TO BE IT YOU NEED TO SEE IT: WHAT IF INDIANA JONES HAD BEEN A WOMAN?

Merle Greene Robertson, Archeologist, Artist, Scholar

I've written about Maya women warriors and queens, women archeologists, anthropologists, epigraphers, authors and artists, all who've inspired the masses. After reading a Washington Post Op-Ed (A Woman to Reboot Indiana Jones? Yes, Please) by bio-archeologist Brenna Hassett when the latest Indiana Jones film starring Hollywood's favorite archeologist came out, she reminded us that overall, the study of archeology is dominated by men. 

Says Hassett, "This is what generations of girls—me included—saw when we saw archeology, and that's a problem. Because to be it, you need to see it."

So let's address women trailblazers in archeology who've carved a place for themselves and those who came after—the likes of Merle Greene Robertson and Linda Schele for starters. In her study of the Maya, Robertson lived as many adventures as the more famous Dr. Jones, traipsing through Central American jungles, crossing rivers, evading looters, working hours on end creating a multitude of life-size art rubbings in dam, cramped spaces. 

Linda Schele was a major scholar, author and trail blazer in the decipherment of Maya hieroglyphic writing and the study of ancient American civilization. Her death at age 55 in 1998 was a terrible loss to archeology and the study of the ancient Maya.

I'll begin with a previous 2022 post on Robertson, a larger than life presence in the world of Maya archeology and culture. Next will be Linda Schele and I'll then continue with women outliers in the global field of archeology and anthropology, several of whom I've already written about.

MERLE GREENE ROBERTSON

Merle Greene Robertson was an archeologist, artist, scholar and Maya explorer, but these are mere labels. Her entrance into the study, portrayal and exploration of the Maya culture was a catalyst for introducing the ancient Maya to the modern world through art, photography and exploration of numerous Maya sites. After I read Never in Fear, her autobiography, I realized she well could have been the glue that stuck it all together, the Gertrude Stein of the Maya world. Along with fellow scholars, she shaped an understanding of the ancient Maya civilization. She galvanized others, as an organizer, planner, dynamo and she knew everyone in the field from Eric S. Thompson and Alberto Ruz to Michael Coe, George Stuart and those who came after.

INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL IN YUCATÁN

Her enthusiasm and limitless energy in regard to Maya culture made her a fulcrum at the very moment the Maya re-emerged on the world stage after an unduly long absence. The first European and American explorers who stumbled onto these pyramid sites in the 1840s were floored by what they saw. A blockbuster bestseller in 1846, Incidents of Travel in Yucatán, written by John Lloyd Stephens with drawings by Frederick Catherwood, ushered the reader into Maya sites at Uxmal, Chichen Itza, and Copan for starters. The book literally blew the collective mind of the world. No one had a clue that intricate stepped pyramids lay hidden, covered by centuries of vines and forest, deep in Mexican and Central American jungles. The archeology world lay in the mid-east and far east. Before the release of Stephens' and Catherwood's book, the word "bestseller" had not yet been coined. 

Frederick Catherwood Maya Drawing

The world clambered for more knowledge of this mysterious civilization, hidden in southern rainforests of North America. Stephens' concise writing along with Catherwood's magnificent drawings assisted in shaping the identity of one of the world's great civilizations—the Maya. Previously unknown, the Maya had joined an iconic club alongside other great civilizations: Egypt, Mesopotamia, the Indus Valley and China.

ROBERTSON AND HER WORK 

Robertson is nearly indefinable, so interwoven was the role she played with her Maya work over the past fifty years—from assisting in breaking the Maya hieroglyphic code, to co-founding the Palenque Roundtable talks, including trekking to and exploring scores of pyramid sites in Mexico and Central America. Not to mention the body of work she left behind after reviving an ancient archeological rubbing technique using Japanese ink on rice paper.

She created beautiful reproductions of countless stela, columns, tombs, sarcophagus lids, often produced in unfavorable circumstances after trekking through rugged terrain and dense forests crawling with snakes and buzzing with bothersome mosquitoes. Occasionally she and her crew had close calls with grave robbers. A life of leisure was never to be hers— she wouldn't have wanted it. Not unlike Frederick Catherwood's drawings, Robertson's sublime rubbings brought the Maya to the world visually.

ANCIENT TECHNIQUE

Finished Rubbing, Stela 16, Dos Pilas

Merle Greene Robertson was a legend in the world of Meso-American studies and Maya epigraphy. With over five thousand rubbings to her name, thanks to a generous heart, many landed in museums and universities throughout the world. She not only explored these faraway Maya sites but shared her knowledge with others. Often her expeditions included lucky students who accompanied her in what would no doubt become the experience of a lifetime.

NEVER IN FEAR 

With a career that spanned close to sixty years, it's impossible in a single post to condense all that Robertson accomplished. Turning page after page in her autobiography, Never in Fear, it seemed she lived her life in warp-speed.

Do we shape our lives, or are our lives shaped by our experiences and those we meet along the way? After reading Robertson's autobiography, apparently her future unfolded while growing up in the rural West where she developed an interest in Native American culture.

EARLY BEGINNINGS

Born in Montana, she lived on land flanked by the Rocky Mountains. Her interest in Native American culture was ignited when her father took her to visit Blackfoot Indian chiefs. She was also influenced by nearby Montana neighbor Charles M. Russell, one of the greatest western artists of all time, who encouraged her interest in art and drawing. Meeting Blackfoot Indians and watching Russell paint may have shaped her future at an early age. 

She attended university in California and graduated with a degree in art. Later she attended the Instituto Allende in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where she studied watercolors, oils, photography, and mural painting for three summers before earning her MFA from University of Guanajuato.

Afterwards she went to Tikal, Guatemala, to work on a University of Pennsylvania project where she made architectural drawings of the Central Acropolis. This was her entry into recording monuments by means of rubbings. The technique is an ancient one, the earliest taken from Buddhist texts on wooden blocks in 8th century Japan, or from rubbings practiced in 2nd century China. Robertson brought it to an art form. Her perfection of the technique showed how rubbings could be a means of documentation of Maya relief sculpture.

SUMMER EXCURSIONS TO MAYA COUNTRY

Central Acropolis, Tikal (Afar)

Robertson's working life was as a teacher at Robert Louis Stevenson School in Pebble Beach, California, where she met her second husband, Lawrence "Bob" Robertson. In the summer of 1960 they began taking students to Guatemala and Mexico for summer vacation. The main purpose of the trips was to record in photos and rubbings the magnificent monuments on which the ancient Maya carved. Even as early as the 1960s, the looting of Maya sites was common and Robertson's desire was to record as much of the Maya civilization as possible before it was hacked to pieces or sold off to private collectors.

