Narcos, Netflix, Dynamo, Gaumont International Television

Drug Cartel

Netflix original series Narcos concluded November, 2021.

#Narcos creators are developing Griselda with Sofia Vergara.










rottentomatoes: 89%

metacritic: 77

imdb: 8.8

emmys: 3 nominations



Pablo Escobar, Narcos, Netflix, Dynamo, Gaumont International Television, Wagner Moura
Pablo Escobar, Narcos, Netflix, Dynamo, Gaumont International Television, Wagner Moura

Pablo Escobar

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria builds a $30 billion cocaine empire outside of 1979 Medellín, Columbia.

Pablo Escobar, Narcos, Netflix, Dynamo, Gaumont International Television, Wagner Moura

“Good day. Where’s Felipo? Bullshit. Felipo works for me. Relax, Gustavo, please. Show some respect. Now what’s the problem, Mr. Jose Luis? You’re Colonel Jose Luis Herrera. And that’s Nacho Ibarra. There’s Garcia, Lopez… is that Pinilla? That’s Pinilla. Pinilla… and with Phillipe is Esparanza.” — Pablo Escobar

“Because I pay for the privilege, Colonel. Take them. Look, brother, it’s not for you. It’s for Carlitos. Your son. Wouldn’t he like a TV in his room? Hey, Pinilla! Your daughter just got her driver’s license, right? I’ve got some car stereo systems in there that are really cool. Real nice. That friend of yours, Lopez… he’s got a wife that’s really beautiful. Right. She’s a fox. Your wife is gorgeous, brother. What’s she doing with a guy like you? I think she deserves some jewelry, no? Why don’t I have my boys drop off a few gifts? Colonel, how is your mom doing? She just got out of the hospital, right? Good. That makes us happy, right? Gentlemen… I’m going to tell you who I am. I am Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria. My eyes are everywhere. That means you guys can’t move a finger in all of Antioquia without me knowing about it. Do you understand? Not a finger. One day, I’m going to be President of the Republic of Colombia. So look, I make deals for a living. Now, you can stay calm and accept my deal… or accept the consequences. Silver… or lead. You decide. All right, then.” — Pablo Escobar

“They sell it by grams? What did you say your name was? Well look, Cuca… you don’t have any vision, my friend. If it costs ten dollars a gram here… imagine how much it will sell for in Miami. I love that song. Rodrigo! One more.” — Pablo Escobar

“No. No. We’ll take five. That’s Gustavo’s department.” — Pablo Escobar

“Is this easy to take off? All right, all right. I’ll take three cars, please. Now, brother. So if it’s nine dollars profit per gram, what?” — Pablo Escobar

“All right. What about all these lights? Is that to top off the cops, or what? Clear. Yeah. Mm-mm. Let’s build them a chimney. There you go. Come on. I don’t know. Why don’t you buy it yourself?” — Pablo Escobar

“Hey, Mom, how much do you think we can fit in there. That much? I love it. Let’s do it. Thank you, my love. It’s Gustavo. Five kilos, right?” — Pablo Escobar

“Hello, how are you doing? Pablo Escobar Gaviria. How are you? Pleased to meet you, Lion. We’re going to need two more, right, mom? Look, my love… it won’t fit me. Try it on. Come here. That’s it. One… two… …three. Two more. Listen to this guy. Like a *** model, isn’t that right?” — Pablo Escobar

“Do you trust this guy? So is he gay or what? Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria. Nice to meet you. How as your flight? About how much per flight? Miami. All right then, Mr. Carlos. Let’s take a walk.” — Pablo Escobar

“We brought you a little present. Brazilians. Best asses in the world, believe me. What’s up, Cuca? Look, Cuca– look, let us explain what we have to– from now on, in all of my labs… I’ll build a large house with air-conditioning, with a pool… and whores from Brazil. Just for you.” — Pablo Escobar

“You deliver the product to me, labeled. I will take it to Miami and deliver it to your contact there. Better yet, Lehder will do it. I’ll charge 35 percent of the sales value, but I’ll insure the safety of your load up to 50 percent of the value. Deal? We know your policy toward partners. Let’s just call us… ‘friendly associates.’ To Miami!” — Pablo Escobar

“Gustavo, what do you mean ‘we lost it?’ We lost it? It just disappeared? Into thin air or what? Look… we’ve paid every cop from here to Ipsalia. So how did we lose a load, brother? And how much is he asking?” — Pablo Escobar

