American Desperado

by Jon Roberts

“No.”

  “I know you like to spend money because you hang out here.”

  “Who says it’s my money?”

  “Whoever’s taking care of you must be loaded, because you got a smile worth a million dollars.”

  “Well, Donny Soffer takes care of me.”

  I knew Donny Soffer. He was a big-time developer in Miami who built Aventura.* He was one of the developers Danny Mones and I lent money to when he had problems with normal banks.

  I say, “That old fuck takes care of you? Why don’t you come on my boat tomorrow?”

  “Okay,” she says.

  “I’ll pick you up. Where do you live?”

  “The Charter Club.”

  “Get out of here,” I say. “I got a friend who lives in the Charter Club.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Why do you think my friend is a she?”

  “I’m pretty sure you have a she-friend who lives in the Charter Club, not a he-friend. But that doesn’t bother me. We’re adults.”

  I liked this girl’s attitude.

  In less than ten minutes I’d rinsed off the salt water, had a swim, and made a date. I had a nice lunch with the other girl, Lee Sweet, and got rid of her that afternoon.

  The next morning I took Betty out on my boat, and she gave me the fuck of my life. We saw each other like that for a couple of weeks. Even though she had Donny, Betty had hit that point where she wanted to get more serious.

  Betty invited me for dinner at her place in the Charter Club. She was preparing a nice veal piccata when I came in. I’m waiting for her to finish, and I decide to check my answering service. There’s an urgent message from Lee Sweet, who also lives in the Charter Club. I go into Betty’s bedroom and call Lee. She says, “I know you’re in the building.”

  Stupid me, I drove to the Charter in my gold Porsche. It’s a unique car, and the valet left it in front of the building. This is how Lee knows I’m here, and now she’s going crazy.

  I tell Betty I need to get something from my car, and I go up to the floor where Lee lives. Soon as I step in the door, Lee pulls my slacks off and starts sucking my cock. She tears off my shirt, my underwear, and I can’t stop her because, I’ll tell you the truth, nobody sucked a cock like Lee. I could not defend myself. She’s licking my legs, sucking on my toes, putting her tongue God knows where. This girl was insane the way she gave head. She says, “Stand over here. I know you like to look out the window and watch the boats while I finish sucking your cock.”

  She knew I had a thing where I liked to watch the boats on the water when I was coming. It was my weakness. She moves me to the balcony window, and boom, I explode, watching the boats glide past. Next, I see Lee throw my pants, my shirt, my underwear, and my saddle shoes out the window. The whole blow job has been a trick.

  “You’re not leaving until you tell me who that other girl is,” she says.

  “Let me wash up, and we’ll talk.” I go in the bathroom, grab a towel, and run out the door. There’s no reasoning with a girl when she goes crazy with jealousy. By now my appetite is really worked up for Betty’s veal piccata, and strange as it sounds, Lee’s blow job had me even hornier to fuck Betty. I’m thinking, One girl gives the greatest head, and the other is the best fuck. I’ll combine them in one night.

  I go to Betty’s floor and knock on her door. She opens it, sees my towel, and I say, “I decided to jump in the pool, and some asshole stole my clothes from the changing room.”

  Unfortunately, Betty is not stupid. “You saw your other girlfriend, didn’t you?”

  “Betty, it was only a blow job.”

  I can see in Betty’s face I’ve said the wrong thing. She says, “I’m going to shut the door now. Let’s have lunch tomorrow. But nothing’s happening tonight.”

  I get the message. I walk down to the elevator, and as I’m getting in, Lee Sweet comes bombing in. She’s stalked me.

  There’s other people in the elevator. A family with their grandma, taking her out to dinner. The fact I’m in a towel is not a problem. It’s Miami. I look like I came from the pool. But Lee starts laughing. She says, “What’s under the towel?”

  The other people in the elevator look at this crazy bitch and press against the wall. Lee tries to yank off my towel. I grab her hands, and she starts fighting me. “You motherfucker,” she says. “I want you to walk out of here bare-ass nude.”