PALENQUE AND PAKAL'S TOMB

Though Tikal, her first jungle excursion, stole her heart, once in Mexico, Palenque replaced Tikal as her number one site. Her documentation of the site was revolutionary. She started with the Temple of the Inscriptions. In order to photograph it before beginning her rubbing, giant scaffolding was constructed for her to stand on. Nothing she did was easy. Her rubbing of Pakal's sarcophagus lid, Palenque's greatest ruler, took super-human tenacity.             

She wrote, "The first thing I started on was the sarcophagus lid, down in the crypt of the Temple of the Inscriptions. A rubbing had never been done before. I worked locked in with only a lantern to see by. It was quite a trick getting myself on top of the lid. It took seven sheets of rice paper (1 x 2 meters). Also, I had to use oil paint instead of sumi ink; there could be no way to work on so much space and keep an inked area from running into the sheet of paper next to it. After two weeks working on the sarcophagus, doing several parts of it over time, I felt that Pakal was not only my friend but a long lost relative."

After the lid, she worked on the side. "Standing in water on the floor of the tomb, trying to do the rubbings and not getting the paper wet was no small feat, especially since the space between the walls of the crypt and the sarcophagus was barely wide enough for me to stand. All of the rubbing equipment had to be kept on top of the sarcophagus, making it difficult to reach when standing on the floor.

"Inch by inch, as different features of the ancestors of Pakal emerged, it was as though I was speaking with these dead kings—I now knew them. Being alone in the tomb was like being in their world long ago."

THE SCULPTURE OF PALENQUE

The results of her Palenque work was documented in a series titled The Sculpture of Palenque. She searched out pigment sources in that region to duplicate the colors used by Palenque artists centuries ago. Her impressive collection of rubbings represents a major archive of Maya monuments throughout the Maya world and has been a major resource for scholars studying the culture. 

Temple of the Sun Reconstruction Painting

At Palenque, she met Moises Morales, head guide and major domo of the site. Her friendship with Moises and his family would be a staple in her and Bob's lives for decades. At first he rented them a room and in the 70s built a house next to his in the La Cañada compound.

Merle and Bob worked together on the Maya projects—she as artist and he as jack of all trades, performing behind the scene duties that greased the wheels. Their presence in Palenque became an interest to traveling scholars and and their house, Na Chan-Bahlum, became a meeting place for every archeologist working in Chiapas, the Yucatán Peninsula, and Belize—their door was always open. Palenque is where Linda Schele and Merle met and became fast friends.

MAYA ROUNDTABLE IN PALENQUE

 In 1973, things were beginning to gel in the Maya world. Through conversations initially with Linda Schele and other Mayanists, an idea emerged— why not have a gathering of like minds? They put together a list and sent out feelers for a get-together. Soon afterwards, Merle heard from famed archeologist Michael Coe. He suggested December would be a good time. The idea ignited and the first Maya conference took place in 1973. Through discussions, lectures, late nights and visits to the pyramid structures footsteps away, the group was at the beginnings of breaking the Maya hieroglyphic code and figuring out who the ancient Maya were. The conference became known as Primera Mesa Redonda de Palenque.

Topic talks ranged from art, history, chronology, iconography, early explorers, inscriptions, sacrifice, trade and the surrounding area. Word got out and everyone came: guides, archeologists, scholars, artists, students. Fourteen universities from the US, Mexico, and Canada came and everyone was asked to have a paper ready to give as a lecture on the art, architecture, or iconography of Palenque. The second year, 1974, the governor of Chiapas opened the ceremonies in Palenque's Municipal Auditorium, it had grown that much. The first had convened in Merle and Bob's house in Palenque.

BREAKTHROUGH AT FIRST CONFERENCE

That first year's highlight was the discovery of the names of Palenque's rulers by Floyd Lounsbury, Linda Schele and Peter Mathews. The second year's highlight along with the governor presiding was the attendance of archeologist Dr. Alberto Lhuillier Ruz, famous for his discovery of the Tomb of the Temple of the Inscriptions where Pakal's sarcophagus was buried. Eventually, through the melding of minds, the Maya hieroglyphic code was broken, the turning point being that first Roundtable in 1973. 

Bob and Merle lived in Palenque and helped host Mesas Redondas until Bob's death in May, 1981. Merle went on to do many more Maya rubbings in the Yucatán, specifically at Chichen Itza, where at Hacienda Chichen, Robertson was given her own suite which became headquarters for her crew. After the Chichen Itza project, Merle traveled the world, visiting other archeologists, artists, and friends while painting and walking ancient ruins everywhere on the planet. 

Stela 1, Ixkun, the Peten, Guatemala

MAYA SITES VISITED

During her time studying and recording the Maya, Robertson visited and worked at Tikal, Sayaxche, Dos Pilas, Aguateca, Itsimte, Naranjo, Tamarindito, Ixkun, Ixtutz, El Peten, Seibal, Yaxchilan, Lubaantun, El Baul, Bilboa, Jimbal, Uaxactun, Lamanai, Caracol, El Palmar, Calakmul, Copan, Palenque, and Chichen Itza. She could definitely compete with Dr. Jones. And to my women readers, I'd say she'd come out on top.

Merle Greene Robertson died at her home in San Francisco in 2011. She was 97 years old.

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

MARRIED TO THE MOB—A MEXICANA NARCA FALLS HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HER BODYGUARD

In Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, Layla Navarro falls for her bodyguard, Carlos. This excerpt, a back story on how their relationship unfolded, was not included in Book 1 in the trilogy.

LAYLA AND CARLOS (Mexico City)

Layla often wondered how she'd gotten herself into the crazy relationship with Carlos, her bodyguard. For someone who was supposed to be smart—she was the accountant for the Culiacan Cartel for godsake—she often found herself consumed with emotion because of her feelings for a handsome, overbearing hulk of a man.

On their last business trip to Mexico City, known as CDMX to locals, they almost came to blows. Problems were happening more frequently, not unlike small temblors foreshadowing a substantial seismic shift, the cosmic wake-up call.

They decided to leave Carlos' Escalade at their hotel parking garage and take a taxi over to see Don Ernesto at the Marquis Reforma, a fashionable Art Deco property on Paseo de la Reforma. Ernesto was the Culiacan Cartel's main man for distribution for Mexico City's cocaine and delivery systems, and Layla was in high anxiety mode as she mentally prepared to cram all his expertise into her head at their upcoming meeting.

