0118-greenleaf_proof

350 of these every day, with nothing to hang onto but
each trap across a 30’ deck in open ocean to load and
stack them. This is the kind of work during the day
that preps you to move a thousand 60-pound bales of
pot in one night.
Timmy had to maintain his crabbing position to be
able to continue going offshore and unloading the
freighters. Sometimes they’d split 30,000 pounds between
2 boats, or to make it really quick, they’d divide
it equally among 3. There was a hierarchy that strategized
the runs. The more boats went, the more boats
would have to get paid—in prospect, about a half a
million - $600k per boat, and then captains paid the
crew out of that share. These were first hands to handle
Tim and Clark were accepted in this niche because
one of the islanders could say, “This is my wife’s brother
and his neighbor he grew up with”—which meant
locals knew exactly where they were from and that
they weren’t cops. As Red realized he had 2 high-trust,
reliable men who wanted to work, Tim started making
about $35k for every 30,000 pounds hauled. The bigger
the haul, the bigger the money—soon Tim was making
anywhere from $40k to $100k a night.
They were working 3 to 4 times a week, so they got
pretty clever about details, becoming masters of hiding
in plain sight. Running 25 vehicles a day off the island
to & from Miami with loads from a house absolutely
jam-packed with marijuana became part of the
grind. They’d drop off at a shopping mall with one of
their partners from Cuba, who owned the ships. 99%
of the time, the runners didn’t own the ships—they
were what the government called “service providers.”
Timmy would go to Columbia, Belize, Jamaica, Panama—he’d
buy it, haul it, & deliver it to Miami for $175
a pound. If someone else could send a boat where
he’s making the deal, Timmy would take it offshore
from the vessel, smuggle it in, and deliver it for $145
a pound. No one else could beat his price. They never
lost a single load—except those turned over to law
enforcement and the government. We’ll get
there.
taking off and sunk. To this day, you can see planes
sunken to the bottom of the ocean.
Timmy’s connections all over the Caribbean served
him well with the cocaine runners in Miami. He only
knew two people in that city, and that’s all he wanted
to know. Timmy’s provider in Columbia lorded over
the entire of Guajira Peninsula, where the commercial
grade red grew that all of the US wanted. This connection
was a cousins to the Ochoas of the Cali Cartel of
Colombia, which the US DEA deems “one of the most
powerful crime syndicates in history.”
The Cali Cartel broke off from Pablo Escobar and his
Medellin associates because, as Tim says, “I know
everything there is to know about Escobar. And all
of what you read and what I’m sure you’ve been told
about Escobar is total bullshit. The guy was just a fuckup
and a fool and a total idiot. Nobody really liked the
guy. Nobody wanted to work for him—which is why
the Cali Cartel came into existence, it’s founders the
Rodriguez Orejuela brothers, Gilberto and Miguel,
and Jose Santacruz Londono left Medellin Cartel.
Pablo started getting stupid and shooting airplanes out
of the sky to kill Congressmen who weren’t even on
the plane. So they said, ‘What is this, dude,’ and they
If you’ve seen the movie Blow , you may remember a
little island in the Bahamas. That island actually exists;
it’s called Norman’s Cay. Apparently if you fly over
that island today, you can see dozens and dozens of
twin-engine aircraft that either did not make it to the
island, or did not make it because they were too heavy
Tim in prison, accepting his diploma from a fictional
writing class.
J25