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Pablo Escobar was the world’s most successful drug trafficker. He was also its most deadly. During his 17- year reign at the top of the Colombian cocaine empire, he ordered the killings of thousands of people, including judges, ministers of parliament and Presidential candidates. At the height of his power he was raking in over a million dollars a day, yet in the end he was forced to live as a fugitive in the Colombian jungle. Shot down on a rooftop in the city that he had ruled over, his was a fall from grace of epic proportion.
In this week’s Biographics, we go deep into the South American drug world to reveal the true-life story of Don Pablo.
Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria was born on December 1st, 1949 in the small town of Rinegro, 45 minutes from Medellin, Colombia. His father, Abel, was a hard working, humble cattle farmer, while his mother Hermilda was a school teacher.
Pablo, the second of seven children, was raised in a middle-class environment in a community that was fuelled by the cocaine and marijuana trade. Although not everyone directly participated in the drug business, they all had a powerful incentive in the protection of those that did. The violence that was part and parcel of enforcing the narcotics trade was all around.
Before Pablo started school, the family moved to Envigado, a small village just out of Medellin, so that Hermilda could establish an elementary school there. Abel sold the farm and took up a job as a neighbourhood watchman. Through her work at the school, Hermilda soon become a popular and well-respected member of the community.
At school, Pablo proved himself to be an able and quick-witted student. Although tending toward the chubby side, thanks to his love of fast food, he was talented in all ball sports, with a special love for soccer. Many of his teachers were involved in social causes, especially the struggle for class equality and they became powerful influences on the boy. By the time he was in his early teens, Pablo was attending street rallies and participating in such activities as throwing rocks at the police.
Pablo became part of a youth culture movement known as Nadaismo which encouraged young people to thumb their noses at the established order, disobey their parents and write their own rules. Part of this counterculture movement involved experimentation with drugs, leading the thirteen-year-old future drug kingpin to develop an addiction to marijuana which would never leave him.
By the age of sixteen Pablo had developed into a plump, short youth, standing at just over five foot, six inches. He had a round face and wore a slight mustache. A couple of months before reaching his seventeenth birthday, he dropped out of school, bored with the straight-laced routine and keen to make his own way in the world.
After quitting school, the enterprising Pablo started up a little bicycle repair shop. He would prowl the streets and the local dump in search of discarded bicycle parts and then use them to fix bikes for cheap. With the money that he made from this enterprise, he purchased himself a Lambretta motorcycle. Now with a means of fast escape, he began planning how to make money more easily than repairing bicycles for a pittance.
According to legend, Pablo’s foray into crime began with him stealing headstones from the local cemetery, sandblasting the names from them and then reselling them.
Pablo decided that the route to quick cash lay in commercial business robbery. He started by scoping out potential targets. He would then ride to the target business on his motorbike, slip a balaclava over his head and rush the business with a knife or gun in hand, demand the money and then get out of there. It all happened in about 30 seconds.
After a few successful robberies, Pablo recruited his cousin to join him. One would ride the bike and act as the get away rider while the other stormed the business. Within a few months, Pablo became bored with this and moved on to bigger – and easier – things. He established a contact with a Renault car dealer who would provide him with copies of the keys to the cars that he had just sold, along with the addresses of the buyers. All that Pablo had to do was turn up at the addresses and drive the cars away.
In his late teens, Pablo got caught in the act of stealing one of these cars. He ended up spending several months in La Ladera Jail, which was to him, a positive life experience. Here he learned about how to move into bigger time criminal activity, including kidnapping and drug trafficking.
Once back on the street, Pablo and his cousin Gustavo went right back to stealing cars. They built up a collection of stolen engine parts which they would sell off bit by bit. The pair took to building race cars, with Pablo competing in local events. Pablo and Garcia weren’t the only ones stealing cars in Medellin, which led to an extension of his operation. He decided to also sell protection, so that people would pay him to ensure that their car did not get taken.
Pablo was able to provide such a service because he had developed a reputation as an unpredictable and violent young man. If anyone owed him money, Pablo would hire some local thug to kidnap the person. He would them ransom him for whatever was owed to him. From time to time he would have the person killed even when the ransom was paid, simply to engender fear in those he dealt with.
Before long, Pablo decided to specialise in kidnappings for their own sake. Along with his cousin and future brother-in-law he nabbed a rich businessman by the name of Diego Echavarria. This man was intensely disliked by many of the poor workers in Medellin, who were being laid off in droves by industrialists like him. Despite the family okaying the $50,000 ransom demand, Echavarria was beaten, strangled and the dumped in a ditch. Even though he had just committed a terrible crime, his choice of victim made Pablo hugely popular among the common folk of Medellin. In a strange way they saw the killing as Pablo striking a blow for social equality.
In 1971, the 22-year old Pablo began working for Medellin based contraband dealer Alvaro Prieto. Under Prieto, Pablo was doing a modest amount of drug trafficking. Before long, however, he decided that he wanted more of a slice of the pie for himself. He drove his stolen Renault 4 to Ecuador and bought five kilos of Peruvian cocaine paste. Successfully passing through a number of police and military checkpoints, he returned to Medellin, where he processed the cocaine. He next contacted fellow criminals the Ochoa brothers to set up a sale to local cocaine chief Fabio Restrepo. The sale netted Pablo close to a hundred thousand dollars, far surpassing anything he had previously done, and setting him firmly on the path to becoming a high-end drug dealer.
Within two months, Fabio Restrepo had been murdered. Suddenly there was a new man at the head of the Medellin cocaine operation – Pablo Escobar. It has never been conclusively proven that Pablo murdered Restrepo, but that was what everyone involved believed. The majority of those working for Restrepo were upper class dandies. They were frightened by Pablo and the ruthless hoodlums he surrounded himself with.
Shortly after muscling his way to the top of the Medellin cocaine syndicate, Pablo married fifteen-year-old Maria Victoria Helena Vellejo. Now aged twenty-six, he had a wife, wealth and power. It seemed like the sky was the limit.
The cocaine trade from Panama, through Colombia and into the United States boomed in the late 1970’s, with most of it being trafficked though Escobar’s organization. Under Pablo, the cocaine industry became streamlined. He purchased a fleet of airplanes, including a Lear jet to transport the drugs into the United States where there was an inexhaustible supply of willing buyers.
Two months after his wedding, Pablo and four others were arrested after returning from a drug run to Ecuador. Drug enforcement agents found 39 kilos of cocaine hidden in the spare tire of their truck. That amount of coke would see Pablo being put away for a long time.
His first tactic in getting out of the mess was to bribe the trial judge. The offer however was flatly rejected. Pablo then had his team research the judge’s background. They discovered that he had a brother who was a lawyer and that the two men did not get on. The lawyer was contacted and offered a huge amount to represent Pablo in the case. As suspected, the judge was forced to recuse himself due to conflict of interest. The new judge didn’t have as many scruples as the first. He accepted a bribe and Pablo and his cohorts walked free.
Exorbitant amounts of money were now pouring into Colombia, with deposits in the country’s four major banks doubling between 1976 and 1980. Pablo was able to use his millions to take possession of every step of his operation, traveling to Peru, Bolivia and Panama and buying up all the cultivation farms and processing plants. He was also able to buy off enforcement agencies in every country, developing a ruthless policy which came to be known as ‘plato o plomo’ – silver or lead. If officials didn’t accept his bribe they could expect to end up dead.
By 1980, Pablo was at the height of his power. With every law enforcement agency on his payroll, he was the unofficial king of Medellin. He wasn’t the only cocaine impresario in Colombia, but he was the most successful. He owned multiple mansions, racing cars, helicopters and planes and was constantly surrounded by bodyguards and hangers on. Cocaine money transformed Medellin, with discos and high-end restaurants opening up all over the city.
One of Pablo’s passions was soccer and now he was able to indulge it. He paid to have fields levelled and sodded and lights installed so that he and his crew could play at night time. He would also employ professional game callers to announce the matches as if they were an FA cup final.
In 1979, Pablo built a lavish country estate on a seventy-four-hundred-acre ranch, eighty miles of Medellin, dubbing it Hacienda Los Napoles. He brought exotic animals from all over the world to populate the farm, built six swimming pools and a huge mansion that could sleep a hundred guests.
At the same time that he was indulging his every materialistic whim in private, Pablo began tending to his public image. He constantly denied that he was involved in any illicit activity, portraying a formal, likeable persona and appearing humble and polite. He consciously cultivated the image that he was a freedom fighter for the underprivileged, setting himself up as an alternative to the establishment. He also poured millions of dollars into social construction programs.
Between 1980-1982, Pablo did more to help out the poor in Medellin than the Colombian government had ever done. One of his most popular initiatives was a housing project called Barrio Pablo Escobar, where houses were built and given to families who had previously been sheltering in shacks at the city dump. This and a host of other projects easily made him the most popular citizen in Medellin.
In private, Pablo conducted himself in an understated manner. He spoke softly and was generally relaxed and casual with those around him. He was hugely self-indulgent – with food, drink and women – and considered himself a law unto himself. On one occasion when an employee was found to have stolen from him, Pablo had him brought before him bound hand and foot and then kicked him into the swimming pool, making everyone watch as the man drowned.
With his popularity among the masses firmly established and his dominance over his empire assured, the next logical step for Pablo was politics. His path to legitimate office began in 1978 when he was elected as a substitute city councillor in Medellin. In 1980 he gave his personal and financial support to the formation of a new national political movement, the New Liberal Party. Then, in 1982 he ran for, and was elected to Congress, albeit as a substitute who attended when the primary delegate from Medellin was unavailable.
A major perk of being elected to Congress was that Pablo now had judicial immunity, meaning that he could not be convicted for a crime under Colombian law. The position also afforded him a diplomatic visa, which he made use of to regularly take his family on trips to the United States. On one trip he purchased an $8 million mansion in Miami Beach, Florida.
Pablo now had political legitimacy to go with his massive wealth. The next acquisition was a personal army. When a friend of the family was kidnapped by M-19 guerrillas, he created a private militia to hunt down the rebels. Pablo’s army was known as ‘Death to Kidnappers.’
Pablo’s wider exposure as a result of his political office was the beginning of his downfall. In Medellin he was viewed as a Robin Hood figure, but when he tried to gain the favor of polite Colombian society he was not welcomed. They viewed him as what he really was – a ruthless cocaine king with absolutely no scruples.
When he turned up to take his seat in Congress as an alternate for the first time on August 16th 1983 with a bevy of bodyguards in tow he was first denied entry for not wearing a tie. He quickly got hold of one and swept into the packed chamber. He slumped down in his allocated seat and began nervously to bite his fingernails.
Immediately the Chamber president stood and demanded that all bodyguards be removed from the chamber. Pablo nodded and his thugs left the room. Within minutes Justice Minister Rodrigo Lara was on his feet. Defending a claim of corruption that had been brought against him, Lara pointed the finger at Pablo, stating . . .
We have a congressman who was born in a very poor area himself, very, very poor, and afterwards, through astute business deals in bicycles and other things, appears with a gigantic fortune, with nine planes, three hangars at the Medellin airport and creates the Movement ‘Death to Kidnappers’, while on the other hand, mounts charitable organizations with which he tries to bribe a needy and unprotected people. And there are investigations going in the United Sates, of which I cannot inform you here tonight in the House, on the criminal conduct of [Pablo Escobar].
Pablo said nothing in the House. When he left he was besieged by reporters. Breaking free, he stormed off. Through his lawyer he informed Lara that if he did not present evidence of his claims within 24 hours he would face legal action. Lara willingly obliged and in the coming days the newspapers were filled with all sorts of revelations about Pablo’s criminal activity.
Pablo was now persona non-grata in political circles. He was kicked out of the New Liberal Party and the US Embassy revoked his diplomatic visa. The Catholic church also renounced their support of him. The government even seized 85 of the exotic animals on Pablo’s ranch claiming that they had entered the country illegally. Pablo’s political career was now in ruins.
Even worse for Pablo, the Colombia government, at Lara’s urgings, were fast tracking an extradition treaty with the US that would see him tried in America for selling cocaine in that country.
In May 1984, Justice Minister Lara was shoot seven times while riding in his chauffeur driven limousine. But Pablo had more powerful enemies. US President Ronald Reagan had announced a major crackdown on the cocaine trade. With the death of Lara, the Colombian government were willing to cooperate with American authorities to go after Narco kingpins. Pablo was the biggest of them all.
The killing of Lara also turned much of the Colombian population against Pablo. By the act he had declared war on the state. For Pablo the heat was too much to bear and he skipped the country, taking a helicopter to Panama City. Yet, despite being offered asylum in Panama by President Manuel Noriega the year before, Pablo and his cronies were not welcomed by the authorities.
After just a few weeks in exile, Pablo was desperate to get back home. He made overtures to the Colombian government, drafting a proposal whereby he would go straight and use his massive influence to rid Colombia of drug trafficking provided that he could retain his possessions in Medellin and that he would be exempt from arrest or extradition to the US.
The offer was roundly rejected. When the Panamanian army raided one of the labs he had situated on the Colombian border he fled Panama for Nicaragua. Meanwhile, he was hearing that his absence from Colombia was undermining his control of the Medellin cartel. The kidnapping of his 73-year-old father was a step too far. Pablo ordered a killing frenzy throughout Medellin. Dozens of suspected kidnappers were gunned down. Finally, the old man was released with no ransom being paid.
In the midst of the carnage over his father’s kidnapping, Pablo returned to Colombia. He was now determined to take on the state with everything that he had. Around Medellin he was untouchable, having bought off every official. This allowed him, although being the most wanted man in the country, to move around the town freely.
Pablo’s vengeful focus during the mid-80’s was squarely centered on the judiciary, especially judges who supported the extradition treaty with the US. During this time more than thirty judges were shot dead. Then, in November, 1985, the guerrilla group M-19, having been paid a million dollars by Pablo, stormed the Palace of Justice and held the entire Supreme Court hostage. They demanded that the government renounce the extradition treaty. In the resulting siege, 11 of the 24 justices, along with 40 of the rebels, were killed.
