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Ridiculous Crime

Take Me Down to Everglades City: A Town of Pot Smugglers

Dienstag, 3. November 2026 · 1 h 06

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The City of Everglade City was founded by smugglers, so it should be no surprise that a century later, the locals kept that tradition going. Only by then, they'd moved on to pot smuggling. It was a highly lucrative profession, far more than fishing or crabbing, but pot smuggling was also highly illegal. Never the less, the locals were enjoying their lawless ways, right up until the feds caught wind of the overwhelming size and scale of the south Florida dope game. But while those good times rolled, what a high time the whole town enjoyed.
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Elizabeth. Zarin.

How you doing?

Oh, I'm good. You're good.

You look like it.

I'm good.

Yeah, you look like you're like over there like.

So good, dude.

Just kind of floating on a buzz.

So good, dad.

Well, while you're feeling so good, I got a quick question for you. Yeah, what's up? Do you know it's ridiculous?

I do. What?

So, I have this thing I want to tell you about. And I'm sort of, since I'm like the apex predator of weird products.

Mm-hmm.

I'm like circling my prey. How am I going to attack this to explain it to you? No, just calm down. So like first I'm like, oh, okay. Like, you know, BYOS. What does that mean to you? Bring your own.

No, no.

Or then I was like, you know, a lot of us are trying to eliminate plastics from our life. Like I'm trying to not use like plastic things. uh, Tupperware type stuff. Like I've gone to glass containers because of microplastics.

Sure.

I mean, it's too late for me. I'm probably like 80% microplastics at this point. And anything is going to happen has happened and is happening. Like currently it can't reverse course, but I'm just thinking like, so that I look cool. Um, but then I was like, no, how about this one? Okay. This is what's up with Walmart being the exclusive retailer for certain things like say spooky ranch.

Okay.

Walmart is the exclusive retailer for what I'm about to tell you about.

Oh, good.

It's a company called Nella.

Nella?

Like Nella Wafers? No, it's Nella.

N-E-L-L-A.

Yeah, Nella Wafers.

And they have a thing called the Comfort Kit.

Okay.

And so it's available only at Walmart. And what it is is a modern FDA-registered medical device.

Mm-hmm.

Designed to replace the traditional metal speculums during routine pelvic exams. I love how you're just like closing your eyes and wincing. So you go to your lady exam. This is for the ladies, not for the gents.

It's the tube you look through, right?

No.

The speculum is what spreads things out. Yeah. Opens things up so that like samples can be taken.

Yeah.

So, yeah, they're like, we don't want you to use something that's been sterilized. I mean, granted, they're cold.

Sure. I could.

Sure.

It'd be terrible.

But you can apparently BYOS, bring your own speculum.

Oh, my God.

You can go to Walmart and get a plastic disposable speculum. I think it's disposable. Maybe you take it home, put it through the dishwasher. I don't know. It has a built-in LED light.

Uh-huh.

And sidewall refractors to give your clinician a clear, unobstructed view. It is engineered to operate silently without loud clicks of traditional instruments.

This thing got the sidewall refractors?

It's got spinners.

Hey, Doc, good news. It's got spinners. Got the Littrell Spree wells.

And so they said it's got the warm feeling of medical-grade polymer material instead of cold metal. So the classic. Single use is $ 59. Speculum sitting on dubs. Big speakers. It'll play your favorite tune. It's got Bluetooth. The first kit is tailored for first timers at 70. So this kid's got to pay more. The menopause kit, 80. Oh, because we make money as we get older ladies. It also includes a cooling patch for hot flashes, a calming lavender rollerball, and comfort socks.

Comfort, wow.

And then there's, you know, there's other ones. There's like a curves kit for the bigger gals is $ 59. Okay. So that's at least the same price as the classic kit. You got to up pay if you're a young teen and you got to really up pay if you're a lady of a certain age. So anyway, that is bizarre and ridiculous. Nella, bring your own speculum. And oh, and I need to, I need to give credit where credit's due.

So luckily this wasn't a mashup per se.

Thank God, no. But it is a Walmart product, which is like, you know. Anyway, I need to let everyone know that it was Eden Jay. Eden Jay who sent this to us on Instagram. Nice work, Eden Jay. Thank you, Eden Jay. And that, friends, is ridiculous.

You did it right. Yeah, I am. I got something ridiculous for you. Yes, please.

Florida. Florida.

Yes done done roll credits now these days like for many folks florida isn't exactly seen as like the deep south right it's more like the florida is a state of mind it's its own thing yeah and it's mostly true like miami and south florida i mean really when people are talking about that however there are still plenty of folks who live in the sunshine state who remind me of the south that i grew up with i'm not talking the south that like distrusted the federal agents who'd come to town oh yeah the south that celebrated lawless folk heroes the south that preferred outlaws to lawmen the south you see in tv shows like the dukes of hazard and movies like this like smoky and the bandit right this is a story of that south.

Oh nice.

This is Ridiculous Crime, a podcast about absurd and outrageous capers, heists, and cons. It's always 99% murder-free and 100% ridiculous.

Ridiculous.

Elizabeth.

It's Aaron.

Have you ever been to the Everglades region of Florida?

I don't think so. I've been to Florida once. It's not too long ago. A couple of years ago I went. And I think it was like... The Panhandle area, is that what that's called?

Do you see like the white sand beaches of Pensacola?

Pensacola, yeah, yeah, yeah. And I feel like it wasn't the Everglades, but it was swampy.

No, that's not the Everglades. Yes, it is swampy. It's connected more to like the swamps you think of in Louisiana and Mississippi.

Or Georgia and some of those.

Yeah, Georgia. Although those are slightly different, like the Okefenokee. It's a little bit different.

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah, you're thinking more of like the Cajun swamps is what you see.

Oh, is what they got there?

No, no, it's closer to Pensacola. That's more like what stretches to Louisiana.

Yeah, that's what I'm saying.

Okay, got it.

Yeah, I just know that.

Atchafalaya.

And they're like places where you can't turn around because the highway goes through it.

Yeah.

If you're on the West Coast, the 10, you're out there, I-10, you can't for miles. You're like, oh, I missed my exit. I just added.

40 minutes to my trip. It was an interesting place.

Yeah, it is. I'm glad you put it that way. Now, as you know, I started out my life in Georgia. My grandparents lived in Florida. So we often took road trips down to Florida to see them, enjoy a vacation. You get the idea. So I've been all over Florida from Miami and the Keys down at the tip up to Tallahassee at the top and over to Pensacola in the panhandle. And I got to say up top, I genuinely love Florida. The land, its people. Now, it's politics and culture are a different thing, but the politics and culture are always changing in Florida. Like the Florida of yesterday is not the Florida of today. And the Florida of today will not be the same as the Florida of tomorrow.

It'll be underwater.

Well, it's kind of like the afternoon showers that they blossom in the sky out there. The locals always like to say, if you don't like the weather in Florida, just wait 15 minutes. It'll change. The culture is kind of the same. It just takes a little while longer than 15 minutes. Now, for today's story, I want to take you back to a very different Florida, a Florida that was in transition. The 1970s were this time there was all this like mad construction, like especially condominium buildings.

My author, I really like John McDonald, the Travis McGee book series. He writes all about this. And so I have read all of his books. So I have a pretty good understanding of a time I never saw.

Right.

But there's this massive change. And so like the tourist traps and the tourist destinations in Florida are all changing. Disney World opens in 1971, and that radically changes, especially the Orlando area.

Yeah, yeah.

