The King of Juice (Episode 1 – Introduction)

The controlled delivery that feds set up to take me down was anything but “controlled”. It also was not thought out very well, it was executed in rank amateur style and it presented opportunities for people to be seriously hurt or killed. Let me introduce myself: I go by the name “Cinco de Mayo” and I am one of the biggest dealers and manufacturers of anabolic steroids in the Southeastern part of the United States. Three weeks ago, I was pinched in a joint effort by the DEA, US Customs and the FBI. Allow me to tell you how this happened and what went down.

I had one of the biggest mail boxes at the local post office. I hadn’t really used this as a drop in some time as I was now predominantly in the steroid manufacturing business and had other routes to gain access to AAS other than mail order importing. However, Rocco, one of my lifting partners and a member of my downline had a request for something I could not easily get through regular channels nor manufacture in short order – Masteron and Tesosterone Heptylate Theramex. Rocco had some guy who wanted 2,000 Theramex and 500 Masteron and this guy was paying 1/2 up front with the balance on delivery. I saw this as an opportunity for quick and easy profit. It was to be a one shot deal, I’d come out of this with $7,000 profit for making a phone call and picking the stuff up. Actually, in truth it wasn’t the $7,000 that motivated me. Rocco was a good guy and this client of his had the potential to be converted to one of our regular customers – maybe he could move the Reforvit-B, Norandren-200 and Brovel T-200 I had been “manufacturing” just outside the city limits of “N’Awlins” – and if this guy could move thirty grand of sauce per week it would be another seven grand per week right into my pocket. I liked this idea. I liked it a lot in fact. I liked it so much that I did something stupid, something that is a rookie mistake. I ordered the juice, all that Masteron and Theramex, from one single contact in France and told him to ship all of the gear in a single package.

This is foolish for a number of reasons: Sending over a big single package from one source, one address means that if the package is intercepted, you lose all your gear (which equals money). Worse still is if the quantity is large enough to make the feds believe you are a player in the game, they will set you up. Small packages, multiple sources, multiple places – the better way to go. Remember that.

My “French Connection” package was detained, opened and US Customs got a plain view sight of what amounted to a sea of Masterone and Theramex ampoules. Then the FBI and DEA were brought into this and within 48 hours I was set up for a controlled delivery.

Now I am generally not an idiot. I am usually careful. I don’t keep written client lists, no incriminating e-mails, no nothing, just in case I am nabbed I have no physical evidence to start a nuclear reaction and cause a fission of half the supply chain in North America. I am a ghost, untraceable. And every time I go to the post office to check this little used, almost forgotten box I am careful to the point of paranoia – I check the parking lot for Ford Crown Victorias and Chevy Caprices as these are “law enforcement cars” and if I see one, I will wait until it leaves before even getting out of my car.

There were no Caprice’s or Crown Vic’s in the parking lot this day. It was a pretty regular day in fact – nothing seemed out of the ordinary after a deliberate and thorough scan of the parking lot. So I shut my car off and opened the door. The plan was for me to pick the package up, change cars once in a parking garage downtown, then head over to a meeting place to deliver this to Rocco and get my money. As soon as I stepped out of my car though, I was tapped on the shoulder by some guy in a jogging suit. “FBI, I think you will want to talk with us”, is what he said as he flashed his badge in my face. Another guy in a jogging suit with a radio came out of nowhere and ran right over. I kept on thinking, “son of a bitch, I bet that shipment got busted by US Customs and they are trying to take me down”. I looked at the feds and replied that I was just here to get my mail and I already had enough “pals” and didn’t see the need to speak with them. As I started to back to my car, the first fed grabbed my arm and my response was to pick the guy up and throw him through the windshield of the Honda that I was standing next to. The second fed tried to restrain me and I ended up hurling him into some woman walking with two little kids. It’s easy to manhandle someone, a fed, when you are 6’3″ and a solid 300 pounder. Another fed came into play and I dispensed him into some dude wearing a cheap, JC Penney suit trying to drop off a stack of packages. It only took about 30 seconds after that for a phalanx of feds to descend upon me, spray me in the face with Mace, cuff me and throw me into the back of a car (it was a red Chrysler LHS by the way) and read me my Miranda rights. Innocent bystanders could have easily been hurt (or hurt worse) by this circus of a take down.