By the beginning of 1988, killings were being reported almost on a daily basis. Martial law was declared in ordered to prevent the state from toppling. On August 18th, 1989 Pablo’s kill squads gunned down both the front-running presidential candidate Luis Galan and a state police chief. In the following four months, the Colombian government apprehended and sent more than twenty suspected drug traffickers to the United States to stand trial. A national police unit was stationed to Medellin specifically to hunt down Pablo. Within the first month, 30 of the two hundred men stationed there had been killed.
Pablo was evading his government and inflicting enormous casualties, but he was a man constantly on the run. He always stayed a step ahead of his pursuers, but he was growing tired of the constant relocations needed to do so. Eventually he agreed to negotiate.
Pablo agreed to put an end to the violence, stop all criminal activity and hand himself in. In exchange he demanded preferential treatment in a prison of his choosing and a reduced settlement. The government had already revoked the extradition treaty to the US with its 1991 Constitution so he didn’t have to worry about being sent to America.
Pablo was duly arrested and tried. He began his sentence at La Catedral prison in June, 1991. But this was like no other prison on earth. It featured a football pitch, jacuzzi and bar. The prison guards were all employees of Pablo. The prison cells were more like hotel suites and the food that Pablo and his fellow inmates ate was prepared by chefs who were brought in from fine restaurants.
After a few months, accounts began to reach official channels that Pablo was continuing to pursue his criminal activities from La Catedral. This was a violation of the surrender agreement and moves were put in place to seize him and move him to a regular prison. Pablo’s connections enabled him to get wind of the plan and he escaped before the authorities could get to him.
The hunt for Pablo was back on. But now the US and Colombian authorities were joined by a vigilante group known as Los Pepes, which stood for ‘People Persecuted by Pablo Escobar.’ Los Pepes carried out a ruthless campaign, killing as many as three hundred people who were connected to Pablo and his organization.
Following his escape from La Catedral, Pablo was constantly on the run. Most of his closest associates were dead and his organization was falling apart. He was spending nights sleeping in the jungle, afraid to speak on the radio or to answer the phone.
Fate finally caught up with Pablo Escobar on December 2nd, 1993. Members of a Colombian Search Bloc team had tracked him down to house in the barrio of Los Olivos in Medellin via radio intercepts. The Search Bloc team smashed through the heavy steel door with a sledgehammer, whereupon six of them rushed into the house. It was then that the shooting started. In the house with Pablo was his most loyal bodyguard, known as Limon. They both bolted from the front room and made their way up onto the roof. The six Search Bloc members, along with others outside poured a massive barrage of gunfire at their targets. Limon was hit several times in the back and toppled to the ground below. Then Pablo went down. He was struck several times in the leg and torso but the fatal shot penetrated his skull.
On confirming his target, the leader of the operation spoke excitedly into his radio . . . ‘Viva la Colombia – we have just killed Pablo Escobar!’
But had they?
Pablo had always told his family that, if cornered he would commit suicide by placing a bullet in his skull. Many people believe that he did so, once more escaping the clutches of the Colombian authorities.
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November 20, 2019 by Biographics Leave a Comment
— Pablo Escobar was the world’s most successful drug trafficker. He was also its most deadly. During his 17- year reign at the top of the Colombian cocaine empire, he ordered the killings of thousands of people, including judges, ministers of parliament and Presidential candidates. —
00:00 Pablo Escobar Pablo Escobar was the world’s most successful 00:02 drug trafficker. 00:04 He was also its most deadly. 00:06 During his 17- year reign at the top of the Colombian cocaine empire, he ordered the killings 00:12 of thousands of people, including judges, ministers of parliament and Presidential candidates. 00:17 At the height of his power he was raking in over a million dollars a day, yet in the end 00:23 he was forced to live as a fugitive in the Colombian jungle. 00:27 Shot down on a rooftop in the city that he had ruled over, his was a fall from grace 00:33 of epic proportion. 00:34 In this week’s Biographics, we go deep into the South American drug world to reveal the 00:38 true-life story of Don Pablo. 00:45 Early Life Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria was born on December 00:59 1st, 1949 in the small town of Rinegro, 45 minutes from Medellin, Colombia. 01:05 His father, Abel, was a hard working, humble cattle farmer, while his mother Hermilda was 01:09 a school teacher. 01:10 Pablo, the second of seven children, was raised in a middle-class environment in a community 01:15 that was fuelled by the cocaine and marijuana trade. 01:18 Although not everyone directly participated in the drug business, they all had a powerful 01:23 incentive in the protection of those that did. 01:27 The violence that was part and parcel of enforcing the narcotics trade was all around. 01:32 Before Pablo started school, the family moved to Envigado, a small village just out of Medellin, 01:36 so that Hermilda could establish an elementary school there. 01:39 Abel sold the farm and took up a job as a neighbourhood watchman. 01:42 Through her work at the school, Hermilda soon become a popular and well-respected member 01:47 of the community. 01:48 At school, Pablo proved himself to be an able and quick-witted student. 01:51 Although tending toward the chubby side, thanks to his love of fast food, he was talented 01:55 in all ball sports, with a special love for soccer. 01:59 Many of his teachers were involved in social causes, especially the struggle for class 02:04 equality and they became powerful influences on the boy. 02:08 By the time he was in his early teens, Pablo was attending street rallies and participating 02:12 in such activities as throwing rocks at the police. 02:16 Pablo became part of a youth culture movement known as Nadaismo which encouraged young people 02:21 to thumb their noses at the established order, disobey their parents and write their own 02:28 rules. 02:29 Part of this counterculture movement involved experimentation with drugs, leading the thirteen-year-old 02:34 future drug kingpin to develop an addiction to marijuana which would never leave him. 02:41 The Young Thug By the age of sixteen Pablo had developed 02:51 into a plump, short youth, standing at just over five foot, six inches. 02:55 He had a round face and wore a slight moustache. 02:58 A couple of months before reaching his seventeenth birthday, he dropped out of school, bored 03:02 with the straight-laced routine and keen to make his own way in the world. 03:07 After quitting school, the enterprising Pablo started up a little bicycle repair shop. 03:11 He would prowl the streets and the local dump in search of discarded bicycle parts and then 03:16 use them to fix bikes for cheap. 03:18 With the money that he made from this enterprise, he purchased himself a Lambretta motorcycle. 03:24 Now with a means of fast escape, he began planning how to make money more easily than 03:29 repairing bicycles for a pittance. 03:31 According to legend, Pablo’s foray into crime began with him stealing headstones from 03:36 the local cemetery, sandblasting the names from them and then reselling them. 03:40 Pablo decided that the route to quick cash lay in commercial business robbery. 03:45 He started by scoping out potential targets. 03:48 He would then ride to the target business on his motorbike, slip a balaclava over his 03:52 head and rush the business with a knife or gun in hand, demand the money and then get 03:57 out of there. 03:58 It all happened in about 30 seconds. 04:00 After a few successful robberies, Pablo recruited his cousin to join him. 04:04 One would ride the bike and act as the get away rider while the other stormed the business. 04:09 Within a few months, Pablo became bored with this and moved on to bigger – and easier 04:14 – things. 04:15 He established a contact with a Renault car dealer who would provide him with copies of 04:19 the keys to the cars that he had just sold, along with the addresses of the buyers. 04:23 All that Pablo had to do was turn up at the addresses and drive the cars away. 04:28 In his late teens, Pablo got caught in the act of stealing one of these cars. 04:32 He ended up spending several months in La Ladera Jail, which was to him, a positive 04:37 life experience. 04:38 Here he learned about how to move into bigger time criminal activity, including kidnapping 04:43 and drug trafficking. 04:46 A Violent Reputation Once back on the street, Pablo and his cousin 04:57 Gustavo went right back to stealing cars. 04:59 They built up a collection of stolen engine parts which they would sell off bit by bit. 05:03 The pair took to building race cars, with Pablo competing in local events. 05:07 Pablo and Garcia weren’t the only ones stealing cars in Medellin, which led to an extension 05:13 of his operation. 05:14 He decided to also sell protection, so that people would pay him to ensure that their 05:20 car did not get taken. 05:21 Pablo was able to provide such a service because he had developed a reputation as an unpredictable 05:26 and violent young man. 05:28 If anyone owed him money, Pablo would hire some local thug to kidnap the person. 05:32 He would them ransom him for whatever was owed to him. 05:35 From time to time he would have the person killed even when the ransom was paid, simply 05:39 to engender fear in those he dealt with. 05:41 Before long, Pablo decided to specialise in kidnappings for their own sake. 05:46 Along with his cousin and future brother-in-law he nabbed a rich businessman by the name of 05:50 Diego Echavarria. 05:51 This man was intensely disliked by many of the poor workers in Medellin, who were being 05:56 laid off in droves by industrialists like him. 05:59 Despite the family okaying the $50,000 ransom demand, Echavarria was beaten, strangled and 06:05 the dumped in a ditch. 06:06 Even though he had just committed a terrible crime, his choice of victim made Pablo hugely 06:11 popular among the common folk of Medellin. 06:14 In a strange way they saw the killing as Pablo striking a blow for social equality. 06:24 Entering the Drug Trade In 1971, the 22-year old Pablo began working 06:32 for Medellin based contraband dealer Alvaro Prieto. 06:36 Under Prieto, Pablo was doing a modest amount of drug trafficking. 06:40 Before long, however, he decided that he wanted more of a slice of the pie for himself. 06:45 He drove his stolen Renault 4 to Ecuador and bought five kilos of Peruvian cocaine paste. 06:51 Successfully passing through a number of police and military checkpoints, he returned to Medellin, 06:55 where he processed the cocaine. 06:57 He next contacted fellow criminals the Ochoa brothers to set up a sale to local cocaine 07:02 chief Fabio Restrepo. 07:04 The sale netted Pablo close to a hundred thousand dollars, far surpassing anything he had previously 07:10 done, and setting him firmly on the path to becoming a high-end drug dealer. 07:15 Within two months, Fabio Restrepo had been murdered. 07:18 Suddenly there was a new man at the head of the Medellin cocaine operation – Pablo Escobar. 07:23 It has never been conclusively proven that Pablo murdered Restrepo, but that was what 07:28 everyone involved believed. 07:30 The majority of those working for Restrepo were upper class dandies. 07:34 They were frightened by Pablo and the ruthless hoodlums he surrounded himself with. 07:39 Shortly after muscling his way to the top of the Medellin cocaine syndicate, Pablo married 07:43 fifteen-year-old Maria Victoria Helena Vellejo. 07:47 Now aged twenty-six, he had a wife, wealth and power. 07:51 It seemed like the sky was the limit. 07:54 On Top The cocaine trade from Panama, through Colombia 07:57 and into the United States boomed in the late 1970’s, with most of it being trafficked 08:03 though Escobar’s organization. 08:04 Under Pablo, the cocaine industry became streamlined. 08:08 He purchased a fleet of airplanes, including a Lear jet to transport the drugs into the 08:13 United States where there was an inexhaustible supply of willing buyers. 08:17 Two months after his wedding, Pablo and four others were arrested after returning from 08:21 a drug run to Ecuador. 08:23 Drug enforcement agents found 39 kilos of cocaine hidden in the spare tire of their 08:28 truck. 08:29 That amount of coke would see Pablo being put away for a long time. 08:32 His first tactic in getting out of the mess was to bribe the trial judge. 08:36 The offer however was flatly rejected. 08:38 Pablo then had his team research the judge’s background. 08:41 They discovered that he had a brother who was a lawyer and that the two men did not 08:45 get on. 08:46 The lawyer was contacted and offered a huge amount to represent Pablo in the case. 08:50 As suspected, the judge was forced to recuse himself due to conflict of interest. 08:55 The new judge didn’t have as many scruples as the first. 08:59 He accepted a bribe and Pablo and his cohorts walked free. 09:02 Exorbitant amounts of money were now pouring into Colombia, with deposits in the country’s 09:07 four major banks doubling between 1976 and 1980. 09:11 Pablo was able to use his millions to take possession of every step of his operation, 09:16 traveling to Peru, Bolivia and Panama and buying up all the cultivation farms and processing 09:21 plants. 09:22 He was also able to buy off enforcement agencies in every country, developing a ruthless policy 09:27 which came to be known as ‘plato o plomo’ – silver or lead. 09:31 If officials didn’t accept his bribe they could expect to end up dead. 09:35 By 1980, Pablo was at the height of his power. 09:38 With every law enforcement agency on his payroll, he was the unofficial king of Medellin. 09:44 He wasn’t the only cocaine impresario in Colombia, but he was the most successful. 09:49 He owned multiple mansions, racing cars, helicopters and planes and was constantly surrounded by 09:55 bodyguards and hangers on. 09:57 Cocaine money transformed Medellin, with discos and high-end restaurants opening up all over 10:02 the city. 10:03 One of Pablo’s passions was soccer and now he was able to indulge it. 10:07 He paid to have fields levelled and sodded and lights installed so that he and his crew 10:11 could play at night time. 10:13 He would also employ professional game callers to announce the matches as if they were an 10:17 FA cup final. 10:18 In 1979, Pablo built a lavish country estate on a seventy-four-hundred-acre ranch, eighty 10:23 miles of Medellin, dubbing it Hacienda Los Napoles. 10:28 He brought exotic animals from all over the world to populate the farm, built six swimming 10:32 pools and a huge mansion that could sleep a hundred guests. 10:36 At the same time that he was indulging his every materialistic whim in private, Pablo 10:41 began tending to his public image. 