That night, Carlos had started out all right, no big problems, or no bigger than usual. But when communications with Don Erneseto got down to a higher level of disclosure, the capo gave Carlos a nod and he slunk away but not before giving Laya one of his poisonous "get ready" looks.

He excused himself to the don before exiting the suite. To Layla he said, "I'll be in the downstairs bar. Should I call you?"

She told him to ring up to the room in an hour, which he did. She noticed his voice had a slight slur, not common, but since he didn't need to drive—they'd be taking a taxi—she thought nothing of it. 

"I'll meet you by the elevators in five," she said. She gave Don Ernesto a quick goodbye kiss on both cheeks, then a handshake and finally her requisite, "Ciao." 

She knew things had gone south the instant the elevator doors opened. She could spot trouble and there it stood in the form of her bodyguard. He gave her a hard stare, barely motioned his head in a non-assuming way and moved towards the exit at a slow jog. From that moment she was practically running to keep up with him. Chinga! He was her bodyguard, that were in Mexico City, not some rural pueblo, and he was running away from her. How absurd! 

As they tore out of the hotel's go-round doors onto the lavish drive-up entrance where the bellmen stood, a valet called out, "Taxi, señorita?" 

"No gracias!"

She quickened her pace to keep up. He was way ahead of her and moving fast. For a man his size, he could move.

"Carlos!" she yelled. He didn't turn around. Louder now, "Carlos!"

Then he did a quick twist and yelled back at her as he crossed the street, "Leave me alone. You're nuts! You're the one who's screwed up, not me."

She felt like she'd been hit in the gut with a baseball bat. Passing from the opposite direction was a well-dressed man, mid-thirties, who'd seen Carlos at a near run and Layla, striving to catch up. By this time they were sprinting. The passerby obviously sensed her anguish and called out in passing, "Don't believe him. He's the crazy one, not you."

At that moment she wanted to throw her arms around this total stranger and thank him because she wondered what mistakes she'd made, how much she herself was to blame for their explosive relationship. Somehow Carlos always managed to make her feel like crap no matter what. 

He was pulling ahead. She was losing him now. Damn the heels. He'd crossed yet another block and she was farther behind. She couldn't be alone on these streets; it was Mexico City for God's sake.

"Carlos!" This time she yelled it loud and long. To hell with anyone who might see her running after some man on the street like a common trollop. "Please stop!" 

At that he turned, gauged her distance, took off his coat and tucked it under his arm but moving all the while. He seemed surprised she wasn't farther behind. With that look she knew she had him. She ran with abandon as fast as she could and soon caught up. She was no lightweight but she couldn't be alone in a CDMX hotel room in her line of work. It was unacceptable. Of course she could handle a gun but that wasn't the point. Hijole! What the hell were they paying him for anyway? El Patrón insisted she have protection.

When she caught up with him he was breathing heavily. "Why did you chase me? Chinga!" 

"You will not leave me alone here!" she shouted, surprised by her own show of force. "Do I need to remind you? You're on the payroll." 

In retrospect she realized she should have taken Patrón up on his offer to reassign Carlos a few years back. Her uncle had a knack for reading people and no doubt sensed trouble. That suggestion was his way of letting them both off the hook. Otherwise, Carlos would surely have been expendable. You didn't quit the cartel. The cartel quit you. 

Hijole! Why hadn't she listened to Patrón? Oh, now it seemed totally clear: what she should have done. But back then, they were still too good together, at least in the bedroom. There was the sex, so much sex. The on-going sex, the break-up sex, the make-up sex. And yes, also the fighting and a whole lot of it. Drama and tears, walk-outs and disasters. Hurling names at each other like javelins. No brutality, just two screeching cats, fighting it out. 

Too late now, and this charade had gone on too long. What was it with the men in her life? Were they all pendejos? Did she pick these guys or did they pick her? Even Reynoldo, her brother, God rest his miserable soul. He'd also treated her like dirt. And how long ago was that? She'd been a teenager and he was dissing her back then. She needed one of those internet courses that taught self esteem. You could learn that, right? Or was she stuck in this loop forever, a mere doorstop, even though she commanded all negotiations in Mexico on cocaine and marijuana for the cartel? What the hell was going on? 

Maybe it was time to see Our Lady of Guadalupe at the Basilica of the Virgin. Do penance to Mexico's patron saint, and a woman at that. So maybe she was actually a goddess? Forget about the Virgin Mary. Sure Mexicans pretended they believed all that Catholic stuff. She'd even been forced to go to church herself when her father put her in parochial school before he died. 

Mexico's twisted alternate history ran through her mind. The conquistadors ravaged the land and converted the sinners, or so they thought. What was really happening centuries ago and to this very day was the sly coverup each and every Mexican knew so well. The Virgin Mary wore blue; their sacred and beloved Guadalupe wore blue. Yes, there was a close resemblance, but the dual icons were worlds apart in significance. Go into a church in any Mexican pueblo and who did you see about the altar? Our Lady of Guadalupe, not Mary, Mother of God. And Feast of Guadalupe, December 12th, was more revered that Christmas. 

Mexicans converted the various saints to align with their gods. Catholic holy days coincided with their sacred days. The missionaries were never the wiser. Not unlike the cartels, they were all about volume; they wanted to boast to the European powers how many natives now worshipped their savior. As part and parcel of the Catholic Church, they cared only about numbers. 

It was a thinly veiled conspiracy. The Mexican, Aztecs, the Nahuatl, the Maya, they all pretended they'd been saved by the blood of the Lord. But they had merely converted Christianity into their form of paganism. In Oaxaca, Chiapas, the mountains of Michoacán, where the indigenous people were strongest, that's where shaman still ruled the villages and the ancient calendar, Aztec or Maya, governed lives. Not the book of the Lord. The calendar was the way. And the local shaman, who at times would pose as a priest, served as every pueblo's mayor and major domo. He settled disputes, gave readings, sanctioned marriages, named children from their calendar make-up not unlike astrology, divined dreams, cured illnesses and helped choose life paths for his flock.

Lost in thought, she stared at Carlos, her hotheaded bodyguard and lover, still huffing from their Olympic style run. For some reason she flashed on shaman Don Cuauhtemoc's reading from so long ago: "The woman is coming." God, she hoped it actually meant something.

