Crazy Cuban

In a rare phone call from Special Agent Steve, the leader of the DEA team that I served as a confidential informant, he said, “JJ, I’m throwing a bone your way.”

This meant he was giving me the opportunity to prove, again, that the DEA should continue to rely upon me and keep me out of jail for drug smuggling.

Then he proceeded to ask me to find out everything I could about a particular cargo airline they had their eye on. What kind of planes did they use? How many times a day did they come in from Bogota and Caracas?

Then he said, “JJ, if you were going to put drugs on this airline, when would you do it?”

After a few weeks of investigating, I decided that the best time to smuggle drugs was the 4 a.m. flight from Caracas on a Tuesday or Wednesday because the plane would practically be empty, and that flight used a wide-body plane, where cargo is in containers, not loaded by hand, so there would be less of an opportunity for others to steal the product.

About four months after I gave my report, they were ready to make their move, and my handler called me, telling me to come in immediately, wearing my American Airlines uniform and airport ID. I told work I was sick and was at the DEA office in 30 minutes.

The whole team was there, all suited up in their bulletproof vests and with guns in their holsters. In the room was also a young CI named “Flaco,” whose eyes were wandering around the room, looking as scared as I had years before.

The plan was to insert me into the case. I was the guy that Flaco had used to move the drugs out of the airport, and I was to tell his Cuban contact that US customs had confiscated the drugs and the 25 kilos were gone. This was a loss of $500K!

I was supposed to offer to work for free to make things right and get him to send more drugs. I was also supposed to try to get the Cuban to give up his source in Caracas.

I’d done similar things before, but I wanted to know how angry Flaco’s contact would be. I never have been a tough guy. I’m the baggage handler. I get things done, and I never hurt anyone while doing it. I wanted to know exactly what I would be walking into.

Flaco said that the Cuban would be very upset, even madder than if I’d been cheating with his wife.

That didn’t make me feel better, but I’d dealt with that kind of anger before—hell, I grew up with it—so I thought I could reason with him. What actually bothered me more was Flaco. As we were driving to the location, I could see him changing colors. It was his first undercover case, and he was driving very slowly. I was concerned that he was going to blow our cover—whether accidentally or on purpose, I didn’t know.

I had been trained to recognize if a suspect is wearing a gun, but I didn’t even get the chance. As soon as we arrived at the restaurant where we were meeting, the crazy Cuban attacked me, threatening my life and hitting me. As he turned, I saw his gun and knew there was no way I could do my job. I’d be lucky at that point to get out alive.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Rookies, fresh from Farm! –the DEA training facility in Virgina

When I was a CI (confidential informant), during a weekly debriefing with my DEA handlers, a dozen rookie agents, fresh from completing their training at the Virgina academy, filed into the small room.

A new task force was being formed to combat the growing meth and Ecstasy problem. In south Florida these new agents were going to go after the small fish, which would eventually lead them to the bigger fish.

Over the next few months, these rookies practiced on me how to debrief a CI. They did a great job, but they were so young and so white. One reminded me of Justin Bieber and another of Ron Howard when he was Opie.

One of my handlers, Johnny, asked me what I thought about the new guys.

I said, “They’re very white for Miami! And they look like cops from a mile away. Like they just came from the farm.”

Johnny laughed and said, “I know, but we know where to place them!”

Given the DEA’s 99% conviction rate, I’m sure he was right.

Later, in front of the rookies group, I was asked what the most important things are that a CI should be told to do.

I said:

— Never waste the DEA’s manpower time.

— Never lie or make a false statement to try to get yourself out of trouble. Informants have to prove what they’re saying through audio and video.

— No entrapment!

My handlers, David and Johnny, smiled, but I had one more thing to add. I looked at each of the new agents, then said:

“My handlers do this to me all the time. Never ask a CI what time they can come in for debriefing. Don’t let them make their own schedule. Tell them, ‘I need you to come in after work or when ever.’ As the agents, you create a schedule for your CI.”

Both of my handlers started laughing out loud — as though I didn’t know how to read between the lines! But that’s why I was so successful with them. We had a mutual respect, great communication, and they knew I sincerely wanted to redeem myself. They asked for my opinion, and trusted and believed in my judgment.

I also taught them all how to speak Spanish Cuban-style. They all said “Dimelo?” which means, “What’s up?”

Imagine a bunch of white guys saying, “Dimelo?”

It was so cool to hear!
Excerpted from my forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

What a wonderful week! First, I’m nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award, and then when I share my fondest memories, as requested for the award, Jenness Johnston https://jennessjohnston78.wordpress.com/ nominates me for the Beautiful Blogger Award! Jenness, your appreciation of my sharing these real things in my life means so much to me.

