Methamphetamine, although a totally different drug, produces many of the same psychological and physiological effects on the body as cocaine. And it doesn’t come from the coca plant, but rather, is made from precursor chemicals. The Mexican drug cartels were soon producing meth or “crank” by the truckload from cheap, easy to come by chemicals they “cooked” just south of the U.S. border in Mexico.
Using already established cocaine distribution routes and safe houses in the U.S., they simply flooded the U.S. market with cheap meth. The Mexican drug cartels had adapted, and as a result, they became increasingly organized, wealthy and powerful.
As their power grew, the Mexican cartels took over the meth market so quickly, ruthlessly and efficiently, that the biker gangs could do nothing about the loss of their business. American drug dealers producing crank found it much more difficult and costly to obtain meth precursor chemicals, and in the end, they just could not compete. One more American industry moved south to Mexico, due to economic pressure. Mexican and hybrid gangs flourished as a result.
Adding to law enforcement’s already huge drug enforcement problem, was the fact that the Mexican cartels had developed influence and power through decades of cultivating corruption at all levels of government in Mexico and the United States. The cartels were well connected, well-armed by the Mexican Army, and protected by elected officials and law enforcement on their payroll in both Mexico and the U.S.
Mexican cartels also proved more ruthless than the Colombian cartels. They commanded well-deserved fear on both sides of the U.S. border. Mexican cartel drug murders were legendary, and local law enforcement seemed powerless to stop the terror from spreading. Inevitably, the terror also spread to the U.S. side of the border, and then marched inland.
U.S. law enforcement soon figured out that the Mexican cartels were here to stay. The cartels’ corruption of U.S officials and law enforcement tracked with cartel movements within the U.S., beginning with the Border Patrol and pushing inward toward the heartland. As cartel profits increased, influence followed, and a growing number of politicians and officials were added to the cartel payroll.
And then, as heroin use increased rapidly in the late 90’s, that additional revenue source vastly increased cartel profits, and further exacerbated the situation for American law enforcement. Politicians around the country took notice of the vast amount of money controlled by the cartels...and available to them…at an arm’s length of course.
And as Americans grew more addicted to prescription drugs, prescription opioids became increasingly difficult to obtain, as law enforcement focused on yet another addictive source. When demand exceeded supply, Mexican drug cartels offered up cheap heroin and opioids as readily available alternatives, and demand spread like a wildland fire through a windy American prairie.
By the time Shane had taken this case, the Mexican cartels were also controlling the expanding methamphetamine, heroin and opioid trade and most of the illegal marijuana trade. They laundered their illegitimate money through legitimate businesses spread out along the U.S. interstate highway ‘trade routes’ they had used to smuggle drugs for decades.
And as cartel influence in the United States grew, violent gangs like MS 13 flourished and became powerful beyond most Americans’ comprehension. Addictions, overdoses and deaths among drug abusers skyrocketed, keeping pace with the growing numbers of illegals crossing the southern border, and accelerating violence from cartels and organized gangs. While America slumbered, and its citizens became more politically correct, crime syndicates like The Magadinno Family Crime Syndicate, took advantage of the lack of security, and became politically and criminally entrenched in all 50 states.
As time marched on, cartels invested heavily in corrupting local, state and federal U.S. politicians and law enforcement officials when they could, to protect their empires and wealthy bosses, who ran cartel business north of the border. Corruption was run like a well-managed business. Soon anyone who wanted to sell their drugs had to do business with the Mexican cartels or gangs like “MS 13, whose motto was, “kill, rape and control.”
And anyone who wanted to succeed in politics was a target of control for this new underworld. Within half a century many members of the American political elite were partying with millionaire cartel bosses, just as they had with the Hollywood elite, the voracious wolves of Wall Street, big bank CEOs, arms dealers supplying third world war lords, and infamous, rapacious dictators, in the past.
After decades of fighting drug abuse and paying for the treatment of millions of offenders, American citizens had grown weary of fighting the War on Drugs. Activists in all states began to organize and push to decriminalize drugs, beginning with marijuana. And as marijuana was legalized in state after state, the growing number of ethnic minority drug dealers in prison became an issue for the first ethnic minority U.S. President, who began pushing for early prison releases for those imprisoned on drug charges. Those released who returned to crime poured more fuel a growing blaze.
The aggravating problem American families faced alone, was that both meth and heroin were highly addictive. And Shane understood this only too well. Shane’s own younger brother Heath had used crank for years, first socially, then as an addict, and finally as an addict in complete denial. Heath’s addiction had cost him his successful landscape architect business in southern California, his freedom, and finally his wife and twin daughters.
Shane knew how an addict’s family becomes disposable, replaced by meth buddies craving the drug. Heath’s “party” friends had quickly taken priority over his real friends and family, as Heath grew more dependent on drugs. And, as the dependence grew, and he became less committed to his responsibilities, Heath’s lucrative landscape business and real friends began to slip away. When his business left, and the money dried up, all of Heath’s “druggy” friends also vanished. Heath sold meth to make up the loss.