10:43 He constantly denied that he was involved in any illicit activity, portraying a formal, 10:49 likeable persona and appearing humble and polite. 10:52 He consciously cultivated the image that he was a freedom fighter for the underprivileged, 10:56 setting himself up as an alternative to the establishment. 10:59 He also poured millions of dollars into social construction programs. 11:03 Between 1980-1982, Pablo did more to help out the poor in Medellin than the Colombian 11:08 government had ever done. 11:10 One of his most popular initiatives was a housing project called Barrio Pablo Escobar, 11:15 where houses were built and given to families who had previously been sheltering in shacks 11:19 at the city dump. 11:21 This and a host of other projects easily made him the most popular citizen in Medellin. 11:26 In private, Pablo conducted himself in an understated manner. 11:30 He spoke softly and was generally relaxed and casual with those around him. 11:34 He was hugely self-indulgent – with food, drink and women – and considered himself 11:40 a law unto himself. 11:42 On one occasion when an employee was found to have stolen from him, Pablo had him brought 11:46 before him bound hand and foot and then kicked him into the swimming pool, making everyone 11:51 watch as the man drowned. 12:01 A Brief Political Career With his popularity among the masses firmly 12:06 established and his dominance over his empire assured, the next logical step for Pablo was 12:11 politics. 12:12 His path to legitimate office began in 1978 when he was elected as a substitute city councillor 12:18 in Medellin. 12:19 In 1980 he gave his personal and financial support to the formation of a new national 12:23 political movement, the New Liberal Party. 12:25 Then, in 1982 he ran for, and was elected to Congress, albeit as a substitute who attended 12:32 when the primary delegate from Medellin was unavailable. 12:34 A major perk of being elected to Congress was that Pablo now had judicial immunity, 12:40 meaning that he could not be convicted for a crime under Colombian law. 12:45 The position also afforded him a diplomatic visa, which he made use of to regularly take 12:49 his family on trips to the United States. 12:51 On one trip he purchased an $8 million mansion in Miami Beach, Florida. 12:56 Pablo now had political legitimacy to go with his massive wealth. 13:00 The next acquisition was a personal army. 13:02 When a friend of the family was kidnapped by M-19 guerrillas, he created a private militia 13:07 to hunt down the rebels. 13:09 Pablo’s army was known as ‘Death to Kidnappers.’ 13:12 Pablo’s wider exposure as a result of his political office was the beginning of his 13:17 downfall. 13:18 In Medellin he was viewed as a Robin Hood figure, but when he tried to gain the favour 13:23 of polite Colombian society he was not welcomed. 13:26 They viewed him as what he really was – a ruthless cocaine king with absolutely no scruples. 13:33 When he turned up to take his seat in Congress as an alternate for the first time on August 13:36 16th 1983 with a bevy of bodyguards in tow he was first denied entry for not wearing 13:42 a tie. 13:43 He quickly got hold of one and swept into the packed chamber. 13:46 He slumped down in his allocated seat and began nervously to bite his fingernails. 13:50 Immediately the Chamber president stood and demanded that all bodyguards be removed from 13:54 the chamber. 13:55 Pablo nodded and his thugs left the room. 13:58 Within minutes Justice Minister Rodrigo Lara was on his feet. 14:01 Defending a claim of corruption that had been brought against him, Lara pointed the finger 14:06 at Pablo, stating . . . We have a congressman who was born in a very 14:10 poor area himself, very, very poor, and afterwards, through astute business deals in bicycles 14:15 and other things, appears with a gigantic fortune, with nine planes, three hangars at 14:20 the Medellin airport and creates the Movement ‘Death to Kidnappers’, while on the other 14:25 hand, mounts charitable organizations with which he tries to bribe a needy and unprotected 14:30 people. 14:31 And there are investigations going in the United Sates, of which I cannot inform you 14:34 here tonight in the House, on the criminal conduct of [Pablo Escobar]. 14:39 Pablo said nothing in the House. 14:42 When he left he was besieged by reporters. 14:44 Breaking free, he stormed off. 14:46 Through his lawyer he informed Lara that if he did not present evidence of his claims 14:50 within 24 hours he would face legal action. 14:53 Lara willingly obliged and in the coming days the newspapers were filled with all sorts 14:57 of revelations about Pablo’s criminal activity. 15:05 Downfall Pablo was now persona non-grata in political 15:13 circles. 15:14 He was kicked out of the New Liberal Party and the US Embassy revoked his diplomatic 15:19 visa. 15:20 The Catholic church also renounced their support of him. 15:22 The government even seized 85 of the exotic animals on Pablo’s ranch claiming that they 15:27 had entered the country illegally. 15:29 Pablo’s political career was now in ruins. 15:32 Even worse for Pablo, the Colombia government, at Lara’s urgings, were fast tracking an 15:36 extradition treaty with the US that would see him tried in America for selling cocaine 15:40 in that country. 15:41 In May 1984, Justice Minister Lara was shoot seven times while riding in his chauffer driven 15:47 limousine. 15:48 But Pablo had more powerful enemies. 15:49 US President Ronald Reagan had announced a major crackdown on the cocaine trade. 15:54 With the death of Lara, the Colombian government were willing to cooperate with American authorities 15:58 to go after Narco kingpins. 16:01 Pablo was the biggest of them all. 16:03 The killing of Lara also turned much of the Columbian population against Pablo. 16:07 By the act he had declared war on the state. 16:10 For Pablo the heat was too much to bear and he skipped the country, taking a helicopter 16:14 to Panama City. 16:16 Yet, despite being offered asylum in Panama by President Manuel Noriega the year before, 16:19 Pablo and his cronies were not welcomed by the authorities. 16:22 After just a few weeks in exile, Pablo was desperate to get back home. 16:26 He made overtures to the Colombian government, drafting a proposal whereby he would go straight 16:30 and use his massive influence to rid Colombia of drug trafficking provided that he could 16:35 retain his possessions in Medellin and that he would be exempt from arrest or extradition 16:40 to the US. 16:41 The offer was roundly rejected. 16:44 When the Panamanian army raided one of the labs he had situated on the Colombian border 16:48 he fled Panama for Nicaragua. 16:50 Meanwhile, he was hearing that his absence from Colombia was undermining his control 16:54 of the Medellin cartel. 16:56 The kidnapping of his 73-year-old father was a step too far. 16:59 Pablo ordered a killing frenzy throughout Medellin. 17:02 Dozens of suspected kidnappers were gunned down. 17:05 Finally, the old man was released with no ransom being paid. 17:13 All Out War In the midst of the carnage over his father’s 17:23 kidnapping, Pablo returned to Colombia. 17:25 He was now determined to take on the state with everything that he had. 17:29 Around Medellin he was untouchable, having bought off every official. 17:32 This allowed him, although being the most wanted man in the country, to move around 17:36 the town freely. 17:37 Pablo’s vengeful focus during the mid-80’s was squarely centred on the judiciary, especially 17:42 judges who supported the extradition treaty with the US. 17:46 During this time more than thirty judges were shot dead. 17:49 Then, in November, 1985, the guerrilla group M-19, having been paid a million dollars by 17:54 Pablo, stormed the Palace of Justice and held the entire Supreme Court hostage. 17:59 They demanded that the government renounce the extradition treaty. 18:03 In the resulting siege, 11 of the 24 justices, along with 40 of the rebels, were killed. 18:08 By the beginning of 1988, killings were being reported almost on a daily basis. 18:13 Martial law was declared in ordered to prevent the state from toppling. 18:17 On August 18th, 1989 Pablo’s kill squads gunned down both the front-running presidential 18:22 candidate Luis Galan and a state police chief. 18:25 In the following four months, the Colombian government apprehended and sent more than 18:29 twenty suspected drug traffickers to the United States to stand trial. 18:33 A national police unit was stationed to Medellin specifically to hunt down Pablo. 18:38 Within the first month, 30 of the two hundred men stationed there had been killed. 18:44 Pablo was evading his government and inflicting enormous casualties, but he was a man constantly 18:49 on the run. 18:50 He always stayed a step ahead of his pursuers, but he was growing tired of the constant relocations 18:55 needed to do so. 18:56 Eventually he agreed to negotiate. 18:58 Pablo agreed to put an end to the violence, stop all criminal activity and hand himself 19:03 in. 19:04 In exchange he demanded preferential treatment in a prison of his choosing and a reduced 19:08 settlement. 19:09 The government had already revoked the extradition treaty to the US with its 1991 Constitution 19:15 so he didn’t have to worry about being sent to America. 19:19 Pablo was duly arrested and tried. 19:22 He began his sentence at La Catedral prison in June, 1991. 19:26 But this was like no other prison on earth. 19:29 It featured a football pitch, jacuzzi and bar. 19:32 The prison guards were all employees of Pablo. 19:34 The prison cells were more like hotel suites and the food that Pablo and his fellow inmates 19:38 ate was prepared by chefs who were brought in from fine restaurants. 19:42 After a few months, accounts began to reach official channels that Pablo was continuing 19:46 to pursue his criminal activities from La Catedral. 19:49 This was a violation of the surrender agreement and moves were put in place to seize him and 19:54 move him to a regular prison. 19:55 Pablo’s connections enabled him to get wind of the plan and he escaped before the authorities 20:00 could get to him. 20:05 Fugitive The hunt for Pablo was back on. 20:12 But now the US and Colombian authorities were joined by a vigilante group known as Los Pepes, 20:18 which stood for ‘People Persecuted by Pablo Escobar.’ 20:21 Los Pepes carried out a ruthless campaign, killing as many as three hundred people who 20:26 were connected to Pablo and his organization. 20:28 Following his escape from La Catedral, Pablo was constantly on the run. 20:31 Most of his closest associates were dead and his organization was falling apart. 20:36 He was spending nights sleeping in the jungle, afraid to speak on the radio or to answer 20:40 the phone. 20:41 Fate finally caught up with Pablo Escobar on December 2nd, 1993. 20:46 Members of a Colombian Search Bloc team had tracked him down to house in the barrio of 20:49 Los Olivos in Medellin via radio intercepts. 20:52 The Search Bloc team smashed through the heavy steel door with a sledgehammer, whereupon 20:56 six of them rushed into the house. 20:57 It was then that the shooting started. 20:59 In the house with Pablo was his most loyal bodyguard, known as Limon. 21:03 They both bolted from the front room and made their way up onto the roof. 21:06 The six Search Bloc members, along with others outside poured a massive barrage of gunfire 21:11 at their targets. 21:12 Limon was hit several times in the back and toppled to the ground below. 21:15 Then Pablo went down. 21:16 He was struck several times in the leg and torso but the fatal shot penetrated his skull. 21:21 On confirming his target, the leader of the operation spoke excitedly into his radio . . . ‘Viva 21:26 la Colombia – we have just killed Pablo Escobar!’ 21:29 But had they? 21:31 Pablo had always told his family that, if cornered he would commit suicide by placing 21:35 a bullet in his skull. 21:37 Many people believe that he did so, once more escaping the clutches of the Colombian authorities.
— This post was previously published on YouTube. — Photo credit: Screenshot from video.
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When Roberto Escobar was the head accountant for the Medellín cartel, in the nineteen-eighties, he handled billions of dollars a year—so much cash that he sometimes resorted to stuffing it in plastic bags and burying it in the countryside. Known as El Osito, or Little Bear, he was the older brother of the narcotrafficker Pablo Escobar, who was then among the richest men in the world, responsible for a drug-smuggling empire that extended from Colombia to a dozen other countries. Although Roberto was never as extravagant as his brother, he was accustomed to flying on private jets, and sent his children to a Swiss boarding school. Once, during an extended hike through the forest to elude capture, he threw a briefcase containing a hundred thousand dollars into a river, because it was heavy.
These days, Roberto Escobar, having served fourteen years in prison, earns money by leading tourists around one of his family’s former safe houses. The house, a bungalow of white painted brick, can be reached by a gated driveway off a steep mountain road, roughly halfway between the Envigado plateau, where Pablo Escobar grew up, and the middle-class neighborhood in Medellín where he was gunned down by Colombian police, in 1993. One recent morning, a group of visitors from the United States and Europe arrived in a chauffeured van—part of a growing influx of narcoturistas, who come to see the places where Pablo Escobar lived and worked. Roberto, seventy-one, still looked like an accountant; he wore khakis, a blue short-sleeved shirt, and thick-rimmed spectacles. While he was in prison, a letter bomb delivered to his cell exploded, leaving him blind in his right eye and deaf in his right ear. His damaged eye was a milky blue, and he periodically squirted drops of medicine into it.
Roberto was a gruff tour guide, hustling guests from room to room, but his visitors seemed too awestruck to complain. An exterior wall was speckled with ragged bullet holes, the result of a kidnapping attempt. Inside, a Jet Ski—supposedly one that Roger Moore used in a James Bond film—sat near a photograph of Escobar driving it across bright-blue water. Beneath a writing desk in the living room, Escobar lifted a plank to reveal a hidden compartment. “We could fit two million dollars there,” he said, then peremptorily dropped the plank. In the dining room, he pointed to an oil painting of a brown stallion, a racehorse named Earthquake. Angrily, he recounted how enemies had stolen the horse from him and returned it castrated. Shaking his head, he said, “No act of violence is justified.”
In 2014, Roberto founded a holding company, Escobar, Inc., to license the family name. But he is a minor player in a growing industry. An increasing number of people who knew Pablo Escobar—employees, relatives, and enemies—are trying to sell versions of his epic life and death, encouraging a cottage industry of books, television shows, and documentaries. Along with the narcotours that operate out of Medellín, there are souvenir venders selling Escobar baseball caps, ashtrays, mugs, and key rings; Escobar T-shirts are displayed next to soccer jerseys and Pope Francis memorabilia.
