from Colorado (with whom I composed several songs over the span of two years) and I managed to sign a contract with Sony Music in New York (CBS Records at that time). Our contract was for five records and the operating budget was favorable. This opened a new chapter in my artistic life; the long worldwide tours we undertook illustrate the advantages that few multinational companies can afford to offer. A few months after signing the contract, my wife arrived from Colombia on a surprise visit to tell me that she had been diagnosed with cancer. The news made me very sad; in spite of our separation of several years, we were still somewhat like husband and wife, enjoying a good friendship and having a lot of respect for each other. In other words, we were best friends because we knew each other’s life perfectly and there were no secrets between us.
A few months later, we decided it would be better for our children to live with me since she was already very ill and could not take care of them properly. By then, they were young teenagers. This meant a big change in my lifestyle. Initially the children went to a boarding school for a year. Then they came to live with me permanently. My frequent music tours made the first years very difficult. In a way, this new responsibility of taking care of my children made me abandon many destructive activities in which I had previously engaged that were leading me towards an abyss. In 1992, my wife, after much suffering, died in Colombia. The cycle of emotions and experiences of my former life that began in the 1960’s had come to a close.
Notwithstanding, I was still involved in occult practices. In 1993, my youngest brother died in a sea accident on the island of Antigua under unknown circumstances. Six months later, my father also passed away from a brain hemorrhage. In 1996, only two years after these deaths, another brother shot himself to death during an argument with his wife after having consumed some alcohol at a party. Two months later, my mother died in my arms, totally emaciated by all these family tragedies. After being notified of my brother’s death at the end of 1996, I flew to Colombia for the funeral. It was held in Pereira, a small city located in the coffee-growing region of Colombia, an hour’s drive from our hometown. My mother had been living there for the past 35 years.
It was not easy going back to Colombia after a fourteen-year absence. The country had changed a lot in every aspect; even the currency changed in appearance. Some things had changed for the better, like the number of job opportunities, but other things were worse than before, as evidenced by the violence, intolerance and moral decay in all levels of society.
Seeing my sisters again after several years was rather difficult because of the situation we were going through. My mother who was still living at the time was so full of grief that it was almost impossible to look into her eyes. My brother’s funeral took place about four hours after I arrived. I was very surprised to see so many relatives in the church. I had not been exposed to such a gathering, or even to a funeral, since I was a child. I had forgotten that my family was so large. The days that followed were sad and full of grief for my sisters and me. Our mother was now terminally ill and there was nothing we could do for her but wait, since doctors had given up all hope of her recovering. I was so distant from God that the word miracle was neither part of my vocabulary, nor that of my sisters. People, including my own family, seemed to go very often to church. However, their spiritual qualities were not really evident. Religion did not seem to have changed in all those years. It seemed quite the same to me. Two months later, after enduring long nights of anguish, my mother died. I could still feel the smell of incense from the last funeral, and there we were again, attending another one even more painful and difficult than the last. After these two funerals, my sisters and I talked about who would be the next since we were heading toward death in a very close sequence. In less than four years, five members of my family had died.
In the year that followed, I adopted the food habits and easy-going, bohemian lifestyle that was common in Colombia. While experiencing this idealism that was no more than ancestral nostalgia, I flew between Los Angeles and Colombia three more times before my eventual kidnapping. My last trip before being kidnapped was in November of 1997. I wanted to spend Christmas with my sisters to share the sadness with them caused by the absence of so many relatives.
To be honest, now that I look back, I see that the biggest attraction for me in Colombia was the intensive party-life in small towns like mine. While driving along the busy highways of Los Angeles, the only thought that came to my mind was being in the arms of one of those beautiful and “easy-going” girls that abound in Colombia. Alcohol, drugs and women were still controlling my life. My only thoughts were in that direction and I felt I could easily satisfy them in Colombia.
I arrived in Colombia that Christmas full of enthusiasm for the upcoming Christmas carnival that would last until January 14th. I had to be back in Los Angeles on that day to begin a four-week U.S.A. tour with my band. For the past three years I had been experiencing financial difficulties due to my involvement in the film merchandising business. Hollywood produces all sorts of merchandise to promote films, and this industry has become gigantic worldwide. Thanks to the contacts I had made for so many years, I had managed to obtain exclusive deals. That Christmas I had particular commitments with many investors. Our business had serious problems with the IRS and the entire investment was in jeopardy. I was responsible for many people’s money. However, everything seemed to be under control. I did not know at the time that I would soon be kidnapped and held hostage for six months in the jungles of Colombia.
On December 11th I arrived in Pereira where my mother had died and three of my four sisters were still living. I began to plan great parties for those days. In the afternoon of December 25th, I left for my hometown, all the while feeling very tired and dizzy as a result of the party we had had on Christmas Eve which lasted until 7 a.m. After driving for less than an hour, I arrived in Anserma and went to visit friends and relatives until midnight. I was so tired that I had no energy to drink or dance anymore. In this region of the country, Christmas parties go on for several days. At midnight, I left to spend the night at an uncle’s farm located near the south entrance to the town, close to the urban area. When I arrived, I was surprised to find the gate closed, for my uncle would always leave it open when he knew I was coming. One of my nephews was with me and I asked him to get out of the car to open the gate. The moment he opened it, a group of men holding guns, with their heads covered, jumped out of the darkness. A few seconds later, they put my nephew in the rear seat of my car. They opened all the doors and, like hungry dogs, looked for anything they could find. They forced me out of the car, tied my hands, covered my head and took all my belongings.
At first, I thought I was being robbed, a crime very common in Colombia. Then the situation grew worse. The six men got into my car, made me sit in the back seat, and began driving down the road at high speed. Once we were out of town, they stopped the car; four of them got out and took me with them, while the other two left with the car, taking my nephew with them. Being left on the road and without knowing what was going on, I started to think that they were going to kill me and dispose of my body somewhere in the mountains. But that was not their plan. They tied a rope around my waist which two men held, one from the front and one from the back. Then they made me walk through the mountains all night long with the hood still covering my head.
We arrived at what seemed to be the main house of an abandoned farm in the countryside and they took me to what sounded like an empty room, judging by the echo. I was left there alone for the rest of the day; late at night they took me out, led me to a road and put me again in the rear part of a car in which we rode for a long time. I heard them saying that the police and the army were looking for me, and so they had to take me to another place. After a long trip at high speed on an unpaved and very bumpy road, my body was left in bad shape since I could not avoid banging and hitting myself against the car. As a result of this ordeal, my body was bleeding and bruised all over. Then we got out of the car and began to walk again for several hours; this time I could tell we were in the jungle because instead of hearing urban birds singing, I heard sounds that could only be heard deep in the jungle. Although I had been born in a small town and lived as a child in the countryside, walking tied up and blindfolded in the jungle at night made me very nervous and increased the panic caused by this terrible odyssey.
The