So meanwhile, there's this longstanding traditions that they were still going, which of agriculture and aquaculture, they start going the way of the dodo. So in the 1970s, things like fishing and crabbing, which were major movers of the local economy, start to flag and fade out. And eventually starting in the late 70s and continuing into the mid 80s, fishing and crabbing experienced radical change. Like I'm talking like it fully changes the cultures and the economies of Florida. As the New York Times reported in August of 1982, and I quote, Two years ago, Cecil D. Andrus, then the Interior Secretary, told residents of this tiny village that commercial fishing would be banned in Everglades National Park. And he

urged them to, quote, find other sources of income.

Oh, geez. Right.

So when changes like that occur, when people are forced to find new ways to make a living, they may not always pick a direction that the powers that be would pick for them. Like they may pick things like crime as their new profession.

True. Very true.

Back to that same New York Times story. And I quote, some townspeople, young and old, took his advice. They have turned the area into a center for marijuana smuggling, according to local officials.

Well, you know, diversify, they said.

Exactly. Now, this is a story I want to tell you today. When folks in Florida's fishing industry decided to switch things up and joined Florida's booming drug smuggling industry. Perfect. They're like, we got boats. As you know from previous stories, I've told you about South Florida, like the one about the Black Tuna Gang. The 70s and 80s were this boom time for drug smugglers working in the Sunshine State. Well, this, Elizabeth, is another chapter in that same meta story. But this one is much different. So the Black Tuna Gang was ultimately the story about outsiders, right? It's like folks from up north in Philadelphia. who come in and form a smuggling operation, moving pot by the ton from Columbia. This

story is It's a story of locals, of insiders, true Floridians, people who could trace their lineage back generations. Yeah. Now, obviously, as you've discussed in stories like that gem you told about the real McCoy, Florida is no stranger to smuggling.

Right.

Dating back to Prohibition and the rum runners who smuggled in booths to satisfy that insatiable thirst of the drinkers, the partiers of the supposedly dry, roaring 20s. Now, as the New York Times reported in their August 15th, 1982 edition, and I quote. The terrain seems to breed smugglers. In the Depression, local residents turned to rum running to make ends meet. So in the 20s, it was hooch. In the 1950s, the new contraband was bird feathers.

Bird feathers.

Yeah, as the time tells it, 30 years ago, some townspeople illegally provided plumes from pink spoonbills and white egrets for hats.

Wow.

Right?

Little known fun.

Fact about Florida. That is a total fun fact. Not for the birds.

No.

And then in the 70s and the 80s, obviously times change again. And for evidence of this, the Times, the New York Times it is, they spoke with this local South Florida businessman by the name of Speedy Johnson. Nice. 46-year-old owner of the Johnson Seafood Company. And he recalled how his 70-year-old father, Macbeth Johnson. Wait.

Give me a second. I got to soak that one up. Speedy and then Papa Macbeth.

Papa Macbeth. So Macbeth, he gets arrested in 81 for running pot on his fishing boat. And as you see, when the authorities caught up to his dad, he was busted towing a boat loaded down with 64 bales of marijuana.

What? Right?

Towing a boat.

Yeah.

So back to our story. This one takes place in a town called Everglades City. This particular town has a long history of smuggling. In fact, you might say it was founded by smugglers.

I might say that.

You might. I mean, I've known you a while and you do say things like that. Never know. This town was founded by smugglers. Elizabeth, calm down.

Indoor voice.

As you likely know, during the Civil War, Florida joined the Confederacy.

Yes, they did.

And they were early. I don't think people give them enough credit.

They were like right behind South Carolina.

They were the third to secede.

Oh, they were.

Oh, yeah.

South Carolina's first, as you know, seceding on December 20th, 1860. Merry Christmas. Hey, we want to get in the season. So following the election of Abraham Lincoln, they're like, we're out. Deuces, right? Mississippi was the second state to secede. Yeah, the Magnolia State was left on January 9th, 1861. They wanted to do the holidays. Then they went back to the legislature.

They're like, all right, let's get out. The very next day, January 10th, 1861, Florida joins them. They're like, good idea, Magnolia State. Sunshine coming through. So soon to be followed by Alabama and Georgia on January 11th and 19th, respectively. So make no mistake, Florida is and will always be part of the Deep South.

Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Just like their neighboring states. And that's why all during the Civil War, Florida was a key supplier for the Confederacy. Although no major battle was fought in Florida, still Confederate ships and foreign merchant ships, they both would run the Union naval blockade to bring in much needed supplies to the Confederacy from foreign ports.

Yeah.

However... Not everyone in the state supported the rebels because down in Key West, there were a bunch of union supporters who also ran contraband during the war.

Oh, really?

And among them were these folks from Cape Sable, this one area. And after the war was over, they moved north to found what would become Everglades City.

Oh, interesting.

Yeah, so the town was founded by union-supporting smugglers. Soon after the war, the settlement becomes this home of a successful sugar cane planter, because they were really big into sugar cane at the time. This guy's name was George Sorter, Jr. Decades later, in 1895, his trading post was then eventually granted a post office, which he decided to name Everglades.

This is how the town would get its name, right? So George Sorter, he was also the man who first brought in tourist dollars to this local economy. Folks would travel far and wide, headed south to hunt and fish. But since there were no overland routes, they had to arrive by yacht. So among these early visitors, we had multiple U.S. presidents, a bunch of rich dudes from up north, like, you know, think like industrialist, robber baron types. They would come down and do some hunting and fishing at places like the Rod and Gun Club. So eventually in the 1920s, the Florida legislature, it creates a new county called Collier County.

And the county seat is the town of Everglades. The town is this tiny thing. It's like basically about a dozen or so families even just lived in Collier County, let alone in Everglades.

Yeah.

But during the early years of the Great Depression, some of these families turned to rum running. They're like, let's get back to basics.

Right.

I mean, it's if you don't have huge industry there.

Yeah. I mean, but they basically some agriculture and some aquaculture and they're like rum pays better.

Right.

Exactly.

So around the same time, the town of Everglades gets connected to the mainland by the Tamiami Trail or the Tamiami Trail. It's a state highway that connects the area to traffic from Miami. Now, this development leads to some growth in the area, but the town of Everglades primarily remains this rural agricultural area. And it's set apart from the rest of Florida by that vast sea of grass known as the Everglades.

Yeah.

So they're basically stuck between the Gulf of Mexico and the Everglades. They're just like, what do we do here?

Yeah.

Now, as I said earlier, in the 1950s, locals turned to smuggling new contraband. They began selling illegal bird feathers once again to make ends meet. So this is how this longstanding tradition of smuggling keeps their community viable. Yeah. Despite the hard times around this same period in 1953, the town of Everglades gets renamed as the City of Everglades.

Still tiny, but now the City of Everglades.

No, there's a city, not a town.

Exactly. And in 1960, there's this devastating hurricane that blows through, nearly wipes the City of Everglades right off the map. But they rebuild. They keep fighting to survive. And as a result of all of this devastation, in 62, the Florida legislature decides to You know, we're taking the county seat away. No offense, but they move it to East Naples, right?

So this removal of the county seat kind of humbles Everglades City. They're like, we were growing. We're a city. And then in a strange turn, the Florida state legislature votes to give the city like, you know, a new kind of hit of pride. They're like, you got a new name. You are now the city of Everglades City.

I don't know.

And fun fact, that is still the official name of the city.

Really?

Yeah. Anyway, despite the city of Everglades City, despite this new name, the city, the people who call it home, they're still struggling. Right. The name change doesn't do it for them.