If you enjoyed this missing excerpt from Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, order a copy from Amazon. Also on Amazon, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Find book two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Tulum Takedown, on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

WHAT MEXICO CARTEL'S QUEEN OF THE PACIFIC AND LAYLA NAVARRO HAVE IN COMMON

Sandra Avila Beltran (L) at Party

THE STUFF OF LEGENDS 

Though female Mexican cartel leaders are few and far between, there were one or two I'd heard about while living in Mexico. There was a hardened former federal police officer, Dona Lety, who had commandeered the Cancun Hotel Zone as her territory, wrenching it from the grips of the Gulf, Sinaloa and Los Zetas cartels. Her gang was involved with drug sales and extortions from bars and restaurants, even stooping to squeeze payments from lowly hammock makers. The Hotel Zone became her personal fiefdom. If business owners did not bend to her demands, someone could lose a finger. Even though she'd gone head to head with some major players, she was still small change in the big picture.

When the idea for Wheels Up, a narco thriller set in the Yucatan and Riviera Maya came to me I decided to go against type and cast a woman as top dog for Mexico's most powerful cartel. No Dona Lety for my novel, I wanted a jefe of jefes. It seemed a fitting insult to have macho cartel narcos paying homage to a boss woman. I loved the irony. 

And thus, like Athena, sprung from the head of Zeus, Layla Navarro was born.

I modeled Layla Navarro, my Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival protagonist, on Sandra Avila Beltran, known in the narco world as the Queen of the Pacific. 

Layla rises to the top of the fictional Culiacan cartel in Sinaloa, much as Sandra rose to the top of the Guadalajara cartel in that famous city. Layla's ascent happened after her uncle, cartel boss, was recaptured and sent back to prison. Since Rodolfo, her older brother and heir apparent, had been gunned down in an ambush a year earlier, Layla fell into the position. Her job was to secure and further the goals of the Culiacan cartel during her uncle's incarceration in Mexico City. 

Sandra Avila Beltran is the stuff of legends. Though her advancement happened over three decades, her rise to power was vertical. She participated in and had a front row seat to cartel activities, from private jets, clandestine plastic surgeries, murderous shoot-outs, money laundering, non-stop corruption and even a stunning bribe to a Mexican president for $100 million dollars. 

At the height of her career, Avila had a knack for carrying suitcases with millions of dollars in crisp Benjamins to make cartel payoffs. Born into narco royalty, much like Layla Navarro, she lived in opulence, a world of private schools, piano and dance lessons, trips to Disneyland. Her father, one of the founders of the Guadelajara cartel, even had her counting money as a child.

She said she'd spent so much time counting cash as a kid that she later turned that ability into a clever party trick: she'd grab a roll of bills, hold them up, and precisely calculate the value. 

Not as precocious as young Sandra, Layla Navarro grew up in her older brother's shadow. Fun and games were no part of her childhood and Layla was not even considered second best as her childless uncle ascended the ranks to head of the Culiacan cartel. Layla was third in line, after Rodolfo and second brother, geeky Martin. But the devastating ambush that took out her eldest brother brought her unique abilities to the forefront.

Neither Sandra nor Layla was removed from the terrors of life in cartel families. Sandra witnessed her first shootout at age 13. In an interview with The Guardian, she said, "At dawn you heard the music, the shootouts. It was when they killed people."

IF LOOKS COULD KILL

Both women had movie star looks and exuded a magnetism and sex appeal that welcomed them into the wide world of major drug cartels. They entered this haven of danger and wealth as connected power players.

Sandra Avila Beltran Age 19

Avila, once alleged to be Mexico's most famous female drug trafficker, became a household name known as Queen of the Pacific after her coolness during a 2007 police interview captured her on camera in a video that went viral. In it she came across totally unruffled by claims that she had been part of an operation to smuggle nine tons of cocaine across borders, insisting she was only a housewife with a side-hustle selling clothes and renting out properties. 

In spite of her protest, Avila was charged along with her lover, Colombian drug lord Juan Diego Espinosa, El Tigre. Authorities claimed she was one of the key cross-border links between the Sinaloa cartel and Norte del Valle cartel in Colombia. With the spotlight turned on to her alleged cartel activities, Avila's lifestyle and criminal career became the basis for the Mexican tele-novela, La Reina del Sur. 

Cartel royalty runs deep in Avila's veins. Her uncle, Felix Gallardo, controlled the illegal narcotics trade from Mexico to the U.S. for decades. If you watched Netflix's Narcos, Gallardo's presence and power is written all over the script. In Wheels Up, Layla's uncle has an ironclad grip on the Culiacan cartel and is known only as El Jefe.

OTHER PLANS

While Layla Navarro's career was always tied to her uncle's Culiacan cartel, early on, Avila distanced herself from her family's cartel ties. As a 17-year old she enrolled in journalism classes at Universidad Autonomia de Guadalajara, planning a career as an investigative reporter. But three years into her studies, a jealous boyfriend kidnapped her. And after this significant episode, once released, she left town, ending her hopes of a career in journalism. Instead, she turned to the drug underworld, bringing numerous skills: she was an extremely disciplined car driver, a master horseback rider, and a talented sharpshooter. Plus, she herself said she made the best of her ability to flirt.

A suitor once bought her a new pickup truck, left it at her house with an envelope containing $100 thousand dollars and a note that read, "Spend the money on a trip or anything you want." Shortly after that, at 21, she was linked with drug lord Amado Carrillo Fuentes, known as Lord of the Skies, a famous pilot who flew tons of cocaine for Felix Gallardo's cartel.

Sandra Avila Beltran At Home

She rose fast, her life became full-time cartel, and she was coveted by powerful and dangerous men at every step of the way. She avoided cocaine and drugs, stating to The Guardian, that if women use cocaine, "the men think you are just another disposable woman and you won't be respected." Layla Navarro shared those exact sentiments and never did drugs though she did enjoy her tequila.

DOUBLE STANDARD

Avila went on to say that men in the business would have harems of women and sexual freedom, but women had to maintain a personal code of ethics. As noted by Layla Navarro in Wheels Up, "Women are either Madonnas or whores." As a female power player at the top of their games they had to walk a tight line.

Gaining respect for both of these female narcas was paramount. Avila's climb to power included her gifting her son a Hummer on his 15th birthday along with a $40 thousand dollar allowance every three months. By this time, she'd met El Chapo, commanded a 30-car flotilla, and had won shooting exhibitions.

She seemed invincible. Until she wasn't. Her son was kidnapped in 2002, and when she paid the $5 million dollar ransom, the police became interested in her lifestyle. She went on the run and became a fugitive for many years. But her undoing came when she attended a fiesta for El Chapo high in the Sierra Madre Mountains. She arrived with an AK-47 in hand, wearing a baseball cap and no make-up and was seated next to El Chapo. The band playing for the fiesta composed a narco corrido about her and that was her undoing. The song, Party in the Mountains, became a hit, her anonymity was shattered, and bad luck followed.

