practically gushed about Peter and Junior when he wrote his recommendations, saying they “voluntarily broke away from their positions in the highest echelons of the cartel world to transform themselves into extraordinary witnesses.” Then he made clear that they were the biggest drug informants in US history, having done more to dismantle the drug trade than anyone. He said that he and the other prosecutors hoped Judge Castillo would reduce the sentence to something at or near the low end of the ten to sixteen years outlined in the plea agreements.

  In the weeks leading up to sentencing I was really counting on the 5K.1.1 motion the US Attorney had filed. I mean, I wasn’t ignoring the fact that everything was ultimately up to the judge, but Peter and I thought things might swing in their favor.

  Besides, I thought, If they don’t deserve the ten years, then who does? They were fully committed to cooperation from start to finish, and without a doubt never lost sight of the reason why they did this in the first place. They’d risked their lives and the lives of the people they loved the most. They set the bar high when it came to cooperation, and were a great example of people who truly wanted to change. Not just that, but their case was the biggest drug conspiracy case in US history.

  Olivia

  After Junior and Peter risked their lives in Mexico, and after everyone they’d helped bring in, I still believed passionately that they shouldn’t do a day more than ten years. Junior’s lawyer had been reluctant to agree with me because he didn’t want to piss off Judge Castillo, so before sentencing, I hired a new lawyer from New York to come in with a fresh set of eyes. I thought Jim, the new attorney, might push for ten, but instead, he did the opposite.

  “I think you should accept the fact that they might get sixteen,” he said. “It’s as simple as that.”

  It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, so even though it hurt, it was the reality of things. Suddenly, I saw the big picture, and by the time sentencing day rolled around, I was prepared for the worst and hoping for the best.

  Mia

  I couldn’t believe it when sentencing day finally arrived. This was it. Everything we’d done and gone through together was going to come to an end in just a few hours. Everything depended on one man who had my future and the future of my children in his hands. His decision was going to determine my happiness.

  Peter was trusting someone else, too. Just before sentencing, he said, “I’m leaving it up to God to decide our fates. It’s all up to him.”

  Olivia

  That day I had such mixed emotions. I was so eager to know Junior’s future, but I was terrified about the outcome. I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling paralyzed. Deep down, though, I kept thinking, Junior and I love each other so much that we can withstand anything. Our relationship is rock solid, so whatever the judge decides won’t break us. But most of all, it was our children I was stressed about.

  Mia

  It snowed a lot on January 27, so Bella and Blake were home from school. I hadn’t said a thing to them about what was happening, but I think they knew something was up; they’d been following me around the house all day, almost obsessively. I’d been giving them tons of hugs and kisses, but it hadn’t helped. Eventually I’d basically barricaded myself in my room to clear my head and pray, when I heard a knock on the door.

  “Mommy, can we play Chutes and Ladders with you?” asked Bella.

  “Sure, baby, sure,” I answered, relieved someone was taking sentencing off my mind. “Whatever you need.”

  Olivia

  We all felt so vulnerable because of our kids. Brandon and Benjamin had been babies when Junior turned himself in, doing the right thing so our children would have a better future. But here was the irony: they were growing up without seeing their father every day. In doing “the right thing,” we’d ended up hurting them.

  It got worse before sentencing, too; I was so stressed that I’d had trouble even focusing on my boys. I wasn’t present at all. I was constantly upset, Junior was always sad, and my poor babies kept asking for their daddy to come home. I knew it was taking a toll on Brandon, especially. He cried when we left our visits, he cried before he went to bed, and he even cried in the shower, for God’s sake. So I took him to a child psychologist. I didn’t go into the extent of our situation, like what Junior had done, but I told her my husband was in prison.

  After a few months of sessions, she and I met separately, and she reassured me.

  “You and your husband are doing the best you can. You’re good parents,” she said.

  “But my boys are a wreck,” I pleaded. “All they want is for their dad to come home. I’m a protector, and I feel like I’ve let Brandon down through all of this.”

