O.C. Drug Fugitive Lives It Up in, Out of Mexican Jail

After two hours of rough sea, pelting spray and threatening sky, the catch aboard the sportfishing boat Melissa was one dolphin. Then came a sharp tug on one of the lines. A fish--its silver-blue sides emitting an eerie glow off the stern--had taken the bait, a small rubber squid with streamers fit for a kid’s handlebars.

“Marliiiin!” the Mexican deckhand yelled. “Marliiiin!”

Daniel James Fowlie, one of the most wanted men in Orange County’s war on drugs, took a final swig of his cerveza and settled into the fighting chair for a 40-minute battle with what he respectfully calls “a gentleman’s fish.” Granted a four-day pass, he was miles from the La Paz prison cell where he has been held since being apprehended by Mexican authorities in 1987 on 49 drug charges filed in the United States.

The counts against Fowlie in U.S. District Court in Los Angeles include conspiracy to distribute and sell hundreds of thousands of pounds of marijuana and lesser amounts of cocaine, and operating a continuing criminal enterprise.

For nearly three years he was held behind bars while lawyers battled in Mexican court to force his return to face the charges.

But lately, life is a little easier for him in this subtropical region that has become a roost for American sportsmen and a suspected gateway for drugs bound for the United States.

In December, a court in Mazatlan rejected the United States’ extradition request, concluding that Fowlie’s return would violate the Mexican Constitution. The judges said the as-yet unproven case against him is mostly based on evidence from felons, always viewed as generally unreliable, and that Mexico recognizes no such crime as “conspiracy.”

Ultimately, the decision by the Colegiado del 12th Districto could free Fowlie, 57, the alleged mastermind of a vast marijuana network based in Orange County that purportedly did business with drug lords suspected of killing U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration Agent Enrique (Kiki) Camarena Salazar in 1985. A final review of whether to uphold the court ruling is pending.

If Fowlie is released and remains in Mexico, beyond the reach of U.S. law, the loss will be a major blow to a 5-year-old criminal prosecution that has led to the convictions of five people, including his two sons, and resulted in the seizure of Rancho del Rio, Fowlie’s 213-acre spread on the east Orange County border. The rustic site, worth an estimated $6 million, was turned into a huge prop last summer for a national address on drugs by President Bush.

The ranch “was the core of an international marijuana and cocaine-smuggling ring,” Bush told a crowd of 1,500 people from a podium near Fowlie’s front porch. “How many lives, how many families, how many hopes and dreams have been destroyed with these chemical weapons of death and destruction--drugs?”

“Dog-and-pony show,” said Fowlie, who believes his secluded ranch was seized illegally.

“They have no tape recordings, no drug buys, no nothing on me,” Fowlie continued. “When they do get something on me, it’s always (from) some other criminal and that’s what they don’t like down here. Those guys are three-time losers and full-time liars. . . . I like Mexican justice better. They stick to their laws.”

Fowlie’s release, investigators warn, also could thwart any chance to question and perhaps make a deal with a man who could provide useful information about the reputed drug lords suspected of killing Camarena.

Fowlie called the assertion “absurd.” He says his only connection with them is that they both used a very popular and skilled pilot in Latin America to fly their private planes.

Some experts in Mexican law say that Fowlie’s conditions of confinement during his extradition fight are typical of those for inmates who have money, prominence or the persuasiveness to convince authorities that they will not escape if released for short periods.

But other experts disputed whether such treatment is commonplace in lengthy extradition cases.

“My reaction is that this is clearly irregular and there is no legal basis for this type of action,” said Prof. Jorge A. Vargas, director of the Mexico-U.S. Law Institute at the University of San Diego School of Law.

If Fowlie is being released improperly, Vargas said, it could trigger a “very serious” investigation by Mexico’s judicial authorities, including the attorney general’s office and Ministry of the Interior.

“They kinda’ let me do what I want around here now,” said Fowlie, an inmate at Centro de Readaptacion Social in La Paz, a prison known as CERESO. “There are people in Cabo San Lucas who still believe in me. They know these charges in the United States have ruined my life and that I haven’t been convicted of anything.”

He says he has been periodically released on legitimate work furloughs and for Christmas last year. In 1988, he recalled, he was let out several times, but the privileges were suspended until after December’s court ruling.

Enrique Ramirez, a San Diego attorney who specializes in Mexican law, said the granting of passes from prison is largely left up to prison commanders. If they are provided assurances that the person is not a flight risk, Ramirez said, the prison chiefs can release inmates temporarily.

After repeated attempts, prison authorities could not be reached for comment.

By all accounts, and to the dismay of U.S. authorities, Fowlie is not just surviving, he is doing relatively well. He owns a rock-and-tile house on beachfront property north of Cabo San Lucas, where his prized pit bulls stand guard, including Rosie, a reddish-brown dog that survived a concussion grenade in the 1985 raid on Rancho del Rio.

His wealth, he says, has come from years of land investments and the Leather Gypsy, a successful leather goods business in Laguna Beach that he sold for $3 million in the early 1970s. He moved to Latin America shortly after the sale.

He said his engineering skills and construction equipment have been enlisted by a Mexican real estate company with big plans for a shopping center. And he said the bar association of Baja California Sur commissioned him to paint a long-eared, horned owl for Carlos Salinas Gortare, the president of Mexico. He has a photograph of the presentation to the president.

Fowlie has displayed his other watercolors and oils of fish and marine fowl at art shows in the hotel-studded fishing village. From painting alone, he says, he has made thousands of dollars.