As for Shane, he had discovered Heath’s crank problems too late to intervene and help prevent his brother from going to prison. Heath was eventually convicted and sentenced for sales of meth and sent to a federal prison in California.
Shane had not seen his brother regularly, at other than prison visitations during the holidays, for nearly three years. As he now sat watching the rain and flickering shadows during the surveillance, Shane thought how he hated the pain and misery these lethally addictive hard drugs inflicted on their victims and their families. And he hated the monsters who dealt these drugs, spreading death and suffering, with no remorse.
Heath’s wife had tried to be supportive for the first year after he was sentenced to prison. But eventually she met another man, divorced Heath and remarried. She moved on with her new life. After his release from prison, Heath rarely had the opportunity to spend time with his young daughters. And when he did, he was too embarrassed to play the loving, remorseful dad.
Shane sat in the driver’s seat thinking about his beloved little brother. Heath’s story was common in the drug world. It was sadly repeated over and over…a good life thrown away chasing the elusive methamphetamine high at all costs. No one was left to care for Heath except Shane, who had visited Heath in prison, sent him care packages, supported him financially, and finally helped him obtain parole.
After his release, Shane paid for Heath’s apartment while he got established in his new life. A few months after Heath’s parole, Shane convinced a friend with a brother in the landscape business to make a pitch to hire Heath as a laborer. Almost immediately, Heath’s new boss recognized his talent, and eventually took him on as a full partner. Heath began to reclaim his life, one sober day at a time.
Heath had learned the hard way to hate the world of meth, and all the pain and misery it held. Now he could often be found at the gym or jogging on the beach, if he wasn’t working. When Shane last saw Heath, he could see that Heath had lost the “crank” look. Heath had regained his muscle tone and his youthful good looks. And although Heath knew his struggle in the years ahead would
prove challenging, he also knew he was well on his way to recovering his appearance, a healthy attitude for life…and most of all, hope.
After the demise of the cocaine trade, Franky Magadinno recognized the future in methamphetamine, and brought in Hector Alvarez as a liaison between the Magadinno Family and the Mexican drug cartels that controlled the meth supply to Nevada. Hector had been the trusted adjutant to a cartel lieutenant Franky knew from years of “working vacations” spent in Mexico.
Franky had been wined and dined by the Gulf and Sonora drug cartels and had developed relationships with both while in Mexico. It was in Cancun he first met Hector, a young, well-educated, handsome, gregarious, problem solver who “fixed” everything during Franky’s Mexico visits. Each time Franky arrived for another “meeting,” Hector was waiting as his facilitator to “recreation” and negotiations with both cartels. It was as if Hector’s position had been created just for Franky, the man who could move mountains of dope into the U.S.
Franky never had to go through Mexican customs, was always treated royally during his stay in Mexico, and never paid for anything on his “vacations.” The truth was that the cartels wanted Franky to distribute their product as much as Franky wanted their product to sell, and they were competing for his loyalties. Franky was protected, connected and established within his U.S. marketplace, and the cartels could walk their product into the Nevada, Lake Tahoe, and Sacramento marketplace with no risk to them as they expanded their marketplace.
There was an astronomical amount of money to be made with very little risk for anyone. It promised to be the perfect marriage of crime families at a time when warring cartels had ravaged each other south of the border. And Franky had played a hand in those wars and was feared as much as he was needed. With Franky on board, all that was required for continuing cartel success in the States were a few well connected law enforcement and political figures who could be owned by the cartels…and they were not hard to find. Franky had courted them for more than a decade in other ventures and was already well established in influence peddling.
Hector had quickly become Franky’s favorite contact in Mexico and the feeling seemed mutual. While his father had reportedly worked for a cartel in the past, Hector had connections and trust in both of the competing cartels and managed an uneasy truce between them. Hector visited Franky on many occasions over the years. He seemed to love life in the States and jumped at any chance to stay in the U.S. with Franky, and work in the business north of the border.
Franky arranged for all of Hector’s visa paperwork through his attorney, while his “pocket politicians” expedited the process. When Hector arrived in the U.S., he did so under the guise of being employed as an “engineering consultant,” allegedly to work on a government contract secured by one of Franky’s businesses, a concrete and concrete products company.
In the past, this company, Silver State Concrete Products, LLC, had bid on a lucrative contract to supply cement and concrete work for the Yucca Mountain radioactive dump and storage site. This controversial site was the Department of Energy’s proposed radioactive waste storage site near Nellis Air Force Base, and had been placed inside the Nevada Test Site near Beatty, Nevada. More importantly, it was close to one of Franky’s cement plants. “Probably just coincidence,” Shane thought, sarcastically.
There had been large-scale organized public opposition to the site selection, due to volcanic activity, fault lines, earthquake activity and ground water problems at the site. There had also been a great deal of competition for the contract, which was likely to make the winner very wealthy, if he wasn’t wealthy already.
But as usual, the public outcry was subdued by the lapse of time and mounting reams of costly government study, paperwork, bureaucracy and legalese. Finally, the public outcry diminished to the point that just a few people noticed that the contract was ready to be awarded, and by that time, Franky’s competition was down to one well known out-of-state bidder, Northern California Concrete Corp., owned by wealthy businessman, Harold O’Leary, and his father, Walter O’Leary.
