01x02 - The Sword of Simón Bolivar

[bunniefuu]

By the time I left Miami,

Americans were doing a couple hundred tons
of cocaine every year.

To satisfy American noses,
the narcos ramped up their operations.

- Here, honey.
- Ah, thank you.

- Hey, is that the Bahamas?
- Hm?

Oh... Yeah.

That's beautiful.

They were flying so many planes,

they needed a refueling stop
between Colombia and Miami.

So Carlos Lehder
bought an island in the Bahamas

as a transshipment point
for the dr*gs and money.

Turns out...
it was a damn good place to party.

It was modern day Sodom and Gomorrah,
with the three things Carlos liked most:

- sex, dr*gs, and n*zi sympathizers.
- Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Let's get down!

The problem was no longer
demand... it was supply.

We should be over the Amazon by now.

From 10,000 feet, Colombia
was a paradise of untouched rainforest.

But things were different
on the ground.

Pablo and his partners built superlabs
the size of small cities.

From leaf to paste to powder,
they produced 10,000 kilos a week.

At 50 grand a kilo,
that's five billion dollars a year.

These guys weren't f*ckin' around.

Pablo's cousin Gustavo flew chemists in
from Germany to liquefy the cocaine.

They added it to liquor, to coffee,
and just to be funny...

they put it back in Coca-Cola.

¿Patrón?

Looks good?

Cocaine was no longer
hidden alongside products.

This is going to sell better
than the original.

It was the product.

It's time to take Pablo's money.

The narcos even had their
own drug-sniffing dogs.

Gacha bet Pablo that not even
a German scientist could fool his dog.

- Search.

- What's happening? Look at that.

Your prize dog didn't even stop.

There's no coke in that boat.

Come here.

It's blended
right into the fiberglass hull.

Give me the money...
the cash!

Looks like you got taken
with this dog, brother.

- Hold this a moment.
- Oh, Marquessa, my dear...

It's OK, it's OK.

- Are you f*cking crazy?
- What?

It's my dog.

Son of a bitch.

What happened?

You want to know what happened? Go look.

Pablo?

- Pablo, we have a m*therf*cking problem.
- Bastard m*rder*r.

- He k*lled the dog.
- I don't give a sh*t.

If we don't resolve this problem,
we're all dead. Come on.

- Come on, man.
- Son of a bitch.

Let's see...

- This is the problem?

People are watching us, Pablo.

They're asking themselves
how two small businessmen

- suddenly came up with so much cash.
- Gustavo, brother...

just launder the money.

Make it look legitimate...
that's all.

Isn't that what Al Capone did?

- Al Capone?
- Al Capone.

You're a dumbass, Pablo.

- Al Capone is a terrible example.
- Why?

Because Al Capone
never had this much cash.

This is too much to launder.

Well, then...

let's buy a bigger washing machine.

And that's what they tried first.

On paper, Pablo had
the most profitable taxi company ever.

He only had three cars,

but he was pulling in
more than five million dollars a week.

And Gacha had the most successful
emerald mine of all time.

He would inject bad stones with oil
to make them shiny,

then have his friends in Miami
buy the emeralds with drug money

and give them as gifts
to hookers in town.

Everybody was happy.

But no matter what they did,
they couldn't hide all that money.

It just kept coming in.

You're spending too much cash, Pablo.

You have Picassos, Dalís, farms,

houses, apartments, boats, planes, cars...

I told you we have to fly low.

If you keep spending like that,
you're going to end up in Forbes Magazine.

And if that happens,
the government is going to have our asses.

Enough, Gustavo, enough.

What do you want me to say?

Bury it.

- How's that?
- Bury the cash.

And cut the bullshit.

Go on, p*ssy.

- And that's what they did.

They buried it in fields...

they hid it in caletas,
hiding places in walls and ceilings.

They even stuck a million dollars
in Pablo's mother's couch.

Hey, Mom.

- I'm praying, Pablo.
- Just for a second.

Sit.

It isn't very comfortable, Pablito.

I'll buy you another sofa later.

Wouldn't it be better
if you put all this money in a bank, son?

No.

All bankers are bandits.

