firing his pistol—a felony for him to possess—off a balcony at a flock of birds, explaining that they had been sent as omens by “Satan, or God maybe.”
Research confirmed some of his wilder stories. A Hendrix biography did cite Roberts as having played a role in his kidnapping—though as Hendrix’s abductor, not rescuer. Some stories did not hold up so well. The National Archives found no records of his alleged military service. I was sure that his story of murdering Lansky’s stepson with a future CIA officer was bunk.
But Roberts insisted on driving me to the crime scene, the parking lot where Schwartz was gunned down. He walked me to the nearby canal, where he claimed to have waited in his Cigarette boat to dispose of Prado’s gun. The geometry of the crime—the parking lot, the location of the boat, the roadway where Roberts claimed Prado’s boss, San Pedro, picked him up and drove him away—made sense. The story veered slightly over the top in his description of Prado, whom he called San Pedro’s “main hitter”—or hit man.
The image Roberts presented of Prado resembled that of a hit man from a 1970s exploitation movie, like a younger version of Charles Bronson in The Mechanic. “Ricky had been in the Special Forces, with training in explosives and karate,” Roberts said. He described Prado as a master of disguise, who the day of the shooting “dressed like a tourist. He put on a fake beard, wore a flower shirt and a Panama hat. He carried his shotgun in a Bal Harbour Mall shopping bag. Ricky was very professional.”
Roberts added that Prado also worked steadily as a drug and money courier for San Pedro, and that he had seen him regularly until a few years later, when Prado entered the CIA. “Ricky was involved with Oliver North and the contras. He was their all-American hero.”
Yet Roberts wasn’t even exactly sure of Prado’s name. Sometimes he referred to him as “Ricky Perdio” or “Pardio.” He also said, “It might have been his name was Alex.”
When I warned Roberts about the risk of confessing to his role in the Schwartz murder—a crime with no statute of limitations—he said, “Don’t worry about it. This is one murder I have a free pass on.”
Roberts’s image as an unrepentant outlaw was built around his assertion that he was “never a rat.” A “free pass” implied that he had cooperated. The transcripts of Roberts’s 1993 sentencing hearing—in which any cooperation he provided to the government would have been disclosed—were sealed by order of the court.
Months later, the mystery of Roberts’s “free pass” was solved when I found a proffer letter buried in a box of legal documents Roberts had provided. A proffer outlines areas in which a potential witness is willing to testify in exchange for immunity. His had been written in 1992 by his attorney following negotiations with the FBI and federal and state prosecutors. Among several murders the proffer mentioned, it stated Roberts’s willingness to testify that a man named “Ricky” had killed Richard Schwartz with a shotgun, and that he, Gary Teriaca, and Bobby Erra had helped dispose of the weapon—the same story Roberts told me more than fifteen years later. The existence of the proffer didn’t mean the story was true, of course. And even if someone named “Ricky” had shot Schwartz, that didn’t mean the same guy went on to work for the CIA.
Total Intelligence
In late 2008, the only Prado associated with the CIA to come up in Google searches was “Enrique.” There were fewer than a dozen references to “Enrique Prado” online, and all of them linked to a single company called Total Intelligence Solutions. Its website indicated that the company was a corporate security firm affiliated with Blackwater. The “About Us” page contained this item:
Enrique “Ric” Prado, Chief Operating Officer
Mr. Prado joins Total Intel as Chief Operating Officer. Previously, he was a
Research confirmed some of his wilder stories. A Hendrix biography did cite Roberts as having played a role in his kidnapping—though as Hendrix’s abductor, not rescuer. Some stories did not hold up so well. The National Archives found no records of his alleged military service. I was sure that his story of murdering Lansky’s stepson with a future CIA officer was bunk.
But Roberts insisted on driving me to the crime scene, the parking lot where Schwartz was gunned down. He walked me to the nearby canal, where he claimed to have waited in his Cigarette boat to dispose of Prado’s gun. The geometry of the crime—the parking lot, the location of the boat, the roadway where Roberts claimed Prado’s boss, San Pedro, picked him up and drove him away—made sense. The story veered slightly over the top in his description of Prado, whom he called San Pedro’s “main hitter”—or hit man.
The image Roberts presented of Prado resembled that of a hit man from a 1970s exploitation movie, like a younger version of Charles Bronson in The Mechanic. “Ricky had been in the Special Forces, with training in explosives and karate,” Roberts said. He described Prado as a master of disguise, who the day of the shooting “dressed like a tourist. He put on a fake beard, wore a flower shirt and a Panama hat. He carried his shotgun in a Bal Harbour Mall shopping bag. Ricky was very professional.”
Roberts added that Prado also worked steadily as a drug and money courier for San Pedro, and that he had seen him regularly until a few years later, when Prado entered the CIA. “Ricky was involved with Oliver North and the contras. He was their all-American hero.”
Yet Roberts wasn’t even exactly sure of Prado’s name. Sometimes he referred to him as “Ricky Perdio” or “Pardio.” He also said, “It might have been his name was Alex.”
When I warned Roberts about the risk of confessing to his role in the Schwartz murder—a crime with no statute of limitations—he said, “Don’t worry about it. This is one murder I have a free pass on.”
Roberts’s image as an unrepentant outlaw was built around his assertion that he was “never a rat.” A “free pass” implied that he had cooperated. The transcripts of Roberts’s 1993 sentencing hearing—in which any cooperation he provided to the government would have been disclosed—were sealed by order of the court.
Months later, the mystery of Roberts’s “free pass” was solved when I found a proffer letter buried in a box of legal documents Roberts had provided. A proffer outlines areas in which a potential witness is willing to testify in exchange for immunity. His had been written in 1992 by his attorney following negotiations with the FBI and federal and state prosecutors. Among several murders the proffer mentioned, it stated Roberts’s willingness to testify that a man named “Ricky” had killed Richard Schwartz with a shotgun, and that he, Gary Teriaca, and Bobby Erra had helped dispose of the weapon—the same story Roberts told me more than fifteen years later. The existence of the proffer didn’t mean the story was true, of course. And even if someone named “Ricky” had shot Schwartz, that didn’t mean the same guy went on to work for the CIA.
Total Intelligence
In late 2008, the only Prado associated with the CIA to come up in Google searches was “Enrique.” There were fewer than a dozen references to “Enrique Prado” online, and all of them linked to a single company called Total Intelligence Solutions. Its website indicated that the company was a corporate security firm affiliated with Blackwater. The “About Us” page contained this item:
Enrique “Ric” Prado, Chief Operating Officer
Mr. Prado joins Total Intel as Chief Operating Officer. Previously, he was a
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