ON THE LAM

Months later she was ambushed, made a run for it, ended up on the lam in a barrio and was rescued by a woman who gave her a change of clothes and 50 pesos for a cab. She continued on the run for three years but was finally caught with her new love, El Tigre. She claimed she was sold out by a business partner who had failed to pay her for an investment return. In retaliation for her questioning his honor, he handed her over to the government. 

She'd survived two husbands and a dead lover, but finally, justice caught up with her in 2007. She spent a good portion of the next decade behind bars, but her jail time wasn't the same as a regular civilian's jail time. She had 'guests' escorted to her cell where her three maids served food, alcohol and cigarettes. When interviewed by Jose Gerardo Mejia, the first journalist to speak to her once incarcerated, he described the prisoner "in four-inch heels, adorned in jewels, custom clothing, and fawning guards who treated her like a minor diplomat."

Avila Beltran in Interview, The Guardian

Though she had been sentenced to 70 months in federal US custody, she was eventually transported back to Mexico to carry out the balance of her sentence after pleading guilty to accessory after the fact for helping El Tigre, her love interest, reduce his sentence.

In Mexico she was sentenced to another prison term for money laundering but Mexico courts threw the conviction out in 2015 and she was given an early release. 

Though Layla avoids the law in Wheels Up, her infamous uncle is not so lucky. But he, too, had quite a different behind bars experience than his fellow inmates—a comfortable bed, fine linens, large screen TV, good food with his own chef, cigars, alcohol and women when he so desired.

OUT OF THE GAME

Avila was released from prison in Mexico in 2015 and immediately began recovering her contacts. With her fortune mostly buried, it's rumored, she hired a host of lawyers to recoup approximately 15 homes, 30 sports cars and an estimated 300 jewels. Now in her 60s and not shy about interviews, she was asked by Jonathon Franklin of The Guardian if she had any qualms about her career and the products that the cartels sell.

Her position is simple she said—each individual is free to partake in the drug world or abstain. "The statistics show more people die from alcohol than drugs and where alcohol is sold, no one feels remorse. No one is obliged to use," she said. 

And what about cartel related deaths? "They result from competition and the Mexican government's brutal assassination tactics. The government at times has to kill people because it is not convenient to imprison witnesses who could testify against them."

The problem, she insisted, was not those who can't leave the cartels but those who prefer not to. "There are people with loads of money who don't get out, don't want to. They like what they are doing, like a Formula 1 race car driver who says I do it because I like speed."

And how do politicians eradicate drug violence, the reporter aks. "First you attack poverty," she answers. "Poverty is what causes violence. First you become a delinquent, then you become violent."

In Wheels Up, when Layla Navarro checks in with her surviving brother to see how her uncle is doing in prison while she's on the run, he assures her all is well. While imprisoned, the guards have his back, the warden is in his pocket, and the politicians will do as they're told when beckoned.

"Aah yes," she muses, "because if they don't do his bidding, they and their families will be murdered across generations." When you deal with the cartels, the cards are never stacked in your favor.

Avila Beltran With Her Cosmetic Line

Sandra Avila Beltran is presently on TikTok promoting a line of cosmetics, and a documentary about her, titled The Queen of the Pacific has had 109 million views. With or without bodyguards and smuggling schemes, she's still the stuff of legends. 

 If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

MAYA SCHOLARS RACE AGAINST THIEVES TO THWART THE LOOTING OF A LOST CIVILIZATION

Xpujil Pyramid Site on Pu'uc Route (Yucatan Magazine)

PART ONE

"Tombs are robbed, temples are looted, and the past is destroyed, all to feed the international market for antiquities." Donna Yates, Archeologist and Lecturer in Antiquities Theft and Art Crime, Associate Professor at Maastricht University, Netherlands

In 1997 we drove across Mexico in our Ford Focus wagon, loaded to the nines with our belongings and our cat, heading towards a new life on the Mexican Caribbean coast. Our hearts quickened after passing through Escarcega. At the end of that lonely 170-mile stretch of road, we'd cross from the state of Campeche into Quintana Roo. Then we'd certainly be homeward bound. 

The road narrowed as Escarcega was left behind in our rearview mirror. I settled in for the long drive ahead. We decided when we got to a stretch of little known pyramids at the half-way point we'd take a break, make a sandwich, and let Max, then just a kitten, walk around. I'd recently read about this quartet of pyramids in NatGeo—Kohunlich, Becan, Chicanna, and Xpujil—near the great ceremonial center Calakmul. Though these sites didn't have the star power of Chichen Itza or Tulum, Kohunlich, known for its Temple of the Masks, gained fame in 1971 when looters tried to sell one of its huge eight foot stucco masks to New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

We made good time, virtually seeing no other cars on the road. Around 4 p.m. we passed Chicanna. Soon after, I spotted the towers of Xpujil from the road. "Can we stop?" I asked Paul. 

He nodded and we pulled down a sascab lane a good ways past an open wire gate into a rough parking area. I extricated myself from the car while Paul saw to Max. I stretched, then went to the back end of the car to find the cooler. I'd brought bread, mayonnaise and a couple cans of tuna. A quick sandwich would be welcome as we'd had only fruit and juice for a late breakfast around 11, not wanting to take time to stop. I pulled out a plastic container for mixing, located the can opener, mayo and bread, and began assembling a rather unglamorous tuna sandwich. As I finished up spreading the lumpy fish onto Bimbo wheat bread, I called to Paul. 

He'd put Max back inside the car. We leaned against the door, ready for our afternoon snack. After the sandwich I told him I wanted to have a quick look around the site. Just as I bit into the tuna fish, a white, older model International with a large tarp-covered trailer pulled into the parking area, leaving dust in its wake. Two men sat inside; an older man was driving. The vehicle was about 100 feet away when the guy riding shotgun jumped out. He was young and lanky, nineteen or so, and moved fast across the parking lot. The truck had Canadian plates and the driver kept the engine idling. 

"Weird," I said to Paul. "I wonder what they're up to. Why'd just one guy get out and why isn't the driver turning off the engine?"

"It is weird." 

We both watched the young man dart through the fence and run along the path leading to the pyramid site. 

With the truck still idling, we viewed the scene warily. "I don't feel good about this."

"Me neither. What are they doing?" Paul began to push things into the way-back. I followed his lead and closed the cooler, holding my sandwich in one hand. I tossed the can opener and bag of bread into the wayback.

"Let's get out of here. Something isn't right. Maybe they're scouting the ruins for artifacts. What's the trailer for?" I asked.