Really, honey?

Pablo called this accountant "Blackbeard,"

not because he looked like a pirate,

but because his job was to map out
where the treasure was hidden.

But not even the pirate did the trick.

The problem was Colombia itself.

It was too small a country
for a fortune that big.

It was inevitable... someone, somewhere
would try to snatch the narcos' treasure.

Forbes Magazine says...

that the narcos have more money

than the richest capitalist pig
in this country.

- Let me see?

If we kidnap someone in their family,
what are they going to do?

- Call the police?

Commander.

It says here that Gacha, "The Mexican,"
is the ninth richest man in the world.

I say we kidnap his son.

- He's a psycho maniac, comrade.

Plus, he's bought off half the m*llitary.

Well, the Ochoa brothers
are number 14 on the list.

Their sister Marta
goes to the university.

How about her?

I like that more.
The Ochoas are soft.

Wait a second.

What about Pablo Escobar?

I know what you're thinking.

No one's crazy enough
to kidnap drug dealers, right?

But if you're thinking that, it's because
you're not familiar with M-19.

- M-19 was a communist guerrilla group

made up of college students
and intellectuals

who read too much Karl Marx
for their own good.

Their leader was
Ivan "the Terrible" Torres...

a history professor
who knew nothing about guerilla warfare,

but understood the power of symbols.

He broke into
the Quinta de Bolívar Museum

with his buddy Alejandro
and Alejandro's girlfriend, Elisa,

and stole a national treasure...
the sword of Simón Bolívar,

the mythic general who led Colombia
to independence from the Spanish empire.

These jokers even left a note:

"Bolívar, your sword
returns to the b*ttlefield."

It was a stroke of genius...
a marketing stunt way ahead of its time.

And it made them famous overnight.

And I guess it went to their heads.

What about Pablo Escobar?
He's the richest of them all.

Escobar gives money to the poor.

You're right.
Escobar is a man of the people.

He's all right with me.

OK, then.

- Let's do the Ochoas.

March 13th, 1981,
the day they kidnapped Marta Ochoa,

was also the day the Lion
completed 100 trips to Miami.

- Hola.

Good afternoon.

- Mr. and Mrs. Murphy.
- Sí.

Does the cat have any papers?

- Sí.
- Please.

Thank you.

Mm.

Excuse me a second, please.

Sir, this couple has no sanitary B-47 form

and no I-435
identifying papers, either.

Well, I guess he's talking about Puff.

Yes, sir. They brought an
American cat with them.

Sure, but without the I-435, I can't
officially state that it is indeed a cat.

I also can't guarantee
that it's American.

Sir, I'm not trying
to make your life more difficult.

OK, sir.

My boss is not having a good day.

I think his wife left him.

Yeah, well, he's a little bit cranky,
so... how important is this cat to you?

Excuse me?

OK.

Come with me, please.

So... wait here, please.

And my boss will ask you
for this paper later.

How long is it gonna be?

I don't know.

- Pablo! Pablo!

While I was trying to get into Bogotá,

Pablo was trying to get into politics.

When he said he was going
to be president of Colombia, he meant it.

- Hello, Pablo.
- Hello, Valeria.

- This is my wife, Tata.
- Hello.

Don't worry.
Everything will be perfect.

I'm just not used
to these type of things.

Just be yourself.

Ma'am, it would be best
if you weren't here.

Look, Tata,
there are a lot of people here.

It might not be good for the baby.

Go to the house.

Where is this guy?
We've been waiting for hours now.

Maybe he's at "terapia de pareja."

What's that?

Couples counseling.

Right.

What're you doing?

Oh, I'm practicing my Spanish.

Welcome to Nuevos Tiempos.

I'm Valeria Velez and I'm here with the
man known as "the Robin Hood of the poor"

for his generosity
with the poor of Medellín.

Yeah, you heard that right.

She just compared Pablo Escobar
to f*cking Robin Hood.

- And in a way, she was right.

When you've run out of ways
to hide your money,

that's when you give it to the poor.

But I don't want to get ahead of myself.

Tell us about your program,
"Medellín Without Slums," Mr. Escobar.