“What’s going on, brother? Eat shit. Eat. Shit.” — Pablo Escobar

“Ready. Another one, another one. I’m ready. Well, that’s what we agreed upon. I’ll give you one million dollars… under one condition. Someone in my organization gave you the street value of my cocaine. Otherwise, how would you know? Give me a name… and you won’t have to sp;it the cash with him.” — Pablo Escobar

“Leave that piece of shit there. Who did it? Raise the bounty. I’ll pay half a million for the head of a DEA agent. Do it. Fucking gringos.” — Pablo Escobar


Gustavo Gaviria, Narcos, Netflix, Dynamo, Gaumont International Television, Juan Pablo Raba

Gustavo Gaviria

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Yes, Pinilla. Yeah. Yeah. Yes, she’s feeling better. Yes.”

“This is Pablo. Mateo Moreno. All right, yesterday we were talking, and I think this business can make us a lot of money. Explain. Now tell him how much it costs. If this is really that good and we can make some money, we can find room on our trucks.”

“Yeah, a coffee. Well… we’ll take a kilo.”

“I was taking a look at it, and the best place to hide the merchandise would be under the rear wheel well. Don’t worry about that shit. I’ll stick five kilos in there easy. All right, we’ll take the cars and head back to the lab. Because there are four wheels per car and that’s 20 kilos. For three cars, that’s 60 kilos. $9,000 per kilo. $9,000 times 60… the profit is $540,000. Do you know how to drive, Cockroach? OK, Pablo, and I drive fast.”

“All this smells like shit to me.”

“You know the thing that has me worried, Pablo? Don’t you think the workers will choke with all that smoke?”

“Gentlemen, the first three? We just started up. We have to be careful with money. No, no, don’t give me that dumb shit.

“Meet my friend. Hey, Pablo, this is Lion. Says he wants to fly first class. It’s not like we’re rich, right? Here’s three. Got it. I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t know. He was in prison in the United States. Oh, for sure he’s gay. But he’s got good routes. Hello, Carlos. Gustavo Gaviria, nice to meet you. My cousin. Smooth. Let’s get down to business. The Lion tells us you’ve been transporting a lot marijuana in your plane. 1000 kilos? Carlos… what if we take out the seats, the carpet and all the other crap and only leave space for the pilot? Can you fit more? How much more?”

“Wait. …and whores from Brazil. Relax. No one’s arguing with you. Come show me the production and we’ll talk later.”

“Be careful, guys. If we all start buying potatoes at the same time, the Peruvians will raise the price. We expect nothing less, Gonzalo.”

“Tell me something, Cockroach. Did you ever think you were going to have this much money? Let me give you a piece of advice. Never say that to Pablo. He’s not as forgiving as I am.”

“390 kilos, Pablo. We lost it. Just what I said, we lost it. Don’t mess with me, Pablo. We lost it. It looks like the cops must have stopped the guys when they were leaving Ipsalia. It looks like Colonel Herrera suddenly turned honest. Know what I mean? Too much. What are you going to do? Come back, Pablo. Don’t go and risk it for this asshole. Come back. Where are you going, Pablo?”


Steve Murphy, Narcos, Netflix, Dynamo, Gaumont International Television, Boyd Holbrook

Steve Murphy

“Nowadays, the US government can listen to anything you say. They know where you are, they know who you’re talking to, and trust me, they know who you’re fucking. You turn on a cell phone or a computer, and you’re doomed. But in Colombia in 1989, it wasn’t that easy. First off, there was no internet. No cells. The best they had were satellite phones, and in order to capture a satellite phone, you had to fly directly over it. On top of that, the only people who had sat phones were the filthy rich… the landowners, the politicians… and lucky for us, the narcos were richer than them all.”

“And once you got a signal, you didn’t know who you were listening to. That’s why back then, the US government developed software that could identify the voices of our targets. And you guessed it: no GPS either. Once we got a target, we still had to locate it. So we had to triangulate their signals using assets on the ground. Poison didn’t know it, but he’d just made himself a date. By ‘the other guy,’ he meant me. I’m Steve Murphy, Drug Enforcement Agent. And as you can see, I am deeply embedded in Colombia.”

“Hello? Got it. Ok. I would’ve loved to go after Poison myself, but the DEA is restricted in a foreign country. So I did just what you would do… I called the cops. Hola. In case you’re wondering, this is the asshole. Javier Peña, my partner. And this is Colonel Carrillo, the leader of the Search Bloc, the unit we helped create to capture bad guys. Boy, did he have a lot of love for the narcos.”