In the past few years, Hollywood has examined his story in a series of films: “ Escobar: Paradise Lost ” (Benicio Del Toro; innocent surfer drawn into drug web), “ The Infiltrator ” (Bryan Cranston; double agent), “Loving Pablo” (Penélope Cruz and Javier Bardem; clandestine romance with kingpin), and “ American Made ” (Tom Cruise; pilot turns Escobar crony turns informant). The depiction most responsible for the tourist boom is the Netflix series “Narcos,” in which the Brazilian actor Wagner Moura plays Escobar as both psychopath and doting family man—a Latin American Tony Soprano. Netflix does not disclose viewership numbers, but the audience for the show, which will launch its fourth season this year, has been estimated at three million. In 2016, Escobar, Inc., sent a letter to Netflix, demanding reparations for appropriating the family story; in a subsequent interview with the Hollywood Reporter , Roberto said that if he wasn’t paid a billion dollars he would “close their little show.” (Escobar and Netflix declined to comment on the possibility of a settlement.)
No one disputes that Pablo Escobar was a murderer, a torturer, and a kidnapper. But he was loved by many in Medellín, and, increasingly, he is an object of fascination abroad. At his zenith, he was the most notorious outlaw on the planet, with control of some eighty per cent of the cocaine entering the U.S. and of a fortune estimated at three billion dollars. In many respects, he remains Colombia’s most famous citizen, a charismatic entrepreneur of boundless ambition who delighted in his Robin Hood image, even as he killed thousands of people to subvert the government. In Colombia, his legacy touches nearly everyone, but few people agree on whether his story should be seen as entertainment or as a cautionary tale.
At the end of the tour, Roberto posed for selfies with visitors and autographed photos of Escobar, along with copies of his memoir, a slim volume titled “My Brother Pablo.” (“My mother still recalls that, from the time he was a little boy, Pablo used to tell her, ‘I want to be a lawyer and have a good car.’ ”) The tourists handed payments to a group of wolfish young men who served as Roberto’s assistants. Before I left, I asked him why his brother continued to inspire people around the world. “It’s because Pablo helped the poorest people of this country,” he replied. It was a kind of catechism; he did not explain further. When I asked if his brother was a good man, he shrugged and said, “To me he was.”
In the old city center of Medellín is a street of funeral parlors. On a bright morning, I went there to meet Jesús Correa, an employee at one of the funeral homes and one of the first people to appreciate the mythic quality of Escobar’s life.
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Correa, an amiable man of sixty-three, was bald and corpulent, and dressed in a gray suit, a pink shirt, and a burgundy tie. He took me for a walk, and, two blocks from the funeral home, we came to an open-air café, painted bright yellow and orange, where men sat drinking beer and watching soccer on television. “Here is where it all began,” Correa said. In the early seventies, the café was called Las Dos Tortugas—the Two Turtles—and it was a favored meeting place for robbers and smugglers. A dropout from Medellín’s Universidad Autónoma, Escobar had gone into business selling stolen tombstones and contraband American cigarettes. He began hanging out with the crowd at Las Dos Tortugas, coming and going on a Lambretta motorbike. Colombia’s drug trade was flourishing, although in those days it was mostly marijuana, which the locals called marimba. Escobar found his niche as the U.S. cocaine market began to take off.
Correa ran his own hustle out of the funeral home, which was owned by a friend: he bought contraband French perfume from a contact in Panama, then sold it in Medellín. One day, one of Escobar’s pistoleros—low-level shooters—summoned him to Las Dos Tortugas and asked if he could get Cartier and Chanel. When Correa assured him he could, the pistolero gave him an order. After that, the gangsters started buying perfume for their girlfriends, and Correa became known as El Perfumero.
Correa took pleasure in associating with men who had monikers like Filth and Spider. The cartel’s sicarios, or hit men, operated out of an oil-change shop not far from the funeral home; a group of more than a hundred gathered there to plot killings, kidnappings, and bombings. Some were policemen, who came to change out of their uniforms and then attack their colleagues. Correa was fascinated, and gradually he became a welcome visitor. “Why did I do it?” he said. “Out of prurient interest, I think, pure and simple. As a boy, I read a book about the Untouchables of Eliot Ness, and I was magnetized by the Chicago gangsters of the time—Al Capone, Pretty Boy Floyd, John Dillinger, Machine Gun Kelly. With the criminals I was getting to know here, I thought, One day I’ll write a book. My friends warned me that I would be dead within six months.”
One day, he recalled, some Escobar men began discussing a murder they were planning. “I got up, as if to leave the room, but one of them said, ‘Stay. We trust you.’ I stayed.” Correa realized that he had crossed a line. “I’m a big reader of World War Two histories,” he said. “And something I’ve always noticed is that, for those who were in the concentration camps, a moment comes when they became accustomed to everything going on around them.” Correa waved to the streets around us. “I mean, I suffered over what was happening, the violence. But the morbid curiosity—you know, it was like Alka-Seltzer. I felt something here, inside me.” Correa made an itching motion with his fingers around his stomach, and smiled.
When Escobar began to establish himself as a public figure, in the early eighties, he found other people willing to tell his story without judgment. In April, 1983, the weekly magazine Semana published an article titled “Un Robin Hood Paisa.” ( Paisa is the local term for the people of Antioquia province, which contains Medellín.) Semana described Escobar as a politically ambitious and civic-minded thirty-three-year-old businessman who owned an immense private ranch and a fleet of helicopters and airplanes. The magazine evaded questions about the origin of Escobar’s fortune, saying only that it was “the subject of widespread speculation.”
Escobar had recently mounted a campaign for Congress, in which he spent freely in Medellín’s poorer neighborhoods. He had initially tried to join a branch of Colombia’s mainstream Liberal Party, led by a popular young politician named Luis Carlos Galán, but he was thwarted when Galán denounced him as a mafioso. Escobar, undaunted, joined a different branch of the Party, with the help of a powerful, corrupt senator named Alberto Santofimio.
Escobar made it to Congress, and began working to build a political constituency in and around Medellín. “His civic vocation seems to know no limits,” Semana gushed. “His civic works include entire neighborhoods, football fields, lighting systems, reforestation programs, donations of tractors, bulldozers, etc. At the moment he is moving forward with a program to build a thousand homes on a giant lot he owns. He bought it with the idea of building a neighborhood to relocate hundreds of poor families from the slums of Medellín, and he’s already given jobs to some in his construction firm.”
For anyone looking, though, the real reasons for Escobar’s interest in politics were clear. “His main political preoccupation right now is the extradition of Colombians,” Semana said. “For him, this treaty, whereby Colombians who reside in their own country but who have issues in the United States can be handed over to the authorities of that country, constitutes ‘a violation of national sovereignty.’ ”
His electoral ambitions did not go very far. He was soon denounced as a gangster by Colombia’s justice minister, Rodrigo Lara Bonilla. Escobar fought back, falsely accusing the minister of being in the pocket of narcos. But then an influential newspaper editor named Guillermo Cano dug up an old news story showing that Escobar had been arrested, seven years before, for the possession of thirty-nine pounds of cocaine. Escobar was ejected from Congress, and the F.B.I. began investigating him. He went underground, and a long hunt began.
In March, 1984, Colombian and American agents raided the cartel’s headquarters. Known as Tranquilandia, it was a huge complex that contained at least seven laboratories, various airstrips, and more than a billion dollars’ worth of cocaine. A month later, Escobar had his revenge, when two of his men, riding a motorbike, ambushed Lara Bonilla’s car in Bogotá, killing him instantly.
Escobar spent seven years as a fugitive, but his concern was less the Colombian justice system than the United States Drug Enforcement Administration. To force the state to withdraw from its extradition treaty with the U.S., he and his partners offered bounties on judges and prosecutors, in warnings that were signed “The Extraditables.” The cartel’s sicarios killed thousands of people, including more than two hundred and fifty policemen in Medellín. In 1986, his men murdered Cano, and they machine-gunned his old political enemy Luis Carlos Galán at a Presidential-campaign appearance in 1989. Many civilians were also killed, including the hundred and seven passengers and crew of an Avianca plane that Escobar had ordered blown up, in 1989, because he believed—wrongly, it turned out—that another uncoöperative politician was on board. To force the government to negotiate, he abducted prominent Colombians, many of them journalists, including the daughter of a former President. Escobar’s guiding principle was plata o plomo , meaning silver or lead—either you took his money or you got a bullet.
Another Netflix series, the sixty-part “Surviving Escobar,” is based on a memoir by Jhon Jairo (Popeye) Velásquez, one of Escobar’s top sicarios. Since completing a twenty-three-year prison sentence, in 2014, Popeye has taken advantage of Escobar’s resurgent glamour. In addition to the Netflix series, he has a YouTube show, “Repentant Popeye,” in which he films himself telling stories from the old days, commenting on the news, insulting his enemies (“despicable rats!”), and haranguing soccer managers who don’t meet his expectations. Despite the show’s name, Popeye doesn’t seem very repentant. He frequently expresses admiration for Escobar, whom he calls El Patrón, and cheerfully acknowledges his crimes; he admits to having murdered more than two hundred and fifty people, including several leading politicians, and to having helped orchestrate the killings of some three thousand more. For the many Colombians who are ashamed to be associated with Escobar’s memory, Popeye’s brazenness is infuriating. His fans love it. The YouTube show has some six hundred thousand subscribers, mostly young, right-wing men.
I met Popeye at his apartment, on the top floor of a newly built red brick tower, in a gentrifying neighborhood of Medellín. A slim, youthful man in his mid-fifties, with short-cropped silver hair and a camera-ready smile, he wore jeans and a black T-shirt, and his neck and arms were tattooed. Both of his forearms bore the phrase “El General de la Mafia,” surrounded by skeletons and death’s heads.
The apartment had the feeling of a studio set. In the living room, a large window looked out on an adjacent apartment tower, and a camera on a tripod was placed near it. On the walls, an oil painting showed two cocks fighting against a black backdrop; another depicted an army of sperm breaking into eggs. Between them hung a number of masks, of the kind used in sadomasochistic rituals, including a replica of the one that Hannibal Lecter wore in “ The Silence of the Lambs .” Popeye explained that he liked them because they reminded him of death, and “death is part of life.”
The narcoturistas are coming to Colombia in part because the country is experiencing unusual stability, after decades of vicious fighting. In 2016, the government, led by President Juan Manuel Santos, signed a peace treaty with the Marxist guerrilla army known as the FARC , ending a half-century insurgency. Popeye wanted no part of it. “There’ll never be peace here in Colombia,” he said. In his view, Santos was “a professional traitor,” and the treaty threatened Colombia’s integrity by allowing Communists to run for office.
Popeye was not opposed to violence. He was happy to acknowledge that Escobar, trying to cultivate allies to fight against rival criminal groups, had helped form a string of brutal right-wing paramilitaries; he spoke warmly of the former President Álvaro Uribe Vélez, who has frequently been accused of aiding the paramilitaries’ work. (In a declassified 1991 Defense Intelligence document, Uribe also was named as a collaborator of Escobar’s. Uribe denies the accusations. However, his brother is on trial for leading a terror group, and numerous associates of his have been imprisoned for similar crimes.) “We need an ultra-right-wing government here to stop Colombia from succumbing to Communism,” Popeye declared. He gestured toward the mountains ringing Medellín—a stronghold of paramilitaries—and said, “There are already fifteen thousand armed men in these mountains. The day the FARC takes power, we’ll become two hundred thousand, and, if we include the cities, altogether we’ll be five hundred thousand. It’ll be financed by industrialists, and the combustible ingredient to all of this will be cocaine.” He saw himself as a key player in this future war, calling himself “the most experienced Colombian” in matters of violence.
He had killed innocent people, he said, and cut victims into pieces, but had done so because his enemies had done that to his people, too. Anyway, in those days it had been his job. He had been fighting what he thought was a war against a corrupt state and its extradition treaty with the United States. How did he sleep at night? By getting in bed, pulling up the covers, and closing his eyes. He didn’t have time, he said, to andar con maricadas —to mess around with fairy shit.
Popeye complained that he had done his time and had helped prosecutors with investigations, but still the authorities interfered with his efforts to make a living, through his books and films. On his YouTube show, he claims that the police frequently stop him to ask questions about being involved in the cocaine trade. “Look around,” he said. “I live simply. My apartment is nothing fancy, and my car is ordinary.”
In December, 2016, he appeared in a video wielding a semi-automatic pistol and telling his followers, “Hello, warriors. I’m here in the streets of my beloved Medellín. I found my beautiful 9-millimetre Pietro Beretta. We’re testing it—we’re firing it. It’s a doll, a beauty.” Popeye complained that Medellín’s mayor had made a fuss, despite the fact that it was a stunt gun. Popeye stood and retrieved the gun, and, holding it by the barrel, he handed it to me. It was heavy, and looked real. “See?” he said. Understanding that he meant to demonstrate that the gun was fake, I pointed the pistol at his cockfight painting and pulled the trigger. The apartment exploded with the bang. Popeye looked startled, and went to the door and opened it. The hallway was empty. “Where are the neighbors?” he said. “Not a soul. I could be murdered here and nobody would come.” I told him that I didn’t entirely blame his neighbors. Popeye laughed.
Before I left, Popeye took a moment to endorse his latest production: an Internet-only film called “X Sicario Professional,” about a man who is released from prison and has to return to his city and take out the mafia don. He autographed a DVD copy for me. Knowing that I planned to see the mayor, he dedicated another to him, and asked me to give it to him on his behalf.
Since becoming mayor, in 2016, Federico Gutiérrez has waged a campaign to reject what he calls “the past”—the legacy of narcotrafficking and violence. At the peak of Escobar’s rampage, Medellín was the murder capital of the world, with more than six thousand homicides in 1991. In the past two decades, it has transformed itself, with significant investments in public transport, including a cable car that links the hillside slums to the city center, and a revamped downtown, with a botanical garden, a concert area, and an interactive science museum for children. Many of the city’s slums, called comunas, are still controlled by gangs, but security has improved; last year, there were five hundred and seventy-seven murders. For the Mayor, understandably, Popeye represents a public-relations problem.
