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I sat in jail in lower Manhattan for months, and I couldn’t stop thinking of Jazmine and my beautiful boys. The media went ballistic and called me the cartel lawyer. I had journalists beating down the doors to talk to me. The jail was receiving hundreds of letters. Someone wanted me to sell my rights to him to write a book about my life. Other people wanted to interview me for a movie.
Saul Greenberg, my old law school friend, agreed to defend me. He met me in jail to discuss my upcoming bond hearing.
“Ricky, the government thinks that you are a flight risk. They think that you are going to skip town and hide out in Cuba for the rest of your life. There is no way that you are going to get bond.”
“I understand. I figured as much. I mean, I was traveling around the world. I traveled m