“Party time in Zona Rosa. Everybody goes there. Especially the local hitmen. Colombians call them sicarios. Now, Poison, he was one of the best. Crazy motherfucker who killed dozens of people. Probably hundreds. But don’t get me wrong. I would’ve sent Carrillo there even if Poison never killed a fly. I don’t have a lot of love for the narcos either. I wouldn’t blame you if you held me responsible for this bloodbath. Yeah, I pushed the buttons. But don’t call me a bad guy just yet.”

“Take Richard Nixon, for instance. People forget, but 47 million Americans voted for Nixon. We thought he was one of the good guys. And Nixon thought Chilean General Pinochet was a good guy because he hated the commies. So we helped Pinochet seize power. Then Pinochet turned around and killed thousands of people. Maybe not such a good guy after all. But sometimes, bad guys do good things. Nobody knows this, but back in ’73, Chile was on its way to being the world’s biggest cocaine processing and exporting center. They had deserts to hide the labs and miles of unpatrolled coastline to ship the product north. But Pinochet spoiled the party. He shut down 33 labs and arrested 346 drug dealers. And then, being Pinochet… he had them all killed.”

“They say when a nuclear holocaust destroys the world, only the cockroaches will survive. I guess they were right. The bullets missed Mateo Moreno, aka Cockroach, and he was smart enough to play dead. He wasn’t killed on that day. Instead, he won the damn lottery. Cockroach had been stealing from his bosses for months. Now he was left alone in the world with the perfect product. A product whose offer creates its own demand.”

“Back then, we were just finding out about the effects of cocaine on the human brain. We didn’t know much, but we knew it was some pretty powerful shit. Cocaine hijacks the pleasure centers in the brain. A rat will choose cocaine over food and water. It would choose cocaine over sleep, over sex… over life itself. The human brain isn’t quite the same as a rodent’s… unless we’re talking about cocaine.”

“Cockroach knew he had the perfect product. He just needed to smuggle it to the right markets. And the best smugglers in the world were in Colombia. Like Goldilocks, he had three options. And pay attention, because all three are important to this story. The Ochoa brothers: Jorge, that’s Fabio on the horse. A typical Colombian smuggling family. They were smart and rich… …but Cockroach felt the high life had made ’em too soft. Another possible partner was José Rodriguez Gacha, nicknamed ‘The Mexican,’ for his love of tequila and sombreros. He dominated the emerald smuggling routes. Emeralds are a pretty rough trade, even by Colombian standards. If you make it to the top… it means you’ve killed your enemies. And sometimes, your partners. Cockroach worried that the emerald trade had made Gacha too hard. So he zeroed in on this third option: a man Cockroach knew would be just right. Yeah, you guessed it: Pablo Escobar. The man who could change my life forever. Pablo was making a killing in the smuggling business. Cigarettes, alcohol, marijuana, you name it. At the time, Pablo owned half the police in Medellín. But DAS was Colombia’s version of the FBI. They didn’t play by the same rules.”

“Back then, Miami was a paradise. I signed up for the sand, surf and women. In ’79, the bad guys I was chasing wore flip-flops. DEA! Stop! I was a young DEA agent, partnered with my buddy, Kevin Brady. Kevin was a little slow afoot. Why you running, huh? What you got? What is this? Huh? What is that? Whoo!”

“What happened to the money you owed me last week? That’s right, that’s right. Oh! Strike! Get the fuck outta here. Come on. Talking about the blond one? You dicking me around? Fuck it, I’m going in.”

“How you doing? Yeah, those bastards got me. But I couldn’t let it end like that. Excuse me. See those guys over there? Um, they’re fucking with me. Telling me you were checking out my ass, and who checks out a cop’s ass, right? Not a cop, actually. I’m DEA. Come on, why don’t you do me a favor? I wanna show these guys up. Why don’t you, uh… give me your phone number? That’ll work. I’m sorry for the trouble. Have a good night. The pitcher? Oh, I… I didn’t make it back with the pitcher. I just came up with this and I couldn’t read it. What does that say? Read it and weep!”

“I figured, what the hell. Worst that could happen, I’d wake up some grandmother in Boca. So it wasn’t a fake. And just like that… she had me.”

“The minute Pablo laid his eyes on the paste-processing labs in Peru, cocaine had him.”