Suddenly, with just days to go during the final period of revised plans and re-bidding, Harold O’Leary and his assistant vanished with no explanation. The Department of Energy, through the FBI, conducted an inquiry over the disappearance, and local law enforcement opened a missing person’s case, but there was no obvious evidence of foul play, and the case soon grew cold.
The FBI investigation concluded that, after leaving the test site prior to submitting their final bid, O’Leary and his assistant just disappeared. They were never found. The case was placed in the inactive file more quickly that it should have been. There was nothing tying the disappearance to Franky, and soon a senior U.S. Senator from Nevada was pushing for a resolution “to promote jobs for his constituents.” The huge contract was awarded to Franky’s company. As usual, Franky was the last man standing and the financial winner.
The Senator received his reward a short time later in the form of a Lake Tahoe home, quietly transferred from one of Franky’s LLCs to a holding company owned by the Senator’s closest friend. Just as quietly, the home was transferred to the Senator some nine years later.
The lead FBI special agent on the O’Leary case retired, with a very large and very secret cash bonus, and the file was turned over to a relatively unknown junior agent, named Mark Roberts, who had recently been promoted and transferred to Reno, Nevada. It was to be Roberts’ first big case, one he would never solve, and one he could never forget. Roberts always suspected Magadinno and believed he had received protection from high up in the bureau…but he could prove nothing. It was the first in the series of disappearances and murders Mark believed were connected, that would, collectively, torture him during his career.
Franky Magadinno, the Don who ran the Magadinno Crime Family Syndicate, did so with an iron fist. He brought Hector up in the organization as fast as possible. When Franky’s oldest daughter, Anna, started seeing Hector, she did so with Franky’s complete blessing. He knew the union would provide him even more control and loyalty.
Shortly after Anna’s old college sweetheart returned from some graduate work the following summer, and surprised Anna with a visit, the young man found himself in a Sacramento hospital recovering from injuries sustained in a hit-and-run traffic accident.
After a small payoff, combined with a large threat, the young suiter never called Anna again. More importantly he never called the police. The rumor was that the young student had jumped at an opportunity for graduate study abroad in Europe after he had been awarded a scholarship by an anonymous donor. He was anxious to travel and study far from Nevada, and far from Anna.
Whether the plan was arranged by Franky or by Hector made no difference to Shane. They were both cut from the same cloth, he thought, and they both appreciated the result. Always the opportunist, Franky saw dollar signs and security, with both Hector and Mexican drug cartels in his family and business future. “A better investment than real estate or the stock market by a hundred times,” Franky had bragged to friends.
And it seemed Hector saw his future just as bright. He would be a good family member to both drug cartels and the Magadinno Family Crime Syndicate, have babies with Anna, and someday sit on the throne of the Syndicate, and maybe a cartel or two. It seemed to outsiders that Hector was truly blessed.
Franky was known as handsome and charming, but he was infamous for being lethally ruthless with his enemies, all of whom simply disappeared without a trace. Franky was known in mob circles as “The Silencer.” He liked to say his critics were “permanently silenced by their absence from life,” as he laughed a loud and long series of belly laughs.
None of Franky’s victims were ever found, and no witnesses had ever come forth. The result of this often-reinforced reputation was that Franky’s competition slowly became non-existent during his 30-year reign in Carson City. Franky ordered no visible blood baths and no messy shootings, yet he managed to maintain control over the co
caine, and finally all the meth and heroin markets in Nevada and Sacramento, distributing all the drugs the Mexican cartels could deliver.
His most lucrative territories eventually included Lake Tahoe, Sacramento, Reno, Carson City, Las Vegas and all the small towns and villages along the highways that connected the routes. And the topper on the cake was that Franky’s “legitimate” businesses grew and grew, many assisted by government contracts, affording him a legal dumping ground to launder his dirty cash. These contracts became more and more numerous each year, as they were pushed his way by the growing number of pocket politicians on Franky’s payroll.
Hector had married Franky’s daughter, Anna, less than a year ago, in a wedding gala most stars could only dream about. A typical new age Mafioso, Franky was so well connected with local, state and federal politicians and socialites, that the well-publicized event was billed as “Nevada’s Social Event of the Year” in all the local newspapers and the most important west coast social elite circles and magazines.
Radio and television personalities and stars flocked to the wedding, if they were lucky enough to be invited. “Everyone who is someone should do anything they can to get invited,” cooed one reporter. Shane nearly gagged when he read that line from a newspaper article Roberts had included in the background material. “If only they knew the truth,” he had said out loud. But on second thought, Shane believed knowledge of the truth wouldn’t make a difference to many of the Hollywood elite.
Sadly, the public didn’t know the truth and probably never would. They saw Franky as the epitome of success, the hope for the working masses, the self-made man. Besides the Silver State Concrete Products, LLC, Franky owned several other companies, LLCs and corporations, all of which appeared to be legitimate on the surface.
The Case Page 2