When you take the county seat away, there are a lot of jobs connected with that.

Oh, yeah.

Courthouse and the administrative stuff.

Yeah. Oh, yeah.

And I mean, all the ancillary businesses that come with that. I mean, like Hill Pondsman for the courts. I mean, stuff you won't even think about.

Sure.

By this point, most folks, they're making their living from the fishing industry. It's the one viable concern they got going. So they're doing net fishing. They're doing fishing from charter boats. Others are doing, they're trapping stone crabs and getting, they break the claws off and they throw the crab back in and let the claw grow back.

Oh, I didn't know that's what they did.

Yeah. So anyway, none of these are easy, right? They're not easy to get by. And as a result, in the 1970s, when our story begins, the city of Everglades City has no McDonald's, no Burger King, no fast food of any kind.

That's a good thing.

Oh, totally. They had no Motel 6, no Days Inn, no major national hotel chains. No Red Roof Inn. Nothing. The city also lacked any major supermarket. It was very much just a locals-only economy. So they pride themselves on their small-town charms. Like, they have an annual seafood festival every This brings in some tourist dollars as visitors come down for the fish and the shrimp and the stone crab, right?

And the Washington Post tried to sum up the small town charms of the city of Everglades City. And I quote, To a passerby, Everglades City doesn't seem to be that much different from countless other little backwater fishing towns. It's the kind of town where the phone book takes up four pages. The kind of town where stone crabbers might get a little drunk and, for excitement, have a contest down at one of the fish houses that lie in the scenic Molasses Slow Barren River to see who can size crab claws the fastest. Give you an idea of the town?

Yeah, I get it, I get it.

So that same Washington Post story also reported on the town's mayor at the time, Snapper Butler.

Wait, these names.

Another great name, right?

Snapper Butler.

And old Snapper Butler.

I barely know her.

Proudly recounted that, and I quote, my wife said when I got elected that maybe I should tuck my shirt in, but I wear my shirt tails out.

Yeah, Snapper.

So old Snapper Butler also added that you can't find better people in the world than what's in Everglades City. Now, the reason why Mayor Snapper Butler felt this need to point out that last part was then by then the world was learning about all the drug smugglers who called Everglades City home. So kind of like the fictional mayor of the movie Jaws, Snapper Butler, he wanted to assure tourists that his town is still safe to visit.

Right, right.

So as the mayor told the Post, I can walk down the street. I ain't worried about getting mugged. My car's parked outside right now with the keys in it. And I ain't worried about someone driving it off. It's a small town. It ain't a concrete jungle.

Okay.

Now, obviously, drug smugglers have their own cars because they're doing well.

So that's not the type of crime. They're not mugging people.

Exactly.

But okay, if it makes them feel better.

Yeah, really, he's trying to advertise his town.

That's right.

He's like, people from Michigan, you can come down here. Snow bunnies, please. Or snowbirds. Snowbirds. Snow bunnies or something else.

Or snow bunnies.

Despite all of his claims of this small town's charms and appeals, by the early 80s, the town's dirty little secret starts getting out. And at this point, there's no going back.

Oh, boy.

In 1981, John Rothschild, who lived in Everglades City, he writes in a newspaper article that things were clearly changing in the town. As Rothschild put it, and I quote, pickup trucks were replaced by Lincolns with tinted windows, or vans with murals painted on their sides. Crab boats got radar. The men, having never worn anything flashier than brown work shirts, displayed gold necklaces. Houses were constructed with central air conditioning.

Sunken tubs, chandeliers, and fireplaces. And the few village merchants struggled to make change for the new $ 100 bills.

Can we wind that back a little bit to the vans with murals?

Right, you can see it.

That's the indicator. I want to know what the murals were, but you're like, all right, these people have cash. Their vans have murals on them.

The bubble window on the side.

Oh yeah, the bubble window and like a wizard standing there with like lightning coming out of a staff that he's holding and then like dolphins jumping over the lightning.

Yes.

And then on the other side, it's like wolves.

And a griffin on the side.

Yes, on like a mountainside fighting. Wolves and a griffin fighting. And then like the hood has like a sunrise.

And inside is wall-to-wall carpeting.

Yes.

On the walls. Carpeting on the walls.

Yes.

So my point is this rapid rate of change is due to the simple fact that by 1981, an estimated 80% of the town might have been involved in drug smuggling.

Okay.

And they had sunken tubs.

It's like chandeliers.

They had microwaves.

Now, before we get into all this criming, now that we've set the table, let's take a little break. And after these messages, we will... Dig and get to know these pot smugglers of the Everglades City.

Excellent.

And we're back, Elizabeth. We are back. So you ready for round two? All right, knuckle up. Now, before we get into it, I want to say something as I often point out. There are few natural born criminals.

That's very true.

Right.

And the fine folks of the city of Everglades City were not natural criminals. They were not bad people. The town was not some like hotbed of immorality. These folks were only responding to the conditions of their lives.

Well, and you're saying they're not bad people. I think there's a there is a small percentage of bad people.

Sure. There are certainly psychopaths or sociopaths. And just.

Bad people who have no, like, empathy.

Oh, yeah.

That's what I was talking about with sociopaths and psychopaths.

Yeah, but I mean, there's some people who just don't, like, display it in those ways, but either way. And are just greedy, that kind of bad people. But no, I'm talking about, like, most of who we talk about on here, and I'd almost say 100%, they're people who do bad things.

They make bad choices.

Or idiotic things.

Yeah. Yeah.

But they're not, you know, we're not what we do for the most part, unless, you know, it's writ large, terrible things.

I just want to make that clear as we are about to dive into why.

Oh, God, am I like defending you?

No, no, no. This is going to be rampant lawlessness.

Yeah, but you're saying it's conditional. I think that's super important that, you know, you have these situations that, you know, you're in and you have to respond in some way to survive. But then also it's kind of fun, I think.

There's that. Crime is fun.

Yeah.

I mean, certain types of crime. This type of crime.

This type of crime, yeah.

So the conditions that we've been referring to, it came down to governmental restrictions. So to explain how this all played out, it's time to meet an outlaw folk hero of the city of Everglades City. And that's not me calling him that. That's how the Washington Post described him. His name is Loren Totch Brown. Totch. Hey, Totch. Now, the 71-year-old was a major player in the pot smuggling business.

He's a legend of the area, this area of Florida, which was known as 10,000 Islands.

Oh, all right.

Right?

So like 10,000 lakes, but now we got 10,000 islands.

You get it.

Beat that.

Yeah. Knuckle up, son. Now, a good old boy hero to his fellow drug smugglers, old Totch Brown. Also, by the way, the reason why it's called the 10,000 islands is along the coast of southwestern Florida. So like you take Miami and you go around the Gulf of Mexico side, but don't go up too far. Sure, sure. That's where we're at, right? So Everglades City is located there. There's a stretch of about 2,000 square miles, and it's practically impenetrable to outsiders. It's all mangrove swamps and channels and inlets of water.

Are there alligators?

Lots of alligators.

That's no bueno.

Alligators on alligators.

I don't like it.

Big ones, too, right? Picture trees that are practically obscured by Spanish moss. You get the idea.

It is sultry.

Yeah, very.

I'm getting, my hair's curling with the humidity just thinking about it.

As the Germans say, feucht.

Feucht.

Now, as my man Tosh Brown described to the Washington Post with a rather salty laugh they recorded, and I quote, there's no way a stranger to these parts could find us. And forget about keeping up with us. We use no lights whatsoever at night. Lights would blind us. They're like, I don't know.