"Not good," Paul agreed. "And what's with the tarp? The cat's inside? Then let's go."

The truck had parked at just the right angle so we couldn't see the driver, as if it was planned that way. If these guys were grave looters, we didn't want to be around when INAH (National Institute of Anthropology and History) discovered them, or worse, the federales. 

Paul started the car and headed towards the long driveway that led out to the highway. The white International was still idling when I turned around and gave it one last look.

"Grave robbers? Were they grave robbers? Or looters?"

"We don't want to know," Paul said as we eased onto the uneven asphalt, amped up the gas, and headed towards Chetumal.

                          *********************************

NOT JUST WHITE COLLAR CRIME

Antiquity looters come in many guises as the above tale tells—unassuming tourist types, locals, businessmen looking to make a buck, collectors.

And as the international appetite for Maya culture continues to grow, so does the hunger for illegal artifacts. Researchers say it's a race against time and increasingly tenacious looters.

One of the Remaining Masks at Kohunlich

Art theft is big business. Ask any dealer of antiquities. It's a 'trade' worth billions, and it's not going away any time soon. As long as there's poverty in undeveloped countries where ancient civilizations once stood, you can bank on it. Some art dealers call it the world's second oldest profession. Any country in civil war or conflict is ripe for antiquities looting, says Tess Davis, archeologist from Boston University and legal expert. When conflict erupts in an archeological rich country, the world-wide art market is suddenly flooded with antiquities from that ravaged country. Artifact looting becomes a means of subsistence when homelands are war-torn and ravished, and it's practiced in a variety of environments, from Peru and the Andes Mountains to the Peten jungle and the Central Mexican highlands, for starters.

THE RISE OF NARCOTICS TRAFFICKING

"The public should be aware this is not just a white collar crime. Insurgents, terrorists are using the antiquities trade to fund their efforts. Unless we get it together soon, I fear there is going to be nothing left," Davis said in a lecture titled "Tomb Raiders and Terrorist Financing," for Boston University alumnae.

Of the organized trafficking groups involved in a diversified portfolio of illicit activities, most are dealing drugs as well as other commodities. The market prices antiquities can draw are too high for organizations dealing in contra-band to ignore. 

THE LOOTING OF THE PETEN

Palace of Palenque by Frederick Catherwood

Compared with well known ancient civilizations in Europe and Western Asia, archeological interest in the Maya culture came relatively late, partially because of the forbidding nature of the deep-jungle sites. The outside world was first exposed to Maya ruins through the writings and drawings of explorers John Lloyd Stephens and Frederick Catherwood. Their early adventuring shone a light on the Maya. After their travel memoirs about the Maya and the Yucatan were published in 1843, many adventurers trekked on through, conducting rudimentary recordings of archeological sites with limited removal of Maya artifacts. The first actual excavations were not conducted until the 20th century.

THE BEGINNINGS

Art and antiquity, according to Archeologist Donna Yates in her thesis, "Displacement, Deforestation and Drugs: Antiquities Trafficking and Narcotics Economies of Guatemala," underwent a huge upheaval in the first half of the 20th century. Aesthetic tastes in contemporary art shifted to modern looks and forms and an interest was taken in tribal art. Defined against a classic Western model, these disparate cultural traditions included ancient and modern cultural objects originating from Africa, parts of Asia, and the Americas. The appeal, her thesis stated, was that they didn't conform to familiar Greek and Roman styles. And demand grew as connections from these objects were drawn publicly between them and famous artists of the day such as Picasso, Kahlo, Giacometti, and Rivera. Soon, powerful collectors began to source them from their countries of origin for private collections.

The Maya on Display at Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

At the same time, 1957, Nelson Rockefeller founded the Museum of Primitive Art in New York. This was a watershed for the collection of Maya and other "primitive" cultural properties. The Maya were on the market.

MAYA DEBUT

Yates' thesis explained that endemic looting of nearly every known Maya site began around 1960. Collectors and museums, inspired by Rockefeller's acquisitions, were looking to fill the Maya gap in their collections and demanded the very best the Maya had to offer. This meant that even the large carved stone stelas that depicted the events of Maya lords and their recorded histories along with large architectural treasures from Maya temples were looted, trafficked, and sold. Size was not an issue.

Clemency Coggins is a professor of both Archeology and Art History at Boston University, and also holds a degree from Harvard University in Fine Arts. Decades ago she wrote,"In the last ten years there has been an incalculable increase in the number of monuments systematically stolen, mutilated, and illicitly exported from Guatemala and Mexico in order to feed the inter-national art market. Not since the 16th century has Latin American been so ruthlessly plundered."

RANSACKING RUINS

Guatemala Soldier Scouts Site of Xultun for Looters

Unfortunately this plundering tore the stelas, large concrete-like slabs that stood in front of pyramids to honor Maya kings and their empires' procla-mations, births, deaths and marriages, and they were ripped from where they stood. In order to understand any individual site, it's imperative for archeologists to know the provenance of stelas or pieces that have been looted. Without dates and locations it's impossible to place the art, the site, the structure, even the times and historical issues taking place when it was created. The Maya's very history was being torn apart, a story with no context, as various works of art floated throughout the world, moving to private collectors and museums across the globe. 

But looters cared not for the history of the ancient Maya. Their only concern was how to remove stela that could be 15 or 20 feet high, weighing several tons. Removal was their one and only mission and taking a power saw to the stela and cutting it vertically removed the face of it. This was then usually cut into quarters to make it easier to ship and the pieces could be sold off to separate investors. Sometimes the inscriptions along the sides were damaged by their mutilation.

This plundering set the archeology world back several decades in trying to break the Maya hieroglyphic code.

BANDS OF LOOTERS

Map of Yucatan and Guatemala (By NatGeo)

A landmark paper by Clemency Coggins that is often credited with exposing the gravity of the looting situation characterizes the 1960s as a time when bands of looters moved freely through the Maya region, particularly in the sparsely populated and heavily jungled regions of Guatemala's Peten, emphasizing the mutilation of large stone monuments with power tools. Countless Maya sites (Ixtonton and La Corona) were looted before they were even located by archeologists. "It was a terrible time," she wrote.

THE WHY BEHIND THE CRIME

She explained that the 1960s looting of the Peten is tied to two jungle economies: the trade in rare hardwoods and tapping gum trees for chicle. In both instances, she wrote, men (usually) at the bottom of the supply chain moved through vast tracts of wilderness searching for different tree types. In doing so, they encountered recorded but poorly protected remote sites as well as Maya cities yet unknown to archeologists.

