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HREF="http://www.killingpablo.com/content/killingpablo/philly/1047327531.htm">
Killing Pablo</A>
-----
Escobar's escape opens a door for the Americans

By Mark Bowden
INQUIRER STAFF WRITER

Morris D. Busby was eager to make an example of Escobar. (Akira Suwa /
Inquirer)
PHOTO GALLERIES
Morris D. Busby, the U.S. ambassador to Colombia, was awakened by two phone
calls early Wednesday, July 22, 1992, at a house in Chevy Chase, Md., where
he and his wife were staying with friends.

The first call was to inform him that Colombian President Cesar Gaviria had
finally decided to move the drug outlaw Pablo Escobar to a new prison,
something Busby had been urging for more than a year. Shortly after that call
came another, telling him that Escobar had somehow escaped through an entire
brigade of the Colombian army.

The ambassador had spent too much time in Colombia to be surprised. He cut
his vacation short and, within hours, flew back to Bogota.

Busby believed this bad turn of events for Colombia might be just the break
he needed. Ever since he had been assigned to the embassy in Bogota the
previous year, handpicked for the assignment in large part because it had
become so dangerous, Busby had been eager to make an example of Escobar, but
was frustrated by the drug boss' deal with the government.

The most notorious drug trafficker in the world had been perched on a
spectacular Andes mountaintop, running his cocaine business surrounded and
protected by the Colombian army. Current estimates were that 70 to 80 tons of
cocaine were being shipped from Colombia to the United States every month,
and Escobar controlled the bulk of it.

Inside his custom prison, Escobar lived like a sultan. There were parties
with gourmet food and booze, beauty queens and whores. There were drugs,
water beds and elaborate sound systems. Escobar ran his narcotics empire by
phone. He ordered the murders of anyone who crossed him - including four of
Escobar's onetime associates who were tortured and killed inside prison walls
- according to one account, hung upside down and bled like steers.

At the presidential palace in Bogota the day of Escobar's escape, Busby found
President Gaviria pacing in his office with fury. Gaviria had been up all
night receiving one outrageous report after another: No assault had been made
on the prison during daylight, despite Gaviria's orders. His vice minister of
justice and his Bureau of Prisons chief had gone in themselves without
authorization to talk with Escobar, and both had been taken hostage. And,
finally, the worst of all scenarios had played out: Escobar had vanished.

It had taken more than two years, hundreds of lives, and hundreds of millions
of dollars - much of it from U.S. covert funds - to hound the murderous drug
billionaire into his surrender. Now, in one night, it had all come undone.

Waiting with Busby through the president's lamentations were Joe Toft, the
flinty Drug Enforcement Administration office chief, and Bill Wagner, the
"political secretary" who was in fact Bogota's CIA station chief.

"An entire brigade!" Gaviria shouted in amazement. "And the general allows
two officials inside the prison to talk to him! For what? To notify him that
he was going to be taken? What did he expect would happen? Such a stupid
thing! I mean, such a stupid thing!"

Gaviria was fed up. For many long months, he had resisted the entreaties of
the U.S. government. He had tried to control Escobar on his own. Now
everything had changed. The time had come, he had decided, to call in the
Americans.



The agreement that had landed Escobar in his prison suite at La Cathedral the
year before was a masterpiece of duplicity. A man with the blood of thousands
on his hands was allowed to plead guilty to having introduced his cousin to a
man who had arranged a single drug shipment overseas. Escobar was to serve a
prison term and emerge a free man, all sins forgiven.

The length of the term was undetermined because prosecutors were allowed to
add new charges if they obtained evidence of further crimes - not likely, for
witnesses against Escobar typically were either bribed or murdered. In
return, the government agreed not to extradite Escobar to the United States.

Everyone knew La Cathedral was no prison. Escobar had paid to have it built
on the site of one of his favorite resort hideaways near Medellin. His fellow
prisoners were his cronies. He exercised a commanding influence over the
local government of Envigado, where it was built, and Medellin, the booming
northern city that was the base of his drug empire. In its eagerness to
strike a deal with Escobar, Bogota had ceded virtually all authority for the
"prison" to these locals.

La Cathedral was legally a state within a state. The national police, who had
lost hundreds of officers to Escobar's assassins, were forbidden to come
within 12 miles of the prison. Concerned that American Special Forces or CIA
agents might descend from helicopters, Escobar asked the provincial
government to close the air space over the jail, which it did. Army guards
fired on any aircraft that encroached.

Escobar's surrender in 1991 had allowed Gaviria to claim a political victory.
Not only was the drug boss behind bars, at least technically, but the long
and bloody bombing campaign directed by Escobar and his fellow narcos had
been halted. Thousands of Colombians had died. Millions lived in terror. The
country was exhausted by violence.

But now, a year later, Gaviria had decided to move Escobar to an actual
prison on a military base in Bogota, a two-hour flight from Escobar's power
base in Medellin. The president was embarrassed by newspaper exposes of
Escobar's lavish life behind bars. And he was under pressure from the
Americans, who had covertly pumped millions of dollars into the Colombian
police pursuit of Escobar that had helped compel his "surrender."