I am grateful to all of you for acknowledging my attempt to amend my past through my writing. I have been praying for those dark days to leave my life for good. And all of you great bloggers and readers out there lighten my spirit with your kind words and forgiving hearts. This is only confirmation that I’m on the right track to getting my life back and being an example to all those who are stuck in their life. God bless you all…JJ

For the award, I was asked to give 7 random facts about me. Here they are:

1. I have two plants. One looks a little like a palm tree, and I call it “Cher,” because it has a long, slender stem and a lot of long leaves. The other is short and stopped growing. Of course, that’s “Sonny.” When I talk to them every morning, their leaves respond to the sound of my voice.

2. I recently became a vegetarian. I’m working my way to turning vegan.

3. I also recently found some good friends that I can count on. They gave me the nickname “Cuba.” Yes, probably because my parents are from there, but I don’t really look it. I’m a white boy with blue eyes who grew up speaking Spanish, and I can dance salsa.

4. I enjoy running. It gives me a sense of freedom.

5. In the summer in the late afternoon, I open my bathroom window, turn off the light, turn up the mellow music and take the most relaxing shower ever.

6. After everything that has happened in my life, I have learned to appreciate the simple and humble again.

I can’t think of a seventh, so I’ll just close with this:

To all you amazing and wonderful moms out there, Happy Mother’s Day! You make the world beautiful. JJ

I’ll be back in two weeks with a new blog. You all rock!

I would like to thank Shruti Srinivasan, https://anushrusrini.wordpress.com/author/anushrusrini/, for nominating my blog, The Baggage Handler, for The Versatile Blogger award. To be recognized by such an awesome site is truly an honor. I gratefully accept the nomination.

It feels as though my journey hasn’t even begun, yet all of your positive feedback and the outlook you’ve given me in your posts have given me a stronger voice as I talk about the corruption that happens in our airports. Thank you so much for that.

Warmest Regards,

The Baggage Handler Aka…JJ

For the award, I was asked to provide six of my fondest memories:

1. The first time I kissed a girl. I was 11, and I had my eyes closed. The second time, I peeked. The third time the most beautiful eyes stared back at me. I will never forget her or that moment.

2. I love to dance! When I was little, my uncle used to give me five dollars to dance in front of the family. I did it, but I was shy. When I got older, I became a salsa instructor just for fun.

3. I also love baseball. When I was a kid, my favorite player was Tom Seaver #41, pitcher for the New York Mets. Before he was pitching a game, I would go buy a slice of pizza and an RC cola and go home and watch him pitch. “Go Mets!”

4. When I was 5, my brother, Albert, showed me how to tie my sneakers. It took me an hour to learn, and then I was off to the races.

5. My sweet and sour moments were watching my children smile without their front teeth. They grow up so fast. I was their tooth fairy, and I still have all of their teeth.

6. When my children were young, I was working 16 hours a day, so I hardly got to see them. After I fell asleep, they would sometimes all crawl into bed and cuddle in with me, like a giant puppy pile. I’d wake up and just listen to them breathing. They did that because they missed me. Now, I miss them!

colombia-panama-pipeline

El Jefe was the boss of our operation.

I met him once in Bogota, Colombia, and I spoke to him four times on the phone. I don’t know very much about him — because I didn’t ask. Asking isn’t something you did. He was a man of mystery and planned to keep it that way.

He was well-connected in the Colombian government, had influence with the army generals, and connections all over the world.

Once when we had to move our operation from Venezuela to Panama, and we needed merchandise ASAP, within 24 hours the boss had 1000 kilos of cocaine in Panama ready to be shipped.

When I worked with him, he was in his early 40s, 5′ 10” and weighed about 165 lbs. His hair was thin and black with cruel streaks of grey.

He was soft-spoken with a calm personality, but never took “no” for an answer.

El Jefe appreciated my work and once said to me, “You’re always welcome in Colombia. Stay as long as you like. Your money is no good here.”

I felt as though he had just given me the keys to the country.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

These are LD3 container

How the Cartels Bring Their Drugs in Through U.S. Airports

Baggage used to be the most popular way to bring in drugs, but due to the reforms in airport security after 911 that is more difficult, but people still try. To work, it has to be the perfect set-up, and, even then, it might work once or twice but eventually they will get burned. There are just too many informants working in the airports for them to get away with it for long.

Cargo, however, is still viable, since it’s not policed as heavily. Crooked employees of established companies keep an eagle eye and identify how often various routes are inspected by Customs and Homeland Security.

A popular method of bringing in drugs is the “Piggyback Ride.” You place a small box of drugs inside a bigger box and ship that. As soon as employees have the opportunity, they take out the small box and seal up the bigger one. Then, it’s as though no one had ever touched the box.