They're like mole people.

Yeah, exactly. So these were, you know, they were the, they were like basically the moonshiners of the Great Depression. Those guys who drove fast and lights out in the backwoods.

Yeah, because they know like the back of their hand.

Yeah, exactly. But, and these were like also like the type of places where like outsiders would get lost, like it's the dark forest of a fairy tale, right?

Yes.

Now, back to the government regulations that spurred these locals to jump into the dope game. As Tosh Brown explains, he didn't naturally gravitate to smuggling South American pot, but eventually he felt he had no choice.

Sure.

Because fishing could no longer put food on the table. You see, it all started in 1947. That's when Harry Truman's administration turned a large swath of the 10,000 islands into new federal lands. And they called those new federal lands the Everglades National Park. Oh, okay.

Right?

And so along with that designation, the feds outlawed hunting in the new national park. That was bad for the locals because they relied on hunting to attract tourists, remember?

Right, right, right.

And then also to feed their families with the game that they could hunt. Now, you know, I support national parks. What are they hunting? Gator, birds.

Capybaras.

Capybaras, yes.

Elk. Elk.

Pink grizzly bears.

I'm leaning back in the chair like I know what I'm talking about.

Yeah, exactly.

I wish people could see the look on your face. You know, elk. Bison.

You look across the Evergrades, you could walk across the backs of the bison. One side of the park to the next.

No.

I'm just going to keep doing this character.

With my arm up. It's fun.

Nodding. Go ahead, son.

You know I support national parks like you do.

Oh, yeah. I love them.

I encourage national park creation. I want to see more national parks.

Love state parks, national parks.

Totally.

Preserve our lands and waters, especially because we have ever-shrinking wilderness. But I also understand how this move would be dangerous. Devastating for the locals who lived off of the Everglades.

I'll allow it.

Anyway, after the creation of Everglades National Park, the feds create new regulations that then start to limit the fishing and the crabbing that can be done in the area.

Oh, that's a problem, too.

Yeah, so soon crab traps get banned in large sections of the coastline.

And they're just ripping their hands off. They're not eating the whole crab.

No, yeah.

They rip the claws off, their hands off, and then they throw the crab back.

They don't do it Dungeness style out here. You're all in, kid. You're going in the pot.

So the next severe blow for the area comes in the March of 1980. That's when feds announced that they plan to ban all commercial fishing in the Everglades National Park. So that new rule changes everything in the area called 10,000 Islands. It's the end of a way of life. It's not like these locals were living well before the ban.

In the early 80s, the average income was about $ 17, 000 a year. So that's like well around the poverty line. But regardless, the feds declared that starting in 1985, all commercial fishing would be illegal. The reason why they gave a five-year phase-in of the ban was to give the locals some time to transition their economy.

To vegetarianism.

Wouldn't you know it, Elizabeth? The locals did just that. Only they didn't do what the feds anticipated. They didn't grow their tourist economy. They didn't buy a bunch of fan boats. So back to my man, Totch Brown. When he heard about the feds' plan to ban commercial fishing, he comes up with a whole new livelihood for himself and his family. He buys himself a plane ticket to South America. He and a friend fly to Colombia, and they trek to this rural village called Barrancas. And as Totch Brown tells it, and I quote, What I remember about that trip was the man riding a little horse who came up to us. He was barefoot. He didn't have a shirt on and was wearing a straw hat.

What I really remember was the. 38 he had tucked in his belt next to his bare skin. I'm just as sure as God made little apples that the man hadn't put the. 38 there for fun.

When you said a man riding a little horse, do you know what appeared in my head?

Of course.

Like a horse the size of like a golden retriever.

Yes.

And then a man on it, his feet are dragging. No shirt on.

Luckily for her touch.

But his feet are like huge. His feet are like four feet long.

He has to get custom boots.

Yeah. That's what's in my head right now.

I'm sure it's still there.

It totally is. It'll be there for a long time. Giant man, little horse. Go ahead.

So after this initial meeting is successful, the men, they make their business arrangements. Then Tots flies back to the U.S., back home to the Everglades. He gasses up his shrimp boat, the Sally Ann, and he pilots it across the Caribbean, headed back to Colombia. There, he hires a translator and he gets to work. He returns to the mountains near Barrancas and meets up with his new Colombian business partners.

Yeah.

With the help of his translator, he starts selecting bales of pot. I'll take this one, not that one. And then he prepares the pot to cross the Caribbean, and he loads the bales of pot into his shrimp boat, the Sally Ann, and he pilots his shrimp boat back to Florida. As my man, Totch Brown, recorded in his unpublished autobiography.

Oh, dang it.

Doing it right. Life in the Everglades.

Doing it.

He recalls that fate... first trip as a newly minted dope smuggler. And I quote, Instead of crawfish, stone crab, or mackerel, I loaded my 72-foot shrimp boat in Columbia with all the marijuana she'd float with and drove her home across the Caribbean. Until then, I'd thought hunting alligators up to 14 foot with some of them coming at me head on was scary enough, but the fright that came with pot hauling would scare a full-grown tomcat out of all nine of his lives. Along with the frights, though, came experiences so exciting they'd make a sick man well.

This is incredible, this man.

No, yes. Thanks to his experience at navigating the labyrinthian waters of the 10,000 islands of southwestern Florida, Dodge Brown is able to get this first load past the patrol boats of the feds.

Oh, yeah, of course.

As the Washington Post put it, there he was like Br'er Rabbit in the briar patch.

Oh.

Yeah, right? That's just like some like... Yeah, looking down their noses in the south. But anyway, at this point, this first load, huge success. And with that comes a newfound confidence. And if we're being honest, an outlaw's arrogance.

Yeah.

As Dodge Brown told the Post, we thought we'd never get caught. That's why it went on and on and on. Now, around this same time, a local fisherman or a crabber who'd work seven days a week. for about a $ 600 paycheck for that week.

Oh, God.

So they're making less than $ 100 a day.

Yeah.

Found he was able to make far, far more working in the dope game.

Yeah.

And when I say far, far more, I mean like they could earn somewhere between 10 grand to 100 grand for a single night of work.

Hey, listen.

It's not hard to do that math.

And you know, like fishing is punishing work and dangerous.

Yeah, completely. Hard on the body, hard on the.

Well, and then sometimes like you pull the fish up, right? And you're reeling it in, reeling it in. You take it and it looks at you.

Yeah.

Its eyes get huge.

Yeah.

And it winks.

Oh, yeah.

And then it like kind of.

Turns its face up. It talks and it goes, you want three wishes?

Mama.

Oh, man.

And then you're scarred. You're like, no money could erase this.

I'm never going fishing with you. So, because I thought you'd probably want to know, I calculated out what it would be in terms of 2026 money. Yes, please.

Yes, please.

That same $ 10, 000 to $ 100, 000 would be the equivalent of making about $ 37, 000 to $ 370, 000 for one night of work.

What? Yes.

He's like, I need to go sell marijuana.

Right?

Now, if you're wondering how these guys could make so much moving pot, the reason is simple. A smuggler with a shrimp boat, like my man, Tosh Brown, could earn about $ 1. 4 million in 1981 money from a single load from Columbia.

A single load.

Single load. And so that's how he could be so generous with their crew. And for context, that same $ 1. 4 million back then would be the equivalent of making about $ 5. 2 million today.

Unbelievable.

Elizabeth, that's what you call a pretty penny.

