cartel
In the vast criminal underworld, cartels reign supreme; get the full scope of global drug trafficking networks from notorious kingpins down to lowly street pushers.
The Doorstep
A package arrived on my doorstep. I sit up in bed, wiping sleep from my eyes as I sneer at the offending light streaming through my curtains. My hair sticking up in matted snarls, the duvet had decided to tangle itself awkwardly around my legs making rolling out of bed ever so slightly difficult.
By Lucy Limbert5 years ago in Criminal
Elijio
Elijio Poor young guy who always wanted more than from where he came from. The taste of sweetness from the sugar canes that his family harvested in the border town of Pedras Negras just south of Texas came to become the only rich pleasure Elijio got from working long hours during the harvest season. Watching yet again as dusk started to set in and money being exchanged between his brother and the cartel gave him anxiety and nausea knowing he barely had enough to get by for his wife and daughter.
By Carlos Casarez5 years ago in Criminal
Just Another Dive Bar
She walked down the street, deep in thought about the events from the past week. She didn’t see her tail, even though he wasn’t being particularly careful. She was too self-absorbed in her own thoughts. She had been going by the name Jasmine of late, perhaps that was to hide from her past, perhaps it was to start afresh. She didn’t even know anymore.
By Daryl Benson5 years ago in Criminal
The Pen
The Pen ‘Is this a date?’ I thought to myself as I was driving up to the house, I felt finally uninhibited. All good. All perfectly normal social and internal conversations pre-date. Or non-date rather. Who really knows what this is? I thought to myself. It’ll be revealed. Yes, I’ve had a cruiser. I’m feeling liberal. Talking in my head. Yes. YaS! I am okay. I have stuff to say, I am entertaining. People like me. And other mantras to that effect.
By Charmaine Bonnefille5 years ago in Criminal
MEDINA
Living the Movie Inspired by the sweet confidence of love, I was hit with yet another vision. The idea behind our movie, Holding, was even more ambitious than Medina. It meant obtaining the Spanish government’s approval and cooperation to film drug searches and arrests at their borders. Back then, people were routinely sentenced to six years and a day for even the smallest quantity of drugs, with far more time for larger quantities. We would shoot scenes, panning into various Customs agents uncovering contraband, with actual live shots of smugglers’ faces, as they realized they had just bought themselves long sentences in some horrific prison. We also filmed inside those jails, where young European and American tourists spent years, sometimes entire lives, being caught with little more than a personal stash.
By Scott Adlai Stevenson5 years ago in Criminal
Memoirs of a Dopeman (Pt. 6)
1996 started out as one of the greatest adventures of my life. I was a year in college and as usual, I set up an establishment not too complicated just a simple system. College was a brand new playing field with a lot of good money to be made. Upon arrival I set my precedence early, after taking into consideration of just how much school was going to cost with student loans helping a nibble, there was no funding from any other source unless I provided it.
By Darim Stewart7 years ago in Criminal
Memoirs of A Dopeman (Pt. 5)
1994 was a great year. After setting up shop in my posh new neighborhood my mother and I transferred to, I was also able to establish a beautiful system in school while trying to finish my education; this was my junior year. In order for you to understand how I was able to make something like this work, with no one having any obvious idea of what I was doing for so long, I must once again give you the blueprint. The Thicket was off of the main street, only one way in and out; on one side, there was nothing but a field and empty woods; on the other side, two other larger suburban neighborhoods who at the time had no way of getting the product I had on a regular basis. I became their hero. I met with only five brothers who lived in that neighborhood, all of different ethnic backgrounds and diverse cultures; we had Ratty his brother Sanji from Kingston, Jamaica, and they had their own little crew: Yusef and his little brother Anwar from Brooklyn, and En-Uh—who was straight from the Deck—was their muscle. They would be my most loyal friends and clientele since I was the only connection they had with the best product the state of GA had in its possession, and I was the keeper. I would give them two quarter pounds a week—no more, no less—that way if they mess up the package, my loss would be minimum. My plan was to always add on, never take away. I still wanted that money machine, I could hear it clicking.
By Darim Stewart7 years ago in Criminal
Memoirs of a Dope Man (Pt. 3)
The summer of 1992 was a great transition for me. My cousin who was like an older brother to me was murdered by his best friend on his 20th birthday in Washington D.C. The story is that he was murdered trying to retrieve his gun that he lent to his friend. He returned it to him with a bullet attached and robbed him of all of his jewelry. It was a devastating and confusing time in my life. On one end I was ready to dive into the drug business feet first, but when death hit that close to home it had me second guessing.
By Darim Stewart7 years ago in Criminal
Memoirs of a Dope Man (Pt. 2)
This year, Halloween fell on a weekend, emotions were high, and it seemed like the entire world was too. Triple fat gooses and leather eight ball jackets were the fashion among the many designers that emerged during this era. I was 15 in the 9th grade and me always being fashionable refused to be left out of the race. At this time, Granby was the school I attended. The majority of the students attending came from five of some of the largest neighborhoods in Norfolk and everybody was involved in the game one way or another. The whole point was to never be left out, to keep up, the money, the cars, the girl it was easy to access with a little bit of work and math. Our design business started making a little more money and school garnered me more customers, although I couldn't afford the high-end fashion at the time, the designs concealed the fact that the clothing I wore came from Scotchmans (low budget clothing store) on the inside of me something started to change.
By Darim Stewart7 years ago in Criminal
Memoirs of a Dope Man (Pt. 1)
15 years was a long stretch for distributing poison, never planned to go that long it just happened that way. The taste of layoffs, downsizing, and criminalization at the workplace encouraged this extraordinary but deadly business venture. At the age of nine, I was formally introduced to cocaine by my uncle who was one of the main distributors to the mid-Atlantic region. The summer of '86... I will never forget "Cruel Summer" was at the top of the charts, what a cruel summer it was. He summoned me from the backroom room where my younger brother, cousin and I spent the majority of the summer. As I walked into the well-lit room I witnessed a mountain of cocaine wrapped in plastic covering the entire table. Beside it was the most beautiful piece of iron my young eyes have ever witnessed—a gold plated 357 magnum with a pearl handle. It had me in a trance until my uncle nudged me with his elbow while separating a few lines for testers, "You want some of this?"
By Darim Stewart7 years ago in Criminal