Drugs are also placed inside the liners of cargo containers and inside pallets of things like fresh fish, engines, and truck tires — all of which would also help disguise the smell.

How do you take the drugs out of the warehouse? All you need is a driver with a flat-bed truck and fake invoices. Put the drugs in the company truck, drive a mile up the street, where your partner in crime is waiting for the exchange. The drugs change hands, and everyone drives off in different directions.If criminals get spooked and think the authorities are on to them, they will abandon their cargo.

In 1991 at American Airlines, a customer didn’t pick up his rose cargo after 10 days, so it was eventually dumped in the large waste container, as was normal at the time. A few employees noticed that the flowers were still alive and decided to grab some but got more than they expected. Cocaine had been shipped with the flowers. Soon there was a rush to get the free flowers (or was it the drugs?…). (A kilo of cocaine had a street value of about $22,000 – $24,000.) Eventually Customs found out and thereafter all international waste was dumped in a special container in a secure area. However, cocaine may still be coming in on roses. So if you ever buy flowers in Miami, don’t get too close or you might get more than you bargained for!

Interesting note: because of the measures put into place after the anthrax tragedy in 2001, it is nearly impossible to ship drugs in packages through the mail.

You’ll be able to read more about how the cartels shipped their drugs in my forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Money Flights

In a recent blog, I talked about the two types of airline personnel who steal from passengers: the professionals who target other criminals and the morons who target everyday passengers.

The professionals profile their victims. If you paid cash for your ticket on the same day as your flight, there’s a good chance you’re moving drugs and/or money, so you might never see your bags again. Homeland Security actually uses the same system today to profile potential risk passengers.

The professionals were especially watching for passengers going to: Colombia, Venezuela, Bolivia, Brazil, Peru, Mexico, Panama, Port-Au-Prince, Santo Domingo, and, in the States, Los Angeles, NYC, and Miami. Why? Because they are the biggest suppliers of drugs to the United States. The drugs come in. How do you get the payment home? Often in luggage. (Although, since I knew about the profiling, I always urged my cartel contacts to bring it home in other ways.)

Before 911, security at Miami International was a joke. There was a lot of money to be made in the drug trade, and many of the workers were cashing in. Certain flights were well-known to be “money flights,” either because drugs were easily moved on those flights or a passenger had been profiled and there was likely to be drugs and/or money on board. The crew chief coordinator was in on it and would move in his “professional” crew to take advantage. There were actually fist-fights in the locker room as people battled over territory.

My first involvement with the money flights was not by design. In 1997, I was new at my job as Crew Chief in the outbound room, overseeing domestic and international flights. I was aware of the trafficking of currency and, one night, a crew member asked if I would send my workers on break and let his crew “close out” the flight from Bogota. Did I know what he was doing? Probably, but I respected him, so I turned a blind eye. All I cared about was him gettting the paperwork to me on time.

About a week later, the same guy asked me to meet with him in his car. He pressed a button and a secret compartment opened. A vacuum-sealed plastic bag fell to the floor.

“This is your cut,” he said.

I picked it up. There were a lot of Benjamins in there. I stared at it, thinking about how it would give me breathing room during the messy break-up with my wife, Maya. I took the money. And that was the beginning of the end for me. My values and, eventually, my freedom came to a full stop.

The complete story of my time smuggling drugs for a Colombia cartel and working as a DEA confidential informant will be in my forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

In this blog, I’ve told you about my being a drug smuggler and confidential informant and some of my painful upbringing, but I haven’t addressed my early, happy days at American before I got into trouble.

Also, my last blog about luggage thieves really hit a nerve, so I wanted to show that there are also good, hard-working people in the airline industry.

I was hired by American Airlines in the late 80’s and immediate found a home. I was a part-time employee with a 4-hour shift working weekends and making $5.77 an hour. Not much, I know, but it was better than working for my criminal father.

I started at the Burbank, Glendale, Pasadena Airport, now called Bob Hope Airport. The old-timers, with an average of 25 years or more with the company, took me under their wing, taking the time to teach me how to work around aircraft correctly and safely. They taught me to treat the equipment and passengers’ personal belonging as if they were my own. They really cared about how we looked to the passengers watching us through the airplane windows.

My first week on the job the workers played practical jokes on me. On my second day of work, “Jorge” was the first to greet me in the break room. He told me that my shift was changed to the evening, and that I should go home. Five minutes after I got home, my crew chief called and told me to get my butt back to work. Good one, Jorge.

The next day I was in the break room with Jorge and picked up the sports page. Within a few minutes it lit up like a Christmas tree. It was on fire! And there was Jorge, with his cigarette, the cause of it all, dying of laughter.