That is.

That's a very pretty penny.

The way they'd work it was the shrimp boat captain would make the run down to Columbia or Jamaica, and they'd get a big load of dope. Then they'd turn around, they'd motor back to the Florida coast, and then that's where they'd meet some guys in go-fast boats. And they'd rendezvous about 40, maybe 50 miles off the coast in what was international waters.

Mm-hmm.

There, they would transfer the load to the go-fast boats who were piloted by local guys. Those, usually about five, six guys, they would navigate the 10,000 islands, running lights out through the mangroves, trees, and shallow sandbars. And then after passing through that maze of channels and inlets, once they reached land, the go-fast boats would be met by a crew of men called baohoppers. Now, these bale hoppers were like the stevedores of the dope game, right? They'd transfer the load to trucks or vans. Then those drivers would take the bales the rest of the way to some distribution point. So those drivers, the guys driving the trucks and the vans, they'd earned about $ 10, 000 for their work transporting the pot.

That's not bad.

That same $ 10, 000 would be worth about $ 37.

000 today.

Okay.

Nice payday, right?

Very nice payday.

The Balehoppers, the Stevedores, they'd earn $ 25, 000 for a night's worth of work.

What?

Which would be about $ 92, 000 today.

I could do that.

That's an even better payday.

Yeah.

You got a strong back, right?

Yeah.

Now, the guys in the GoFast boats, they make even more, about $ 40, 000 for making the dangerous run through the channel into the U.S. territorial waters.

Yeah, that's the big risk right there.

Yeah, it's getting cost by the Coast Guard, right? So the risk they face- That $ 40, 000 was a damn good payday. And that same $ 40, 000 today would be about $ 150, 000 in 2026 dollars. Dang. Again, for one night's work.

One night.

Now, the guys on the shrimp boats who made the trip all the way to Columbia or Jamaica.

That's a big dangerous one.

They'd make about $ 100, 000 for their part of the operation since that was the most dangerous part because they got to go out in the ocean.

Yeah.

That same $ 100, 000 would be about, as I said, $ 370, 000 today.

Wow.

Now, for context, compare these paydays I just mentioned with what a fisherman could earn for a year's worth of work, which I remind you was $ 17, 000 for the whole year. So this means a bale hopper could earn two years of their pay as a fisherman for one night's work. A shrimp boater could earn six years of a fisherman's pay with just one load.

That's amazing.

You see why they chose crime.

Of course.

Now, when he was asked about these sort of easy paydays, my man, Totch Brown, justified his choice to become a drug smuggler, telling the Washington Post, and I quote, if you were struggling to put food on your family's table and the federal government was making it so hard for you to make a living fishing and hunting, and one night a good friend tells you he'd give you $ 15, 000 just to borrow your truck, what would you do?

I know what I'm doing.

Right?

I mean, we've been talking about it. I think anybody knows, like, here's the keys.

Yeah.

And it's weed, man.

I'll gas it up if you want.

It's marijuana.

Exactly. We're not talking about.

You do more damage with bringing.

Cigarettes into the country.

This isn't like fentanyl where people.

Pretty much. Yeah. Now, with so many folks in a small area earning this kind of stupid cash, soon Everglades City is awash in new luxury cars, expensive jewelry, vans with paintings on the side.

Sunken tubs.

You got young men sporting gold chains.

They got toaster ovens.

They're partners with diamond rings. There were all kinds of brand new trucks, matched shiny cowboy boots, and redneck luxury items like new radar for the strip boat.

Those fleece slippers around the house with the fuzzy insides.

The really thick robes.

Yeah.

Now, as I pointed out earlier, the locals, they fix up their home. They add above ground swimming pools, sunken bathtubs.

They build- Brand name mammy. Yeah, get the good dukes. You're getting the dukes.

They also had screened in porches, aka Florida rooms.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

They added the big air conditioning units to tame the humid, sultry summer air.

They earned the air conditioning.

Right?

Some paved their gravel driveways. A lot of these roads out there are just gravel.

It was the 80s. Do you think they put potpourri and bowls in their house?

Probably.

Probably.

They definitely bought satellite TV.

They had little guest soaps in the bathroom shaped like shells.

Oh, my God, yes. Some of them also got like gaudy Greek statuary put in their front yards.

Yes, please.

Right?

I was like, why not? If you have the money, live your dreams. So during this period of lawlessness, my man, Totch Brown, he gets selected to act as the grand marshal for the town's Fourth of July parade.

Mm-hmm.

So everyone's cheering and applauding. He's riding down the town's main street in a bright red 1967 Firebird convertible, right? Waving back at the exuberant crowd.

He saved the town.

Totally. And more than half of them at this point are in the dope games. Everyone's like, he's our guy. Now he's like... Don't touch brown.

Well, now there's a tax base. The school has windows now.

Oh, you don't even know. Yeah, that is actually, I wasn't going to get into it, but the school actually has a vote. And they want to keep their school going. And they have a graduating class of like 10 or 12 people.

Yeah.

And they manage because they've got the pot money.

Less.

It's like we grew up when Humboldt was able, like, do you know why we still have a fire department? Totally. So this sort of like sudden largesse, this spectacle of dope money, all this arrogant, conspicuous consumption, it's just obvious evidence of like a now culture of just rampant lawlessness.

Right.

And this starts to irk the local law enforcement. So like. For instance, Officer Glenn Glendening from Florida Marine Patrol.

What?

I swear to God, that's his name.

Like a glitch out, Glenn Glendening.

Yeah, Glenn Glendening. So he told the New York Times, and I quote,' Fisherman' s salary isn't enough to support this lifestyle.' Thanks, Officer Glenn.

Why don't you change your own garden, Glenn? You got better things to do?

But he also knew that basically there wasn't much he could do about it.

Do some parking tickets or something.

So he's just having to watch the cheering crowds and the beaming smiles from all these good old boy drug smugglers.

Get on board, Glenn. You could be making money and helping. Help out for once in your life, Glenn. You know how to.

Run security, son. So for the law enforcement, it's equally easy to see why Everglades City becomes such a major port for the Colombian dope cartels.

Sure.

Because for one, you got these Florida good old boys and eager bubba's who are particularly good smugglers.

And they're so they're so accommodating and welcoming.

Yeah.

And despite the cultural differences between them and the Colombian cartels and the Jamaican drug lords, doing business for both sides just made good sense. Pretty much all anyone has to do is just check a map of the Florida coast in this area and they can see with their own eyes. There is a clear advantage that these smugglers have over the law. The 10,000 islands are a great cover for smugglers.

Yes.

Pirates, whoever wants to hide from the law. And as I said earlier, it's nearly impossible to follow one of these locals running lights out through these sketchy channels and mangrove swamps. So Elizabeth, these channels bind you. People were well aware of how dangerous and sketch they were. They were so dangerous that unfamiliar boaters were told like, you find somebody who knows this stuff. Do not go out there on your own.

It's like the Delta. I mean, it's not that dangerous, but, like, it's ever-shifting.

Constantly.

You can't, like, get an actual map.

No.

And also, like, to kind of, like, point this out to outsiders— They named their inlets things like Nightmare or there was places like Unknown Bay or Lost Man's River.

See, they're trying to tell you.

Or Buzzard Key.

Yeah, they're helping.

Yeah, they're trying to give you big hints and keys.

They're the helpers.

Despite the obvious difficulty of chasing these locals, the authorities tried to do their level best. The other trouble for them is that there are only a few of them. Like to cover this area, the 10,000 islands, there are just seven law enforcement officers.