I was born in Rionegro,
not too far from here.

And I asked myself how a government
that exists for the people

can be so out of touch
with what they need.

Hospitals, social and athletic programs,

plus the construction
of 400 houses in this community.

I hear you told your mother that one day
you would be president of Colombia.

Do you have any political aspirations,
Mr. Escobar?

None at all.
My business takes up most of my time.

I will tell you one thing, Valeria.

For decades, our country has been led by
Lopez and other families that are wealthy

who made their fortune
off exploiting the poor.

They don't know what
common people dream of, but I do...

- Connie, you know who that is?

Bet he could get our cat
into the country.

I can't believe it.

They don't even know
he's a f*cking drug dealer.

- Thank you very much.
- Pablo! Pablo! Pablo!

At the time, Pablo was
just a blip on my radar.

I didn't know
I was about to be a blip on his.

Well, we've been waiting
for hours. Thanks for coming out.

Uh, my wife's a little exhausted,
so here is the cat's vaccination--

Your passport.

I'm sorry?

Your passport, please.

- Gracias.

What do you do at
the United States Embassy, Mr. Murphy?

I am in, uh,
janitorial services.

Janitorial services.

Another one.

Your embassy must be very clean.

Oh, yeah.
You bet your ass it is.

Your cat's cleared.

Enjoy Colombia.

And just like that, the narcos
had me on file the very first day.

As for Valeria Velez,

the journalist who first
interviewed Pablo... watch out.

She was as dangerous as M-19.

Does your wife do it standing up?

- Aah!

Don't ever disrespect Tata.

- Do you hear me?

I'm sorry, Pablo...
I'm sorry.

Forgive me.

It won't happen again.

I promise.

How can I apologize? Huh?

Want to put it in my ass? Hm?

You gotta give it to her.

- She saw Pablo coming a mile away.

And she got herself in just the
right place to take full advantage of him.

Not unlike my partner Javier Peña,

who figured the best way
to get inside narco information

was to hang out
with the same women they did.

We get better every time we practice.

You're amazing, Javier.

Well...

don't go overboard.

It's the truth.

What can you offer me to drink?

Whiskey or tap water.

Water.

What you're missing
in this apartment is a woman.

It's fine the way it is.

Well, I wasn't offering.

Here.

If you were a client,
you would have paid me already.

- And you wouldn't know my real name.
- Don't take it the wrong way.

It's cash from Uncle Sam
for the information you never gave me.

Take it.

And my visa?

Give me something I can use
and we'll talk about it.

What are you doing this weekend?

- I'm going to Medellín.
- Work or play?

I have to take care of my child.

I can pay, too.

Those guys are richer
than Uncle Sam, Javi.

Come here.

- What?
- Give me a kiss.

Give me a kiss.

I guess I'll have to find another girl.

Good luck with that.
We're all going to Medellín.

Some of us are even going by plane.

Helena?

Helena.

Whose party is it?

- Oh, God! What was that?

That was like a .38.

- About four blocks away.
- Oh...

- Welcome to Bogotá.

- Should we do it under the bed?

Just one thing...
Who told you about this?

Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

Pablo says they're not going to
pay a dime for Marta Ochoa.

Gustavo, too.

- And Jorge?
- No. Jorge doesn't agree.

- Then what?
- They're all going to a meeting.

At Las Margaritas.

- Everyone?
- Yeah, they'll all be there.

First day at the American Embassy.

- I met my partner...
- Javier?

...who introduced me to the DEA.

Murphy, this is Weaver and Wisnicki.

These guys are R.I.P.
"Retired in Place."

- Eat me, Peña.
- Paid vacation's over, fellas.

Murphy and I are going to Medellín.

We'll telex the T-3 reports.
They go straight to Washington.

We are going to Medellín?

- Then the Mil Group.
- Jarheads... this is Murphy.

Murphy, this is Mil Group.

They advise Colombian m*llitary
on communist threats in the countryside.

Hey, those are classified.

- Now they're declassified.
- That's the ambassador's call.

No problem.

And the last stop...
the ambassador's office.

Why do you need this intel?

There's an unusual number of prostitutes
headed to Medellín this weekend.