I got him back on my fourth day. He was eating a sandwich and I told him that the big boss was looking for him in the other break room. While he was gone, I ate the rest of his sandwich. That ended his reign of terror and we became good friends.

Within 14 months, I was upgraded to a full-time employee at LAX. And after I transferred to Miami International Airport I was promoted to Crew Chief, where I helped managed 1000 employees a day. I covered all the holes and when the supervisor and manager went on vacation, I covered their positions too. I was offered their jobs but declined because they weren’t Union. By this point, I was also working as a Skycap and promoted to Skycap captain, so I was plenty busy, as I’ve told you before.

That success was possible because the old-timers trained me to properly care for my workplace and my co-workers. I regret that I later betrayed that trust. It was truly an honor and a pleasure to work with them.

I would like to thank American Airlines for the opportunities they gave me and apologize for my criminal behavior. While it’s true that some of their choices allowed smuggling to flourish, that was not their intent, and we who participated are responsible….JJ Gonzalez

The complete story of my time on the ramp will be in my forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Watch Your Bags!

There are two types of luggage thieves: the professional and the moron.

The professional works like a ghost. I’ve seen a pro open, search, and close a bag within 40 seconds. These guys are really fast and sometimes work with other people, sticking together to get the most lucrative shifts.

Their tool is a small double-edged knife that is NOT sharp, because, if it were, it would cut through the bag and leave marks. The knife doubles as your luggage keys!

The law-abiding passenger doesn’t have much to fear from the professionals. They steal things no one is going to place a claim on, such as cash on its way to being laundered, drugs, old currency, valuable freight like gold coins or whole shipments of Rolex watches, and the odd opportunity that arises because of multiple gate changes due to weather.

Before they even open a bag, the pro will bang it a few times to release the odor of any money. When a lot of money is together, it reeks.

The moron is the one who will ruin your vacation or business trip. He’ll steal your video camera after a family vacation, your jewelry, digital camera, computer, credit cards — anything that has value. I’ve even seen them steal clothes and shoes! They’ll also go through the US Mail looking for cash, and also steal cargo.

They’ll work in teams as well. In the belly of the aircraft, one guy will steal from your bags while the other two are loading the airplane. It was so prevalent when I worked at MIA in the 1990s and 2000s, that if you ever flew out of M.I.A. during that time, most likely your bags were breached.

TSA has improved the situation, but it still happens. Just ask Kim Kardashian. In May 2012, while on a British Airways flight, thieves stole from her luggage.

Morons usually are feeding some kind of addiction such as gambling or drugs, or they have a financial problem. Their desperation makes them sloppy and careless sometimes, so they eventually get caught.

Why I Call Them Morons

Once a moron was going through luggage like he had a mission, very quickly and seemingly without guilt, and his airport ID fell inside one of the bags he was searching. When the passenger arrived home and opened his bag, he found that items were missing, but also found a Miami International Airport ID. The following day American Airlines fired the bad employee. A week later United Airlines hired him….

If you want to ask me questions on traveling, fire away……….JJ

The complete story of The Luggage Thieves will be in my forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

I am so proud to have been nominated for the Liebster award. It’s a big honor and I want to thank everyone involved in this process. Soon everyone around the world will be in tune with my past life. It’s gratifying that people are responding to what I’m writing. It’s taught me that forgiveness really exists in the world.

The Baggage Handler AKA JJ

Below are the questions and my answers

1. If you could have one song as the theme song for your life, which song would it be? Let’s stay together by Al Green

2. Do you believe that it is better to have loved and lost than to never loved at all? Yes, because you need to find the right person. Once you do, you will never look back.

3. What can always bring a smile to your face? A baby’s laughter or smile

4. Words you live by? TCB! Taking care of business

5. Biggest fear? Being in a dark place in LIFE again…

6. What is your favorite book? The Bible! It’s helped me with my panic attacks.

7. What do you believe are your three best qualities? Loyalty, honesty, sense of humor

8. If you could have any super power what would it be? To be able through my book to HELP/HEAL an individual from their past or present or future mistakes. Like it never happened or will happen

9. If you could marry a movie star would you? Who? Yes, Rachel McAdams. She’s an amazing woman and she has natural beauty!Movie stars tend to forget where they have been. If I have to read to her like the role she played in THE NOTEBOOK with Ryan Gosling, I would read to her so she wouldn’t forget where we’re GOING….

10. What is the most important thing life has taught you? Never Quit!! It’s never over till it’s over. I may get knocked down but I will get up again and again. I’ll get up till I get it right and be me!