  She gets a surge of crazy-bitch strength, breaks free from my grip, and pulls off my towel. I’m standing there, no clothes on, no shoes, nothing. The family in the elevator, they are freaked out. The mother turns her kids’ heads away. The grandma glares at me like this is my fault. I look at Lee and say, “You know what? Go fuck yourself.”

  The doors open, and I walk out bare-ass nude into the lobby. I go out the front doors. The valets all know me. They don’t say nothing. The main valet runs to my car and screeches it up in front of me. He gets out, holds the door for me, and I just say, “Obviously, I’ll tip you later.”

  I never saw crazy Lee Sweet again. I saw Betty, but it wasn’t the same. These were semiprofessional girls. They dated guys for money, but the reality is, even whores have feelings. The truth is, whores have hearts the same as so-called regular women. That was one experience that made me consider trying to give domestic life with Phyllis another shot. I could have been arrested walking through the lobby with no clothes on. That’s one risk I could not take. I needed to settle down.

  * Lee Sweet is a pseudonym to protect the identity of Jon’s lady friend.

  * “Donald Soffer’s ingenious plan to transform a mosquito-infested swamp in North Dade County, Florida, into an upscale, planned community began more than 50 years ago when he purchased a 785-acre tract of marshland and sketched his vision on a cocktail napkin. Today, that parcel of land stands in the heart of the City of Aventura, one of Florida’s most prestigious addresses.” From a Turnberry Associates corporate profile posted in 2011. Despite Jon’s assertions of having provided investment money to Donald Soffer, he has offered no paperwork to support the claims.

  † The Charter Club, built in 1973, is a twenty-three-story tower at 600 N.E. 36th Street in Miami.

  ‡ Betty Collins is a pseudonym for Jon’s friend, who at the time he met her was a featured nude model in a popular gentlemen’s magazine.

  Before Jon was a cocaine cowboy, his mother took this photo (1956) when he was a child obsessed with conventional cowboys. Jon later changed his name to Jon Pernell Roberts after Pernell Roberts, star of Bonanza.

  JON ROBERTS

  Jon’s mother, Edie, was cursed with a beauty that seemed to attract only bad men. JON ROBERTS

  Jon (third from left) at a 1973 wedding in New York. It was his last wiseguy party before he fled to Miami. PETER GALLIONE

  Jon with his common-law wife, Phyllis LaTorre Corso, whose colorful family background made her the perfect mate—and a formidable enemy.

  JON ROBERTS

  Albert San Pedro saw himself as a Cuban Al Capone. He was one of Jon’s earliest Miami coke connections and allegedly helped Jon plan the murder of Meyer Lansky’s stepson in 1977.

  LOURDES VALDEZ

  Max Mermelstein was the top American in the Medellín Cartel when Jon became his partner. Max’s deal to supply car magnate John DeLorean with cocaine proved to be his undoing. JON ROBERTS

  Rafa Cardona-Salazar was Pablo Escobar’s top lieutenant, famous for his coke-fueled rages and who worked with Jon in Miami. JON ROBERTS

  Mickey Munday, Jon’s smuggling partner, was a technical wizard who didn’t swear or take drugs. JON ROBERTS

  Rafa Cardona-Salazar, Mickey Munday, Rafa’s wife, Odelia, a bodyguard named El Negro, and Max Mermelstein clowning around as old-fashioned gangsters at a county fair photo booth. SHARK BLUE

  Fabito Ochoa, whose father ran the Medellín Cartel, recruited Jon to serve as the Cartel’s “American representative.” JON ROBERTS

  Don Ochoa, the Godfather of the Medellín Cartel, would entertain
Jon in Colombia by showing off his skills as a Paso Fino rider.

  JON ROBERTS

  Jon called Henry Borelli his brother-in-law even after Borelli tried murdering him in 1979. Borelli is in prison for his role in the “Murder Machine” gang. SHARK BLUE

  Jon’s loyal and murderous bodyguard Bryan Carrera moonlit as the popular professional wrestler named The Thing.

