Note: Luis was dying of cancer when he confessed his sins to the priest and told his stories to Jorge (TBH’er coon007). Here are some memories of a murderer.
Chapter 1: http://discussions.texasbowhunter.co...d.php?t=165962
Chapter 2: http://discussions.texasbowhunter.co....php?p=2919391
Chapter 3: http://discussions.texasbowhunter.co...d.php?t=343929
Chapter 4: http://discussions.texasbowhunter.co...d.php?t=350289
Chapter 5
Playing with the Ramons
The Rio Grande is a mean old lady. She takes what she wants and doesn’t give a second thought about it. I knew a lot of people that she sucked down. Some she spit back up, some she kept to herself. She almost got my brothers and me when I was a youngster. This is why I was always looking for better and safer places to cross with our loads. You could easily lose a good employee and thousands of dollars with one misstep—especially if it had been raining.
All of the narcos were in the same predicament. Everybody needed a safe crossing that not only was shallow but also provided cover for the men so La Migra (Border Patrol) couldn’t see them. The problem with good crossings is that everyone found out about them eventually. The heavier traffic drew unwanted attention.
One day I had scouted the river for hours and finally found a crossing that looked promising. I didn’t see any tracks or trash so I felt that La Migra probably didn’t know about it yet and wouldn’t be set up on it. I immediately went to Junior’s house to find out when the next haul would be ready. It was already five in the afternoon. I was anxious to try out the new spot that night.
“Well…” said Junior. “I don’t think we will have a load tonight.” I could tell that something was wrong by his tone of voice.
“What’s up?”
Junior sighed and said, “I think we have been ripped off by the Ramon brothers. They never showed up with the merchandise. They should have been here last night, or this morning at the latest.”
I knew that Junior had paid the Ramons up front for 20 kilos of pure heroin and 500 pounds of grass. It was actually a stupid mistake on Junior’s part. Normally I would not say anything to him about his mistakes because I didn’t feel like it was my place. But I was more of a full partner now.
“How could you do that?” I asked him. He could see the anger on my face.
Junior said, “We were in a pinch for this load. According to everyone I talked to, no one had any chiva at all…except the Ramons. I felt safe fronting them the money because they have always produced in the past.”
I just shook my head. The Ramons were two ruthless brothers. They didn’t play by the “rules” or have any sense of loyalty. They worked for anyone with money. They did not care who they sold to or bought from. They weren’t afraid of making anyone angry or disrespecting another businessman. Most people were so scared of them that if they stole or shorted someone they would let it slide. The only reason people even dealt with them at all is because they had good contacts and suppliers on both sides of the Rio Grande.
El Toro Ramon was a great big man. Maybe 400 pounds. Tavy, his younger brother, was just the opposite. Skinny as a weed. But Tavy was a killer. The real deal. He came up killing old school from the bottom ranks of the Carteles. He started out as a mule and ended up as a really good hitman for the highest bidder. Looking back now I would say that Tavy and me were a lot alike. Except I didn’t screw people over and I was loyal to those who were loyal to me. Tavy just didn’t give a crap. I felt like he would kill his own brother if he woke up one morning and didn’t like the way he looked.
The Ramons never showed up that day. Junior and I paced around for hours and finally went out that night to track them down. In the back of my mind (and I’m sure in Junior’s mind, too) I wasn’t sure I really wanted to find them. But we did.
They were at the Plaza Real selling dope to the locals.
We walked up and El Toro immediately said, “We don’t have your stuff, Junior.”
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t have our stuff’?”
“Like I said, cabron. We don’t have your stuff”, El Toro said while dismissing us with a turn of his head.
Junior asked, “Well, when can we expect it?”
Tavy finished what he was doing with a customer and walked over and got in Junior’s face. “Never, pinche maricon. We stole the money from you. What are you going to do about it?”
I can remember thinking, “If I don’t do this now, it will be us with bullets in our brains.”
I acted without putting much thought into the deal. I have a gift, or curse, for acting quickly when I need to. My instincts came from living on the streets in survival mode since I was old enough to walk.
It probably wasn’t the safest shot I ever took, seeing how Tavy was in between me and Junior after I had silently worked my was around behind him. Junior’s face showed surprise and fear as Tavy’s blood and brain matter suddenly covered him. No one had even seen me draw my pistol as I raised it and shot Tavy in the head with one smooth motion. He fell like a sack of potatoes. His body was jerking and trembling on the ground.
Needless to say, El Toro was very shocked and upset that I had just ended his brother’s life. He stood up and I instantly turned to him and emptied a magazine of .38 Super into his midsection. But he charged at me like a raging bull…all 400 pounds of him.
Within the blink of an eye I was on my back and his massive stinking body was on top of me. He was doing a good job of beating the hell out of me. Junior was doing his best to knock him out off of me but the physics of the situation just didn’t work out. El Toro weighed about three times as much as Junior.
El Toro finally started to lose consciousness from the blood loss and the damage. My pistol was empty, so after I rolled El Toro off of me I reached into Junior’s waistband and grabbed his. I dispatched El Toro with one quick shot to the back of the head as he rocked back and forth on all fours trying to stand up.
Later, I asked Junior why he didn’t shoot El Toro in the head while he was beating on me.
He just looked at the ground and shrugged. “I don’t know Luis. I just froze.”
Beaten and covered in blood, we ran out of the Plaza Real. Luckily no one was around at that hour except for a few druggies.
The next day I bought a newspaper and read about my handiwork. I cut it out and saved it with a few others. Things like this didn’t happen every day. But business was business and you had to be a good businessman if you didn’t want to go bankrupt.