11. What is your funniest childhood story of yourself? When I hit my brother Albert with a tomato from across the street. It went through a bus window and then out the other side and hit him in the face. :))) I miss playing basketball with my big brother Albert, who was killed at 28 many years ago.

The Fisherman

My DEA handler, Johnny, and I were the first to show up for a team meeting in the parking lot at the DEA headquarters in Miami. That gave us some time to talk as we ate our lunch. Johnny knew that I was having a hard time with a case we were working on.

As I’ve said, during my four-and-a-half years as a confidential informant, I was able to protect from arrest all of my crew, but El Griego, because he kept calling my tapped phone and didn’t heed my veiled references to stop! His repeated calls, wanting to start up business again, put him in the crosshairs of the DEA, and I was forced to take him down.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I didn’t have a choice. If I refused, my CI status would be history, and they would have put me in jail.

In the parking lot, Johnny handed me a bag of fries and said, “JJ, I know you’re beating yourself up, but if the shoe were on the other foot, I guarantee he would have done the same. Everyone eventually talks. If they don’t in the beginning, after sitting in jail for few days, suddenly they want to cooperate. One day in prison is equal to one year on the outside.”

Johnny took a bite of burger, and then continued, “Let me tell you a story. There was an old Cuban guy in Key West, Florida that we called The Fisherman because he fished out drugs every once in awhile, big catches, but we never could get him.

“We were tired of hearing his name pop up in other cases as the main supplier of the drugs. But he paid his taxes. He ran a clean respectable business for years, but we knew he was dirty, and although he hadn’t done any recent deals, we wanted him BAD to close older cases.

“So we approached his cousin in prison, who was serving 20 years, but had only been in prison for a couple of them. We made a deal with him to drop 10 years off his sentence and he could serve the remaining years in a minimum-security prison if he led us to the arrest of his cousin.

“He did. Within 6 months we arrested The Fisherman. He’s sitting in prison for the rest of his life for his past drug deals.”

I can’t say that the story made me feel much better at the time, but Johnny’s concern did.

Also, as I found over and over, no one is untouchable. The DEA knows of all the major players in the drug world. Everyone eventually gets caught.

Their favorite saying is “We’ll catch him later.” And that is no joke.

The complete story of The Fisherman will be in my forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

The first thing the DEA asked of me, as a confidential informant, was not to change my cellular number. Well, from out of the blue, a Colombian guy I’d known for years, Lalo, and never suspected of any type of drugs dealings, called me on the cell and told me he could bring product (cocaine) from Colombia.

As is the protocol, I called my handlers. Then I set up a meeting with Lalo in South Beach (Miami) near his business, and then he set up a meeting with me and his guy Alejandro, whom I also knew.

It took 10 months for this case to develop because there were some problems. Alejandro’s contact was his cousin, Maximo, who was from the Medellin Colombia cartel, and they wanted to send one kilo to see if the plan worked, to test my ability. Well, I worked for an international DEA team, which dealt with 10 kilos and up. Also, after many conversations with Maximo, we changed the location to Caracas. (Ninety percent of my cases came out of Venezuela.)

Rather than sending only one kilo, I came up with the idea of sending a suitcase with clothes and a newspaper. We just pretended it was cocaine and went through the same procedures. It worked. Maximo was convinced I could get the job done, so the next trip he sent 10 kilos of cocaine, which I brought into the country, like I did before I became a CI.

The DEA confiscated the drugs at the airport when the plane landed from Caracas. Then they gave me ten kilos of fake cocaine, which they call “shack,” to complete the transaction.

Alejandro had wanted half of the product to sell and then give me my money, but the DEA wanted the cash upfront. I charged $2,500 a kilo x 10 = $25,000.

It had taken them six weeks to get the cash together, but they did, so when I brought the “shack” to Alejandro, he brought $25,000 to a parking lot in South Beach, and Special Agent Pete took him down. Alejandro flipped right away because he had a past with the DEA, which I didn’t know about. He had been caught before.

Now Alejandro was to take the fake cocaine to his people, Maximo’s nephew Juan, but he was really nervous and couldn’t handle it. so, on the way home, my handler called me and asked me to help. David wanted me to meet Maximo newhew and I went to meet Juan alone with the 10 fake kilos.

When Juan was arrested, he started crying and yelling and asking God for help in Spanish. He was so loud that the whole shopping center came out to see what was happening!

Like I have said, you are only SORRY when you get caught. And that includes me!

Special Note: I asked the DEA to buy drugs (in other cases too), which would enable us to reach deeper into the cartels, but I was told NO, it’s not in the budget! We need to change this budget problem because, instead of catching the same people over and over again, we could chop the tree down and kill the roots. This is my opinion… JJ The baggage handler

P.S. It was Special Agent Pete’s first case. We got real drugs off the street and cash at the exchange, as well as a ton of leads!