  JON ROBERTS

  Griselda Blanco’s gang murdered as many as one hundred people while moving thousands of kilos of cocaine. Jon helped her hide out when the Cartel turned on her. JON ROBERTS

  When Jon owned Mephisto Stables, many of his horses made it to the winner’s circle, as Best Game did at Tampa Bay Downs in 1982. JON ROBERTS

  Meyer Lansky, the legendary Jewish gangster, whom Jon met with in 1977 to obtain permission to murder his stepson.

  SHARK BLUE

  Jon’s longtime girlfriend Toni Moon was the poster girl for the Ryan O’Neal movie So Fine. Jon and Toni later reenacted the photo with Jon in the place of O’Neal.

  BILLY CORBEN

  Jon’s mugshot taken after his arrest in the 1986 cocaine bust that unravelled his empire. JON ROBERTS

  The only known published photo of Enrique “Ricky” Prado, whom Jon knew as an underworld enforcer but who later became a highly decorated CIA officer. MIKE FISTEN

  Barry Seal was a former commercial airline pilot hired by Jon to fly cocaine and later weapons. When he turned snitch, Jon helped the Cartel murder him.

  MDPD FILE

  Detective Mike Fisten, a lead investigator on the organized-crime squad, tracked Jon in the mid-1980s, when Jon was known to the police only as the “Bearded Gringo.”

  MIKE FISTEN

  Jon enjoying his pool at his home in Hollywood, Florida.

  EVAN WRIGHT

  Jon walking his beloved dogs Sassy and Shooter near his Hollywood, Florida, home.

  EVAN WRIGHT

  Jon’s wife, Noemi, shortly after they met in 2003. JON ROBERTS

  Jon with his son, Julian, and his sister, Judy. JON ROBERTS

  Jon receiving a birthday gift from his son, Julian.

  EVAN WRIGHT

  37

  J.R.: When my sister finally came down to visit, I told her I’d gone from my dog-training business into real estate, where I’d gotten lucky on some investments. Thanks to Danny Mones, this was partway true. We had an actual office* and I barely spent any time involved in moving coke. To my sister, it looked like I was in a new world.

  By then she was head of personnel at a large company in New York, and she was as straight as could be. She was very happy for my seeming success as an investor.

  My sister was worried about our grandfather, Poppy. Our grandmother had passed away, and Poppy was alone in Teaneck. I decided to bring him to Miami. I got him a place in South Beach, which was where all the old people lived back then. After I got him set up, I’d take Poppy out in my boat and we’d fish. When he got too weak for the boat, I moved him to an apartment by a bridge where old people could stand and drop their fishing lines in the water. Later I moved Poppy to an assisted-living apartment. He even found an old broad who used to come by and hustle him—bake him pies and cook him dinner—because she figured he must have money from the way I helped him live.

  JUDY: Poppy was very proud. Jon put him into a place that was way more than Poppy could afford on his Social Security. Jon told the landlord to lie about the rent to Poppy, and he secretly paid the difference. When Jon took Poppy shopping for clothes, he would tell the man in the store, “Don’t tell my grandfather what the price really is.” It was very touching to see Jon and Poppy together.

  J.R.: What I did when I got Poppy down in Miami was, I used his apartments as stash houses for the coke I was getting from Albert. Who would ever think an old geezer in an assisted-living home was holding twenty keys of coke? I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy seeing the old guy, but he served a purpose, too.

  The other person from the past that came back into my life was my old Outcast friend Petey. Around the time I fled New York, he’d gone down on a drug charge that got him locked up for a couple years. When I heard he got out, I invited him down.

  PETEY: I was happy to see Jon. I heard he was dead, but there he was. His life in Miami was beyond anything I would have imagined. He had six servants. He lived in a beautiful house, but it wasn’t that big. Six servants, Jon? I had to laugh.

  I had gone straight. My last year in prison I had joined a drug program to fake out the parole board, but after a while the things they said on the program started to make sense. When I visited Jon I was trying to clean up my life, and I wanted to tell him about it. I wanted him to know he was still my brother, even though I was leaving our world behind.

  J.R.: Petey had got religion. He kept me up one night telling me we’d been living in hell our whole lives and he was getting out. He wanted me to join him. No thanks.