Seven.

Seven.

That's how it should be. You can see the.

Problem, right? They're never going to get the job done in this labyrinth of inlets and mangroves and waterways.

These guys aren't violent.

No, no.

All right, leave it be. As Deputy Lieutenant C.W. Saunders of Collier County, he told the New York Times in 1982, we're under siege. And it's because of one thing.

Pot.

Now, however, from time to time, the law would catch a few smugglers. Like there were two stone crab fishermen.

More like stoned crab. Oh, I see what you did there. You like that?

They were busted running a load of five and a half tons of pot. And they were charged, convicted, and sentenced to 20 years in federal prison.

Wait, what?

Five and a half tons.

Yeah, right? 11,000 pounds, right? So before they were locked up, one of the men was feted with a going-away party by locals and all of his fellow dope smugglers. And you better believe that was one hell of a party.

You know they're eating good, right?

I mean, they got the money for it.

Yeah.

So much corn on the cob.

Oh, my God. Well-seasoned corn on the cob.

But, like, really good corn.

Yeah.

So seeing all this go down, good and decent law-abiding folks of Everglades City were soon tempted to join the dope game. And, like, there was one city employee who got quoted, this guy named Ed Smith. I guess, like, if you have a boring name, you go in to be a city employee.

If you've got a cool name, you go into crime. Then you get to work in the crime.

So Ed Smith, he was a family man. He told the New York Times that his family is the only reason he didn't join the smugglers. As he put it, and I quote, If it weren't for the kids, I'd be in it too. I know enough who are already, but I'm one of the few since I don't want my kids messed up with the drugs.

Dude, if you cared about your kids, you'd get them nice things.

Yes. Do you want them to go to college and have new bowling shoes?

Do you want little Susie to get the brand new Barbie?

Yeah, the Barbie Dreamhouse?

Yes.

Do you want little Jimmy to have Castle Grayskull?

Oh, look at you.

We're talking the 80s, right?

Yeah, you are.

You're spot on. Deep pulls with Elizabeth.

I know.

I'm going there.

So for the law enforcement struggling to combat this sudden influx of rural dope smugglers, folks like Deputy Lieutenant C.W. Saunders, they just felt like they couldn't stop them. And this frustration becomes overwhelming. They feel impotent. They get reminded of their, like, you know, that, Constantly their failure, but they remain committed to fighting back against the dope smugglers. As he told it at the time, kin or no kin, I'd lock up my brother. Oh, come on, dude. Now, even though he sounds tough, he had to concede. When he was lucky enough to bust sometimes as many as five smugglers in the same calendar year, he would say, and I quote, they see me go home and another load goes through.

So he even knows he's basically a garbage man at this point.

But it's like there are crimes... that deserve families turning on each other yes this is murder for hire yes you know like i'm sure there's other stuff that he could.

Be going after a ton like maybe get on some poachers and leave the smugglers alone you got plenty of gator poachers anyway he estimated that his neighbors involved in the dope game it had to be close to half maybe three quarters of the residents of everglades city three quarters yes yes So, Elizabeth, this means of the town of 534 people who called the city of Everglades City home, about 250 to 300 of them were smuggling dope.

Amazing.

And this is why Saunders told the New York Times, we could use more government help. Sure.

It's a factory town.

Yeah, exactly. But he didn't hold out much hope that any help was coming. But mostly since, as I said, it's an open secret. One of them had been going on for so long and yet no one seemed willing to deal with it. Everyone just turned a blind eye, ignored it completely. However, that said, his call for help in the New York Times did inspire some action. And soon enough, the feds get involved and they bring to bear the sort of task force investigations and prosecutorial powers that only the feds could muster. And when they start to investigate all these brazen, lawless pot smugglers of rural Florida, the feds are blown away by the sheer size and scale of the problem.

Oh, yeah.

And that's when Everglades City is soon nicknamed the most corrupt city in the United States.

Interesting. I would argue that.

Yeah, Sam, I would, too. But word begins— I would call it Washington, D.C. But whatever, word begins to spread across the country as more and more news stories come out. The papers start connecting all these occasional potbusting to an actual crime trend, which leads to nationwide awareness of Everglades City, enough that local resident Della Ellison tells the Washington Post, I visited Illinois this summer, and when I said I was from Everglades City, no one asked me for any identification when I wrote a check. They just assumed her money was good.

Oh, God.

All this open talk of Everglades City serves as a direct challenge to the feds. So in the early 80s, the feds are just starting to think about declaring and fighting a war against drugs. They have to wait for like Nancy Reagan to give them the go ahead. This would be an early battle in that war. As Assistant U.S.

Attorney Susan Daltuva wrote in a memo to federal district judge in Fort Myers, Florida, and I quote, Drug smuggling has been a way of life for individuals associated with Everglades City. They ignore the law, indeed, laugh at the law, treating the criminal justice system as a joke. The gravity of their situation has yet to sink in. As you no doubt will guess, Elizabeth, once the feds get involved, things start to move fast. The good times were not to last. But before we get into all that, let's take another little break. And after these messages, the feds go to battle with the city of Everglades City. Yeah.

And we're back, Elizabeth. Hello. So you ready to hear how things go south for the good old boys.

Of City of Everglades City? I guess, yeah.

Yeah, I know. So the feds, they launch an investigation. They initiate undercover operations. But it's not easy to get agents inside these smuggling operations because these guys all know each other. There's only 534 people in town. So it's like, whose cousin are you going to pretend to be?

Exactly.

So it takes a long while to build their case. They call their two-year-long investigation Operation That's so original. Very uninspired. Yeah. But from 1981, 1983, the feds start circling these drug smugglers until finally one July day, they decide it's time to spring their trap. But rather than me tell you about it, Elizabeth, close your eyes.

My eyes are closed.

I want you to picture it. It's early in the morning on July 7th, 1983, and you are busy digging in the soft mud of a riverbank. You're on the hunt for worms. But you're not a bullfrog. You are a little girl. One who's dressed in a yellow fishing hat, blue jean overalls, and is barefoot like the day you were born. As your feet squish into the soft mud and it oozes between your toes, you enjoy your solo worm hunt. Your father plans to go fishing later today, and he promised you a quarter for every worm you bring back to him. You plan to make a few bucks, enough to see a movie by yourself later that day, maybe even buy some red vines. At the moment, it's a little after five in the morning. The sun is

an hour away from coming up over the horizon. The world is still quiet and dark. Your flashlight scans over the black mud of the riverbank as you hunt worms. And then you hear a terrible commotion headed your way. You look up at the Barren River Bridge and County Road 29 that follows the bridge into your hometown, city of Everglades City. You don't drive, since you're only a little girl, but even you know that if you're driving, that bridge is the only way in or out of town.

You spy headlights as they sweep across the dark woods, and then you see a convoy of vehicles roar across the bridge. The light play is mesmerizing. But You quickly lose count of all the cars and the trucks streaming across the bridge. You grab your pail of mud and all the worms you've caught and you run up to the road to see the vehicles. The last two vehicles of the convoy brake and squeal to a stop. They park their trucks sideways, blocking any vehicle from crossing the bridge.

The men in the trucks look like cops, maybe even feds. You've heard folks in town curse the feds. You know this must mean bad news. You think of your dad. You hope the lawmen aren't coming for him and the men he works with. You've heard the talk around town. You know not everyone is happy with what he and the other fishermen do when they go out on their boat runs and come back a day or so later.

