April 3, 2003  One of the best and worst days of sailing

We had just spent the last four months sailing the beautiful crystal clear waters of the Bahamas.  We cruised as far south as the Turks & Caicos, and as far north as the island of Eleuthera, spending the majority of our time in the Great Exumas, our favorite island chain in the Bahamas.  But sadly, it was time to head back to Florida and return to work.  Our friend Marc was unable to join us for the crossing from Nassau to Ft. Lauderdale so he sent his business partner, Jose instead.  We had met Jose thru the years and was glad that he could help us out.  We were going to be crossing the Gulf Stream and knew from past experiences, it's just best to have another set of eyes and ears onboard.  The Gulf Stream can be a busy place and a treacherous body of water to cross.  But the weather window was perfect and so on the morning of the 2nd we sailed out of Nassau.

 We sailed the entire way, 180 miles in 21 hours. It was the best crossing we had ever had. The morning was bright and clear as we made our way to the entrance of Port Everglades. As we motored closer to the 17th Street bridge, a Coastguard boat came alongside and asked to come aboard to do a safety inspection.  We said sure, no problem, come aboard. The officer asked for our identification and I gave him our passports as well as Jose's.  After looking thru them, he told us to turn around and head for the coastguard station for a more thorough inspection.  Oh no. More than likely, this decision was due to the fact that Jose's last name is Escobar and is originally from Colombia.

  We tied up to the Coastguard's dock and was told to exit the boat.  A DEA agent with a dog went onboard and went below and after several minutes passed, he came back up and upon exiting he told us to "turn ourselves in, we found all of it."  Aaron, Jose and I looked at each other and said what did he mean by that? Turn ourselves in? For what? we asked.  He said, that they had found the "mother lode" and we better just turn ourselves in right now.  A dull ache began in the pit of my stomach as we were escorted to sit in the shade of a tree.  The interrogation process and the mind games (pitting one of us against the other) began immediately. The Customs officials wanted to talk first  with Aaron, since he was the Captain, then Jose, then both Aaron and I.  We met with 2 men who asked all kinds of questions about us, what we did for a living,  how long had we owned the boat, and where we had just traveled from.  As this was going on, the DEA agent with the dog came up to our table and as the dog sniffed the both of us, Aaron reached down to pet the dog and rubbed the favorite spot on all dogs, right above the tail.  The dog, a German Shepard,  then jumped up on Aaron and licked his face which made the DEA agent furious and yelled for someone to get another dog.  The two men then asked if we had any drugs onboard, and we both answered, absolutely not.  I don't know how many times we said that there were no drugs onboard our boat, but it was many many times throughout the day. They kept telling us that this was a different country after 9/11. And we believe them if this is how citizens are treated.  We have never been arrested, our records are clean.  As truckdrivers, we are drug tested randomly every year.

We were left to ourselves then under the tree and we asked Jose if he had brought any drugs with him.  He said no and we believed him.  He said that it was going to be okay, and that by tomorrow we were going to be laughing about this.  I said I hope so, but didn't really believe it.  I just couldn't understand what the hell was going on and why they had suspected us of being drug smugglers, just because Jose's last name was Escobar, which is as common as a last name as Smith or Jones in the country of Colombia.  The officials kept calling Jose, Pablo after the Colombian druglord, which he is not related to at all.  What's up with that? At 1pm, a cop car pulled up and we were told that all three of us were to get in the back seat.  So we did.  No one else got in and as we sat there, we again talked back and forth with each other knowing that we were being recorded.  That was pretty obvious.  After about 45 minutes, we were let out and escorted back to our tree. Two more dogs were led onto our boat, and the coastguard guys were taking every item that they could off of our boat.  Aaron and I were questioned again.  They told us they were going to drill holes into our boat and tear it apart.  We told them if that is what you have to do to prove ourselves innocent then go ahead.  But there are no drugs onboard.  They couldn't believe that truckdrivers could afford a boat like ours and take the winters off to go cruising.  The suspicion was that we were trucking the drugs from Miami to wherever.