Gutiérrez met me at his office downtown. A slender man of forty-three, he wears his hair long, in the manner of a soccer player, and favors jeans and dress shirts with the top button loose. Politically, he is right of center. Gutiérrez grimaced when I told him I had met Popeye, and said, “Everything we are doing today to fight against narcotrafficking is because of what they did in the eighties.” He had grown up during the violence, and still marvelled at the turnaround. “This is no longer the city of Pablo Escobar,” Gutiérrez declared. “This is the city Pablo Escobar tried, but failed, to destroy.” When I gave Gutiérrez his dedicated copy of “X Sicario,” he looked disgusted and handed it back to me, holding it with two fingers as if it were contagious. “I can’t accept this,” he said. “Seeing Popeye back on the street is an offense to society and to his victims. But these are the laws.”
Last March, the American rapper Wiz Khalifa, in Medellín for a concert, visited Escobar’s grave; later, he posted on Instagram images of himself smoking a joint at the tomb, along with the message “Smokin wit Pablo.” Gutiérrez had gone on television to call the rapper a sinverguenza —a shameless ruffian—and to say that he should have brought flowers to Escobar’s victims instead. Later, Wiz Khalifa posted an apology on Instagram, saying, “Didn’t mean to offend anyone with my personal activities. . . . Peace and love.” Still, Gutiérrez could barely contain himself at the memory. “We have to stop the narcoculture,” he said. “Wiz Khalifa thought he could come here and make an apologia for crime but found out that he couldn’t.”
Gutiérrez told me that he and his team were fighting to reclaim Medellín’s story. “If you don’t tell your history yourself, others will tell it for you,” he said. Soon he would be inaugurating a new exhibit at the city’s Museum of Memory, “to show the victims’ side of the story,” Gutiérrez said. “We’re not going to conceal the true history, but we don’t want those who did so much harm to be able to show themselves off as heroes. The real heroes are their victims. We want to be a symbol of what happened—a city that collapsed but got to its feet again.” When I mentioned that I had been on Roberto Escobar’s tour, Gutiérrez blanched, and said, “We’ll also do a tour—an official tour.”
The unofficial tours frequently stop at the Monaco Building, an eight-story brutalist apartment tower of reinforced concrete, in the affluent Poblado district, that Escobar built for his family. In 1988, his rivals in the Cali drug cartel placed a powerful car bomb outside the Monaco; Escobar’s mother, wife, and children were inside the tower, and though they sustained no serious injuries, they fled and did not return. Gutiérrez said that he planned to demolish the building and create a park in its place. He’d needed to win over the Medellín police, who had wanted to refurbish it as an intelligence headquarters. Gutiérrez told me that he was waiting for one last signature. When he got it, he said, he would invite me to watch the demolition.
In a gruesome scene from the first season of “Narcos,” Escobar murders two trafficking partners, whom he suspects of withholding money. He kills the first one by beating him to death with a pool cue; when he is finished, his face and clothing spattered with blood, his men beat the other one to death. The story on which the scene is based is hardly less gruesome. According to Popeye’s testimony, the two victims, Fernando Galeano and Gerardo Moncada, were shot, cut into pieces, and incinerated in a fire pit.
Both the imagined scene and the real killings took place in La Catedral, the prison where Escobar was held after striking a deal to turn himself in, in 1991. An unused drug-rehabilitation center that was renovated to house Escobar, La Catedral occupied a secluded spot on the forested edges of the Envigado plateau, with spectacular views of Medellín. In the deal, Escobar agreed to spend a few years there, in exchange for the government’s commitment not to extradite him to the United States. The prison did little to restrain him; his sicarios served as guards, and he remained involved in the cocaine trade. The key intermediary for his surrender was Rafael García Herreros, an octogenarian priest who had previously accepted Escobar’s gift of a “very beautiful hacienda” on behalf of his church, and had gone on television to insist that he had done nothing wrong. “When one fulfills the will of God, there is no corruption,” he said.
The road to La Catedral is winding and steep, full of switchbacks and narrow bridges that hang over mountain streams. On the morning of my visit, clouds obscured the valley, and everything was damp. La Catedral, at the top, is now a charitable home for elderly people, run by a Benedictine abbot, Elkin Ramiro Vélez García. On the exterior wall, a billboard-size photograph shows the place as it was in Escobar’s day; a picture of him, wearing a Russian fur hat, bears the caption “He who does not know his history is condemned to repeat it.”
In the main plaza—a parklike area with naïve mosaic murals—several dozen residents warmed themselves in the morning sun. Others drank coffee in a cheerful mess hall, adorned with mounted bull’s heads and old Coca-Cola advertisements. The visible remnants of the prison were set back, at the edges of the forest. There was what remained of Escobar’s bedroom—a concrete pad, overgrown with jungle—and two guard towers. A large brick structure, once a video arcade for Escobar’s men, had been repurposed as an administration building. The plaza had once been a soccer field, where Escobar played with his men.
Father Elkin, a clean-shaven man in his early fifties, wearing a black soutane and a large crucifix, waved me into his office next to the mess hall. He said that Escobar—Pablo, as he called him—had chosen the site for his prison because he knew it well: it was an area where he used to have people killed and their bodies disposed of. “He did many, many, many bad things here,” Father Elkin said. “But he also did wonderful things.” This was a tendentious view but not an uncommon one, especially in Escobar’s early years. The Semana story had spoken of his “desire to be the country’s number one benefactor.” Old comrades told me that they were attracted by his professed commitment to building a “Medellín without slums.” Popeye insisted that Escobar “was really a socialist—he just had a different kind of socialism in mind, where everyone would have his own little car, his own little house.” He had paid for the construction of a neighborhood that became known as Barrio Pablo Escobar: five hundred houses and several soccer fields.
After he was pushed out of Congress, though, his largesse became a more direct exchange of money for influence. His bribes went to police officers and judges, but also to residents of the comunas. Father Elkin recalled that once, on a soccer field in a nearby community called El Dorado, he’d watched Escobar hand out money to the poor. “He did many things for those who were helped by no one else, and he did so always in the company of the Church. The priest would go to see Pablo and always leave with his briefcase full. Was this evil? We would have to define evil to decide that.” He raised his voice, as if speaking from the pulpit: “The Church has also done bad, bad things in the name of God! It will be God who judges us.”
Father Elkin said that Popeye—“a very good friend of mine”—came frequently to La Catedral, bringing tourists and a crew of bodyguards. Most of the narcotours were “pure silliness,” he said. “The guides tell the tourists anything that comes into their heads. For instance, I made an outdoor oven to incinerate the diapers of the old folks. Then I found out the guides were telling their tourists that it was where Pablo burned people!” He shook his head. “Popeye, on the other hand, tells his tourists the truth. For example, he talks about the asado de los Moncada”—the Moncada barbecue. When Escobar’s men burned the bodies of Moncada and Galeano, they arranged to have a barbecue the same evening, to disguise the smoke and the smell.
The killings, it turned out, helped dislodge Escobar from his comfortable imprisonment. When the visitors did not return from La Catedral, rumors spread that Escobar had killed them. A few weeks later, in July, 1992, the government attempted to move Escobar to a more secure facility, and he escaped in the process. For more than a year, he was pursued by a coalition of his enemies: the D.E.A. and the U.S. Joint Special Operations Command; a Colombian police team called the Search Bloc; and a death squad of criminal rivals that called itself Los Pepes—short for People Persecuted by Pablo Escobar.
On December 2, 1993, police traced a phone call between Escobar and his son, Juan Pablo, to a safe house in the Los Pinos neighborhood of Medellín. Colombian special forces swooped in. Escobar was killed at the house, felled by three bullets as he stood on its red tiled roof. He was bearded and barefoot, in jeans; a photograph circulated of him lying face down, his belly spilling out of a blue polo shirt. The Colombian artist Fernando Botero, noted for his fleshy, whimsical portrayals of people and animals, reimagined the scene in a heroic oil painting. “The Death of Pablo Escobar” shows him standing on the rooftop with gun in hand, while bullets whiz around him, like insects pestering a giant. It hangs in the Museo de Antioquia, in downtown Medellín.
It is an item of faith among Escobar’s family members that he killed himself before the authorities could get to him. Father Elkin wasn’t even convinced that Escobar had really died. “If you ask me whether Pablo is dead, I would say I don’t believe he is,” he said. “He was a sagacious, astute man.” He waved his arms around, as if to suggest that Escobar could be anywhere, still in hiding. He said that Popeye had told him that there were still bodies buried around La Catedral, in graves dug on his orders. (Popeye denies this.) Some of the elderly residents believed that La Catedral was haunted, Father Elkin said. They had seen and heard things. “Ghosts?” I asked. “Not ghosts—spirits,” he clarified. They had appeared to him, too. Sometimes they tapped him on the shoulder.
In Medellín’s Montesacro cemetery, I found a fresh bouquet of pastel-colored flowers in a vase next to Escobar’s tomb. The family plot is situated in a prominent spot next to the chapel, and flanked by graceful cypresses. On a slab of black marble, gold script spelled out “Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria, December 1, 1949–December 2, 1993.” El Patrón had turned forty-four the day before his death. His parents were buried alongside him, as was his bodyguard Limón, who was with him when he died.
Two young men stood quietly in front of Escobar’s tomb, occasionally murmuring in French. At last, one of them walked to a marble bench opposite the tomb and sat in a pose of reverent contemplation. I was reminded of a YouTube video of Popeye paying homage to Escobar after he got out of prison. He knelt in front of the tomb, his eyes closed, like a choirboy about to receive the Sacrament.
Colombians have spent decades trying to reconcile the ecstatic remembrances of Escobar with the mayhem he produced. In 1993, the novelist Gabriel García Márquez began grappling with his legacy in “News of a Kidnapping.” The book told the stories of the Colombians Escobar had abducted, as he tried to force the government to disallow his extradition. García Márquez described Escobar as a monstrous Pied Piper: “At the height of his splendor, people put up altars with his picture and lit candles to him in the slums of Medellín. It was believed he could perform miracles. No Colombian in history ever possessed or exercised a talent like his for shaping public opinion. And none had a greater power to corrupt. The most unsettling and dangerous aspect of his personality was his total inability to distinguish between good and evil.”
After Escobar’s death, the journalist Alonso Salazar set out to write a biography that would deflate the legend. In 2001, after several years of interviews with Escobar’s relatives, friends, and enemies, he published “The Pablo Parable.” Where García Márquez had suggested that Escobar had subjected Colombia to a kind of national hypnosis, Salazar suggested that he had merely been a conduit for the country’s bigotry and violent impulses. “The Escobar story calls into question Colombia’s entire society—its political and economic elites, and the armed forces—as to the coherence of our state and our capacity to build a nation where it is possible for everyone to live dignified lives,” he wrote. “It’s also a questioning of the international community, especially the United States, for its deceit in maintaining a war, the so-called war against drugs, which has . . . created criminality and destruction of life and nature that is beyond any precedent.”
Salazar later entered politics, serving as mayor of Medellín from 2008 to 2011, and was involved in many of the city’s recent reforms. One evening, I met him at his home to discuss Escobar’s legacy. “There is a resurrection of Escobar,” he lamented, and he wondered if he had been partly to blame. His book about Escobar had been adapted for a television series, “El Patrón del Mal,” which began airing in 2012 and attracted obsessive fans across Latin America. “The series is balanced,” he said. “It shows the victims, too, and the generals who fought Escobar. But I don’t think that’s what the public watched it for. They watched it to see Escobar.”
When Salazar signed over the rights, he felt confident that the producers would not glamorize Escobar. One of them, Camilo Cano, was the son of the murdered newspaper editor; the other, Juana Uribe, was the daughter of a former Escobar hostage and a niece of a murdered politician. Still, the portrait of Escobar was ambivalent, and some viewers were offended. At a panel discussion in 2013, Uribe recalled, “A woman once asked me, ‘Why did you portray Pablo Escobar as loving with his children?’ And I told her, ‘Because that’s how psychopaths are: loving with their kids—and murderers.’ And we need to understand that, if we’re going to stop falling in love with psychopaths.” She insisted that she had not wanted to make Escobar a hero. “Escobar kidnapped my mother, killed my uncle.” But, she said, “a person that was able to do what Escobar did has also a normal face. And people have to learn that that’s the way people are, they have two sides.”
Uribe bemoaned the appeal of antiheroes: “People love bandits, no matter what we do.” (As if to confirm her point, Popeye told me about his youthful fascination with “Scarface,” in which Al Pacino plays a Cuban immigrant who becomes a cocaine kingpin. “That was the life we wanted to live!” he exclaimed.) But “El Patrón del Mal” made it clear that, in a profoundly unequal country, Escobar represented a form of economic mobility. “When there are no regular paths to get out of where you are, the bandit is the one who makes it—the one who can jump ahead,” Uribe said. He also appealed to a perverse sense of patriotism. The oath of Los Extraditables—“Better a tomb in Colombia than a cell in the United States”—resonated with Latin Americans sensitive about Yankee intervention.
“El Patrón del Mal” joined a wave of narconovelas—soap operas featuring drug traffickers—that are notably less concerned with ethical implications. One of the first, “Without Tits, You Don’t Get to Heaven,” revolves around a young woman, Catalina, who tries to make her way out of poverty by becoming a prostitute for narcos, getting breast implants to make herself more desirable. Despite the hand-wringing of politicians and journalists, the shows have resonated with people who have little faith in the state. As the Fordham anthropologist O. Hugo Benavides has written, “Narconovelas set up an alternative moral political structure in which the state, government, politicians, law enforcement, bureaucrats, and soldiers are seldom portrayed as the good guys. The heroes are always either Lone Ranger types or misunderstood (and sometimes conflicted) drug dealers.”
