even more pleasures, swimming pools, Jacuzzis, large dining rooms, a theater for watching recently released movies, even a discotheque for parties. The professional kitchen was always open and if we wanted a special meal in the middle of the night it was prepared for us. The meals were so nicely prepared that for each meal there was a menu. During the meals Pablo would move among the tables, sitting with his workers, his guests, his bodyguards, and the family. He would stand up and recite poems, which he loved, or even sing tango music from Argentina to the music that seemed to be always playing, just like he always loved to sing opera in the shower.
Every member of the family had their own bedroom and bathroom on the first floor, which were named for the letters of the alphabet. The second floor was the private floor where Pablo and Gustavo lived. There was always noise and life going on in the house. It was always fun. Pablo liked to have people around. He would sit with Gustavo or the Mexican relaxing and sometimes they would bet a lot of money. They would bet 50 or 100, but that meant thousands of dollars and they would not bet on the usual winning or losing, but instead it would be $100,000 if at 1:27 of the first half Nacional had the ball. The money meant nothing to any of them. There was more than they could spend.
The parties were like those of Hollywood or even better. The performers would be the best singing groups from Colombia as well as all over South America. The most beautiful women were at these parties, the beauty contest winners. People from business. Artists. And, always, the people he worked with in the business. There was no better place for the politicians of Colombia to raise money for their campaigns. But remember, at that time Pablo’s true business was still hidden and he was accepted by the public as a successful real estate investor.
There was also business done at Napoles. When those public crowds were gone, Pablo quietly entertained important people for the business. This included Colombian politicians, government leaders from nearby countries, people on the upper levels of the operation. This was one place where everyone could relax in complete privacy and safety. Flights to transit points took off from the runways. One incident I remember well was the afternoon an old friend named Walter came to visit. When Pablo was just starting out in contraband he had earned $10,000. This was right at the very beginning. “Do me a favor,” he had told Walter in 1973. “Hold this money for me. I’ll ask you for it in a couple of weeks.”
When Pablo needed the money he reached out for Walter—who had taken the money and moved to the United States. He had disappeared. Ten years later Pablo was informed that Walter had returned to Medellín. Pablo said to a friend who knew them both, “Tell Walter you’re going to invite him to a nice farm for the weekend. Tell him it’s going to be a great party. But don’t tell him it’s me.”
Walter came to Napoles. When he learned he was on the ranch of Pablo Escobar he was shaking worse than leaves in a hurricane. They brought him to the dining room, which easily sat fifty people. But only Pablo, myself, Walter, and the person who brought him there, our cousin Jaime, and an aunt and two daughters were there in the big room. “Long time no see,” Pablo said. “How are you?”
We were laughing to ourselves to see this guy shaking. He’d stolen money from the wrong person.
Walter could barely speak. “I’m sorry for the $10,000. I’ll find a way to pay you back. Just give me time, please.”
“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Pablo said casually; his whole attitude was not angry. Then Pablo asked one of the bodyguards, “Hey, please bring me my gun.” Pablo’s favorite gun was a big Sig Sauer. When the bodyguard returned Pablo stuck the gun in the waistband of his jeans.
Walter’s eyes popped open. “Are you going to kill me?”
Pablo’s exact words were, “No, listen. I don’t kill anybody for money, and especially you because you were my friend when we were kids.”
They ate lunch, but naturally Walter didn’t eat too much. After, Pablo offered to show him around the ranch. “That’s okay,” Walter said. “I already saw around.”