a stationary bike and one of my own Ositto riding bikes, so I could keep in shape. Among the things that Pablo brought with him was a large record collection, including classical music, Elvis’s records he’d bought when we had visited Graceland, and his signed Frank Sinatra records that we’d received when visiting Las Vegas. For reading he brought in a collection of books, from five Bibles to the work of Nobel Prize winners. The books I brought included a text on having a super-memory, and books on horses, cancer, AIDS, and bicycles. We also had a large collection of videotapes, naturally including the complete set of The Godfather movies and Steve McQueen movies, including Bullitt.

Eventually we turned the prison into a comfortable home. We had all the necessary electronic devices, including computers, big-screen televisions with video systems, beautiful music systems, even a comfortable bar with the best champagne and whiskey. Outside we had a good soccer field with lights to play at night, paths to walk where we could be hidden from the air by thick trees, and good places to exercise. Within a couple of months we had made it a reasonable place.

Immediately there were stories written that we were living in luxury, that the faucets in the bathroom were gold. That it was just like Napoles. That wasn’t true at all. It was safer for us than moving between hiding places, and we made it comfortable—it wasn’t an ordinary prison, but still it was a prison. We no longer had the freedom to make our plans to go where we wanted or see whoever we wanted when we wanted to see them. Everything required planning. But soon we had settled in. We fixed the kitchen and brought in two chefs to prepare international foods for us—we knew them as the Stomach Brothers. We had sufficient entertainment, sports and exercise facilities, security, arms, and a lot of money.

But it was not luxury. Some of our mattresses were on cement. The furniture was simple; the walls were decorated mostly with paper posters, although Pablo did have a couple of nice paintings. And our clothes were basic. In Pablo’s closet, for example, were his jeans and shirts, and many pairs of sneakers—some of them ready with spikes on in case we had to move quickly.

The difference between this prison and the world we’d lived in for the past few years was that now our enemies knew exactly where we were, but they couldn’t get to us. Instead of tracking us and trying to kill us, the government was responsible for protecting us. It was a difficult political situation.

President Gavíria had his own needs. To restore Colombia as a safe place for foreign companies to do business the Gavíria government had to have peace in the streets. People had to feel safe to come here. Ending the war was the beginning of that.

I spent the first months there without being charged with a true crime. After several months a government prosecutor came to the prison to accuse me. “The charge against Roberto is that he has accounts outside Colombia with millions and millions of dollars in them.”

At that moment there was no law in Colombia against keeping money in foreign banks. I told the judge, “That isn’t illegal, and if you read the law you see that I have the right to negotiate an agreement with you. I’ll give you half the money and then you make the other half legal for me.”

The judge refused this offer. Instead the Colombian government made an agreement with other countries to freeze the bank accounts. Some of these accounts are still frozen.

Meanwhile, outside the prison the drug business continued to prosper. The arrest of the legendary Pablo Escobar did nothing to change that. Members of our organization continued to do their deals, the Cali cartel stayed in serious business, the other cartels kept working. When someone fell, other people stepped forward to take his place. What was different was that the violence had abated.

While we were there we did try hard to change our situation. Pablo had as many as thirty lawyers working most of their time in our effort inside the judicial system. The soccer star Higuita volunteered to try to make peace between us and Cali. Eventually with the help of Father García he spoke with the Rodríguez Orejuela brothers, but to no good. They were too stubborn. Pablo told me, “I don’t believe in the word of those two.” As we