At the presidential palace in Bogota, in front of the American ambassador and
his top staff, Gaviria vented his frustration about Escobar's escape and the
army's failure to stop him.

"Such a stupid thing!" he said.

The president was exasperated. He had been living with the threat of Pablo
Escobar for years. During his entire campaign for president in 1989, he had
expected to be killed by the drug boss. Escobar had tried several times to
kill him. Gaviria had taken the place of front-running presidential candidate
Luis Galan - Gaviria's good friend - after he was assassinated by Escobar's
hit men.

Once he was elected, Gaviria's fondest hope was for the Escobar problem to
just go away, at least for a while. Colombia was rewriting its constitution,
an enormously important and historic task that could establish a stable and
peaceful undergirding for the nation for the first time since civil war, La
Violencia, had erupted more than 50 years before.

The last thing Gaviria needed was for Escobar to be running loose again,
setting off his truck and car bombs and unleashing his sicarios, or hired
assassins. Ever the pragmatist, the president put aside whatever anger he
felt toward the murderous drug boss and struck the deal that had sent Escobar
to prison. That Escobar had been able to simply vanish from it now confirmed
all of the worst international assumptions about the country. It made
Colombia look like a narcocracy.

The scene at La Cathedral remained chaotic. One soldier had been killed in
the raid. Two Bureau of Prisons guards had been wounded. Five of Escobar's
henchmen had been captured, but nine had walked out with him.

Gaviria feared the Americans would assume that Escobar had gotten his way
again because all Colombians were corrupt. It was hard for outsiders to
understand, he believed; they did not feel the full aura of menace around
this man. The Americans came and went. They served their two- or three-year
stints in Bogota, living behind high, well-patrolled walls, and then returned
home.

For Colombians, the menace of Pablo Escobar and the other narco killers was
constant. Between January and May of 1991 alone, Pablo's sicarios killed four
hundred police in Medellin. He killed journalists, judges, politicians. Power
was no protection; it just made you a more likely target.

Now Gaviria was sure of one thing: This escape was Escobar's last. There
would be no more investigations, negotiations, trials or imprisonments. He
did not expect Escobar to be taken alive again.

The president paced the room furiously as he spoke.

Busby was used to the president's temper. He admired Gaviria's courage,
campaigning for president in defiance of Escobar's threats, but he did not
find Gaviria a charismatic man. There was little about Gaviria that seemed
presidential, Busby believed, even though he was almost classically handsome,
with his dark hair and strong chin.

Both Busby and Wagner, the CIA man, saw Gaviria and the others in his
administration as pleasant, well-educated, idealistic and hopelessly naive in
their polite upper-middle-class ways. They hadn't stood a chance bargaining
with a tough, streetwise gangster like Escobar. Even so, Busby believed that
Gaviria, if frustrated and angry enough, was capable of turning cold and
calculating. If they were going to get Escobar, they would need a president
like that.

Busby knew this opportunity wouldn't last, and he was determined to make the
most of it. It was the kind of task he was cut out for.

He was originally a military man, joining the Navy after graduating from
college. Busby had served with a Navy Special Forces unit that predated the
Seals, but he was often described as a "former Seal," a mistake he was always
quick to correct but which nevertheless added to his mystique.

Busby did have close connections with American Special Forces, but they
stemmed less from his military service than his years as ambassador-at-large
for counterterrorism in the State Department, a job that involved
coordinating American diplomatic and covert military action throughout the
world.

He was a military man who had adopted diplomacy as a second career. That made
him a new kind of diplomat.

As the Cold War world collapsed, America's enemies became drugs and thugs.
Diplomats in previously unimportant parts of the world found themselves at
the cutting edge of U.S. foreign relations. In certain hot-spot nations,
ambassadors now functioned as field commanders, orchestrating law
enforcement, military and diplomatic efforts, both covertly and in
cooperation with host governments.

In that respect, Busby seemed made for the job in Colombia. To Colombians, he
looked like Uncle Sam himself, minus the white goatee. He was tall, lean and
tan, with graying sandy hair and the powerful arms and hands of a man who was
a skilled carpenter and who loved to sail the waters of the Chesapeake Bay.

There was something about Busby that responded to the moral simplicity of
confrontation. He was an American patriot, a true believer, and few
circumstances in his career were more clear-cut than the challenge posed by
Pablo Escobar, a man he considered a monster.

Now, as he listened to Gaviria, he knew the time for action had arrived.

There had always been restrictions on what American military forces were
allowed to do in Colombia. But now, insulted and embarrassed, Gaviria said
that as far as he was concerned, the door was wide open. Despite Colombian
constitutional barriers and widespread public opposition to foreign troops on
their soil, especially American troops, Gaviria said he would welcome any and
all help they could give to find Escobar.

"This is critical, please," he told the ambassador. "Help us get this guy as
soon as possible."


------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mark Bowden's e-mail address is [EMAIL PROTECTED]


------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tomorrow: A top-secret electronic tracking unit rejoins the hunt.
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