“That’s half a million dollars… per trip, using the same smuggling routes he always used. Easiest money he ever made. Back in Medellín, Pablo didn’t waste any time. He bought a house in his old neighborhood and opened his first lab to turn peruvian paste… into cocaine powder.”

“It was a mom-and-pop operation, so small they called it The Kitchen. But make no mistake, it would change Medellín forever.”

“Like her son, Pablo’s mother Hermilda was very resourceful. Pablo loved his young bride Tata, and she loved him. He was a family man till the end. The guy who got to wear the jacket was the Lion. He was a friend of Gustavo’s who’d spent his childhood in the United States.”

“The Lion was one of the first guys to ever bring coke into Miami. His contact was a crazy nut job named Carlos Lehder, half Colombian, half German, and 100 percent playboy. Big fan of John Lennon and Adolf Hitler. Go figure. Back in ’79, this piece of work was flying bales of grass up from Colombia on a fleet of small planes. The Lion made more than 20 flights between Medellín and Miami. Drugs in, cash out. And the rich and famous in Miami snorted every single gram of it. And in no time, Pablo had to replace his cars with trucks. Gustavo had the trucks filled to the brim with potatoes, the major item Colombia imported from Peru. He didn’t even have to bribe the cops. The coke paste was hidden in the spare tires. Each tire could fit about 20 kilos. Ten trucks, 20 kilos each, going back and forth every day… you do the math. No way the Lion could transport it all. Pretty soon, the Lion had to come up with new ways to smuggle the drug to Miami.”

“During the early ’80s, most flights out of Bogotá had several mules on them. They didn’t even know about each other. And you know what? Getting in was easy, because nobody worried about cocaine in America. All we cared about was grass. Pretty soon, cocaine was hidden in almost every legitimate Colombian export. Fish, coffee, flowers, rubber hoses… anything. But even that didn’t do it. The real game changer was filling Lehder’s planes with coke instead of weed.”

“Within months after meeting Cockroach, Pablo was establishing the first dedicated narco routes from Colombia to America. It was a real milestone in the story of narcotics, folks. Then Pablo closed The Kitchen and started opening cocaine labs in the middle of the jungle. Under the canopy cover of the Colombian rainforest, he could expand his production capability indefinitely without anybody noticing it.”

“Pablo couldn’t hide his success from his friends. They were violent, crazy and filthy rich. Guys used to getting what they want, one way or another.”

“When I started, a one-kilo grass bust was cause for celebration. And before long, we were seizing 60 kilos of coke a day. We thought we were making a huge difference. Truth is, we weren’t even making a dent. They let us have 60 so they could bring in 600. Pablo’s coke flooded in. It didn’t take long for Miami to get addicted. And I mean that. It was like the whole city was running around trying to get this shit. And with the money… came the violence. The hippies had been replaced by Colombians, and these guys didn’t wear flip-flops. The Miami coroner said Colombians were like Dixie cups. Use ’em once, then throw ’em away. The Dade County morgue couldn’t fit all the bodies from the drug war. They had to rend a refrigerated truck from a local company to hold all the extra corpses.”

“That was the first person I ever shot. A teenager not old enough to buy a six-pack. Kevin called you? Did he forget to tell you the kid was 17? Yeah. What happened? I’m so sorry.”

“Pablo was fucking Cockroack over. But Cockroach should’ve listen to Gustavo. Instead, he found another way to get his fair share.”

“Pablo didn’t know it then… …but this mug shot was gonna cause him a lot of grief down the line.”

“Turns out Cockroach was a real Cockroach. Not only did he sell Pablo to the authorities, he was stealing from him all along and selling his coke in Miami, too. Cockroach’s dealer was Germán Zapata, a Colombian with a plumbing business that served as a front for his cocaine operation. He gad 1200 keys in the van… and guess who was buying the load?”

“The plan was to trade vehicles, and Zapata would be arrested once he left the port. 1200 kilos. That would get us on the cover of the Miami Herald.”

