MARIJUANA PARANOIA
It's easy to remember when I first got involved in the drug business. It was in October of 1983. I had been living down in south Texas on South Padre Island for about five years and doing pretty well selling real estate, mostly condos. Business had been good up until that year, then all of a sudden the bottom just seemed to fall out. It was a combination of things that caused the drop. Oil people from Houston were going broke and the Mexican Peso took a huge dip. That seemed to be where most of my customers were coming from. All I know is that I hadn't made a single sale in over a month and the slow season was just beginning.
Joe Garcia worked in the same office that I did and we went out for drinks and carousing together a lot of evenings. So one day in early October Joe says to me "Hey Ray! Let's go to Jake's for a drink when we get off. I want to talk to you." "Sounds good to me." I said, hoping maybe he'd turn me on to some cocaine. I had developed a fondness for that illicit powder. We shut down the office at about a quarter of five and headed for Jake's Bar and
Grill. We found us a booth and sat down to relax. "Hey Jake, How about startin' happy hour ten minutes early?" it was only ten till five. "Sure thing" he answered. Jake's one of the few guys I know that can make money and still be a nice guy. We ordered vodka tonics and got a generous pour.
"What's on your mind?" I asked Joe, hoping for the best." "Look, man. We're going broke around here. Things are way too quiet. I need some action." Joe said, as he stirred his drink. "I know the feeling. What can we do about it?" "Well, I know how we can make some quick money, if you're interested." he continued. "Tell me all about it, my rent's past due." I said. "I know this guy that needs to move some weed to Dallas. You're just the guy to do it. You got the car for it and it'll be a piece of cake." "That's pretty scary business." I told him thinking about that five hundred mile drive to Dallas carrying a package like that. "It's a small risk for a big reward," he said. "Who and what's involved and just what is the reward?" I asked, ordering two more drinks. Rene Martinez has a hundred pounds of weed that he wants taken to Dallas. He'll pay $100 a pound. That's ten grand. That's seven for you and three for me. You're taking the risk so you get more. All I'm doing is setting it up." he went on. "Why don't you just do it yourself if it's so easy?" I asked. "Look, Ray! You're a gringo, a blonde haired guy. You don't look suspicious. You look like a white guy on vacation. The border patrol stops me about twice a week just to check me out and I was born in San Antonio, never even been to Mexico except to go drinking in border towns." By this time the drinks had started working on me pretty good. Joe suggested that we take a ride and I needed the air so I agreed.
We got in Joe's car and drove down to the beach. The place was deserted except for a few sea gulls. The sun was beaming down on the waves of the surf as they rushed to the shore. Joe parked right next to the water and we sat there, enjoying the sea breeze in our faces and the roar of the ocean. There was no one else in sight and after awhile Joe rolled up the windows and he pulled out a little cellophane baggie of white powder. He laid out a couple of lines on a little mirror that he had and rolled up a hundred dollar bill to use as a straw. We took turns snorting the cocaine. Pretty soon my head felt real tight and eerie. I felt a surge of confidence and well-being. Problems seemed very far away. The sky behind us was turning into pink cotton candy as sunset approached. After a few minutes of enjoying the sea breeze Joe said, "Let's drop by and see Rene." "Fine with me", I said, thinking maybe we might get us another drink.
I had met Rene and had often wondered how he lived in such splendor, a nice condo right on the beach. He never seemed to work and he drove a new car and had a lot of gold chains and some luscious looking girlfriends. We pulled into the parking lot of Rene's place. He lived in a four-story condominium. We caught the elevator to the fourth floor and rang his bell. Rene answered the door right away and invited us in. "Come on in" he said. "I've got a bottle of scotch if you guys want a drink" So we started drinking the scotch and Rene pulled out a big fat joint and lit it up. We passed that thing around and looked out the picture window at the view of the ocean and the few people walking on the beach for a while. Rene's condo was tastefully furnished and he had a beautiful view of the beach below. After a few minutes Joe asked Rene, "You still need to move that hundred pounds?" "Yeah, it has to be in Dallas by tomorrow night." he answered. "How about Ray hauling it for you." Joe said. "Can you leave in the morning, Ray?" "Sure, I guess so." I said, not thinking very clearly. "Let's go downstairs." Rene said and we followed him down to the parking lot. It was dark by this time and Rene told me to pull my car up next to his. I did as I was told and he opened his trunk and told me to open mine. "Pull your spare tire out," he said. I lifted the spare out of the trunk. Rene and Joe took the round package, shaped like a car tire and placed it into the tire well where the spare had been. "This stuff is all compressed and triple wrapped. It doesn't look it but it weighs a hundred pounds." Rene threw an olive drab G.I. blanket over the package and we put my spare tire over the blanket. "Carry your luggage in your back seat. We don't want the rear end dragging. Let's get back upstairs and I'll brief you."
We went back up to Rene's condo, poured another drink and Rene gave me the address that I was to go to. "Do you know anything about Dallas?" Rene asked. "Yeah, I used to live there. I know it pretty well." I told him. He drew me a map and gave me a name of the buyer. "This guy will hand you sixty thousand cash. He gave me the name and address of the guy and drew me a little map how to get there. "This guy's my cousin so there will be no problem." Rene said. "Okay, I'm off to bed. See you soon."
