Code Name: Johnnie Walker Red

By Lisa M. Cook

About the Book
In this inspirational memoir, Lisa M. Cook recounts her five-and-a-half-month legal battle in Kingston, Jamaica, and the friendship, faith, and determination that got her through it.
When she was twenty-four, Lisa was a single mother with a three-year-old daughter. To provide for her child, Lisa agreed to run a drug shipment from Jamaica to the United States. She was caught before she could ever leave the island and ended up facing more dangers than a simple prison sentence…

About the Author
Cook is now a teacher, public speaker, and author based out of Massachusetts. She works with children and young adults to help them form better social skills, self-esteem, and self-acceptance. Cook speaks and writes about the challenges many young people face. She hopes her work will inspire others to take up the torch and continue to provide understanding and acceptance to children who need it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Apr 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886839050

Book preview

Prologue

I sat behind the steel grating trying to figure out what exactly I had done. Everything was in a haze; the reality of what had happened hadn’t settled in. Was I crazy? Was I on drugs? What had made me think I could carry drugs back to the United States without getting caught? Millions of questions hurled around my brain all at once. I was still in shock, and the only images that I could see were of my daughter, my family, the police, the airport, and the dogs, uniformed personnel with M16s, interrogation, and prison. It all made me tired, so tired that I put my head in my hands, slid down the concrete wall to the concrete floor, and cried myself to sleep.

Hours later, I was awakened by the rattling of the steel grating and a very tall Jamaican officer asking me, Is your name Lisa Cook? I nodded, and he told me I had a phone call. Who in God’s name knew I was there? I hadn’t told anyone; I was too afraid to tell my family. My heart started to race so fast that I felt like I was losing my breath. I slowly stood up, brushed myself off, and shakily walked toward the front of the cell. The officer unlocked the steel-grid gate, and I walked out. He directed my footsteps until I came across a long desk with a black phone at the end of it and a woman police officer who sat there ready for war if any wrong moves were made.

The closer I got to the phone, the faster my heart raced. Hesitantly, I picked up the phone and quietly said, Hello?

Immediately a male voice responded in a heavy patois, Hello, Ms. Cook. My name is Leviston James. I’ve heard that you were in some trouble. I will be your representing attorney, and I will be there in a half hour. Click.

Once again, thoughts twirled about my head. Who was this guy? How did he know I was in trouble? And how did he know where I was? Something was very strange about this, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was escorted back to my cell, where I played questions and answers with myself to try and make sense of everything, but no matter how much I tried, I still couldn’t find answers that were logical. If only I could go back seven days…maybe I would have changed my mind, maybe I would have stayed in New York to window-shop or jumped a bus to go back home. One thing is for sure: I would have never boarded American Airlines flight 465.

Despite the inner voice and obvious signs of danger, I had been on a mission, and I had been determined to make it happen. I’d known the possibility of putting my life and my freedom on the line, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was kissing the green rainbow that I had my eyes on. Yes, money was on my mind, and at the time, nothing could stop me from getting it—not only because I wanted it but because I needed it. I was in a desperate situation and resorted to desperate measures. Little did I know that the decision I made at that time would affect me for the rest of my life, and that was where my journey to hell and having faith began.

1

Drowning

I had been working for a nutrition-education program for approximately two years when they decided to cut three hundred jobs. I was one of the last to be hired and first to go. It wasn’t easy being a single mother, living in my own place, and paying for everything with my small wages. There was no one to help me out of my financial bind. My family wasn’t in any position to help me, and neither were my friends. I tried to go to welfare, but they wouldn’t help either, because I had a small savings in a 401(k). The welfare office told me I had to liquidate all monies in my savings before they could help me. The problem with that was that there was a two- to three-month wait before I could obtain those funds. So what was I supposed to do in the meantime, aside from looking for another job? I needed money fast. I was about to lose my apartment, my utilities were getting shut off, and my daughter was going to be kicked out of day care. There was one last option, and his street name was Doobie.

Doobie was a good friend of mine and a self-employed pharmacist. Whatever medication you needed, Doobie had it, from cocaine to weed and everything in between. Doobie and I were like peanut butter and jelly; we just fit together as friends. He didn’t have any expectations of me, and I didn’t expect anything from him either. We were like girlfriend and boyfriend without the sex. He was average height with curly hair, and his skin reminded me of a vanilla cappuccino with a hint of dark chocolate; the effect of the two together was golden black. His eyes were slanted and had a sad look, but his long, thick, beautiful eyelashes compensated for any shortcomings that his eyes had. Indeed, he was sexy, and many, many women wanted him. As a matter of fact, he had many women. Not just because of his occupation or his exotic look, but because he knew how to put it down and allegedly was hung like a horse. At least that is what the rumor was.