With all the speed you can muster, you run back home. Your little bare feet slap the earth. They don't hurt now, but you know when you stop running, they will. But you don't care. You need to warn your dad that the feds are coming. When you get back to town, you see vehicles from that same convoy. They cross the bridge.

Some are parked in front of the homes of people you know. You see some of the men your daddy fishes with being hauled out of their houses, handcuffed, their heads down. The flashing lights of the police cars make the sad scenes look like a crime movie. You run a little faster. As sirens blare in the distance and seem to be growing nearer, you finally see your house.

There are no feds in front of your place, thank God. You run up to the back of your house, yank open the screen door, and let it slam shut behind you. When you get to your dad's bedroom, he's there. in bed, asleep. His snores fill the room. You rush up and shake him. He snorts awake, looks at you, confused. You tell him, Daddy, Daddy, wake up. The feds are here. They hauling people away.

You need to get out of here. Your dad sits bolt upright in bed. He snatches back the curtains and looks outside. No feds are parked out front. He tells you to grab his fishing poles while he gets dressed. You do as instructed. You grab his two best fishing poles and his brand new tackle box with all the new lures he's been buying. You hear him emerge from his bedroom. He's pulled on some clothes and looks ready for the day, even if he doesn't look all the way awake. He asks if you grabbed his tackle box.

You hold it up for him to see. He smiles, proud of you. He says, follow me, baby girl. We going fishing. He pushes open the screen door. You follow him and let it slam shut behind you. The two of you stomp away into the dark and are soon hidden among the trees. You can both hear police sirens approaching.

After a minute or so, your daddy stops, turns back to look, So do you. You both see it. The sirens are from trucks. Hot cars pull up and stop at your house. The DEA agents and the state police leap from their vehicles, run up and pound on your front door. When they get no response, they batter the door open and stream inside. Your father looks down at you and grins a wide smile. Nice job, baby girl.

Looks like you saved your daddy. Okay, let's go see about some fish. Guided by the silvery light of the moon against the dark of the woods, you two picked your way through the trees. You know without asking that you won't be going back home anytime soon. You did it, Elizabeth. You saved your daddy from the long arm of the law.

I done did it, daddy. Good job, you.

Thank you.

For others in town, boom. Just like that, the good times in City of Everglades City just came to a screeching halt. Within hours, everything starts to change. Forever. That day, the coordinated task force staying of more than 200 DEA agents, state police, sheriff's deputies, local police, they arrest 28 people in Everglades City and the neighboring unincorporated communities.

Yeah.

That's just the start. Once all the combined federal, state, and county investigations are all tallied up, 256 people get busted.

Wow.

They came hard and heavy. As one local woman told the Miami Herald, it's going to be a town of women. They've arrested all the men.

Oh, my God.

Due to their investigation and task force operations, the feds are able to seize 580,000 pounds of marijuana. They also seize... That's a lot, by the way.

I'm like....

Gobsmacked. Yeah, it kind of boggles the mind to imagine.

Yeah.

They also seize $ 5 million worth of property, primarily boats and cars.

Sure.

Now, it isn't just local fishermen who go down for drug smuggling. The criminal links extend well into polite society far from the city of Everglades City. For instance, former Justice David McCain of the Florida Supreme Court gets popped for his involvement in the drug trade. Okay, okay. Now, if you're wondering, Elizabeth, if my man, Totch Brown, a local outlaw folk hero, could also escape the federal dragnet or if he got popped too.

I feel like he did not escape.

The answer is Totch got touched.

Yeah.

He got grabbed. He stepped into a federal courtroom in 1983. And he's forced to plead guilty to income tax evasion. Like he's like, you know, Al Capone. This is all part of his plea deal to avoid charges for drug smuggling. Because the year earlier, Totch Brown reported to the IRS his earnings for the year as a fisherman were a modest $ 18, 000. But when the government checked the true numbers of his income, they found his criminal earnings were more like $ 528, 000. And that's just from one year as a pot smuggler.

Right, right.

So that'd be about $ 1. 8 million today.

Yeah.

Now, naturally, when they saw those numbers, the government wants their cut. However, since the IRS couldn't tax him for criminal earnings, part of his plea deal is that he agrees to pay $ 1, 229, 000 as like a fine to the court. Now, Tosh Brown hands over a cashier's check for the full amount.

No way.

Oh, yeah.

Baller move, right? But he isn't done paying for his crimes because he also has to turn over his shrimp boat, his house, a condo he'd bought, as well as his brand new 1982 Lincoln Continental with the smoked windows.

Oh, dang.

Now, all in all, that's all worth about another $ 2 million.

Yeah, yeah.

So for his tax evasion charges, Totch Brown is handed a sentence of three years in federal prison. But he risks his plea deal when he refuses to name any of his fellow smugglers. As he put it, I would die before I testify against my friends. And so another two months get tacked onto his sentence.

Now, is he the one who wrote the unpublished memoir?

Yeah, that's him.

That's why I'm like, oh, he did time.

Oh, yeah. So unfortunately, though, his grandson follows his example, the 25-year-old who's also deep in the dope game. He gets popped by the feds. He's arrested for smuggling. Only he doesn't get the same sort of sweetheart deal that his grandpa gets. Oh, no. After he pleads guilty to four charges of pot smuggling, he also refuses to testify against his friends. And I guess the feds want to make an example of him because he's sentenced to 40 years in federal prison. Whoa. That's rough business for a 25-year-old. Yeah, it is. So as the first wave of arrest works its way through the federal courts, the DEA and other agencies in this multi-agency task force, they launch phase two of Operation Everglades.

Yeah.

So in June of the next year, the feds sweep back into town. They do another raid. They bust a larger number of other alleged drug smugglers, the ones who avoided justice in phase one, like your daddy. And following that second wave, the feds keep at it. And Southwest Florida State Attorney Joe D'Alessandro, he told the Washington Post in 1999, There's no trust. That's where it hurts them.

We got them on psychologically shaky grounds. It takes a lot of people to run one of those offloads. And if there is even one guy you can't trust, you are in trouble. So meanwhile, many of these feds responsible for busting the drug smugglers of Everglades City, they start to feel bad for the men that they've treated like prey.

One undercover agent who'd befriended them only to later, you know, basically bust them and, you know, betray their trust. Right. He tells the Washington Post, They're impoverished. I don't hold it against them. The government took away their living. I'm not saying smuggling is right, but it got to where they had to put beans and grits on the table.

Right.

Thank you.

Right.

So the locals who never did get involved in the dope game, who also watches their friends and neighbors have their lives ruined with long prison sentences and they certainly don't see what they would call justice being done. Like one real estate agent, a woman named Fran Tiff, she tells the Washington Post, these boys are getting a raw deal.

You get rapists and killers getting out in three years and they're trying to send our guys up 40 years. This is a lovely little island and these people were just trying to make a living. I can't condone the marijuana hauling, but I can certainly understand it. I don't know what I would have done if someone had asked me to get involved. You never know. I may have done it myself.

She's me, basically.

Exactly. 100% you. Yeah.

You're going to let all these other fools out after like 18 months of that.

Yes, violent crimes. And then these guys just move a little like, you know, Colombian gold. Now, regardless of the many folks who speak out against the stiff sentences, the harsh treatments by the feds, from 1983 to 1990, the feds just keep turning the screws, treating these Florida good old boys like they're part of some major mafia RICO trials, right?

And meanwhile, the locals begin to just beg for leniency because the town is getting wrecked by all these 40 year prison sentences handed out to the young men. Deborah Gray, sister of another defendant, Marvin Lee Darna, she pens a letter to the court pleading for leniency for her brother. And she sums up the situation. I thought pretty well.