  She looked at me and got really serious. “There are many children who don’t have their fathers in their lives for different reasons. Some have dads who’ve died, while others have chosen not to be present. Then you have fathers who are so consumed by work and don’t give their children the undivided attention they need. One day your husband will come home, but for right now your kids have 100 percent of their dad every single weekend. He’s a great dad, he’s there for them, and you’re both doing the right thing. When they’re grown up, that’s what they’re going to remember.”

  Right then, I decided: Whatever Junior’s sentence is going to be, it’s not going to change us as a family. We’ve sacrificed more than most, and that’s only made us closer.

  Still, my heart just ached for Junior to come home sooner rather than later.

  Mia

  The day of sentencing, Peter and Junior were everywhere on the news. They even started trending on Yahoo. The TV broadcasts kept flashing a photo of them when they were sixteen, and suddenly, Peter became that teenager I met a million years ago. I started to remember being in my early twenties, so crazy about him, and how he always left a rose on my front doorstep, or how he’d call me at work just to brighten up my day.

  I wanted so badly to be with him, but I couldn’t. Our lawyers had told us not to come, that it was far too dangerous. So on the most important day of our lives, instead of holding my husband’s hand, I was home playing Chutes and Ladders.

  I’d even called my lawyer that morning. “I’ll go to the court in a disguise. I’ll wear a wig if I have to. I just need him to know he’s not alone.”

  “No,” he said. “This is open to the public. You think people aren’t going to try to find out if his wife is there? If I see you there, I’ll drag you out myself.”

  Olivia

  That morning, Mia and I called each other every hour.

  “I’ve heard nothing,” I’d say. “Have you?”

  “No,” she’d answer. “But the lawyer promises he’ll call me.”

  Mia

  I finally unplugged the TV just to be sure I wouldn’t find out that way. I needed a real, live person to talk to when their sentences were announced.

  Then my phone rang, and it was Olivia. Her lawyer had just told her everything.

  Olivia

  From the minute they sat at our kitchen table in Guadalajara and decided to become informants to the day they walked into court to find out their fates, Junior and Peter had never stopped helping the government. In fact, the morning of sentencing, they’d had a meeting with the feds to discuss yet another superseding indictment out of San Diego: the extradition of Mayo’s sons, Mayito Gordo and Mayito Flaco. They signed those papers, followed by papers for Puerca’s sister, La Patrona.

  Mia

  Then, they walked into Judge Castillo’s courtroom, sporting beige prison uniforms and buzz cuts, and were greeted by the US Attorneys and their assigned DEA agents, who’d voluntarily flown in just to speak on their behalf. They’d flown in because they were now stationed in different parts of the country. Peter and Junior hadn’t laid eyes on each other in almost five years, and they hugged and cried when they met. They hadn’t expec
ted to be reunited until they came home from prison.

  Olivia

  It was a media frenzy, but who stood out were a few Mexican women sitting in the first row, their eyes burning holes in the backs of the twins’ heads. Peter and Junior assumed they were related to some of the people that they’d cooperated against, but they never turned around to find out for sure.

  Mia

  The US Attorneys started by giving a full account of Peter and Junior’s crimes and cooperation—from the minimum of sixty tons of cocaine they’d trafficked into Chicago over the years to the fact that their cooperation was “unparalleled” in the city’s history and resulted in dozens of national and international arrests and convictions. While the attorneys made a point of saying that their cooperation wasn’t 100 percent perfect, calling particular attention to the 276 kilograms of cocaine they’d trafficked without telling the government and the fact that they’d arranged for the pickup of drug proceeds, they still showered them with praise.

  Olivia

  “They cooperated at the height of their criminal enterprise,” said US Attorney Mike, who’d replaced Tom after he stepped down. “These two defendants are the most valuable cooperators this district has ever seen in the context of a drug case, and as well, Your Honor, in the context of international money laundering related to drug-trafficking charges.” Then he gave specifics, saying, “A massive criminal enterprise used to exist here in Chicago… it no longer exists, and they are directly responsible for that.”