“Narcos” avoids questions of culpability by narrating everything from the American perspective: the protagonist is not Escobar but the D.E.A. agents pursuing him. During the first season, Omar Rincón, a professor of media studies at Bogotá’s University of the Andes, wrote a scornful review. The show, he said, presented a discomfitingly American vision of Colombians, “something like what Trump thinks we are: the good ones are the gringos in the D.E.A. And the narcos are comic misfits and tasteless throwbacks.” Even the accents weren’t right, he complained. For Colombians, he said, it was impossible to identify with the narrative. “The story makes heroes of those that Latin Americans consider villains: the D.E.A. agents. Which, in addition to being silly, goes against reality. Gentlemen of Netflix: know that the villains are the ones in the D.E.A.”
Escobar’s death ended the second season of “Narcos,” but the show has continued; the third season followed the Cali cartel, and the fourth has moved to Mexico, which is now even more afflicted by drug violence than Colombia is. In September, a location scout named Carlos Muñoz Portal was found shot dead in his car outside Mexico City. It was unclear whether Muñoz’s murder was a coincidence or a drug cartel’s warning not to film in its territory; in any case, Netflix announced its intention to proceed with the production. Roberto Escobar suggested a solution to the producers: hire hit men to provide security.
On the twentieth anniversary of Escobar’s death, a group of mourners wearing white shirts gathered at his tomb. They were there to attend a “forgiveness Mass” arranged by his sister Luz María. After Escobar’s death, his wife and children immigrated to Argentina, but Luz María stayed, and, in the coming years, she organized several Masses to reconcile the Escobars with victims and their families. This one was a success. She handed each of the mourners a symbolic seed—to help them “let forgiveness enter and grow in their hearts,” she said. A teen-age girl left a note at Escobar’s graveside: “I was told you did good things and bad things, but it doesn’t matter now. Rest in peace.”
One evening, I spoke to Luz María, in the food court of a luxury mall (near, as it happens, a restaurant where Popeye once arranged to have his own girlfriend murdered, on Pablo’s orders). She told me, “I have a slogan I always try and tell the media: ‘No to drugs, no to narcotrafficking, no to violence, and yes to forgiveness.” In Colombia, which is nearly eighty per cent Catholic, the rhetoric of contrition can be potent. Father Elkin described Escobar as a profoundly devout man who was led astray by his ambitions. But when I asked Roberto Escobar whether he felt repentant for his crimes he said no. “It’s not important to be repentant,” he said. “I’m a believer.” (After the letter bomb, he said, he’d experienced a particularly convincing vision of Christ.) Luz María told me that she still hoped Popeye would find his way. She had bumped into him after his release, offered him a blessing, and told him that God had given him a second chance. Father Elkin was more resigned about Popeye’s prospects: “He comes to confess, and I take his confession. If he doesn’t comply with his confession, that’s his business.”
In 2009, Escobar’s son, Juan Pablo, appeared in a documentary called “ Sins of My Father ,” in which he contacted victims of his father and apologized on behalf of his family. He has also reckoned with his father’s memory in two memoirs, “ Pablo Escobar: My Father ,” from 2014, and the untranslated “Pablo Escobar in Flagrante: The Things My Father Never Told Me,” which was released in 2016. Just before Christmas, I had lunch with him in Guadalajara, Mexico, where he was promoting his latest book. Juan Pablo, who was sixteen years old when Escobar was killed, is now forty-one, a brooding, heavyset man with an unmistakable resemblance to his father; the image on the jacket of “In Flagrante” seamlessly melds their faces. He told me that he learned the truth about his family when he was seven, and Pablo Escobar told him bluntly, “I’m an outlaw.” From then on, they had a morning ritual in which his father read the newspaper and pointed out murders that had been attributed to him. Juan Pablo recalled, “He’d say, ‘I didn’t do that one,’ and then, ‘I did that one.’ ”
In Argentina, Juan Pablo worked as an architect, but in recent years he has made a second career of rehabilitating the family’s reputation. His new book offers a twenty-eight-point list of what he calls falsehoods propagated by “Narcos.” (“My father did not personally kill the person who is called Colonel ‘Carrillo’ in the series.”) Over lunch, Juan Pablo told me about his work as a speaker, in which Mexican officials hire him to warn youngsters about the dangers of a criminal life style. He also owns a clothing line, Escobar Henao, whose mission statement declares, “Our garments are banners of peace.” (One T-shirt includes the family name and the phrase “Enough will never be enough.”) Alonso Salazar, the journalist and politician, told me, “He’s very clever, and clearly he’s been pondering the opportunities offered by this resurrection. He’s living off the image of the father but realizes that he needs to be critical.” At the restaurant, Juan Pablo excused himself to speak briefly with a producer about a movie project.
Before the family fled Colombia, Juan Pablo opened a phone book and selected a new name, Sebastián Marroquín, which he maintained until 1999, when an Argentine police investigation into allegations of money-laundering revealed his identity. (He was held for six weeks, then released for lack of evidence.) When I asked which name he preferred, he shrugged and said it didn’t matter. He would always be Pablo Escobar’s son. “I live with permanent suspicion—I was born guilty,” he complained. He noted bitterly that the United States government had refused him a visa for twenty-four years. “I want to be recognized as an individual,” he said. “I know about everything my father did, and I will go to each and every one of the families of his victims to ask forgiveness. But I’m not legally culpable. My personal slogan is ‘I inherited a mountain of shit. So what am I supposed to do with it?’ ”
Alonso Salazar told me that Pablo Escobar’s legacy had profoundly altered political and social life. “Narcotrafficking came along and just overwhelmed everything,” he said. “Escobar débuted the instruments of terror, and afterward everyone used them.”
The Medellín cartel’s ascent coincided with the collapse of Communism in Europe, which in turn helped end most of the socialist revolution in the hemisphere. After Escobar, the idea of rebellion based on ideology was largely supplanted by the remorseless pursuit of profit and power. In places along his supply chain—including Mexico and in Central America—the remnants of his operation have grown into insurgent gangs, and states have succumbed to corruption and internal conflict.
Escobar’s cartel died with him, but, despite a U.S.-assisted war on narcotrafficking that has cost thousands of lives and more than nine billion dollars, international consumption has spread enormously, and the drug economy remains strong; last year, the United Nations reported that Colombia was the world’s largest producer of cocaine. Five of the world’s most dangerous cities are in Latin America, with much of the violence linked to the drug trade.
Father Elkin suggested that Escobar’s greatest legacy was his story. “The country likes to say that it has forgotten Pablo Escobar, but it’s not true,” he told me. “Today’s youth still see narcotrafficking as a way to make quick money. Society doesn’t change, really. And those with the greatest responsibility for this—excuse me—are those in the media, with their television series and their books.”
Omar Rincón, the media-studies professor, once wrote, “We live the culture of drug trafficking, in aesthetics, values, and references. We are a nation that took on the narco idea that anything goes if it will get you out of poverty: some tits, a weapon, corruption, trafficking coca, being a guerrilla or a paramilitary fighter, or being in government.” He was careful to note that the narco aesthetic was not merely bad taste. It was a way of life “among the dispossessed communities that look to modernity and have found in money the only way to exist in the world.”
For a generation of traffickers, Escobar left behind a model of success: build support among the disenfranchised by providing them with money and power they would not otherwise have; in return, they will be your loyalists, your spies, and your gunmen. For the middle class, use your wealth to corrupt policemen, generals, judges, and politicians.
The criminals who emulate him are no less ruthless, but they have learned not to seek political power, or much recognition. The Oficina de Envigado—the closest successor to the Medellín cartel—was run, until recently, by Juan Carlos Mesa, alias Tom, a shadowy figure who almost never appeared in public. Colombian special forces pursued him for years, without success. Then, in early December, police raided Tom’s fiftieth-birthday celebration. (They were tipped off to the party by informants, who noticed unusually generous purchases of twenty-one-year-old Chivas.) There were some fifteen guests at the party, and, to the authorities’ surprise, Popeye was among them. Despite an unconvincing alibi—he just happened to be in the area, handing out copies of his memoir, and had stumbled upon the party—Popeye was released, for lack of evidence. Even so, the incident triggered calls for him to be returned to prison, including one from Colombia’s President, Juan Manuel Santos.
Popeye’s response was characteristically defiant. He fired off a flurry of tweets, saying, “It isn’t a crime to go to a party,” and calling his opponents “miserable rats.” In a subsequent tweet, he sent a warning: “If I have to go to prison, I’ll go. Very soon I will again be attacking this damned government.”
At the height of Escobar’s power, he built himself a paradise: La Hacienda Nápoles, a seven-thousand-acre estate three hours from Medellín. Escobar spent years converting the property from an isolated wilderness to a refuge, with paved roads, artificial lakes, and a private zoo stocked with zebras, hippopotamuses, and giraffes, as well as a series of life-size dinosaur sculptures. Guests had the use of swimming pools, a party house, stables, a bullring, a vintage-car collection, and a fleet of speedboats. In a characteristic flourish, Escobar adorned the arch over the entrance with a single-engine Piper Cub, a replica of the airplane that had carried his first load of coke to the United States.
After Escobar’s death, the compound was abandoned, its structures ransacked by memento seekers and by treasure hunters pursuing rumors that Escobar had hidden millions of dollars in cash on the property. After being repossessed by the state, Hacienda Nápoles was reopened in 2007, as a theme park with a zoo, a water park, and several family-friendly hotels. Escobar’s hippopotamuses are a main attraction. The herd, which began with three females and a male bought from a California zoo, is now believed to contain as many as fifty, making it the largest herd living freely outside Africa. As the estate fell into disrepair, several of them wandered off and found new habitat. One of the hippos was discovered in the nearby town of Doradal. As it lumbered down the street, children dodged around it, shrieking; the locals joked about making the hippo a mascot. Several family groups have migrated into the nearby Magdalena River system. Colombian authorities suggested a hunt to cull the hippos before they upset the local ecosystem or become a danger to humans, but after a public outcry the matter was dropped.
I visited the Hacienda Nápoles one day with Edgar Jiménez, who had been Escobar’s personal photographer and a friend of his since grade school. “Pablo said I was the only photographer who could take his photo,” Jiménez told me. “I did all their family events, like birthdays, weddings, and first Communions.” Like everyone else, he cherished the stories. Once, he said, he was summoned to the hacienda to find Escobar hosting one of his cartel partners, the German-Colombian Carlos Lehder Rivas. An avid neo-Nazi and frequent cocaine user, Lehder had become unstable. After a soccer match that evening, he fatally shot one of Escobar’s men; Lehder was jealous because his girlfriend was “making eyes” at the man. Escobar calmly asked Lehder to leave the next morning and, according to Jiménez, made sure that authorities knew his whereabouts. Soon after, Lehder became the first Colombian narcotrafficker to be extradited to the United States.
I asked Jiménez if he felt any qualms about his relationship with Escobar. “I wasn’t in agreement with the violence,” he said. “But I was just the photographer, remember? And it has to be understood that this violent relationship Pablo had with the state was the product of the rejection he felt by Colombian society. Everyone had profited from him, and later they had betrayed him.”
At the entrance to Hacienda Nápoles, Jiménez was thrilled to see Escobar’s plane still hanging over the gate, with a new paint job of black-and-white zebra stripes. Inside the compound, though, we found that Escobar’s main house had been torn down, and his vintage-car collection had been torched, leaving a carport full of rusting hulks. But the outlines of the old swimming pool were still there, on the lawn. (In a video game that spun out of “Narcos,” the pool provides a backdrop for a gun battle between Escobar and the D.E.A.) Where the clinic for Escobar’s employees had been was a food court, overlooking a huge swimming pool with slides and fountains and bridges; in one section of the pool, a gigantic sculpture of an octopus spread its tentacles, and kids swam back and forth underneath. Jiménez was delighted, and said that he’d like to return with his grandson. Before we left, he asked for a brochure that listed package deals for family weekends. ♦
Juan Pablo Escobar appeared in the documentary “Sins of My Father.” He did not create it.
Gunned down in medellín on december 2, 1993, "the king of cocaine" allegedly was shot by colombian police. but who really killed pablo escobar.
“I would rather have a grave in Colombia than a jail cell in the U.S.”
Pablo Escobar’s words, spoken out of spite for United States law enforcement, would become a reality sooner than the drug kingpin anticipated.
Wikimedia Commons Pablo Escobar, drug kingpin of the Medellin cartel.
On December 2, 1993, Pablo Escobar was shot in the head as he attempted to flee across the rooftops of the barrio Los Olivos in his hometown of Medellín, where he had been hiding out.
The Search Bloc, a task force made up of Colombian National Police that was dedicated to locating and taking down Escobar, had been looking for the drug lord for 16 months ever since he had escaped from La Catedral prison. Finally, a Colombian electronic surveillance team intercepted a call coming from a middle-class barrio in Medellín.
The force immediately knew it was Escobar as the call had been made to his son, Juan Pablo Escobar . And, it seemed that Escobar knew they were on to him as the call was cut short.
As authorities closed in, Escobar and his bodyguard Alvaro de Jesus Agudelo, known as “El Limón,” fled across the rooftops.
JESUS ABAD-EL COLOMBIANO/AFP/Getty Images Colombian police and military forces storm the rooftop where drug lord Pablo Escobar was shot dead just moments earlier during an exchange of gunfire between security forces and Escobar and his bodyguard.
Their goal was a side street behind the row of houses, but they never made it. As they ran, the Search Bloc opened fire, shooting El Limón and Escobar as their backs were turned. In the end, Pablo Escobar was killed by gunshots to the leg, torso, and a fatal shot through the ear.
“Viva Colombia!” a Search Bloc soldier screamed as the gunshots subsided. “We have just killed Pablo Escobar!”
The gory aftermath was captured in an image that’s been imprinted on history. A group of smiling Colombian police officials along with members of the Search Bloc stand over the bloody, limp body of Pablo Escobar splayed across the barrio rooftop.
Wikimedia Commons Pablo Escobar’s death was captured in this now infamous image.
The Search Bloc party immediately celebrated widely and took credit for Pablo Escobar’s death. Yet, there were rumors that Los Pepes , a vigilante group made up of enemies of Escobar, had contributed to the final showdown.