Chapter 1: http://discussions.texasbowhunter.co...d.php?t=165962
Chapter 2: http://discussions.texasbowhunter.co....php?p=2919391
Chapter 3: http://discussions.texasbowhunter.co...d.php?t=343929
Chapter 4: http://discussions.texasbowhunter.co...d.php?t=350289
Chapter 5
Playing with the Ramons
The Rio Grande is a mean old lady. She takes what she wants and doesn’t give a second thought about it. I knew a lot of people that she sucked down. Some she spit back up, some she kept to herself. She almost got my brothers and me when I was a youngster. This is why I was always looking for better and safer places to cross with our loads. You could easily lose a good employee and thousands of dollars with one misstep—especially if it had been raining.
All of the narcos were in the same predicament. Everybody needed a safe crossing that not only was shallow but also provided cover for the men so La Migra (Border Patrol) couldn’t see them. The problem with good crossings is that everyone found out about them eventually. The heavier traffic drew unwanted attention.
One day I had scouted the river for hours and finally found a crossing that looked promising. I didn’t see any tracks or trash so I felt that La Migra probably didn’t know about it yet and wouldn’t be set up on it. I immediately went to Junior’s house to find out when the next haul would be ready. It was already five in the afternoon. I was anxious to try out the new spot that night.
“Well…” said Junior. “I don’t think we will have a load tonight.” I could tell that something was wrong by his tone of voice.
“What’s up?”
Junior sighed and said, “I think we have been ripped off by the Ramon brothers. They never showed up with the merchandise. They should have been here last night, or this morning at the latest.”
I knew that Junior had paid the Ramons up front for 20 kilos of pure heroin and 500 pounds of grass. It was actually a stupid mistake on Junior’s part. Normally I would not say anything to him about his mistakes because I didn’t feel like it was my place. But I was more of a full partner now.
“How could you do that?” I asked him. He could see the anger on my face.
Junior said, “We were in a pinch for this load. According to everyone I talked to, no one had any chiva at all…except the Ramons. I felt safe fronting them the money because they have always produced in the past.”
I just shook my head. The Ramons were two ruthless brothers. They didn’t play by the “rules” or have any sense of loyalty. They worked for anyone with money. They did not care who they sold to or bought from. They weren’t afraid of making anyone angry or disrespecting another businessman. Most people were so scared of them that if they stole or shorted someone they would let it slide. The only reason people even dealt with them at all is because they had good contacts and suppliers on both sides of the Rio Grande.
El Toro Ramon was a great big man. Maybe 400 pounds. Tavy, his younger brother, was just the opposite. Skinny as a weed. But Tavy was a killer. The real deal. He came up killing old school from the bottom ranks of the Carteles. He started out as a mule and ended up as a really good hitman for the highest bidder. Looking back now I would say that Tavy and me were a lot alike. Except I didn’t screw people over and I was loyal to those who were loyal to me. Tavy just didn’t give a crap. I felt like he would kill his own brother if he woke up one morning and didn’t like the way he looked.
The Ramons never showed up that day. Junior and I paced around for hours and finally went out that night to track them down. In the back of my mind (and I’m sure in Junior’s mind, too) I wasn’t sure I really wanted to find them. But we did.
They were at the Plaza Real selling dope to the locals.
We walked up and El Toro immediately said, “We don’t have your stuff, Junior.”
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t have our stuff’?”
“Like I said, cabron. We don’t have your stuff”, El Toro said while dismissing us with a turn of his head.
Junior asked, “Well, when can we expect it?”
Tavy finished what he was doing with a customer and walked over and got in Junior’s face. “Never, pinche maricon. We stole the money from you. What are you going to do about it?”
I can remember thinking, “If I don’t do this now, it will be us with bullets in our brains.”
I acted without putting much thought into the deal. I have a gift, or curse, for acting quickly when I need to. My instincts came from living on the streets in survival mode since I was old enough to walk.
It probably wasn’t the safest shot I ever took, seeing how Tavy was in between me and Junior after I had silently worked my was around behind him. Junior’s face showed surprise and fear as Tavy’s blood and brain matter suddenly covered him. No one had even seen me draw my pistol as I raised it and shot Tavy in the head with one smooth motion. He fell like a sack of potatoes. His body was jerking and trembling on the ground.
Needless to say, El Toro was very shocked and upset that I had just ended his brother’s life. He stood up and I instantly turned to him and emptied a magazine of .38 Super into his midsection. But he charged at me like a raging bull…all 400 pounds of him.
Within the blink of an eye I was on my back and his massive stinking body was on top of me. He was doing a good job of beating the hell out of me. Junior was doing his best to knock him out off of me but the physics of the situation just didn’t work out. El Toro weighed about three times as much as Junior.
El Toro finally started to lose consciousness from the blood loss and the damage. My pistol was empty, so after I rolled El Toro off of me I reached into Junior’s waistband and grabbed his. I dispatched El Toro with one quick shot to the back of the head as he rocked back and forth on all fours trying to stand up.
Later, I asked Junior why he didn’t shoot El Toro in the head while he was beating on me.
He just looked at the ground and shrugged. “I don’t know Luis. I just froze.”
Beaten and covered in blood, we ran out of the Plaza Real. Luckily no one was around at that hour except for a few druggies.
The next day I bought a newspaper and read about my handiwork. I cut it out and saved it with a few others. Things like this didn’t happen every day. But business was business and you had to be a good businessman if you didn’t want to go bankrupt.
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