It all sounded so easy and so good that my brother fell for it all. My brother never had anything in his life and he was told that he could have anything money could buy. So fair enough point.

Right.

Another defendant, a 51 year old former fisherman named Jack Peter Zatz. He writes a letter on his own behalf to the court explaining his time as a pot smuggler. And I quote, there was always someone trying to get me involved in their deals. The good old boys kept calling me to come down and work jobs with them.

For that, I was paid twenty thousand dollars and it ruined my life. So as a result of this naked plea for leniency, Zatz receives a 10-year prison sentence.

Okay.

Not nearly as long as 40 years, but still, ouch.

But still 10 years too much.

Right?

By 1990, when the Fed starts to wrap up their investigations, more than 300 people are busted for taking part in the Everglades City drug-smoking operation. All told, that means roughly 60% of the small town is arrested for pot smuggling.

Unbelievable.

It's incredible, right?

Meanwhile, these days, we now have soccer moms regularly popping a gummy while taking care of their kids. We have folks puffing on vape pens as they push a cart through the supermarket.

Yes.

While some of these unlucky trailblazers are just getting out of federal prison.

Sing it.

Just goes to show you how much has changed since 1990 and how arbitrary our drug laws are. are and have always been but there you go that elizabeth is the wild story of the city of everglades city florida so i gotta ask you what's a ridiculous takeaway.

Well you're talking about arbitrary and it's like it's pretty clear who gets the the nasty end of it you know like these guys don't have any money they're poor and the people of color that's exactly and so they look at this town and they're just like what are you going to do? They're mad they're not getting their cut? Like, is that what this is?

Pretty much.

So, I don't know. And you know me. I'm just like, I try and be as law-abiding as possible.

Yeah, you're a good one.

I'm a good one. But I look at something like this and I just think you, I'm curious as to whether the ban on hunting and fishing changed the ecological balance in the Everglades? Did it restore something? Or was it overrun with like, now suddenly there's all this other, you know, anyway.

It was part of a major like 70s environmentalism so like the un was doing unesco stuff there was.

A lot of other pushes you know so you have.

It wasn't just like you know conservation.

Oh yeah of course i mean i know that but i'm just thinking like in that area you have you know this is their livelihood and so if you're restoring things i mean it could also throw things in the imbalance but aside from that You can't say, well, we're going to take this away and fix it and not fix you guys.

Yes.

Not stoke you out somehow.

We're looking out for the animals, but not the people.

Right.

And it's like, you know, I love animals more than I love people.

I know you do.

But this is ridiculous.

But people are animals, too.

Exactly. You know, it's.

It's frustrating. And I feel like I'm cheering them on. So, yeah, they're good people. They're not even doing good people who do bad things. Good people who do things to survive. You know, Zarin, what's your takeaway?

Well, as a former pot grower, seller and smuggler, I will say that I was reading this and I was like, man, like this was always like my big fear at the time. And I talked to my friends who we used to do like, you know, what were federal and in felonious crimes levels that we could have been put away for a long time. And we got very lucky that nothing bad ever happened, but we were really tight knit. We wouldn't trust anybody. We didn't go with any outsiders for this exact reason. And it's just wild to me when we talk now, my friends and I about like how far everything swung. So it was just clearly like almost, uh, I don't want to say like, um, a revenue generating stream for the government, but it starts to feel that way.

And they've just now found another way to do revenue generating and they don't care about the pot anymore because they never really cared about the pot. It was all about, about order more than law.

Yeah, exactly.

So it's, I always get, I try not to get upset or mad, but you know, I easily could be pushed there. But instead I just try to laugh at like, how silly and arbitrary what people who look me like red in the face talking about you don't respect law and order i'm like i think it's actually you who doesn't respect because i did you know ultimately somewhat respect it if only fear it but like they flip and all of a sudden now none of what mattered so much to them matters at all and then they want to profit and they're like well actually i own a marijuana business i'm like oh.

Really exactly okay exactly.

So there you go that's mine that's a good Thank you. Are you in the mood for a talkback? Maybe we can wash this one down. Producer D, what you got for us? Dear Saren, I need you to know that not all dentists and dental oriented.

Jobs are terrible.

Jobs. money-grabbing people. My sister-in-law, for example, does a lot of Medicaid work with kids and is incredibly passionate about how your oral health affects literally the rest of your entire body. So yeah, she's a good'un.

Thank you for that correction. I have to admit, I may have overgeneralized. I was just being flippant about a lot of dentists I've known where people are like, I'm in it because I wanted to have a high-paying job and And I do know, actually, just like you point out with your sister-in-law, that there are a lot of dentists who are well-meaning. And I'm glad that they are doing that because oral health is key to physical health.

It is.

We've been finding that more so. Every year there's new studies. And please thank them, your sister-in-law, for the work they do. Because, no, I think that's really important. In all honesty.

You were just goofing. I mean, we need to remember that. Anything that we say on here is not, like, set in stone.

I was very much being flippant, tongue-in-cheek, and hoping everybody understood that when I generalize like that, I'm not like, you know, an oracle. I'm not like some big philosopher on a hill, a hermit who's like, oh, I only speak the truth. I was generalizing because assuming everybody knows that I don't really mean it. So any dentist offended, anybody in the dental related field offended, I didn't mean you.

I just meant that, you know, there are some and enough that I noticed. That was all. So there you go. I hope that clears that up. Thank you for that correction and keeping me honest. As always, you can find us online at Ridiculous Crime on social media. We have our website, RidiculousCrime.com. So go check that out. We got all sorts of fun stuff for you to find and merch if you want, if you're looking for a new shirt, maybe something for the holidays. Also, big news. Elizabeth.

Yeah.

Our website was recently nominated for Banjo Magazine's hottest lick of 2026.

Banjo?

Hottest lick 2026. No, no.

Seriously?

Fingers crossed.

I've been trying to make the centerfold in Banjo Magazine for years. I know. For years.

I remember the photographs series you went through.

They're tasteful.

They're very tasteful. Very, very tasteful boudoir shots. You and the banjos. So obviously, we love your talkbacks. So please go to the iHeart app, leave us a talkback, and maybe get to hear your voice here. We would love to hear your voice here. So do it. Or if you're old school, email us if you want at Ridiculous5 at gmail.com. And if you do, please start your email.

Dear Tara, thank you for listening. And we will catch you next. Ridiculous Crime is hosted by Elizabeth Dutton and Zarin Burnett. Produced and edited by the snowman to our bandit, Mr. Dave Kustin. Our ridiculous assistant is the Uncle Jesse to our Bo and Luke Duke, Terry Maldonado Fogg. Research is by our resident National Park enthusiast, Marissa Brown. Our theme song is by our house band. Lawlessness is next to godlessness. A.K.A.

Thomas Lee and Travis Dutt. The host wardrobe provided by Botany 500. Producer Dave's wardrobe provided by Mr. Guy of Beverly Hills. Guest hair and makeup by Sparkle Shop and Mr. Andre. Executive producers are Ben. You know, I once drove a fan boat across the Everglades, but I sank it when I reached the ocean. What can I say? You get into situations. Bolin and Noel, sometimes I don't believe these things really happen to you. Ridiculous Crime.

Say it one more time.

Ridiculous Crime.

Ridiculous Crime is a production of iHeartRadio. For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app. Apple Podcasts are wherever you listen to your favorite shows.

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