According to CIA documents released in 2008, General Miguel Antonio Gomez Padilla, the Colombian National Police director general, had worked with Fidel Castano, the paramilitary leader of Los Pepes and rival to Escobar, in a matter of intelligence collection.
However, there were also rumors that the drug lord had shot himself. Escobar’s family , in particular, refused to believe that Pablo had been brought down by the Colombian police, insisting that if he knew he was going out, he would have made sure it was on his own terms.
Escobar’s two brothers insisted that his death had been a suicide, claiming that the location of his fatal wound was proof it had been self-inflicted.
“During all the years they went after him,” one brother said . “He would say to me every day that if he was really cornered without a way out, he would ‘shoot himself through the ear.'”
Whether the Colombian Police didn’t want to admit Pablo Escobar’s death could have been a suicide or they were simply happy he was gone, the actual origin of the shot that killed him has never been determined. The country settled for the peace that came with knowing he was gone, rather than the potential media storm that could brew if the public found out he died like he lived — on his own terms.
After learning about how Pablo Escobar died, read about what happened to Manuela Escobar after her father’s death. Then, check out these interesting Pablo Escobar facts .
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For many, Pablo Escobar was a ruthless drug kingpin and a murderer. For others, he was a savior — a Robin Hood figure that stole from the rich and gave to the poor. As Crime+Investigation UK explains, opinions on Escobar are still divided. On one hand, he would brutally eliminate anyone who threatened him. On the other, Escobar donated to charity, built schools, and was overall liked by impoverished Columbians. Per CNN , his own son, Sebastián Marroquín, has stated that he has to live with "both truths." Nevertheless, Escobar was undoubtedly seen as an innovator as he ultimately changed the game for both drug traffickers and organized crime.
In 1991, Escobar surrendered himself to the Colombian government and built a luxury prison called "La Catedral" that came with a spa, casino, and nightclub (via Biography ). He called it a "sacrifice for peace" (per NBC News ). When authorities tried to move Escobar to a standard prison, he escaped, and a 16-month manhunt ensued. On December 2, 1993, Colombian troops stormed his hiding spot in a middle-class Medellin neighborhood. Escobar and his bodyguard fled to the rooftop, where he was fatally shot.
According to Insider , a bullet entered Escobar's right ear, killing him instantly. What no one is certain about, however, is who fired the shot that killed the wealthiest drug lord the world had seen. In the confusion and excitement, no one saw who pulled the trigger. Although many take responsibility for his death, the exact details still remain a mystery.
Born in 1949, Britannica writes that Escobar came from humble beginnings. In his teens, he began committing petty theft, which included stealing stereos and tombstones. His crimes would eventually escalate to drug trafficking, and in 1975, Escobar formed what would later be known as the Medellín Cartel (via Biography ). By 1980, InSight Crime reports that he supplied over 80% of cocaine sent to the U.S. This would make Escobar one of the world's richest men. Despite his immense wealth, he struggled to be accepted into Colombia's elite.
Escobar had always dreamt of being president and thought his money would give him political gain. When he realized that he had no chance, he sought revenge. Escobar ordered hits on journalists, judges, and political candidates. Associated Press reports that he even hired people to specifically target police officers. Amongst his worst crimes is the explosion of Avianca Flight 203 — 107 people on board died because Escobar believed a political rival was on the flight (per Noiser ).
In addition, Escober had a presidential candidate that promised the extradition of drug traffickers to the U.S. assassinated. Escobar's biggest fear was reportedly dying "in an American jail cell" (via All That's Interesting ), and he did everything in his power to prevent it from happening. Per StMU Research Scholars , he referred to his violent policy as "plata o ploma," which translates into "silver or lead." Ultimately, Escobar's bloodthirsty actions turned Medellín into the murder capital of the world.
In 1989, the Colombian government created the Search Bloc (a special police unit) to deal with Escobar and the cartel. With the help of the CIA, the DEA, and more, they hunted Escobar down with a hail of gunfire on a Medellin rooftop and officially became the party responsible for his death (via Insider ). However, soon after, reports emerged that Escobar had fired the gun himself. His son, Sebastián Marroquín, backs this up in his book " Pablo Escobar: My Father. " There, he details that his father told him he would shoot himself in his right ear to avoid being captured. Others, including Escobar's wife and mother, agree that the gunshot that caused his death was self-inflicted.
Los Pepes, a group made up of Escobar's rivals and enemies, also takes responsibility for his death. It is said that they, too, participated and accompanied the Search Bloc on the raid that killed Escobar. Although those details remain murky, a Los Pepes member claims to be the one who fired the shot with an M-16. Despite the overwhelming evidence that Los Pepes were working with the Search Bloc, nothing has ever been officially confirmed.
According to All That's Interesting , Escobar was shot in the legs and torso, but it was a shot in the ear that caused his death. That being said, it seems no one will ever truly know who killed Pablo Escobar, a man who was responsible for the death of over 1,000 police officers and whose net worth was at one time $30 billion (per Biography ).
El Patrón: The Rise and Ruin of Pablo EscobarStep into the opulent and bloody world of Pablo Escobar, the infamous "King of Cocaine," in this riveting podcast. From the jungles of Medellín to the halls of power, we explore: From hustler to kingpin: Witness Escobar's meteoric rise, crafting a cocaine empire that flooded America and fueled chaos.Terror under the Medellín Cartel: Experience the reign of violence and corruption that gripped Colombia in the 1980s.Billion-dollar playgrounds and Robin Hood myths: Unravel the contradictions of a man feared for brutality yet celebrated for Robin Hood-esque largesse.The hunt for El Patrón: Join the DEA agents and Colombian forces on the relentless pursuit to bring him down.A fiery demise and enduring legacy: Learn about his dramatic last stand and the ongoing impact of his cartel on Colombia and the global drug trade.This immersive narrative exposes the truth behind the myths of Pablo Escobar.Subscribe now and dive into the captivating saga of El Patrón. Keywords: Pablo Escobar, Medellín Cartel, cocaine, Colombia, violence, Robin Hood, DEA, biography, true crime, podcast
El Patrón: The Rise and Ruin of Pablo Escobar Step into the opulent and bloody world of Pablo Escobar, the infamous "King of Cocaine," in this riveting podcast. From the jungles of Medellín to the halls of power, we explore:From hustler to kingpin: Witness Escobar's meteoric rise, crafting a cocaine empire that flooded America and fueled chaos.Terror under the Medellín Cartel: Experience the reign of violence and corruption that gripped Colombia in the 1980s.Billion-dollar playgrounds and Robin Hood myths: Unravel the contradictions of a man feared for brutality yet celebrated for Robin Hood-esque largesse.The hunt for El Patrón: Join the DEA agents and Colombian forces on the relentless pursuit to bring him down.A fiery demise and enduring legacy: Learn about his dramatic last stand and the ongoing impact of his cartel on Colombia and the global drug trade.This immersive narrative exposes the truth behind the myths of Pablo Escobar.Subscribe now and dive into the captivating saga of El Patrón.
FILE - Tourists buy souvenirs of the late drug lord Pablo Escobar, featured as a statue with a sign that says one will be charged for taking photos inside a store in Doradal, Colombia, Feb. 5, 2021. Souvenirs depicting the Escobar could be banned in Colombia if legislators approve a bill introduced the week of Aug. 5, 2024. (AP Photo/Fernando Vergara, File)
BOGOTA, Colombia (AP) — Souvenirs depicting the late Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar could be banned in Colombia if legislators approve a bill introduced this week in the nation’s congress. The proposal is criticized by vendors who sell his merchandise to tourists from around the world, but backed by those who believe the country should shed its image of mafia bosses.
The bill proposes fines of up to $170 for vendors who sell merchandise that depicts Escobar and other convicted criminals, and would also enable police to fine those who wear t-shirts, hats and other garments that “exalt” the infamous drug lord.
“These items are revictimizing people who were victims of murderers,” said Cristian Avendaño, a representative from Colombia’s Green Party who drafted the bill.
“We must protect the right of the victims to recover...and find other symbols for our country.”
The proposal has been widely covered by newspapers in Colombia, where Escobar is seen as a murderous figure, linked to one of the most violent periods in the nation’s history.
At the same time, the drug trafficker’s image is also heavily commercialized by locals who are eager to cash in on the growing fascination with the drug lord , among some tourists from North America, Europe and other Latin American countries.
Souvenir vendors in Bogota’s historic La Candelaria neighborhood said they were opposed to the initiative, which has been criticized for attempting to limit freedom of speech.
“I think it’s a dumb law,” said Rafael Nieto, a street vendor who sells magnets, and t-shirts with Pablo Escobar’s face on them, as well as more traditional souvenirs.
Nieto said he would stop selling Escobar merchandise if the bill is approved, to “avoid problems” with police. But he added that members of Colombia’s Congress should instead focus their energies on lowering the city’s crime rate, and let him carry on with his business.
“Many people make a living from this” Nieto said pointing at a t-shirt that shows a copy of Pablo Escobar’s Colombian ID card.
“It’s not a trend that I came up with” Nieto added. “The Mexicans, the Costa Ricans, the Americans, are always asking me for Escobar” merchandise.
Another street vendor, who asked to be identified only as Lorena, said that she has also stocked up on items that depict the drug dealer, such as shot glasses, and magnets, because it is what international tourists are demanding, along with souvenirs depicting coca leaves.
“When you work as a vendor, you try to sell what is most popular,” Lorena said. “Everyone has their own personality, and if there are people who like a murderer, or a drug trafficker, well, that’s their choice.”
Escobar ordered the murders of an estimated 4000 people in the 1980s and early 1990s, as he established the powerful Medellin cartel and amassed a $3 billion fortune that made him one of the world’s richest people at the time.
The drug lord was gunned down in 1993 on a rooftop in Medellin, as he tried to escape from the search block, a unit of more than 300 police officers backed by DEA agents that was dedicated exclusively to capture him.
Escobar’s exploits and his crimes are well known in Colombia. But in recent years, his global fame has resurfaced thanks to a Colombian soap opera and a Netflix series that depicts the drug lord as a ruthless, but shrewd mafioso, who defies corrupt American and Colombian authorities trying to close in on him.
Merchandise bearing the drug dealer’s face, his ID Card, or famous slogans that are attributed to Escobar sells frequently at souvenir stands across the country, while in his hometown of Medellin, agencies lead visitors on historical tours that stop at sites related to Escobar’s life.
Representative Avendaño, said it was time for Colombia to shed its image as a country of mafia bosses.
“We cannot continue to praise these people, and act as if their crimes were acceptable,” Avandaño said. “There are other ways for businesses to grow and other ways to sell Colombia to the world.”
Avendaño’s said that his bill will call on the Colombian government to investigate how many people make a living from selling Escobar merchandise, and how much the market is worth.
The bill must go through four debates to be approved by Congress, Avendaño explained, adding that if the legislation passes, there will be a “transition period” where government officials work with souvenir vendors to find new ways to market Colombia.
Last year the South American nation refused a request to trademark the Pablo Escobar name, filed by his widow and children, to sell what they described as educational and leisure products.
In its decision, Colombia’s Superintendency for Commerce said that a Pablo Escobar brand would be “permissive of violence, and threaten public order.”
The General Court of the European Union also denied a similar trademark request by Escobar’s family earlier this year, arguing that it went against “public policy and accepted principles of morality.”
This story has been updated to correct Escobar’s year of death from 1993 to 1994.
The eejits who get caught have been hooked by addictive algorithms engineered by social media companies such as x.
One law for the megarich provocateur, another for the poor idiots who follow his lead. The idea of two-tier policing – the false allegation that immigrants are allowed to get away with everything while white “patriots” get punished for expressing their righteous outrage – is one of the memes of the far-right insurrection across these islands. The irony is that it is true in an entirely different sense.
The stupid nobodies will feel the full weight of the law. The most powerful spreader of disinformation, Elon Musk , basks in the reassurance of his own impunity. This two-tier policing fatally undermines the efforts of democracies to defend themselves.
Last week in England, a 55-year-old woman was arrested over an online post inaccurately “identifying” the suspect accused of killing three young girls. Chief supt Alison Ross said this was “a stark reminder of the dangers of posting information on social media platforms without checking the accuracy”. She added that “we are all accountable for our actions, whether that be online or in person”.
On Friday, two young men were jailed – one for 20 months, the other for more than three years – for provocative posts. One of them was so thick he posted under his own name while boasting that he had “watched enough CSI programmes” to ensure he would “categorically not be arrested”.
We’re going to see a lot more of this – including in Ireland. Far-right groups in the Republic are closely intertwined with their mentors in Northern Ireland and Britain. They share an information – or rather a disinformation – space.
Responses to online provocations will therefore have to be aligned too. There will be more prosecutions of individuals who share fake stories that feed into violent attacks on immigrants, religious minorities and asylum seekers.
But the eejits who get caught are low-hanging fruit. Typically, they’ve been hooked by the algorithms engineered by the social media companies to mimic addictive drugs. Their brains have been rewired by constant exposure to conspiracy theories and hate content.
Thus, the war on disinformation begins to look very like the war on drugs. One of the great social disasters of the contemporary world was the policy of arresting and imprisoning drug users. It caused immense harm to individuals, families and communities while doing nothing to stop ruthless suppliers from creating an industry worth hundreds of billions of dollars a year.
The Pablo Escobar of toxic disinformation is Elon Musk. His lying is a fully integrated business. He simultaneously produces, consumes and distributes disinformation.
Last week, at the height of the far-right violence in England and Northern Ireland, Musk chose to amplify the propaganda of the insurrectionists. He repeated the “two-tier policing” conspiracy meme, calling Keir Starmer “two-tier Kier”. He encouraged his followers to inhale apocalyptic hysteria: “civil war is inevitable”. And he shared what purported to be a news article from the Telegraph (actually created by the fascist Britain First party) claiming that Starmer was considering sending rioters to “emergency detainment camps” in the Falklands.
