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MARCHING POWDER

My dear friend from Inglaterra,

By the time you find this letter, I will be a free man, living like a king somewhere in the streets of La Paz.

I can still remember the first day I met you by the main gates, holding on tightly to your blanket because you thought I was going to steal it. Do you remember? You couldn't speak a word of Spanish. And no matter how many times I told you, you could never pronounce ají. Do you remember the time Simón refused to sell you the beef?

I'm going to miss you, little brother. I have many good memories of our times together. I will never forget the look of shock on your face when you tried to sell me the stuff you had smuggled in and I refused because we already had tons of it inside. And that big smile you gave me when you tried your very first puntito.

The world needs to know the truth about this place. You're the only one of us brave enough to do it. You owe it to me and your other brothers in San Pedro. Stay out of trouble and keep your nose clean. Remember: puntitos only. Just like I taught you.

Te quiero mucho, hermano.

Ricardo

PS. You still owe me US$40 million from the bet.

┃┃

Ricardo had said that he would visit me at least once a week. He did come a few times, but only ever to the interview room.

'Why don't you come in and smoke some ganja with me, Ricardo?' I suggested each time he visited. 'Like old times.' But he always refused.

'I'd like to, inglés. But I can't.' He shook his head apologetically. When he saw how disappointed I was, he added, 'You already know why.'

Ricardo had told me he was afraid that one of the inmates might make him an offer to do some negocios on the outside. He had promised himself he would never go back to it, but he was worried that he might be tempted, if he came inside.

I think there was another reason he didn't want to step foot in San Pedro prison again — he wanted to forget the place entirely. On his last visit, Ricardo told me of a bad dream he had been having recently: he had come back inside to see his old friends, but when visiting hours were over and he went to leave, the guards wouldn't let him out. They told him he was still a prisoner and none of the officers would believe him when he said he wasn't.