Eventually, I had to push my pride aside and ask Doobie for his help. Deep within myself, I couldn’t ask him for money, but I did ask him for help in flipping some money to help me out of the hole. His offer was completely unexpected, but it was one that I accepted with anticipation and fear. As a matter of fact, living my life on the beach, in a grass hut, eating fish with coconut water all day, became more and more appealing, and before I knew it, I was happily packing to get ready for my tropical paradise.

2

The Proposition

One afternoon, Doobie had stopped by my apartment so that we could talk. In a previous phone conversation, he had mentioned that he could flip some money for me, but he also informed me that I could make much bigger money in one shot doing it another way. I was completely down regardless of what it involved (short of killing someone or hurting someone). When Doobie came knocking at my back door, I was all excited and tingly inside. I couldn’t wait to start talking business.

Wha’ g’wan, sexy?

Nuttin’, I answered.

He stepped into the kitchen, and we gave each other a hug. Why yu look so?

Because I need to do something fast, before I find myself and my daughter on the street or in a shelter.

No, suh, dat na go happen, Li. Especially whe’ mi tell yu ’bout a t’ing mi a work ’pon.

What kind of ‘t’ing’? I asked. His response was unexpected and a little mind-blowing.

Doobie explained to me that I could be involved in my own moneymaking, but it would involve going to Jamaica and bringing back some marijuana. The thought of doing something illegal made my heart race, but the thought of the money I could make made my heart happy.

How would I do this? I asked him.

Doobie proceeded to explain to me in detail how it could be done. He presented me with three different ways to bring drugs into the United States. It’s your choice. You could have the drugs strapped to your body, you could put them in your luggage, or you could purchase rum.

That last one threw me for a loop. Purchase rum? I repeated.

Yeah, mon. All yu have to do is go to the rum counter in the airport and ask for two bottles of white and two bottles of red rum.

That’s all? I asked.

Nuttin’ more, he said.

Of course I chose option three, because it seemed the least incriminating.

Doobie continued to paint a beautiful picture of my all-expense-paid vacation. He said I would get $1,000 in cash to spend on whatever I wanted, and then I would receive an additional five thousand to get the marijuana to JFK Airport in New York. Not to mention that I would stay at the Four Seasons Hotel for a week with all accommodations included. You would be treated like royalty, he said, and I believed him. The thought of being treated like a queen took me away from my reality: a struggling mother, unemployed and heading into homelessness. I was excited and scared at the same time. As Doobie stood up to leave, he said to me, I’ll give you twenty-four hours to decide what you gonna do. Don’t worry, mon. Everyt’ing gone be criss. I stood up, walked him to the door, and gave him a hug, and then he disappeared into the night.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, thinking about what I was going to do. Finally, I decided to have a conversation with God, asking him to keep watch over me regardless of what I decided. Shortly after the conversation, I drifted into a peaceful sleep. The next morning, I awakened to grave anxiety. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sit still, and my mind continuously raced. In hindsight, that was the red flag that should have been my warning of disaster; it should have been the reason to say no, but it wasn’t. All it did was allow me to rationalize even more why I should go. At that moment, yes was my answer. There was no turning back for me at that point. Besides, looking at the way things were already, what could be worse, right?

My phone rang at approximately one o’clock that afternoon; I knew it was Doobie, and I knew he was looking for an answer. I ran to the phone, and without waiting to hear his voice, I shouted, Yes! Yes, I will do it. Silence followed for approximately five seconds, and then I said, Doobie? Finally hearing his voice on the other end sent a tingle of relief to my ears.

Doobie asked, Are you sure? Because once you say yes, I will call my contacts and put dis whole t’ing togedda in two days.

I’m sure, and don’t ask me again, I answered immediately.

Doobie said, A’ right. I will come by at four p.m. and mek yu know how it will be done.

At that point, I went to my closet to start putting my tropical wardrobe together and thinking about what arrangements I would make for my daughter while I was away.

The waiting nearly killed me, but when there was a knock at my door at 4:15, I knew who it was. I was nervous but ready to talk business and ask all the questions that needed to be asked. I was on edge but determined to go forward. As soon as Doobie stepped into the house, I grabbed him and hugged him like I would never see him again. He followed me into the living room where we sat down face to face. Doobie began to tell me that the deal would take place on Friday of the following week. It was already Monday First; I had to tell him everything that I