“How’s the plumbing business? Everything was going perfect. Except that Pablo was onto Cockroach. Don’t move! Don’t move. Don’t move! Don’t move. Get down! Hands! Down! Don’t look at me. Fucking…”

“I got to the courthouse early the day of La Quica’s trial. My testimony was gonna put that bastard on death row. The US District Attorney said La Quica met his bail of two million dollars, paid by a wire transfer from, well… why don’t you take a guess? La Quica boarded and was back in Medellín by midnight. From ’79 to ’84, there were 3,245 murders in Miami. And outside the Tourist Bureau and the cops, no one much cared about that. What got the US government to take notice was the money. Billions of dollars a year, all flowing from the US to Colombia. And that… America couldn’t take. A group of powerful businessmen went and met with President Reagan. They were terrified the narco economy would sink the real economy of Miami. Or… maybe they were pissed off that they weren’t getting a cut. Whatever it was, the businessmen came at just the right time. It was time for America to suit up against a new enemy. It was classic Reagan. Folksy, direct and tough. He vowed to go after drugs at the source. But it was Nancy who stole the show.”

“They say when a nuclear holocaust destroys the world, I guess they were wrong. During his career, Pablo would kill over a thousand cops. But I wouldn’t learn that till later. My dad volunteered to fight in World War II because of Pearl Harbor. But you think he knew anybody in Hawaii? No way. He was a West Virginia farm boy, but these fuckers stepped on our soil. So he laced up his army boots and went to fight. It was his duty. Cocaine in Miami? Kilos from Colombia? This was my war. And I was ready to fight it. And my wife was ready to fight it with me, too. We had no idea what we were in for. One year later… all that patriotic bullshit was right out the window.”

“We got Poison… we got Lizard. Uh… we got, we got… Big Badmouth. No problem. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the narco world, it’s that life is more complicated than you think. Good and bad… they’re relative concepts. In the world of drug dealers, you do what you think is right… and hope for the best.”

Connie Murphy

“Busy. I just said, ‘look, if you don’t wanna be there, you don’t have to be. No one’s forcing you to do anything.’ So, I don’t know… you’re a cop? How about a fake number? Hey, buddy, you got a pen? Sure.”

“Hello? I thought you might figure it out. After all, you’re DEA.”

“Hey… it was self-defense. He’s worried about you. He sell drugs, right? Yeah, then fuck him. Coming through! I was about to finish my shift when we got hit with the lights and sirens. Stay with me. Paramedics said she collapsed after she got off her flight. By the time she got to us, she was barely breathing. Dilated pupils, rapid pulse. I knew she’d overdosed on cocaine… …but she had no residue on her nostrils, no injection marks. We did everything we could. She died in the ER. We tried to save the baby… the baby died in my hands. She was body-packing 11 ounces of cocaine. Two of the pellets split open. Twelve grams in her bloodstream. No one survives that.”

Javier Peña, Narcos, Netflix, Dynamo, Gaumont International Television, Pedro Pascal

Javier Peña

“Yeah, sure. He’s not a fool. Gonna stick me with the bill? Cheap son of a bitch.”

“OK, man, what do we got? Excellent. Who else? That motherfucker.”

Colonel Carrillo

“La Dispensaria? All right. Guess who that was. Your partner. He just gave me a great gift. Poison. Does he know how I’m going to package it? Gotta go.”

“It’s on, boys. We’re gonna stop on 14th and go around the corner. Riano, Trujillo, you’re in the front with me. Galvis and Silva, you take up the rear. You got it, boys? We’re gonna go at it with everything we got. We’re gonna kill these fuckers, all right?”

“Thank you for the gift, agent.”

La Cucaracha

“How many times do I have to tell you not to waste the acid? To be productive, you can’t waste the money! Come on! What the fuck is going on here?”

“Start packing. We have to leave the country. Fucking Pinochet is killing the whole world. No, not a communist, something worse. A drug trafficker. Yes, a drug trafficker.”

“Gracias. Hello. Nice to meet you. No, no, no. ‘Cockroach’ to my friends. Well, I get the paste in Peru. I will handle the chemical part of production, and all the other details in producing this exquisite white powder. What I need from you is to help me get it into Colombia. In Chile, this little thing costs ten bucks a gram. Yes, it’s very good. Look… you do a little bit, and in 20 minutes, you want to do some more. Also… it’s a digestive aid. It makes you want to take a shit. It’s very clean, this stuff. Want some? We can sell it in Bogota, Barranquilla, Cali, Cartagena… we’re going to be rich. Cockroach.”

