Drug dealers, I mean, bad as they are, they want your money. Communists want everything.
Cocaine was no longer hidden alongside products. It was the product.
You want to turn on the tap of the richest country in the world, you’d better be chasing reds.
You threaten a man’s family, and you find out what he’s made of.
When you’ve run out of ways to hide your money, that’s when you give it to the poor.
We have to create a presence so disruptive they’ll want nothing but peace.
We can either play politics or we can do the job.
We all need a method. Something to cling to when the s*** around us gets so deep, we might go under. Something to guide us home when we feel we’ve lost our way. If we’re lucky, someone gives us a method and we follow it. If not, we find our own.
War makes for strange alliances, putting you into business with people that, under other circumstances, you wouldn’t even shake hands with.
This cat is DEA. Mark my words, it will get justice.
There’s no way out, Carlitos. You’re going to Disneyland.
There’s cash buried everywhere. The guerillas, the paramilitary, the narcos… Everybody’s burying cash.