I only lived four or five blocks away so I drove home and was in bed within five minutes. I slept like a log. The morning sun was streaming though my bedroom window when I woke up. I checked the time. It was already eight thirty. It took me a little while to remember what I'd committed myself to. My first thought was to back out. I'd call in sick and say the whole deal is off. I made some coffee and sat back with a cigarette. "Hell, I can do it. Sounds easy enough." I thought. So I packed a small bag, threw it in the car and was on my way without any more hesitation. I filled the car with gas, checked the oil and tires in Port Isabel and headed north. As I drove down Highway 100 toward Los Fresnos I realized for the first time what I was getting into. I thought of turning around and going back but for some reason just kept going. I stayed right on the speed limit, not wanting to be stopped for speeding or looking suspicious. I eased through Los Fresnos, a town noted for it's speed trap and finally arrived at highway 77/83. It's all freeway from here. "Just set it on sixty and relax, I thought." Paranoia set in as I went through the town of Harlingen. I began to think of passing through the checkpoint. It was sixty miles away so I had an hour of anxiety there. Again I thought of turning around. The checkpoint is at Sarita and some times they make a thorough search of your car and sometimes they just wave you through. It's a whimsical thing and you can never tell. The guards on duty work for immigration and discovering drugs is just a sideline with them. Their main job is to detain illegal aliens. Be careful not to do anything to arouse their suspicion. Don't be too friendly. That gets them curious. They'll think that you're up to something. Just act bored and tired the way an ordinary traveler would do. The sun was high in the sky as I approached the checkpoint. It was close to noon and it's still pretty hot in south Texas in October. The air conditioner in the car was working well but I was beginning to break a sweat as I pulled up to the little guard shack. "Stay calm and quiet. Just act bored" I thought. I pulled the car up to the shack and lowered the window as the tall man in uniform with a big hat stepped up to the window. "Good afternoon." I said as calmly as I could. "Afternoon" he answered. "Where you headed?" He stared for a minute at my small bag sitting on the back seat. "San Antonio" I answered in my most casual voice. "Thank you, go ahead." He waved his hand and I eased out of there breathing a sigh of relief, not daring to look back in case he changed his mind. After I'd gone about a mile I breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I'll never try this again." I thought. The rest should be easy. Just hold it right at the speed limit, not too slow and not to fast.
I stopped in San Antonio, gassed up, and got a ham and cheese sandwich and a coke to go at a convenience store. Then I drove all the way to Dallas without stopping. It was about eight o'clock in the evening when I arrived in Dallas. The western sky was beginning to turn a cloudy purple when I found the address that Rene had given me. It was pretty easy to find, even with all of the traffic. I pulled into the driveway of Rene's cousin. He lived in a modest three-bedroom brick house with a double garage. It was a quiet, pleasant neighborhood with trimmed lawns and shrubs. The cousin answered the door and invited me in. we introduced ourselves. "I'm Tony Martinez" he said cheerfully. "Ray Moore", I replied. "Have you got the stuff", he asked "In the trunk", I answered. "How about driving me down to the convenience store? I need some beer," he asked, as he picked up the control for his garage door opener. "Sure thing", I answered. The convenience store was only three blocks away. Tony went in for a twelve pack of Bud and we eased back to his house. "Pull up in the drive and I'll open the garage door," he said. I pulled up in the drive and Tony pointed the garage door opener at the door. The door slowly opened and I drove in. Tony closed the door and turned on the garage light. I opened the trunk and we lifted the package out. We carried it into the house through the door inside the garage. "Back here", Joe directed, pointing to a bedroom. We hauled it into the room and dropped it on a bed. Tony began to partially unwrap the package until he could get a sample of the weed. He managed to get a small handful. "Let's go back into the living room.' he said. He closed the door as we went out and into the living room. Tony rolled up a joint from the sample and lit it up. "Very nice and fresh" he said and handed the joint to me. I took a puff and had to agree. He handed me one of those office folders with the little ties on it. "Here's what you came for." he said. " You can stay the night if you want, Ray, I've got plenty of room here." Tony said. "Thanks, but I'd better keep moving." not knowing why exactly that I was in such a hurry. "Well, have a beer anyway." I accepted the beer and we finished smoking the joint. We shook hands and Tony let me out the garage door and I was on my way.
By this time it was late, maybe about nine thirty at night. I stopped and got a burger and fries with a large coke at a drive through window, then found a Holiday Inn and checked in, all the while keeping the package of money stuck under my arm. As soon as I got to my room I locked the door and counted the money. It came out right and I stuck it under the mattress. I ate the hamburger and fries watching the TV and fell asleep. The next morning I was on the road by eight o'clock, heading back south. Again I stayed right on the speed limit, not wanting any attention from the authorities. I was less paranoid, not carrying any weed but I didn't want to have to explain the sixty thousand dollars that I had to anyone.
I arrived back home about seven that evening, pink skies glowing off of the bay water. As soon as I got to my place I called Rene. "Come on over", he said. "I'm on my way." I drove straight to Rene's condo, grabbed the package and went on up. I handed the package to Rene. He dumped it onto the kitchen table and made a quick count. Satisfied, he handed me ten thousand. "Easy work, isn't it" he said. "Except for the fear and paranoia." I answered. "It's good money but it scares me. I'm not quite ready to try it again." "Well, you can't do it often. Somebody'll spot you. Need new blood all the time. Good mules are hard to come by, but there's money to be made in this business. I'll work you into something easier next time." Rene said. "Not likely." I thought.
Pete Smith.