P.P.S. Lalo, Alejandro and Juan were arrested. Alejandro became a CI, Lalo went to jail for five years. Juan also became a CI.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Definition: when a defendant claims that he or she would not have broken the law if not tricked into doing so by law enforcement officials.

“Entrapment never happens,” DEA special agent Steve told me once. “There is too much at stake.”

In fact, the DEA’s federal conviction rate is almost 99% because of the agents’ ability to produce a concrete case and connect the dots. They do it, in part, by avoiding any whiff of entrapment.

The protocol was to meet the suspect more than once and keep the conversations similar, and never have any communication with the suspect that wasn’t recorded by the DEA.

In my first two cases, DEA special agent Steve told me to always be aware of the issue of entrapment and avoid it. He told me to zip it, to talk less, and listen more. Let the suspect engage me with the drug deal. Be more like a reporter. Ask a question. Let the suspect answer. Let him incriminate himself.

That way it’s crystal clear that the suspect chose to engage in a drug deal — and, later, he can’t cry foul and get away with it

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

He who has the Gold makes the  rules!

“Breaking Bad”

Once I decided to break bad, I wanted to learn from someone wise, someone who’d been smuggling drugs for a long period of time.  My friend and co-worker Pedro was the best candidate. He had discipline and patience and the right connections. He taught me the following golden rules.
Ladies, beware, you may be offended. If you know me, you know that I love and respect women, so offense is not my intention. Consider these rules to be saying you’re too good for the drug business.

“The Golden Rules”

1. Don’t make it a career! No one has ever safely retired from it.

2. Never sell drugs on the street or door to door. You expose yourself to everyone.

3. Never use from your own supply. You won’t be able to think straight.

4. Never do business with a women. Women don’t belong in this arena.

5. Never take cash on the day of the exchange of drugs. Always the next day.

6. Never be desperate to make a drug deal. If something doesn’t smell right, walk away.

I broke most of the rules, and that’s why I got caught!

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Pedro recruited me and taught me the drug trade.
Pedro was born in Cuba and came to the United States at a young age. He spent most of his life in New York City where he ran a  street numbers lottery “la bolitas” and also sold stolen merchandise for low cost. He was always looking to make a quick buck.
When I worked with him, he was in his mid-50s, short with a medium build. He looked a lot like Mr. Magoo!  His sentences were mix of Spanish and English — which would make my brain freeze!
Pedro and I met at American Airlines but worked in different departments. One day we got to talking and he offered me a job. For years I had resisted all such offers, but, for reasons I’ll explain later, I was vulnerable to the lure of the quick buck myself, so this time I said yes.
I was to be the middleman and explained to Pedro that I needed to be free to make all the decisions on the operation, and he said fine.
I gave him the nickname el gato / the cat, because he popped up unexpected all the time during operations or had other friends look in. I’d told Pedro that the more people who knew about the shipment the more likely the merchandise was going to get stolen.
Finally, he got it and backed off and let me handle things my way.
Things went pretty well for a while.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Although certainly better than going to jail, being a confidential informant was no cake walk. I was thrown into the fire.

First, when CIs go undercover, they don’t have a bullet-proof vest or a handgun. We just have our bare skin and our wits.

2. We get the debriefed once and if don’t do or say what the DEA agents want to hear, there’s no do-over! Bye-bye, you go to jail. After my second case, the DEA saw that I could handle myself well and I was given the green light to bring in cases, which I did. I wanted to make amends and help get dangerous drugs off the street.

3. Sometimes when I was meeting with suspects, things could change quickly. I was wired, so the DEA was listening to what was happening. If the suspect wasn’t saying what the DEA wanted to hear, I’d get a call during the meeting, and the agent would tell me what to say to the suspect. I had to do this without the suspect getting suspicious!

4. You always have to be aware of your surroundings! And notice if the suspect is carry a gun. If he is, you have relay the message to the agents for their safety. They’re not in the room with you, usually they’re outside listening from a van or cars.

The bottom line is I could have been killed or kicked out of the program at any point. I’m not complaining! I’m grateful for the opportunity, but it’s also the truth that CIs risk their lives to right their wrongs.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

I’m coming out soon with a book about the Cartel,  drugs, the DEA and the theft of passengers’ personal belongings  by airline workers.
I’m exposing the whole trade to protect you. I’m also seeking to redeem my mistakes.
This blog is part of that process. The baggage handler

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Cast of Characters from my forthcoming book,

El griego was the third piece of our drug operation.

(The others were Mano and myself.)