“It’s been a while. These are my friends, Pablo and Gustavo. Yes, a coffee. How about you, Pablo? You sure? My factory is small, but highly productive. Look. For crushing the leaves, I like to use children because of their tiny feet. Little magic leaves. The kerosene separates the drug from the leaf. Over here, the sulfuric acid distills and distills it. Then you cut it, and mix it with gasoline. Then, basically, you pull the merchandise out of the liquid. Let it dry, dry, dry. You use ammonia to get the paste. And here it is. It’s pasty… but pure. Here is the prize. It’s like the kitchen in your house. Like baking a cake. Only a much better cake than you’ve ever had. Look, an old press, an antique. Now we put it in the oven. Here’s one. The other will follow. All natural, organic and healthy. Very good. How do we get five across the border? Why the fuck are we going back to the lab? That’s it! Yeah.”

“How are you feeling, Gustavo? What an ignorant bastard. It’s like French cheese. The stinkier, the better. Just worry about transporting the stuff and selling it. I’m the artist here, clear? Right?”

“No, I’m not feeling well. Hello. Hey, Gustavo. What the fuck is up with you guys? You’re flying around in planes… while I’m rotting here in this jungle? One problem. These are my labs. Mm?”

“I heard the ‘potato’ business is like the ‘egg’ business. I wouldn’t get involved. The potato business is ours. We don’t need–“

“Why won’t Pablo ever see me? I spent all this time waiting around for him. Fuck the money. I’m talking renegotiation. If it wasn’t for me, you two would still be smuggling cigarettes.”

“No, no, no! No, Pablo, no, no! No, no!”

Hermilda Escobar

“Around five kilos, honey. Trust me, Pablito. That’s right. He looks really handsome, doesn’t he? Listen, Lion, that jacket fits you very nicely. Aah! He looks very handsome, son.”

Tata Escobar

“Pablo. Pablito… make sure it is not you who wears it, OK?”

“Pablo?”

Gacho

“How something like this can make so much money! Now I ask myself… if I should get involved with this. What do you think, Pablo? They also grow potatoes in Bolivia. We can reduce the cost of the refining process if we buy together. How much would you charge us to be ‘creative?’ All right, I will create my own routes and stop using your services as soon as possible. OK? Partners? To Miami.”

The Lion

“If this business makes so much money, why are you sending me coach? Don’t be a dick. How much can a first class ticket cost?”

“Lion. Good, right? Wow, it holds a lot! Yeah. Excuse me, ma’am, can you adjust the jacket a little bit here in the back?”

“Thank you. Have a great day.”

“What’s up, son? Thanks a lot. How are ya? Everything’s good. You like my jacket, brother? I got it in Colombia and look, it has a little gift. What you got there is the perfect product. Pablo says the gringos will fall in love with this shit. Yes, sir. Here you go. Go on. There are five kilos. I’m gonna get another jacket, brother. We’ll meet at the same time tomorrow, all right?”

“You guys are pilots, so you can get this stuff by without a problem. Look, it’s $150,000 per kilo, so whatever you want. All right, much better. Take these two and tell Jairo to give you two more. All right? Perfect. Thank you so much. Later.”

“Come in, please. Look, here are the packets. You take a packet… you dip it in the oil and swallow it. Easy, right? You swallow 50, and I pay you $10,000. All right? But with you two, we have a problem. You girls are pregnant, right? That’s good, because US Customs won’t search pregnant women. You can easily swallow 70 instead of 50. And I’ll pay you $15,000 to help you with the kids. All right? All right. Perfect.”

Carlos Lehder

“What’s up? Welcome. Everything good? Whoo! It’s so hot. What the hell are you doing with a jacket on? I was in jail for a while, remember? I saw this shit there. It’s pure poison. It’s gonna fuck up their brains, that’s for sure. Where are you going?”

“Amigos! Nice to meet you. Cousin? Nice to meet you. That’s true. How far? Somewhere around 1000 kilos. Counting with gasoline. Yes? We’ll leave the engine, right? About… 300 more.”

“Well, guys, the hard part is getting the merchandise to Miami. You need a lot of creativity for that.”

Pablo’s Associates

“Look, man, I took a good look at the market. Important potatoes from Peru is easy. Of course. Same old contraband routes. Mm. Deal. Sounds good to me. To Miami!”

Customs

“Welcome to the United States. Next, please.”

Pilots

“The briefcase doesn’t have a false bottom? We’ll take four. All right. See you later.”

Customs 2

“Stop!”