I was promptly taken to the New Orleans Police Department where I was fingerprinted ,questioned and “processed”. I was then told by some fat woman cop that I could make one phone call and after that, I could expect to be tossed into a 6″ x 9″ cell. Welcome to the Gray Bar Hotel. Now I didn’t say anything during questioning other than “I want my attorney”. There was no way I was going to be some punk bitch and rat out half the East Coast. I got busted and now I had to take it in the stones like a man. Rocco would know soon enough that something was up when I didn’t make it by our meeting place with the merchandise, he would know that something was up and he would contact the people in our network to “clean house” and lay low.

I am 25 years old and in 7 short years I went from a skinny kid with no money to a muscular giant sitting on top of a steroid ring that netted around $250,000 per week. This is my story, of my rise (and now my fall) through the ranks of steroidom, as user, small time peddler, big time dealer and finally, steroid manufacturer. Most of you know me and at the same time, don’t know me. You like it this way. If you have ever used Reforvit-B, Norandren or Brovel T-200 and you didn’t personally buy your shit down in Mexico…you more than likely used one of my clones. That’s OK. They may be counterfeit but they contained exactly what they were supposed to as far as steroid content. My copy of Norandren-200 was so dead on that the people at the Brovel plant could not tell the difference between one of mine and one of theirs. I’ve also done small runs of Sustanon 250 under the Nile brand name and of course those Parabolan amps and Primobolan amps that don’t quite match up to the pics you see in World Anabolic Review? My handiwork. My Parabolans were so good that we actually exported some of them to Europe.

This is not to say I did not deal in “real” stuff also. Of course I did. Anything coming out of Mexico I could get, and in fact did get for resale. I had a difficult time having pills made so I had to get the Clomid, Nolvadex, Cynomel, Stenox and Anapolan that I sold out of Mexico. Getting the stuff across the border in mass quantities was a snap and I will discuss this later on.

The organization that I sit at the head of is structured a lot like a multi-level marketing company. Yes, we are the Amway of the steroid biz. We have a CEO (yours truly), directors, managers and sales reps in two, 1x5x25 matrices and we have direct business in Louisiana, Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama and California. We have a European arm of perhaps a dozen people. I am guessing that we move about $500,000 worth of gear per week of which $250,000 is profit to be divided up (after my $50,000 comes off the top).

What’s really funny is that the feds, who busted me at the post office, who busted me in such an amateur way, further displayed their ignorance by not knowing anything about this organization and what it does, how it does it and where it does it. They merely busted me on possession with intent to distribute (based on that one French package), assault of a police officer, resisting arrest and some other bullshit charges that I will beat when this thing goes to court, if it even makes it that far.

The feds never knew about the cars, the money, the dummy companies set up to launder the money, the hordes of women, prostitutes and other party people, the house in Cabo San Lucas or the condominium in Playa de Carmen. They don’t know and if they ever did know…this would be the bust of a lifetime for most of them.

They also don’t know about our “vanishing web sites” or the “internet sales” that we do. This represents the largest growth segment for the steroid business today. The internet turns us from primarily a domestic group into a truly international consortium with alliances being struck between suppliers and dealers that will only benefit the end consumer. If you have ever purchased gear from a web site and had your package shipped to you from Spain or Portugal, you may have been dealing with one of my “contract employees”. With the internet we do more volume, the price goes down, everyone is happy. It’s easy to set up a site – find a free hosting service outside the USA in a steroid friendly country and there is nothing the feds here can do. Last year internet sales accounted for maybe 5% of our business. It has almost tripled in 1999 and I expect it to increase exponentially for Y2K.

I have been asked to tell you my story. In the next few editions of Mesomorphosis, I will do just that, tell you my story from Day One. I will tell you the lurid details of deals gone bad, people who have sold themselves into virtual slavery for steroids. Then there are the parties, the women, the gambling, the cars, everything that comes with a big money lifestyle. I can tell you this because I got away with it and after sitting in a jail cell for awhile I got to thinking. I am thinking that the seven figure money I have safely nested all over the place is enough for me. I am thinking I don’t want to go to jail. I am thinking that I am going to retire and turn over control of this business to Rocco. This is why I can tell you this – I am folding my hand and cashing out my chips. Rocco will change the organization regardless of whether I tell you about it or not. He has to so I won’t ever be a liability to the organization.

So do you know me? Is it “truly me” – the guy you have only heard about, the Kasier Sose’ of the steroid world? The myth, the legend the one and only? Could be…could very well be.

Next Installment: Episode II: Genesis – Details from the Beginning back in 1992