Mano shipped the drugs from Venezuela to the U.S. El griego received the merchandise at Miami International Airport. I picked it up and delivered it. Within 24 hours everyone was paid and satisfied. My job was to keep everyone happy and under control.

El griego was Greek but was born and raised in Miami. He was 42 when we worked together, 5’9″, solid build, and spoke Greek and Spanish, in addition to English. He had a short temper, probably because he was addicted to marijuana. When he didn’t smoke, we had a very long day.

I got the blame for El griego’s bust, but it was his own damn fault. I tried to protect him, like I did the rest of my team — none of whom were ever arrested — and told everyone not to call me (my phones were tapped). But El griego didn’t listen. He kept calling, saying he wanted to do another job. I did everything but come out and tell him that my phones were tapped, but he just didn’t get it.

My DEA team was an international team so they weren’t interested in local boys like El griego, but finally, after many such calls, they got suspicious about me — wondering if I was still in the game and double-crossing them, which I wasn’t.

To prove that I wasn’t, and avoid going to jail, they made me do the hardest thing I’ve had to deal with since my brother’s death. They made me take my friend down.

It Killed me to do it, and the fall-outfrom it hurts me to this day.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

DEA Special Agent Steve, Leader of our International Team.
Agent Steve was a natural leader with a commanding presence. He was the planner, street smart,  a no-nonsense kind of guy. He wore his gun like Dirty Harry and had a “make my day” attitude toward perps.

Drug Enforcement Administration special agents (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He is from New England, short and stocky, with blue eyes, light brown hair, and a light complexion.  Agent Steve and I hit it off well from the beginning. Perhaps because he had been a cop for such a long time, he knew I didn’t belong in this situation, but he was going to teach me something my parents never taught me. That is, you’re responsible for your actions and  you will make this right! He gave me a chance to redeem myself, and I didn’t let him down.  He also literally saved my life. If it weren’t for him, I would be six feet under. More on that in the book.  One time when he was putting on his gear and we were about to meet a suspect, I was holding my cell phone in my hand. He said, “JJ, CIs have been shot for holding their cell in that manner. If you don’t need it, keep it put away! I said, “Copy that” and immediately put it my pocket!  Before Steve left for a promotion in Washington D.C., he looked me in the eye and shook my hand and said, “JJ, you can work with me any time. If you need anything you call me. You have done excellent work for the DEA, a good job, and you got yourself out of this mess.”
I’m grateful to Agent Steve and others on the team, not just for saving my life, but for giving me mine back, for teaching me how to take responsibility and be a man.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Mano, my contact with the Colombia cartel, and I were hanging out at my home when the installer for a satellite TV company showed up.

We all hit it off right away. El Gordo was a heavy-set guy with a great sense of humor. After he installed my satellite TV, he asked if we wanted any recreational drugs (weed, coke), and we declined. He had no idea at the time what we did for a living!

But el Gordo was the kind of person who would get you whatever you wanted, so I kept his number around.

One day I had to pick up kilos of cocaine for Mano at a shopping mall in another county, so I offered el Gordo $5,000 to drive me there in his van. The philosophy that got me through my drug smuggling days was “business as usual.” I was always looking for ways to blend in, to not be noticed, to get in and out quickly. So I had el Gordo bring me a work t-shirt so that to anyone looking, I was just The Satellite TV Guy.

The pick up went off without a hitch, and el Gordo asked if he could sell the product for me. The kilos were already spoken for, I told him, but maybe next time.

There was a next time, and more times after that until el Gordo fell with other dominos in a DEA sting.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Introducing the “Cartel”

“Mano” was my Colombia connection! He was a Captain in a Colombia cartel.

He was born in Bogota, Colombia, which makes him a “Bogotano.” When I worked with him, he was in his early thirties. Despite being short and stocky, he was intimidating in appearance and had a quiet but demanding personality. His stance was, Show me the money!

At a young age Mano brought drugs into the U.S. in his stomach, getting past customs by swallowing balloons full of heroin, which he sold in the streets of the U.S. for huge profits.

I once asked Mano if he ever met Pablo Escobar, the Medellín Cartel drug lord.

Mano said the closest he ever got to meeting Escobar was a time he took a trip to Medellin, Colombia for some fun.

He said, “A short time after I arrived, I got a visit at my hotel room from

Pablo Escobar’s men, asking me to leave quickly or else. Mr. Escobar doesn’t like strangers in his city!”

Any time Mano saw anything affiliated with the police, he would glance over to me and say, “Primo, alli va ‘el enemigo de la progress’!” which means: “Cousin, there goes ‘the enemy of progress’!”

The Bad Mechanic

Tim was a Lexus dealer service manager, who always gave me first class service. One day we got to talking and he told me that his father was in jail for dealing large amounts of cocaine and that he had his father’s connections.