These interventions were specific and purposeful. Musk was acting as a fascist provocateur. And doing so through a platform ( X ) he personally controls and on which he has 193 million followers. A platform, moreover, he has deliberately and knowingly opened up to fellow far-right agitators.
Musk has aligned himself quite openly with the English fascist Tommy Robinson , bringing him back on to X last November, responding favourably to one of his posts and publishing on X a “documentary” made by Robinson that has been judged to be in contempt of court. Thanks to Musk, Robinson’s tweets over the weekend when the rioting broke out were (according to analysis by the Tortoise website) read more than 160 million times.
Musk isn’t doing this only because incendiary content has become a big driver of X’s business model. He is sincerely committed to far-right provocation.
As time has gone on, Musk has become more and more like his father, a full-on, down-the-rabbit hole conspiracy theorist. In his biography of Musk , Walter Issacson quotes one of the father’s emails to his son suggesting that in Musk’s native South Africa “with no Whites here, the Blacks will go back to the trees” and calling Joe Biden a “freak, criminal, paedophile president”.
[ Elon Musk’s biographer: ‘He has an epic sense of himself, as if he’s a comic book character’ Opens in new window ]
Musk has inherited his father’s taste for labelling anyone he doesn’t like a paedophile. His attitude to violence perpetrated against elected politicians and their families was revealed when Nancy Pelosi’s husband was attacked with a hammer by an intruder to the family home . Musk directed his followers to a far-right conspiracy website that suggested (falsely) that Paul Pelosi might have been injured “in a dispute with a male prostitute”. Musk winked: “There is a tiny possibility there might be more to this story than meets the eye”.
Last week’s interventions show that Musk has now become completely disinhibited. He is fully committed to the far-right creed that civil wars between patriots and globalists have already begun. As he put it in one of his tweets about the riots in England, “if incompatible cultures are brought together without assimilation, conflict is inevitable”. Attacks on Muslim shopkeepers are, in other words, the fault of the Muslims for not becoming white and Christian.
What are democracies going to do about this? The only political entity that has shown any real appetite for taking Musk on is the EU Commission, which last month made a preliminary finding that X is in breach of the Digital Services Act because its “verified accounts” are deceptive, its promotion of advertising is not transparent and it refuses to provide real-time data to allow action against disinformation.
This is welcome, but even if X is eventually found guilty, it will face financial penalties, not criminal sanctions. Musk, as we know, is quite happy to lose money in the promotion of far-right causes.
What has to happen is that Musk is held personally to the same standards of criminal justice as random idiots who join his chorus. He is, he says, against two-tier policing. Take him at his word.
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Souvenirs depicting the late Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar could be banned in Colombia if legislators approve a bill introduced this week in the nation’s congress
BOGOTA, Colombia -- Souvenirs depicting the late Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar could be banned in Colombia if legislators approve a bill introduced this week in the nation’s congress. The proposal is criticized by vendors who sell his merchandise to tourists from around the world, but backed by those who believe the country should shed its image of mafia bosses.
The bill proposes fines of up to $170 for vendors who sell merchandise that depicts Escobar and other convicted criminals, and would also enable police to fine those who wear t-shirts, hats and other garments that “exalt” the infamous drug lord.
“These items are revictimizing people who were victims of murderers,” said Cristian Avendaño, a representative from Colombia’s Green Party who drafted the bill.
“We must protect the right of the victims to recover...and find other symbols for our country.”
The proposal has been widely covered by newspapers in Colombia, where Escobar is seen as a murderous figure, linked to one of the most violent periods in the nation’s history.
At the same time, the drug trafficker’s image is also heavily commercialized by locals who are eager to cash in on the growing fascination with the drug lord , among some tourists from North America, Europe and other Latin American countries.
Souvenir vendors in Bogota’s historic La Candelaria neighborhood said they were opposed to the initiative, which has been criticized for attempting to limit freedom of speech.
“I think it’s a dumb law,” said Rafael Nieto, a street vendor who sells magnets, and t-shirts with Pablo Escobar’s face on them, as well as more traditional souvenirs.
Nieto said he would stop selling Escobar merchandise if the bill is approved, to “avoid problems” with police. But he added that members of Colombia's Congress should instead focus their energies on lowering the city’s crime rate, and let him carry on with his business.
“Many people make a living from this” Nieto said pointing at a t-shirt that shows a copy of Pablo Escobar’s Colombian ID card.
“It’s not a trend that I came up with” Nieto added. “The Mexicans, the Costa Ricans, the Americans, are always asking me for Escobar” merchandise.
Another street vendor, who asked to be identified only as Lorena, said that she has also stocked up on items that depict the drug dealer, such as shot glasses, and magnets, because it is what international tourists are demanding, along with souvenirs depicting coca leaves.
“When you work as a vendor, you try to sell what is most popular,” Lorena said. “Everyone has their own personality, and if there are people who like a murderer, or a drug trafficker, well, that’s their choice.”
Escobar ordered the murders of an estimated 4000 people in the 1980s and early 1990s, as he established the powerful Medellin cartel and amassed a $3 billion fortune that made him one of the world’s richest people at the time.
The drug lord was gunned down in 1993 on a rooftop in Medellin, as he tried to escape from the search block, a unit of more than 300 police officers backed by DEA agents that was dedicated exclusively to capture him.
Escobar’s exploits and his crimes are well known in Colombia. But in recent years, his global fame has resurfaced thanks to a Colombian soap opera and a Netflix series that depicts the drug lord as a ruthless, but shrewd mafioso, who defies corrupt American and Colombian authorities trying to close in on him.
Merchandise bearing the drug dealer’s face, his ID Card, or famous slogans that are attributed to Escobar sells frequently at souvenir stands across the country, while in his hometown of Medellin, agencies lead visitors on historical tours that stop at sites related to Escobar’s life.
Representative Avendaño, said it was time for Colombia to shed its image as a country of mafia bosses.
“We cannot continue to praise these people, and act as if their crimes were acceptable,” Avandaño said. “There are other ways for businesses to grow and other ways to sell Colombia to the world.”
Avendaño’s said that his bill will call on the Colombian government to investigate how many people make a living from selling Escobar merchandise, and how much the market is worth.
The bill must go through four debates to be approved by Congress, Avendaño explained, adding that if the legislation passes, there will be a “transition period” where government officials work with souvenir vendors to find new ways to market Colombia.
Last year the South American nation refused a request to trademark the Pablo Escobar name, filed by his widow and children, to sell what they described as educational and leisure products.
In its decision, Colombia’s Superintendency for Commerce said that a Pablo Escobar brand would be “permissive of violence, and threaten public order.”
The General Court of the European Union also denied a similar trademark request by Escobar’s family earlier this year, arguing that it went against “public policy and accepted principles of morality."
This story has been updated to correct Escobar’s year of death from 1993 to 1994.
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Pablo Escobar was a Colombian drug trafficker who collaborated with other criminals to form the Medellín cartel in the early 1970s. Eventually, he controlled over 80 percent of the cocaine ...
Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria (/ ˈ ɛ s k ə b ɑːr /; Spanish: [ˈpaβlo eskoˈβaɾ]; 1 December 1949 - 2 December 1993) was a Colombian drug lord, narcoterrorist, and politician who was the founder and sole leader of the Medellín Cartel.Dubbed "the king of cocaine", Escobar was one of the wealthiest criminals in history, having amassed an estimated net worth of US$30 billion by the time ...
Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria (December 1, 1949-December 2, 1993) was a Colombian drug lord and the leader of one of the most powerful criminal organizations ever assembled. He was also known as "The King of Cocaine." Over the course of his career, Escobar made billions of dollars, ordered the murders of hundreds of people, and ruled over a ...
Colombian Criminals. Sagittarius Criminals. Childhood & Early Life. Pablo Escobar was born in on December 1, 1949, Rionegro, Colombia, to Abel de Jesús Dari Escobar and Hermilda Gaviria as their third child among seven. His father was a farmer and his mother was an elementary school teacher.
Here we delve into the life and death of the infamous Pablo Escobar. Early life. Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria was born on 1 December 1949, in Rionegro, Antioquia in Colombia and came from a humble background. Raised in Medellín as the third of seven children, his father was a farmer and his mother worked as a teacher.
Pablo Escobar was the head of the Medellín Cartel, a Colombian drug cartel that trafficked cocaine.From the founding of the cartel in the 1970s until Escobar's death in 1993, the lucrative drug trade made Escobar billions. During his life, Escobar lived by the mantra of "plata o plomo," which roughly translates to "silver or lead (bullets)," and describes how he used both violence ...
Pablo Escobar was a Colombian criminal and drug trafficker, founder and leader of the criminal organization known as the Medellín Cartel. Dubbed the "King of Cocaine", in his short lifespan of just 44 years, he was the world's leading drug trafficker during the 1980s, managing to amass a fortune estimated at 30 billion dollars.
Pablo Escobar, the notorious Colombian druglord, once blew up a plane filled with innocent people in a desperate attempt to kill one of his countless enemies. One hundred and seven people died that morning in 1989 when a bomb was detonated on Avianca Flight 203. Three more were killed by falling pieces of the aircraft.
Inside you will read about... The Son of a Farmhand. Pablo's Political Career. The Hit Job. Palace of Justice Siege. Prison Break and Manhunt. Escobar's Rooftop Death. And much more! As Escobar gained wealth and prestige off of the cocaine trade, he became a kind of populist Robin Hood to the masses.
Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria (December 1, 1949 - December 2, 1993) was a Colombian drug lord.He is known as one of the "World's Greatest Outlaws". [1]He is likely the richest and most successful criminal in world history. [2] Some sources say that he was the second richest criminal ever, after Amado Carrillo Fuentes. [3] In 1989, Forbes magazine said that Escobar was the seventh richest man ...
Pablo Escobar spent part of his wealth on mansions, a private zoo and a private army. He was popular in some areas for his charitable deeds, including the financing of housing projects and football (soccer) playing fields, but he confronted law enforcement officials with a policy of "plato o plomo," silver or lead -- that is, the choice between ...
25 Years After Escobar's Death, Medellín Struggles to Demolish a Legend. Tourists hiking past a prison guard tower, along the same path that Pablo Escobar used in 1992 to escape from the prison ...
The King Is Muerto. After his escape, the Colombian government—reportedly aided by U.S. officials and rival drug traffickers—launched a massive manhunt. On December 1, 1993, Escobar celebrated his 44th birthday, allegedly enjoying cake, wine, and marijuana. The next day, his hideout in Medellín was discovered.
Escobar was destined to die no matter which group found him first. In August 2015, Netflix released Narcos, an American crime drama depicting Pablo Escobar's rise to drug kingpin. A second season premiered in September 2016, and Netflix has renewed it for a season three and four. For more information, please visit: Biography - Pablo Escobar ...
Updated June 5, 2024. Nicknamed the "King of Cocaine," Pablo Escobar founded the Medellín Cartel and had an estimated net worth of $30 billion when he died in 1993. One of the most shared facts about Pablo Escobar is that he once burned $2 million to keep his daughter, Manuela, warm while the family was in hiding.
The incredible true story of the rise and reign of Pablo Escobar, the most wanted criminal in history, told by the man who was with him every step of the way, his brother Roberto. The first major and definitive biography of this remarkable criminal life "First published in US under the title 'The Accountant's Story' in 2009"--Title page verso
Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria was born on December 1st, 1949 in the small town of Rinegro, 45 minutes from Medellin, Colombia. His father, Abel, was a hard working, humble cattle farmer, while his mother Hermilda was a school teacher. The city of Medellín, where Escobar grew up and began his criminal career.
The real-life story of Pablo Escobar is full of suspense, drugs, and death.Here's a glimpse into the rise and fall of one of the world's wealthiest drug lord...
Early Life Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria was born on December. 00:59. 1st, 1949 in the small town of Rinegro, 45 minutes from Medellin, Colombia. 01:05. His father, Abel, was a hard working, humble ...
Juan Pablo Escobar appeared in the documentary "Sins of My Father.". He did not create it. Published in the print edition of the March 5, 2018, issue, with the headline "The Afterlife of ...
The Search Bloc party immediately celebrated widely and took credit for Pablo Escobar's death. Yet, there were rumors that Los Pepes, a vigilante group made up of enemies of Escobar, had contributed to the final showdown.. According to CIA documents released in 2008, General Miguel Antonio Gomez Padilla, the Colombian National Police director general, had worked with Fidel Castano, the ...
Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria (1 December 1949 - 2 December 1993) was a Colombian drug lord and narcoterrorist who was the founder and sole leader of the Mede...
In 1991, Escobar surrendered himself to the Colombian government and built a luxury prison called "La Catedral" that came with a spa, casino, and nightclub (via Biography).He called it a "sacrifice for peace" (per NBC News).When authorities tried to move Escobar to a standard prison, he escaped, and a 16-month manhunt ensued.
Pablo Escobar Audio Biography Biography Society & Culture El Patrón: The Rise and Ruin of Pablo EscobarStep into the opulent and bloody world of Pablo Escobar, the infamous "King of Cocaine," in this riveting podcast. ... Keywords: Pablo Escobar, Medellín Cartel, cocaine, Colombia, violence, Robin Hood, DEA, biography, true crime, podcast ...
BOGOTA, Colombia (AP) — Souvenirs depicting the late Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar could be banned in Colombia if legislators approve a bill introduced this week in the nation's congress. The proposal is criticized by vendors who sell his merchandise to tourists from around the world, but backed by those who believe the country should shed its image of mafia bosses.
The Pablo Escobar of toxic disinformation is Elon Musk. His lying is a fully integrated business. He simultaneously produces, consumes and distributes disinformation. ... In his biography of Musk, ...
FILE - Tourists buy souvenirs of the late drug lord Pablo Escobar, featured as a statue with a sign that says one will be charged for taking photos inside a store in Doradal, Colombia, Feb. 5, 2021.