THE CHICLEROS

Early on in the 20th century, archeologists worked closely with these men, paying them for info about new sites and monuments. Chicleros, as chicle hunters are known, are credited with locating many important sites in the Peten—Uaxactun, Xultun and even Calakmul, the famous Heritage Site. But when chicle prices bottomed out in the 1970s, financial gains for looting and trafficking in antiquities grew. Chicleros could expect higher rewards by reporting an unknown site to a trafficker rather than to an archeologist. And they could even be employed in the demolition, for added revenue.

Said one archeologist as he peered at the looting damage of a Xultun temple literally cut through the middle, "The humans are more poisonous than the snakes."

                                    ***************************************

Part Two will delve into a number of pyramid sites plundered, the lack of security at even famous sites, and what can be done to address the trafficking of antiquities. Stay tuned.

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

A KENTUCKY DERBY BET AT A TIJUANA RACETRACK CROSSES PATHS WITH THE MEXICAN CARTEL

Churchill Downs, Kentucky Derby

In 1987, Mark "Miami" Paul, who had been watching and betting on horse-races since his teens, tuned in to watch a race at New York's prestigious Saratoga Racetrack. He couldn't take his eyes off Winning Colors, a two-year old gray filly who was bigger than most of the colts. She broke out of the gate and never lost the lead. Transfixed, he knew if the horse ever ran in his home state, California, he and his racing pal and bookie Dino would place bets on her.

Though Miami's day job was as a real estate broker, by the time one p.m. rolled around, he'd tidied us his desk and could make the first race at Santa Anita, 30 minutes from Los Angeles, with Dino. "I only had one skill," he told US Bets, "and that was knowing Dino Matteo, my best friend since I was 16 years old and the guy who introduced me to horse racing."

Mark "Miami" Paul circa 1988

FIGURING THE ODDS

"I know a special horse when I see one, but Dino's brilliant. He figured the odds. He studied racing forms and the horse's performance. He'd stay up late at night and watch replays. He might not place a bet for a while but when he had an edge, he'd double down. He was the best I'd ever seen. I learned to bet like Dino." 

Winning Colors did make it to California. She was scheduled to run at Santa Anita Park later on that year. Watching her beat out all the colts in numerous run-up races energized both Miami and Dino and fanned the flames of their obsession with the filly. She was kicking the stuffing out of every contender in race after race. The spell was cast: Maybe she could run in the Kentucky Derby.

THE KENTUCKY DERBY?

Their unlikely enterprise began to take shape. But planning six months in advance that an unknown soon to be three-year old filly could make the entrance requirements to the 114-year old Kentucky Derby sounded Pollyanna-like in the extreme. First off, only two fillies had won the Derby in the entirety of the race's history. And secondly, once entered, she'd have to beat out 19 other horses to bring home the bacon. The odds against Winning Colors were high.

But they held onto hope. One morning, Dino called Miami at 6:30. He was agitated, Miami said, and talking fast. "Listen, I was up all night running stats on her. She's so incredible she's starting to get noticed. They did a news article about her yesterday. Soon the odds on her will change. We've got to go to Tijuana, today."

Miami pushed back. "Vegas is closer and no border crossing." 

UNBELIEVABLE ODDS

"She's 12 to 1 in the future book betting in Vegas," Dino said. "But down in TJ, she's 50 to 1 at Agua Caliente. This is a chance of a lifetime! Pick me up and bring all the money you have. I'd like us to bet 2500 each. At 50 to 1 odds that gives us a payday of 250 grand."

Historic Agua Caliente

Even as semi-professional gamblers, Miami wrote in The Greatest Gambling Story Ever Told, they'd had wins in the past, but closer to five thousand dollars. He was skeptical. What were the chances an unknown filly could get entered in and win the Kentucky Derby? Plus at the time, 2500 was a lot of cash. Dino pushed back. "Just do it," he said.

After the four hour drive to the track they went to the gaming window and explained they wanted to play their future book—Winning Colors for the 1988 Kentucky Derby, 50 to 1 odds. Dino asked the guy to confirm it.

"The teller's eyes lit up," Miami said. "He stared at Dino and asked, 'You want to bet 2500 dollars that a filly will win the Kentucky Derby?'

"Dino answered, 'Yeah, I know it's crazy but I still want to place the bet on her.'" The last thing Miami remembered was Dino counting out 50 hundred dollar bills.

THE PLOT THICKENS

Now they had to wait five months hoping Winning Colors could win races that would earn her a spot to qualify for the Derby. One day Miami ran into a friend and he told him about his and Dino's bet. 

The friend said, "Dude, do you know who owns Agua Caliente? A member of the Arellano-Felix drug cartel. The track owner, Jorge Hank Rhon, uses it to launder money. It's going out of business fast. Even if they had that much money, what makes you think they're gonna hand over 250 thousand and let you waltz out of there alive? You guys are out of your minds."

Jorge Hank Rhon, Owner Agua Caliente

Miami said he worried about it for a minute then thought, what are the actual chances of Winning Colors even getting into the Derby? First she has to run and win a series of stakes races. And she'd have to run against Goodbye Halo, an up and coming champion in the initial qualifier at Las Virgenes.

GOODBYE HALO

The Las Virgenes Stakes Race day came and Winning Colors lost to Goodbye Halo by a head. Dino was devastated. He was worried she had to go up against 19 colts and win come Derby day. She had one final shot to make it into the Derby and that was winning at Santa Anita Oakes Derby in April where she'd be trotted out against the best colts on the West Coast. If she could come through that, she might have a shot at the Derby.

Santa Anita Racetrack exuded a typical sunny southern California vibe the day of the race and there was an expectant energy in the air. Miami and Dino were amazed at the crowd of seventy thousand—the stands were filled with women and girls who had come out to watch the filly run against the boys. She had a fan following."Girl Power"and "Go Girl Go" signs were everywhere.

FILLY POWER

"It was a cult scene. There was an electric energy," Miami told an interviewer for Snap Judgment. "Winning Colors had gained a following. We just hoped she could remain calm."

Jockey Gary Stevens on Winning Colors at Santa Anita, 1988

She was known to be bothered by loud noises; they rattled her nerves. The fellow gamblers settled in to watch the race, hoping the fans' screams wouldn't affect their filly's sense of well being.

"The other three-year olds were stirring and moving around in the cages, but Winning Colors was undisturbed. Then the race starts, and she breaks perfect like a waterfall out of a dam," Miami said. "She takes the lead from the beginning and she wins! By eight lengths! We're yelling, on to Kentucky!" 