As they say: “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

I figure he saw what I was driving and how I was dressed and who I worked for (American Airlines) and got the feeling I might be interested.

As time passed, I learned that he was a lady’s man and that he could find whatever you were looking for in the black market. Eventually he opened his own Lexus repair shop and took all of his clients.

As I’ve said in this blog, I was a drug smuggler turned DEA confidential informant. When I was still working with the Colombia cartel, after one job, I ended up with extra “product” (cocaine).

Mano, my contact with the cartel, asked me if I knew of anyone who could move the extra 11 kilos.

I didn’t want to get mixed up with dealing drugs on the street, so they sat at my house for three weeks while I figured out what to do. Finally, I decided to give Tim a chance to move them.

He blew it (so to speak), giving it to a friend who took off. 11 kilos @ $20K each = $220K gone!

The shit hit the fan. Mano flew to Miami and Tim was scared. On the spot, he gave him a new Toyota Corolla and got him the rest of the money within three days. You don’t want to steal, even by accident, from the cartel!

Four years later, after I had become a CI, Tim called me out of the blue, saying he wanted to make up for what happened with the lost 11 kilos and that he had a good connection with ecstasy who could get as much as I want.

My phone was tapped, so I had no choice but to call my handler; although, by this point I really wanted to get drugs off the street.

Johnny and I worked the case together. We busted the bad mechanic, who then flipped (as most do) and became a CI himself.

A couple of years ago, I called Johnny and in our conversation asked about Tim. Johnny said he was still working for the DEA as a CI and doing a great job.

As I learned after I flipped, confidential informants are everywhere. If you’re dealing drugs, you’ve dealt with one. That means eventually you will get caught.

Excerpted from the forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Perfect girl at the wrong time in life. It’s all about the timing!

Penny was my first true love. I was a decade older and much more experienced than she. Our first year together was the most romantic time of our lives. We just connected, deeply, and the memory of that year kept us together through the later years. We both thought we would go back to that special time, but we never did.

I was working with the Colombia Cartel when we met. To be honest, I was not supposed to fall in love. I had a plan. I was making a million dollars, then getting out. I should have known that would fail.

Penny eventually found out about my drug trade and, as you’ll read in the book, she accepted me for who I was.

She thought that after I finished as a CI (confidential informant) with the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency) that our lives would be the same, but it wouldn’t, because I’m a marked man. We had a little girl to think of. I had to protect her and all of my children. I was afraid to even take them to the ice cream parlor for fear of someone taking a shot at me.

I wanted Penny and our daughter, Alexandria, to move with me far away from Miami, but Penny wasn’t mature to understand how deep and dangerous the situation was. She wouldn’t come. She said, “I am not leaving my family.” I thought I was her family.

Eventually, I had a breakdown, as I talked about last time, and I left Miami. It killed me to go, but if I had stayed in Miami, I would be dead.

Excerpted from my forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.

Alex, all of this is Daddy’s fault. I’m totally responsible for not being in your daily life. I’m truly sorry, my angel, please forgive me! You’ll forever be my princess.

In honor and respect of my daughter, Alexandra, this blog is dedicated to her.

PS. That’s me in the picture. (JJ) The Baggage Handler!

In April of 2006 my daughter told me that a year before, a new member of her family had raped her in her bedroom in the middle of the day. She finally told me because the predator was harassing her mother, my ex-wife, and her boyfriend. She needed my help to put a stop to it, and I did.

That same month, my wife and I had a daughter, and my emotions were all over the place. Every time I took care of her, I felt helpless and my heart ached for what my daughter had gone through. I blamed myself for letting that big bad wolf into her life.

My daughter’s rape broke me — something that the Colombia Cartel and the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency)
didn’t do. I just couldn’t forgive myself for not protecting her.

(Although this was not in my thoughts at the time, I’m told that my daughter’s rape probably also triggered my own pain at being molested as a child.)

I ended up in the hospital in Sept. of that year with major panic and anxiety attacks and depression, which continue to this day. I had pneumonia twice in one year. The second one left me with a hole in my left lung. I had a slip and fall accident that broke my right wrist and herniated my fourth and fifth back disc. I also had a cancer scare for a year when doctors found a 2-inch ball in my colon.

Today, I’m happy to say that my health is better. My panic and anxiety attacks are less frequent and severe, I’m recovering from the fall, and I don’t have cancer. I’m choosing better people in my life. And, I’m trying to forgive myself for not being there for my children.

I’m making lemonade with the many lemons of my past, and finally letting go of all of those dark memories that keep me from LIFE.

Excerpted from my forthcoming memoir, The Baggage Handler.