Every high-end girl in Bogotá.

First class airfare,
five-star hotels.

The narcos are having a meeting
and then a party.

What does the M-19
have to do with this?

Somebody kidnapped Marta Ochoa.
Intel suggests it was M-19.

I need access to the M-19 files
to confirm.

If I find out one single dollar
of American taxpayer money

went to any of those hookers,
it'll be your ass.

OK, thank you.
One last thing, Ambassador.

Yes, Agent Peña?

I'm filing a visa request
for my informant. I need your signature.

You're bothering me.

She sure likes you.

Is your informant really a prost*tute?

Everybody works for somebody.

The very next day,
I was flying with Peña to Medellín,

Pablo's home turf.

First stop: Carlos Holguín School,
Colonel Carrillo's base of operations.

- Good day, Major.
- Good day.

Your intel was good. The traquetos
are gathering at Las Margaritas.

I want you to meet our new DEA,
Steve Murphy.

Fresh meat.

Then we went straight to a fancy
hotel where the narcos were about to meet.

The pictures I took that day
helped to ID guys for months to come.

- There was Carlos Lehder...

- ...the Ochoa brothers...

Fernando Galeano,
"the Wolfman"...

Is that Gacha?

I've never seen him
with other traffickers.

And last but not least...
Gustavo and Pablo.

Get pictures of that fucker.

They were all under one roof
and Peña got us there to document it all.

What we didn't know was
that we were witnessing the formation

of the famed Medellín cartel.

Pablo took advantage
of the kidnapping of Marta Ochoa

to bring all the narcos together
for the very first time.

And then he proclaimed himself
their leader.

What I propose at this moment, gentlemen,

is that we form an organization.

Pool our resources to train soldiers,
trade knowledge and buy information.

And so the message is clear,
we're going to name our group

"Death to Kidnappers."

What I propose:

I will manage all operational aspects.

All you need to do
is cover my expenses.

What you gentlemen will receive in return:
two things.

One... I promise to end the kidnapping.

Two... and at this moment,
the most important...

I promise to return
Marta Ochoa to her family.

- Salud.

Death to Kidnappers!

We knew the meeting was over
when the hookers came to play.

Peña had finally
gotten one of his informants

right into the heart of the action.

Come in! Enjoy! Ooh!

Don't forget La Quica!
Take care of him, too.

Sit down, my love.

- How are you?
- Good. And you?

I like your hat.

It looks good on you.

- Do you think so?
- Yes, it looks good.

Let's see.

- Very cute.

She should be here by now.

You think she slipped?

Nah, she's no dummy.

Maybe she's getting pretty for you.

Yeah.

Aah...

Helena wanted a US visa so bad,

she was willing to do anything
to help our cause.

And that was a problem.

- You're tired.
- Hm?

Let me relax you a bit.

So what happened at that meeting
that made you so tired?

What did you hear?

Nothing.
Just making conversation.

They're telling me the girl
left a long time ago.

- She's already dead.
- No, they wouldn't k*ll her at the hotel.

Then they k*lled her somewhere else.

She knew the risks.

If we're going back,
we go back now.

I want you to find the girl.

I can pick up a sicario.
You OK with that?

- I'm going with you.
- What about Fresh Meat?

Gonna stick around here
and see if she shows up, OK?

- Yeah, and where are you going?
- We're gonna go look for her.

That's it, guys.

- Guys.
- Hey, what happened?

That little girl doesn't move.
Like a dead cow.

What, did you k*ll her?

It's my turn now.

- Where's the girl?

- Where's the girl, assh*le?
- I don't know.

I don't know.

Choke him.

- Enough with the party.

I gotta rough this girl up.

Gacha wants to know
if she knows something.

Gacha's paranoid.

Wait a second...
I don't like them bruised.

Let me have a little more fun,
then I'll let her go.

- It's all right, boys.

This one's for all of you!

- Slap her around!

Any news on the radio?

- Should I tell him?
- No. Remember what Carrillo said.

Sorry, I don't speak English.

- How far is it?
- Come on, you piece of sh*t.

Helena?

I'm going to get you out
of here, OK? I promise.