  But I understood. He didn’t want to be a bad guy anymore. He was trying to walk away from the evil side.

  I left him alone one day, and when I came back, Petey had his face buried in a pile of coke. He’d broken into my party stash and snorted it like a pig. Being in my house, unfortunately, made him feel safe to go back to his old ways.

  PETEY: The last time I ever got high was on Jon’s coke. When I relapsed, Jon told me not to worry, he’d take care of me. I had another friend who offered me a job managing a porno bookstore in Miami. But something inside said, Leave. I could see Jon was going far with his cocaine schemes. But I was done. I checked into a rehab in Jersey and started walking in a new direction. My heart is with people from the street. Where I got my happiness after I cleaned up was working with guys in prison and helping any who wanted to escape from hell like I did.*

  J.R.: Normally, I don’t trust people who go into the straight world, but I was proud when Petey left my house to get clean. I’m happy for him that he was able to leave my world.

  THE LIE I told my sister about being in a totally legit line of work almost seemed true. Cocaine had elevated me above the streets. I did business in exclusive clubs. My lawyer was probably more valuable to me than a gun. But as straight as my life seemed, my existence had fewer limits than ever. I went to extremes to amuse myself.

  When I look back on what happened with Princess the cat, I have to admit what I did was slightly insane. Princess was my cat. I always liked cats. There’s people that say they’re “dog people” or “cat people,” but I don’t agree you to have to choose one way. A dog is more able physically and mentally to do things with you, but cats have a lot of heart for their size. The way they stalk and hunt shows they have sharp minds. I respect cats as much as I respect dogs.

  My yard on Bay Drive was a hangout for stray cats. The vacant lot next door, where I buried my cans of money, was where they played and hunted. Of all the cats there, a calico female rose to the top. She would come into my house and didn’t have any fear with my dogs. They were killers, but this little sassy bitch walked among them. I named her Princess.

  One day I found Princess hiding in the corner. She must have been out hunting or fighting another cat, and she got a stick in her eye. She wasn’t complaining, but when she looked at me with that one good eye, it broke my heart.

  I put her in my Porsche and drove 120 miles an hour to get her to the vet. Her vital signs were stable, but the vet could not fix her little eye. He turned me on to a lady vet who was a specialist. She couldn’t save the eye, but she stitched it closed, and Princess had a full recovery. Within days she was running around like she still had two eyes.

  Not a month later Princess disappeared. I got very uptight. I searched up and down the street to see if she’d been squished by a car. But no Princess. I had Albert’s enforcer, Rubio, come over, and we went down the block banging on doors, asking people if they’d seen Princess. The last house we knocked on had a nosy broad living in it. She and her husband used to stand in their yard looking at me when I drove past. I always had a bad f
eeling about them. They claimed they were very successful wine merchants, and they looked down on everybody.

  When this broad opened her door, she told me she didn’t know anything about a cat with one eye. No sooner did she speak than Princess ran out from under her legs. I picked up my cat and said, “Thank you very much, you lying snob.”

  I went straight to Albert. I said, “Albert, I got these people on my street. I want you to burn their fucking house out of my life.”

  Albert said, “You want to buy the property? Is it a good investment?”

  I explained to Albert that I wanted their house burned because they stole my cat.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind, man?”

  “Albert, I want those thieves out of that house. I don’t ever ask you favors, do I?”

  Albert waited until my neighbors went out to dinner one night, and he burned their house down. Albert kept his word, and Princess was safe from being kidnapped by my wacko neighbors.

  I admit when I saw the smoked-out house a week later, even I thought maybe that was a little extreme.

  I was moving from the neighborhood anyway.

  PHYLLIS WAS on the warpath about finding a home for us. After my experience being chased naked from the Charter Club by that madwoman, I was open to the idea of settling down.

  Phyllis teamed up with Danny Mones to find a house. Danny lived over on La Gorce Island* in a wild house where he made a dome over the bedroom that he’d painted like the Sistine Chapel, but with angels that looked like Playboy Bunnies. Phyllis had more respect for his financial advice than for his taste in painted angels.