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JFK, Jr. and The End of Griselda and Charles’ Romance

After the confrontation, I stepped my game up. I’m doing my own thing on the side in the Bay Area, we reachin’ from LA to Seattle. She’s laying dope on me as fast as I can sell it. Time progresses. Griselda had a hitman named Rivi, one of the most feared assassins ever to step foot in Miami. Anytime Griselda had a problem, she’d get Rivi on the phone. He was doing life in prison already for a numer of murders. [The State of Florida] came at Rivi with some open homicides: “Either you keep your mouth shut and go to Death Row; or tell us about Griselda Blanco and we’ll cut some of your time off.”

Rivi decided to become a State’s Witness against Griselda. He gave [Miami] Homicide a detailed list of everybody she killed or put contracts on. She was scheduled to get out of jail in two or three years, then Rivi decided to flip. Griselda was a psychological wreck: “They’re not gonna let me out of prison.” I told her, “we can spend $30 million on the defense, get the best lawyers in the world to represent you. Rivi’s a convicted murderer, no jury will believe him. You’ll get acquitted.”

Griselda’s very stubborn, she doesn’t know what ‘no’ means. She had this idea of kidnapping John F. Kennedy, Jr. in Manhattan and holding him for ransom until she was safe in Colombia. I said, “Griselda, I sell drugs. I’m not trying to kidnap him or nobody else.” What she was trying to do? That’s life in jail, period. I got kids I was trying to raise. If I get arrested selling drugs, that’s what I chose to do, but for a bitch to twist my arm—“Nigga, you gon’ be a part of this.”—that’s when I began to back up from Griselda. This is 1996, 1997. I was tired. I had millions of dollars but I had lost a lot of time with my kids. I was unhappy. I just wanted to be normal, put that bullshit behind me and reclaim some semblance of my life. The life of a dope dealer is usually three to five years long and I had shattered that two times over.

Florida subpoenaed me but I didn’t give them any relevant information. I didn’t need or want to sink Griselda’s already-distressed ship. I just wanted peace in my life. During the deposition, the lead prosecutor’s secretary, Sherri Rossbeck slipped me her phone number. We engaged in a sexual encounter. On the eve of Griselda’s trial in Florida, Rivi started having phone sex with Sherri. I wasn’t a bit surprised—I knew what I had done to the bitch in my hotel room. But the prosecution was handcuffed, it fucked their case up, so Griselda walked away after seven years in 2004.

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Charles Cosby and the Black Widow

Griselda’s moniker, “the Black Widow,” came about because each of her husbands, she murdered. She mated, then she killed. The business arrangements had been fucked off, or they tried to exert dominance over her, so she responded like any muthafucka in the game would. She dealt with it in the street.

Griselda and I were having an exchange one day, about how women throughout history have been the downfall of kings. She said, “Charles, do you know when a man is most vulnerable?” I said, “of course…getting in or out of his car.” I’d been a street nigga for years at that point. She laughed and said, “No Charles, a man is most vulnerable when he gets into bed with a woman.” Women comprise 90% of the world’s top assassins because they know how to get a nigga in bed, his most vulnerable area.

When a man is successful, beautiful women gravitate to that person. I had maybe 200 one-night stands while with Griselda, but I only got caught with one—a white chick named Amber, the one bitch I cultivated a relationship with. Making millions, catching flights here and there, I needed some “me” time, chill time. I found that in Amber’s friendship.

Amber and I had been dating, traveling, having sex together for months. She confided in her cousin, who happened to be incarcerated with Griselda. Her cousin confided in her roommate because she was afraid she’d bear the brunt of the affair. The roommate told her lesbian lover from Cuba, and all the lesbians was Griselda’s bitches. So she in turn told Griselda, “Your guy is fucking so-and-so’s cousin, the white bitch that comes to visit.” The cousin subsequently got stomped out by Griselda in some high-heel pumps and lost her eye.

That’s when Griselda put an investigator on my ass, which I didn’t know until I got shot up one day, driving in Brookfield Village in my Corvette ZR-1. I got ambushed by some Colombians in a Mustang. I took a hit, luckily they was half-assed about it. Later on, Griselda denied that she tried to kill me. She said she just wanted to scare me, it was a warning shot. I got twelve muthafuckin’ bullets in my car, ain’t no warning shot! They just wasn’t good at what they did.

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Part 3 of 5. Check back Monday for the continuation of the 5 part exclusive series.

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Charles Cosby Enters the Top of the Food Chain

Three weeks after I met Griselda, I took my first flight to New York, to meet this black dude in Harlem and broker a two million dollar deal. It was a guy who’s currently a criminal celebrity but I ain’t gonna put his name out there. Griselda had a system in place—LA, Miami, Charlotte, Milwaukee, Seattle, Houston, dozens of cities over a five year span. There was no schedule. My phone rang and someone would tell me, “So and so needs you to meet with this guy.” 95% of the time, I didn’t even take any luggage. I just left with what I was wearing.