In town, the charismatic Fowlie is known by scores of hoteliers, restaurateurs, lawyers and skippers of sportfishing boats that are docked in the snug harbor.

In prison, Fowlie wears his own clothes, usually jeans and flannel shirts. He is on a first-name basis with the staff, and the atmosphere in the jail yard is more akin to a city park. To help him take care of business on the outside, his Jeep Cherokee is in the parking lot and he has hired an errand boy for $400 a month.

“I don’t abuse the privileges, and I have never tried to escape,” Fowlie said.

“This is not like (Rafael) Caro-Quintero. If they think so, they are wrong.”

Quintero is suspected of being a high-level drug dealer in Mexico, who allegedly masterminded the torture-slaying of DEA agent Camarena. After his capture, he equipped his private cell with a double bed and modern conveniences, such as a satellite dish for a television.

Tanned and fit, Fowlie is housed behind CERESO’s whitewashed walls in a wing reserved for inmates awaiting trial. He says his cell, which he shares with seven prisoners, measures 12 by 15 feet--nothing extravagant.

In the jail yard, large thatched umbrellas and trees in brown cinder-block planters provide shade for visitors and inmates’ families. On one side is a refreshment stand selling sodas and candy. In the center, meat sizzles on the grill of a carnitas stand.

“They make great hamburgers,” Fowlie said.

On this day, children chase each other around the yard, which is equipped with a slide and swing set. Vendors sell sweet rolls, embroidered blouses and carved sailing ships in green-tinted bottles.

The only reminder of prison is the concrete guard tower, where a sentry stands with an M-16 rifle.

“It’s the country club of Mexican prisons,” said Kathy Peterson, a U.S. Foreign Service officer responsible for checking American prisoners in Baja California. “The facility is clean, in a good climate, and there’s plenty of food. I have visited him (Fowlie), but he is not much interested in seeing us.”

The commandant of CERESO could not be reached for comment.

American diplomats and FBI agents working on the Fowlie case said they have heard rumors that he has been let out of prison repeatedly to take care of personal business, including once during a visit to the prison by a U.S. vice consul.

“We are certainly eager to get him back,” said Special FBI Agent Jim Nielson.

But embassy officials and federal authorities are pessimistic about getting Fowlie back and say there is not much they can do about it. Diplomatic pressure on Mexican authorities doesn’t always work, they said.

“There is not much we can do except file the extradition papers,” said Special Assistant U.S. Atty. Sanford Feldman, who is handling the Fowlie case. “We believe we have a strong case against him. Others have pleaded guilty and the important players in the alleged operation are set to testify.”

In the February, 1985, raid on Rancho del Rio, law enforcement authorities said they uncovered what appeared to be a major drug-smuggling operation and confiscated virtually everything.

Local and federal agents took control of 12 structures of imported logs and river rock. They seized Fowlie’s kennels, wine press, a number of beat-up Volkswagen Beetles, stables, spas and a warehouse full of antiques. It took eight officers just to move Fowlie’s marble and mother-of-pearl banquet table trimmed with Chinese wood carvings.

Federal authorities say the incriminating evidence includes a money-counting machine, a subterranean storage area, cocaine-processing chemicals and packaging equipment. They found Hitachi television cartons and sheets of fabric softener--an alleged way to disguise drug shipments and mask the odor of marijuana, court records say.

Confiscated, too, were $23,000 in cash, a counterfeit bill detector, electronic scales, an anti-bugging device, and a collection of shotguns, antique firearms, rifles, pistols and an Uzi semiautomatic.

But Fowlie was out of the country at the time of the raid. What is more, court records show that the only drugs found were traces of cocaine, a few ounces of pot, and marijuana residue in a barn believed to be a drug-processing center. Hardly the stuff of a major drug-smuggling operation, defense attorneys say.

The case also has been plagued by witness problems, and an Orange County Superior Court judge suppressed all evidence from the ranch because he considered the 1985 search warrant improper. Federal court motions to throw out the search warrant also have been filed by defense lawyers.

Fowlie contends that the barn with its subterranean storage area was used for keeping grapes and making wine. The packaging equipment, he explains, helped to preserve fruit from the ranch’s orchards, while the so-called cocaine-processing chemicals were fuel additives for his son’s dune buggies.

Nevertheless, federal and state authorities believe that Fowlie set up a network of drug suppliers in Latin America that included Francisco Javier Caro-Payan and his cousin, Rafael Caro-Quintero. Hundreds of thousands of pounds of marijuana and far lesser amounts of cocaine were smuggled over the border, prosecutors allege.

Quintero, reputed to be a major marijuana trafficker, is accused of plotting the torture-slaying of DEA Agent Camarena in 1985, according to federal court records. Payan, the suspected chief of drug operations in Baja California, was convicted in San Diego and sentenced to 15 years in prison.

“The case against Fowlie is only difficult in that it is historical,” prosecutor Feldman said. “It’s just people talking about what happened in the past. It’s not nice and neat in the sense of undercover drug buys, but the important players are prepared to testify.”

Fowlie said the charges are greatly exaggerated and the product of three convicted drug dealers who “made up stories” to save themselves. If anything, he says, he is the victim of people who took advantage of his permission to live and work on Rancho del Rio during his 16-year absence from the United States.

“I’ve never been convicted of anything,” Fowlie said. “They have taken all my money and seized all my property so I can’t defend myself. They’ve got my kids in jail and caused my divorce. How much more do they want?”