In 2021, Netflix released the six-part miniseries Cocaine Cowboys. The episodes detailed the lives of Cuban emigrants Willy Falcon and Sal Magluta who, while living in the pastel-colored, open-collared fantasy world of Miami Vice, became two of history’s most prolific cocaine traffickers, bringing in thousands of tons from Colombia to the United States by way of ships, planes, and trucks.
T.J. English, author of The Last Kilo: Willy Falcon and the Cocaine Empire That Seduced America, was not impressed. In a potshot toward the end of his latest book, he sneers at Netflix’s “mostly . . . calcified reporting” that “trafficked [heh] in cocaine-era tropes and stereotypes that had become standardized almost to the point of cliché.”
A full three years after Netflix’s unworthy attempt, English takes up the very same subject — a pair of very boring, pretty stupid sellers of illegal drugs — to show the world how it’s done.
I haven’t seen the Netflix series, so English’s critique may be well founded, though one has to ask whether there is much more to expect from narco-true-crime television than eye candy about nose candy. But given English’s loftier hopes for media treatment of this stimulant, imagine my surprise that he nevertheless relied on Cocaine Cowboys as his source for at least two interviews, “calcified reporting” and all.
I am beginning to see overlong introductions to modern nonfiction as unnecessary, if not annoying. They often depart tangentially from the book’s subject in a manner that pads the volume and strokes the author’s ego. Like it or not, the Last Kilo reader will be treated to English’s philosophy on reporting on these couple of narco idiots.
In plain English, it can be described as “interview plus.” There is much grandstanding about how “[i]t is time that this story be told from the point of view of those who lived it,” rather than the “snitches” who “cooperated with the government.” This means that Falcon and Magluta talk to the author and the author scratches it down, thanks the narco idiots for their time and wisdom, and prints their babble in a widely distributed book.
Well, just Falcon. Magluta, who has the rare distinction of being even dumber than Falcon, is still in federal prison. (According to English, “criminals [who] are buried away in prison” cannot be interviewed “unless it is . . . beneficial to the government.” This must have been a relief to the author although Richard Behar’s recent Madoff: The Final Word, in which Behar interviewed Madoff in prison several times with no apparent “benefi[t] to the government,” calls this into question.) And the omission of Magluta had the effect one would expect, as, for example, Falcon self-servingly swore that he wanted to “retire” from drug trafficking when the silent Magluta wanted to continue.
Government informants provide invaluable information. Criminal organizations tend to be populated with criminals. The best information about the operation of these organizations comes, therefore, from criminals. This principle deserves to live in perpetuity alongside Franklin’s line about death and taxes.
English’s substitute disappoints. The Last Kilo is loaded with entire conversations between Falcon, Magluta, and others that took place three to four decades ago and were presumably relayed to English by Falcon. The conspirators were mostly Cuban, Colombian, and Mexican, so they probably spoke in Spanish. But the quotations provided in the book are in English. All of the characters sound the same, and their words are over the top. Mine eyes can only roll so much.
With his credibility reeling from quotes of dubious authenticity, English continues with wild missteps. He describes Janet Reno as the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of Florida, and adds some color, calling her “a local legend, the only woman U.S. attorney in the country.” There is just one problem: Janet Reno was never a U.S. Attorney anywhere. Bizarrely, English writes that Reno hired one Falcon-Magluta federal prosecutor for his internship. The notes reflect that English interviewed that prosecutor for the book. Since no prosecutor could make that error, English seems neither to have had his manuscript fact-checked nor to have run his draft by his sources.
English paints as “highly anecdotal” and “totally without scientific or biological merit” the concept that children experience withdrawal symptoms from substances used by their mothers during pregnancy. The term “crack babies” is unkind, but it was a heuristic for a problem that is real — and a problem that caused a very real fear in the 1980s in the United States. Prenatal substance exposure has been shown to lead to devastating long-term consequences, including delays in learning, language skills, and development, as well as difficulties with behavioral and emotional regulation. English’s determination to screen his readers from the provenance of the term is outrageous. It leaves no doubt as to who he thinks the good guys are.
This latter shortcoming is of a piece with an obsession with romanticizing a years-long course of conduct that had a ruinous effect on poor neighborhoods in the United States. Black communities, fed up with catastrophe wrought by the crack epidemic, demanded change. As Michael Javen Fortner aptly illustrated in Black Silent Majority, they contributed directly to state and federal laws that drastically increased punishments for drug possession and distribution. Now, the perverse concept inanely called “harm reduction” demands that society abet mental illness, homelessness, and addiction on public streets. The quiet, law-abiding citizens are always the losers in these stories.
On the cover of this book is a powerboat. Falcon and Magluta, like many blockheads who cannot resist loud and fast things, raced boats. Their races, for some reason, were meticulously cataloged in The Last Kilo, an apparent exception to English’s prejudice against “cocaine-era tropes and stereotypes.” The Last Kilo is no more serious than Falcon and Magluta’s delusional, self-aggrandizing rationalization that selling cocaine would help them take down Fidel Castro.