Colonel Herrera

“Pablo Escobar? Felipo’s been arrested. He used to work for you. Now he’s going to jail. What do you think about that. Shut the fuck up. I wasn’t talking to you. How do you know my name? I don’t give a rat’s ass. Open the fucking trucks. I don’t have all day. Open it. Tell me something, Mr. Escobar. Who the fuck do you think you are? You don’t even bother to hide your contraband. Oh, yeah? You don’t say. Where are your import papers? Let ’em go. Let ’em go.”

“What do you have in the spare tires?”

“Mr. Escobar… we need to renegotiate. What if I shot you in the head? We’re DAS, Ibarra. What’s that ****** gonna do? You can go now, officer. Sit down, Mr. Pablo. We counted more than 300 kilos in those trucks. That’s a street value of over four million dollars, Mr. Escobar. You know something? I make deals for a living. Now you can either accept my deal or accept the consequences. You decide. Or we can renegotiate, come to an agreement, and everyone goes home happy. Deal? What is it?”

Ibarra

“You need papers for these TV sets. Sorry, Mr. Escobar. We’re not Medellín police making a shit salary. Then who?”

“Are you sure about this, Colonel? He hasn’t stopped laughing since we arrested him. Remove the handcuffs. And you only gave us $150,000.”

Nelson Hernández

“Look at what happened, boss. They killed Poison at La Dispensaria. I think it was Carillo. And there was a gringo DEA agent taking pictures. On Carrillo, sir? Half a million? As you wish, sir.”

Germán Zapata

“OK, gringos. Fine. Plumbing business is very good. Come on, amigo. I’ll show you. Like I said, amigo…. 100 percent pure.”

Judge

“In the case of the State of Florida v. Juan Diego Diaz, after taking into account all due considerations, bail has been set at two million dollars, or a bond of $200,000.”

La Cuca’s Associate

“Would you like a little coffee? A whole kilo. Perfect. You said a kilo.”

Smuggler

“This one has a good engine. It’s 22 and one half horsepower. Sure, when do you need them?”

Kevin Brady

“That right there… that’s a goddamn promotion. Let’s go celebrate. Look at that.”

“Go! Go! Go! How you like me now? How much money you owe me? All right. All right, who do we pick? No, no, no, we gotta fuck with him. Um… oh, right there. See her? At the bar? Blue top, blond hair. That’s his type. Murph! Sparrow, three o’clock. Hey, while you were walking back, she was checking your ass out. Listen, she eye-fucked you the entire time you were bowling. I’m serous, I’m serious. Look at her. No, the other one. Of course the blond. She’s the hottest one there. She’s your type. Where’s the pitcher at? Aw… gimme that. How much did that cost you?”

“How’s it look? Got a full load here, Murph–“

DEA

“How ’bout her? Yeah, let’s mess with his head. Which one? She’s hot. Oh, she was checking out your ass. She was. She was eye-fucking you. The entire time. Uh-huh. That’s his type. That’s your handwriting.”

Connie’s friend

“Drug enforcement? So you’re the one making pot more expensive?”

La Cuca’s wife

“But you’re not a communist. A drug trafficker.”

Chilean Military

“You’re surrounded! Hands up! Everybody on your knees! On the ground! Attention! Weapons ready! Aim! Ready ammunition! Fire!”

Search Bloc

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir!”

Satellite

“I got Poison at 400 to 1700 megahertz, gentlemen. Hammer, prepare to engage. OK, he’s in Modelia. He’s on the west side. Hawkeye, how do you copy that? Can you be more specific? Police units are standing by. Negative on Hammer. This fuckwad just told us where he’s going. Hammer, disengage. So who do we give this to? DEA? Yeah, let’s give it to Javier Peña. Peña’s an asshole. I’m gonna give it to the other guy. Sure. Poison will be partying at La Dispensaria. He’s meeting Lizard and the rest of them at midnight tonight.”

Sicarios

“What’s up, son? Hey, brother. Let’s go inside and have a good time.”

Poison

“What’s up, Lizard? We’re going out tonight. La Dispensaria. I’ve got a table ready. Show up around midnight. It’s gonna be raining women.”

Richard Nixon

“My fellow Americans…”

Ronald Reagan

“It’s back-to-school time for America’s children… drugs are menacing our society. They’re threatening our values and undercutting our institutions. They’re killing our children.”

Nancy Reagan

“So to my young friends out there, life can be great. But not when you can’t see it. So open your eyes to life, to see it in the vivid colors that God gave us as a precious gift to His children. Say yes to your life. And when it comes to drugs and alcohol… just say no.”



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