  At 3pm, Jose was taken away again and 15 minutes later he was being arrested and placed in the backseat of the cop car. At the time, they told us it was for drug traffiking.  I asked to borrow a phone and one of the customs officials let me use his.  I called Marc and let him know that Jose had just been arrested and that we were being detained for suspicion of having drugs onboard.  The customs guy overheard my conversation, and butted in and said, that they had not found any drugs.  (to myself then I asked what did they just arrest Jose for?) We were planning on going to the Keb Mo concert later on that evening and Marc said to keep in touch.  Right.  At 5pm, the place was swarming with more cops. Not a good sign. City of Hollywood police, Ft Lauderdale police, DEA agents, and Customs officials all came up to Aaron and I and asked if we had ever smoked marijuana.  Marijuana?  I said exasperated.  I haven't smoked since college which was 20 years ago. Aaron replied that we don't smoke that stuff and don't allow any drugs aboard our boat.  Aaron was then arrested  for marijuana possession, 1/4 of a joint that they had found onboard. (this was the mother lode?) They said this is a different country after 9/11 and that this was a matter of national security.  To that Aaron replied, "A 1/4 of a joint is a matter of national security? Can you tell me the difference between you and the KGB?" They replied, "If you don't shut up, we will confiscate your boat."

As Aaron was driven away, I told myself to keep it together as I sat under the tree.  At 530 pm, the posse came for me.  I knew it was my turn and as I stood up, the custom official said that I was free to go.  I replied, "Free to go where?", he said that I was free to get on my boat and go and that I had 20 minutes to do so.  I then replied, "You have arrested my husband and crewmember, how am I going to get this boat off the dock that quick?  He said to call Seatow and they would be glad to help me.  I said no way to that idea, I could handle our boat but I would need more time than 20 minutes and called Marc, asking for his help and told him that the situation was worse.  Aaron had been arrested too and that the Keb Mo concert was a no go. While waiting for Marc, I went onboard to survey the damage.  Everything was in disarray, but the main thing I noticed was a vacuum sealed bag containing 2 lbs. of  Bisquick lying on the main salon table.  So, that was the "mother lode".  Don't dogs know the difference between Bisquick and cocaine? And was the small joint (usually referred to as a "roach")actually found on our boat or was it planted? And if so, was  that how they could justify all of their efforts for the day?   Upon further inspection, there was also two holes drilled into the cabin sole under the salon settee. As I sat in the cockpit waiting, all the officials left and went home.  And I angrily wondered how they could feel good about what they had done today.  As for our lives, it was completely turned upside down.

  Marc arrived and by then it was dark out and we slowly made our way to Lake Sylvia where we set anchor.  We tried calling the police station to inquire about the status of Aaron and Jose, but no information was yet available.  I dinghied Marc ashore to where his friend was picking him up, and as I was walking back, a white Ford Explorer stopped on the opposite side of the street and a police officer got out and started walking towards me.  I began to walk faster, saying to myself "oh, no you don't."  But then, Jose jumped out of the car and yelled at me to stop.  The police officer was his brother, Alec.  Jose and I hugged each other, and he began to explain what had happened to him after his arrest.  He was arrested for a suspended driver's license, not drug traffiking.  And that he had seen Aaron being fingerprinted.  Alec, had arrived then and helped him get released.  I asked if he could help Aaron, but he said sorry  that nothing could be done until the morning.  He had to go thru the process.   Alec was still on duty and that he would come by at 730am and pick us up and drive to the police station.  Jose and I went back to the boat and waited out the long long night.  I just couldn't imagine what Aaron was going thru.

We arrived at the police station just before 8 am, and Alec told me to wait in the lobby and he would inquire about Aaron.  After about 15 minutes, Aaron stepped into the lobby and our reunion was an emotional one.  He asked me if the boat was okay and told him that Marc had helped me anchor in Lake Sylvia.  He had been so worried that the Coastguard had confiscated the boat and if they had done that, we would be boat owners no more.

We had to hire an attorney and went thru the process of the court system.  The charge was a misdeamnor, and the charge was eventually dropped, but our memories of that awful day will remain. And you know, at happy hour that evening, we were able to laugh about it all.