JOURNALIST DOWN

But cloud nine didn't last long. Two days later Dino called and told Miami that a Mexican journalist named El Gato from a Tijuana magazine, Zeta, had been writing negative pieces about the owner of the Agua Caliente track, Jorge Hank Rhon. The journalist had been assasinated in his car, blown away with a shotgun on his way to work. The head of Agua Caliente security had been arrested for his murder along with Jorge Rohn's personal bodyguard.

El Gato, Hector Felix Miranda

Fear stuck its ugly head smack dab in the middle of their dream. Miami started to fear for both his and Dino's lives more so than cashing in on a bet. Now they're killing journalists who write stuff? Dino however was not content to walk away as the filly's star rose higher and higher. He decided they should go to TJ and watch the race at Agua Caliente on simulcast, the day of the Derby. They figured with thousands of people at the track that day, it was safer than going back a week later to collect a quarter of a million dollars with no one around.

The TJ race track was electrified on Derby day, mariachi bands mingled with merry revelers and street vendors. This Kentucky Derby in Louisville had attracted 135,000—the largest sports crowd in all the world. It was the toughest derby field in the last 30 years, and included an undefeated champion along with 16 notable colts as well as other Derby winners. Winning Colors was the sole female entry.

SERENE ON SIMULCAST

Miami and Dino spotted Winning Colors on one of the simulcast screens. She looked serene and calm. This was it: the 114th Kentucky Derby. The starter gun sounded and they were off. Within a quarter mile, their filly was running away from the others. Right from the start Winning Colors led the way. Turning towards home, she shortened her stride— she was tiring out, but she kept going. Down to the stretch, she hung on, and the photo finish proved her win by a neck. She won!

Photo Finish

After initial exhaltation, they knew they had work to do. They let the crowds settle before heading to the window to collect their earnings from the teller. "Oh, a big one," he said.

He had to get a supervisor. After a delay, he returned with his boss. "Hmm, that's a big ticket. No, not today. You'll have to come back."

Dino looked at the guy and said, "What do you mean, not today. It says Winning Colors to win the Kentucky Derby, 250 thousand dollars. You have to pay us."

RAINCHECK?

The guy shook his head. "No, you gotta come back."

Miami said, "You mean come back on Tuesday when nobody's here?" He looked over his shoulder and saw guards standing behind them, rifles slung over their shoulders.

He said to Dino, "We gotta get out of here. Not good."

At first Dino resisted but then he went along with Miami. They headed for the staircase; the guards were following. Miami said to Dino, "Run!"

They clambered down the staircase. Five guards clacked along behind them—they flew into the parking lot and jumped into Miami's car. He hit the gas doing 70 mph even before hitting the street. As they roared up the boulevard he shouted, "Look behind. Is anyone following us?"

THE CODE

With no one on their tail, they headed for the border. Dino was ticked off and kept yelling, "They broke the code. You always pay your gambling debts first."

They met the next morning for breakfast to talk. It came down to the gamblers' code. Since Dino had engineered the stats on Winning Colors and had essentially given them the win, Miami felt it was his job to bring home the bacon and get them back safe. Time to step up. Dino's job was done.

Their next move had to be orchestrated just so. Dino knew three professional fighters with martial arts skills. They decided to hire them for backup at the track that Tuesday. They'd bought six backpacks to carry the loot.

EL JEFE

After parking at the track Tuesday, Dino, Miami and their fighters passed three armed guards en route to the window. They handed the ticket to the teller; she immediately called for a supervisor once she saw what the ticket was worth. A well-dressed man in a suit appeared ten minutes later. He said, "Follow me. Gotta talk to el jefe. Only you two."

Dino frowned. "I don't like this," he said, as he motioned to their muscle to stand down.

Miami shrugged. "What can we do?" 

They followed him down a flight of stairs and through two sets of oak doors plus a third with a set of bars. It began to feel like a dungeon, Miami wrote. The guy opened another door. Inside it was dark. Through a cloud of smoke they could see a heavy set man sitting at a table in back, cigar in hand. He waved them in, indicating they should take a seat.

Without preamble he said, "We know who you are."

That spooked Miami, but he was quick with a response. "Yeah, we're good customers and we're here to cash our tickets."

"Wait a minute," the cigar smoker said. "We just want to be fair."

Rattled, Dino said, "Well then just give us our money. We won our bet. She won the Derby 50 to 1. Pay us, godamm it."

"Calm your little friend down."

THE CON

Things were spinning out of control. Dino spoke again, "Listen, we know all about you, too. We know all about Jorge Rohn. We know about your cartel connections. And before we came down today, we went to the LA Times and talked to a friend of mine who's a reporter. We told him about our tickets, we told him about Rohn. We told him about Winning Colors. We told him about winning our bets and we gave him a copy of our tickets. And if you guys don't pay us, you and your boss, Rohn, are going to be on the front page of every newspaper in LA tomorrow. They're going to know who he is, what you did to us, how you stole from us and it's not going to go away." 

El jefe seemed taken aback. "Give me a minute." He left the room.

After he left, Miami looked at Dino in total disbelief. "Where did that come from? That was brilliant, man."

He said, "I don't know, it just came to me. What do I have? I can't threaten him. But publicity? We're still gonna die, but it was a good idea."

Miami and Dino waited. Five minutes, ten minutes. Finally el jefe returned. "Come with me," he said.

They all marched back upstairs and at the counter, the teller proceeded to count out 250 thousand dollars. El jefe looked at them, gave a short nod and said, "We don't ever want to see you back here again."

Miami nodded back. "Agreed."

As they filled up the final backpack, Dino took out three hundred dollar bills and handed one to each of the guards before they walked down the hallway, the fighters trailing behind. Everyone got into their cars and booked it for the border.

THE FINISH LINE

As they got to the border, Dino looked right, Miami looked left, and were waved through on the Mexican side. At the US border they crossed without incident, and it was done. They'd just made 250 thousand dollars for a winning on Winning Colors at the Kentucky Derby.

By the time Miami arrived at Dino's house, they were too tired to celebrate. "I felt like we ran the Kentucky Derby ourselves," he said.

He gave Dino a hug and drove home. He climbed out of his car, walked inside, went straight to his bedroom and opened the backpacks. He spilled all the cash from their winnings onto his bed and called it a night.

Kentucky Derby 1988 Winner

"Seabiscuit" Meets "Narcos"

Mark Paul wrote about his and Dino's adventure in The Greatest Gambling Story Ever Told-A True Tale of Three Gamblers, the Kentucky Derby and the Mexican Cartel. When pitching it to film studios, he billed it as "Seasbiscuit" meets "Narcos." And there's a real possibility it may make it to the silver screen. Stay tuned.

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.