All I had to do was take a flight, shake a hand, make a phone call and make a million dollars. The drugs were delivered, money was shuttled to me, I in turn shuttled it to another location. At no point was I transporting drugs; I’ve never been arrested for drugs. You would find money and guns in my house, but not drugs. If that ain’t the top of the food chain, I don’t know what is.

Griselda had four sons: Dixon, or “El Negro”, Ubert, Osvaldo (who was my guy), and Michael Corleone, the youngest son. I met Osvaldo when he got out of Lewisburg [Federal Prison]. He had established a rapport with some of the black guys, and he immediately took a liking to me. Even before I met Griselda [in person], we’d go down to LA, he’d spend money on me, we’d shop. He was a cool dude. When he was killed, it was like I lost my brother.

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Part 2 of 5. Check back tomorrow for more.

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Charles Cosby Meets Griselda Blanco

I was watching the news in February 1985, and Griselda Blanco’s arrest was an endless fuckin’ loop. I was fascinated—she was a billionaire moving 2,000 kilograms of coke a month. It blew me away. I never knew of a drug dealer, much less a woman, who could make those amounts of money.

Years later, I was in Los Angeles at my relative Kevin’s house, and I met this Panamanian chick, Manuela. We got to talking about coke and shit, and she wove some fascinating stories about Griselda, the bitch I admired. Throughout my life, I’ve always been an opportunist, and what better opportunity than to fuck with Griselda Blanco? Niggas could call it groupie or whatever, no muthafucka in his right mind is gonna wanna pass up that chance.

I asked Manuela if she could cut me in. She let Griselda know, “This young man admires you, he just wants to reach out and say hello.” Our first conversation was July 4th. She [called and] said, “This is Griselda Blanco. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Why have you decided to reach out to me?” I said, “I just wanna rub elbows with a legend. If you’re accepting new friendship, please allow me the honor.” We developed a bond from that very first phone call. Griselda was like John Gotti, receiving mail from all over the world. I was the only person she ever wrote back.

Niggas from the Bay Area, they the best pimps in the United States, hands down. It’s like they was gifted with the game. My greatest mentor was my older brother, Poppa Mack, that was my life teacher. He was a pimp many years ago. He taught me, “Never trust a bitch. A hoe is gonna be a hoe.” The things I learned from watching my brother translated in later years in fucking with Griselda—how to talk to women, how to massage their egos whether it was bullshit or not.

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In this five-part KING-Mag.com exclusive, former drug kingpin and Cocaine Cowboys II star Charles Cosby details his rise and fall in snow business.

Charles Cosby’s Origins

Brookfield Village in the early 40s was acres of orange trees. When World War II kicked off, Southern blacks migrated to the Bay Area. They were the war workers, making munitions. Single family homes replaced the orange groves. My mom, Irma Jean Garcia, came to Cali from Texas in 1953. My mother’s father was from Mexico, and her mom was Cherokee Indian. My father happened to be in the Navy and he had some off-time in Fresno. That’s how him and my mom met. My parents moved to Brookfield in 1968 from Fresno, California.

Felix was the top dog during his tenure. Didn’t nothing move in Oakland without his approval—he was the drug dealer’s drug dealer, the first one on the west coast to have a Rolls Royce. When he was removed from the equation in 1983 on tax evasion, a new game was ushered in…crack.

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By Martin A. Berrios

Ever think what it would be like growing up in a family engrossed in crime? You might be able to get a small glimpse into the life when you watch a mafia movie or read up on the come up on the most well known mobsters. Well if you ever wanted the real deal then Michael Corleone Blanco is your guy. The son of Griselda Blanco of Cocaine Cowboys 2 fame, he would be literally born into the street life as he was named after the after the fictional character Michael Corleone played by Al Pacino in the movie trilogy The Godfather. Gangster right?

Now almost thirty years later, Michael finally speaks on growing up in the household with “The Godmother” at the helm. In his first interview ever, Michael sheds light on his notorious mother, his precarious childhood, and life beyond the Blanco name.

AllHipHop.com: You’re the son of Griselda Blanco. How was she as a mother?

Michael Corleone Blanco: As far as my mother goes, I’d like to compare my upbringing as far as a family upbringing, you know how the Italians have The Sopranos and it’s a family being a family, that’s how it was growing up in the Blanco household. You would catch my mother with her maids making dinner you know? Besides everything that was obvious to a child’s eye, it was having family order. Just like a regular family’s chain of command, my mother has always been the head of the household. My mother always took care of the boys and from there me and my brothers were the head honchos of the family and we told everyone else what it was. It was a good upbringing. Christmas came around and I got my first Porsche at six years old.

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