All right. She's coming out.

Copy, Major.

Let's go, boys.

Hey, gringo.
Carrillo is calling. Come on.

- No habla inglés, huh?

¡Vamos!

Where the f*ck's Peña?
¿Dónde está Peña?

Over there.

- How is she?
- Sedated.

- Is she gonna be OK?
- Physically, yeah.

Mentally, I haven't got a f*cking clue.

- You left me behind on purpose.
- Look, man--

If we're gonna be partners,
I don't get left behind.

I didn't come all the way down here, Peña,
to sit on the f*cking sidelines.

Whatever's going on here...
I'm in all the way.

Is that understood?

Understood.

I hope you know what that means.

Pablo's message to
the kidnappers was simple.

He was going to k*ll them, one by one,
until he got Marta Ochoa back.

Ivan "the Terrible" thought he could
hide in the jungle and wait it out.

Sooner or later,
he figured the narcos would cave in.

Big mistake.

M-19 didn't stand a chance.

"Deliver Marta Ochoa safe and sound...
or your family is next."

Signed, "Death to Kidnappers."

Please! Please, let me go.

- Hurry up!
- Please, don't!

Needless to say,
Marta Ochoa was released unharmed.

And the k*lling didn't stop.

Pablo had tasted blood,
and he liked it.

Tell him to get a little closer.

A little closer. A little closer!

You know what, boss?
Go a little higher.

A little bit higher
and a little bit closer

so you can see the tree!

That's it.

Now a little bit higher
so you can see the little tree!

That...

That's it. Perfect.

DEATH TO KIDNAPPERS

A little more.

That's it! There you go.

- Much better.
- Yes, boss.

Didn't I tell you
not to let anyone into the park?

- I'll take care of it.
- Are you crazy or what?

Stupid assh*le.

It's a woman with a baby.

Take a picture
so we can send it to the newspapers.

Do it.

Good day, ma'am.

- Good day.
- I'm sorry, but the park is closed today.

What do you mean the park is closed?

May I escort you out?

Why is it closed?
I come by here every day.

It's because there is a foul odor
and I don't want the child to get sick.

I thought I smelled something.

- Right?
- Yes.

Oh, look,
what a beautiful little baby.

Right, just like his dad.
Thank you very much.

- You must be proud.
- Yes, of course.

My wife and I
are having a baby very soon.

Oh, very good.
Congratulations!

I don't know if it's a boy or a girl,
but as long as it's healthy.

Yes, of course.
The most important thing is health.

Sending the photos of the
hanging M-19 to the newspapers

gave Pablo an image of invincibility.

If he could do this
to the feared communists,

he could do it to anyone.

Ivan "the Terrible"
was quick to realize...

there was only one thing he could do.

Hey, Don Pablo.

What do you want us to do
with this guy?

Should I k*ll him or what?

From what I can see,
you're not going to stop.

Here I am,
so you can finish what you started...

but with the sword of Bolívar.

It's a very beautiful gift.
Thank you very much.

Stand up.

I guarantee no harm
will come to you or your family.

From now on,
we are going to work together.

Go in peace, brother.

Is that what I think it is?

You've gotta be kidding.

I want you
to run my day-to-day operations.

And you'll do what?

Liberate Colombia.

Welcome to the Medellín cartel.

The narcos had their army,
but me and Peña had ours, too.

Many Colombians
like Major Horacio Carrillo

were so invested
in the future of their country

that they were ready
to do whatever it took to fix it.

This was a w*r that would shake
an entire country to its foundations.

And in the carnage...
mine would be shaken as well.

Even my wife, Connie,
wanted to help.

She got a job as a nurse
in a local comuna.

- She wanted to make a difference.

I guess she forgot we were in Colombia.

Look, our escolta will drive me
there and back every day.

- Yeah.
- He'll wait outside all day.

You know the last time you were in church
is when we got married.

Well, I'm letting the Lord
back into my life.

Hey, stop right here.

Praise God.

Perdón.

I want that escolta watching
every inch of you at that comuna now.

Hey, did we leave the door open?

Oh, my God, Steve!

- Get back.

You stay right there
and don't move.