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SLEEPING LIKE AN ANGEL

Andre stayed at Rafael’s modest rented house but their now different worlds quickly collided.

He was so used to being in jail, he talk all the time about kilos of coke. Was very hard, because I don’t belong to this anymore, and sometimes in front of the kids, like, Oh, somebody got busted for this, for that, he take some lines. The kids say, What? Andre, come on. Oh, sorry, sorry. Not because he want to fuck me, but he just came from jail.
He says, Oh, let’s do like this. I’m gonna have new connections.
I say, Uh-uh, I don’t want to do anymore, man. When you left here I was another guy. Now I have my business, start in the surf school, I don’t do anything wrong. I even have a Facebook.
I was very happy I bring him to my house, but Emily was a little bit afraid. She says, Fuck, I want to live with you because you promised me you were going to stop this shit. She’s totally against drugs. She says, I don’t feel safe living together in the same house with Andre here. Any time the police could break the door to catch him. Then she says, Oh, Andre, it’s better you find another place to go. He felt a little bit sad with me.

— Rafael

Andre was quickly immersed in Bali’s drug world again, getting on his feet by selling Sumatran weed, but soon moving to quality imported grass, hashish and snow.

Through a Brazilian friend working in Australia, he’d organised an Australian Hells Angels boss to meet cop Claudio in Brazil, to buy 200 kilos of cocaine to send to Sydney. Andre’s commission was $2000 per kilo. If it came off, he’d be making $400,000 and eagerly checked his emails for updates.

Meanwhile, he was waiting on a FedEx parcel of hashish from Amsterdam, interviewing an English girl to work as

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