“Did I ever tell you about Ronald Reagan announcing the war on drugs while I was driving out of the parking lot in Fort Lauderdale?” I ask changing the subject. “It affected me a lot. It was like he was talking to me.”
“Actually,” replies Morgan, “he was talking about you.”
“It was a warning to everyone in the criminal drug trade.”
“Come on, Stephen,” Morgan shakes his head, “you think it was just a coincidence that the President of the United States announces his war on drugs just five days before the arrest in what is going to become The Drug Trial of the Century?”
I gape at Morgan. “It wasn’t a coincidence?”
“Reagan and Prime Minister Thatcher met in London a month before the DeLorean investigation and began to plan it. Thatcher was determined to take DeLorean down hard. He took $18,000,000 of her money and she wanted it back. He was staying in the States outside of British jurisdiction. She needed Reagan’s help to get him and he owed her big time after failing to aid Briton during the Falkland War. She lost a couple of ships, and 255 service personnel, Britain could have lost that war. It was a big deal. Yeah, Reagan owed her big time and this was his opportunity.”
“So the government did conspire to get DeLorean?”
“Absolutely, they aimed Hoffman at DeLorean like one of Reagan’s Star Wars missiles.”
“So, DeLorean has a real chance of getting off,” I say pouring the bucket over the grass.
“Yep, but that defense doesn’t work for us,” grumbles Morgan, “which is why I have to cooperate.”
“So you’re going to testify against me?” I am surprisingly calm as I ask the question.
“Absolutely not,” Morgan is stunned, “sure I have to tell them some things, but I didn’t tell all of it. Somethings they did not ask about and I am not volunteering extra information. But I promise you Stephen, I will not take the stand against you, nor against DeLorean either for that matter.”
“What?” I am truly surprised.
“Come on,” Morgan prods, “I’m a Hetrick not a Hoffman. I won’t take the stand against friends or family. This is why the negotiations for my cooperation took so long. You’re family.”
“And DeLorean?” I ask.
“He’s a friend of sorts, but also I never heard him say anything that would truly incriminate him.”
“You just met him,” I ask. “How could he be your friend?”
Morgan laughs, “I’ve known John for over a decade. I was the pilot for a mega millionaire named Fletcher Jones. He had this little social swingers club at his 3912-acre ranch called the Westerly Stud Farm in San Ynez.”
“You? Country western dancing?” I cannot imagine Morgan doing country music line dancing.
“Don’t be an idiot,” laughs Morgan. “It wasn’t that kind of swinging. Fletcher regularly had me fly Hollywood starlets up from Santa Monica for a wild weekend.”
“With DeLorean,” I am stunned.
“Can’t say that DeLorean was messing with the starlets, but he was there. However, there was someone else. Fletcher met and fell in love with a real star, and it put an end to his swinging days. He wanted to marry her. I used to fly her in frequently and we became good friends. It’s because of her that I won’t testify against DeLorean.”
Morgan is blowing my mind. “Who is this woman?”
Morgan smiles, “Cristina Ferrare.”
“She’s your friend?”
“She wrote me a note that said, ‘I didn’t know that men like you existed.’ So yeah, we were close. We had many long conversations during those flights to and from Los Angeles. A year later, she ups and marries John DeLorean. I couldn’t take the stand against him with her staring at me.” Morgan smiles, “You don’t exactly have a proper picture of who I really am. I may be a smuggler, but I have a code of Texas cowboy ethics.”
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