Michael had avoided his mother's perilous path until now. Under the advice of his criminal defense lawyer, Michael declined to comment for this story.
New Times pieced together Michael's life through court documents and depositions from his mother's criminal cases, news articles and books about the Blanco family, Cocaine Cowboys footage, interviews Michael gave in 2008 to other media outlets, the criminal complaint against him, and extensive conversations with his childhood best friend and business manager, Cristian Rios. The result is a compelling tale about a young man struggling to debunk his mother's homicidal reputation while at the same time embracing her criminal legacy to capitalize on its entertainment value. "Michael is well aware of who he is in the public eye," says Cristian, who is convinced that Michael, who had inked a multimillion-dollar Hollywood deal six days before the bust, was set up. "He would not put his life in peril for something that would jeopardize his family, his movie deal, and his freedom."
Courtesy Office of State Attorney
Undercover cops say Michael used this diamond-encrusted pendant as collateral.
Colby Katz
Former smuggler Mickey Munday says Michael should have used more caution.
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One day in 1983, a 5-year-old Michael was in Medellín with his father, Dario Sepulveda, when their car was intercepted by men dressed as police officers. Griselda — also known as "the Black Widow" for having allegedly killed her first two husbands, one of whom had fathered her three eldest sons — had learned that her third hubby was messing around with a topless dancer from Fort Lauderdale. She confronted Dario about his infidelity inside the Davie home of Max Mermelstein, a smuggler who acted as point man for the cartel's distribution network.
The couple argued over Michael's custody. Dario preferred to send his son to school, but Griselda wanted Michael to be with her all the time, according to Mermelstein's account for a 1989 Sun-Sentinel article. (Mermelstein died in 2008 after being in the witness protection program.) So Dario took Michael to Colombia, where he thought his friends in the cartel, including kingpin Pablo Escobar and the Ochoa brothers, would protect him from his estranged wife.
The fake cops who intercepted Michael and his father opened fire on Dario, killing him. After the shooting, Mermelstein said, "Little Michael was screaming and ran over to embrace his father. But by the time he got there, Dario was dead."
Following his dad's murder, Michael was reunited with his mom in Miami. But Dario's friends and family members, including a brother who had been a hit man for Griselda, wanted revenge. Griselda never stayed in one place for long. She was constantly uprooting Michael from one hideout to another to stay one step ahead of her enemies and drug agents. She had safe houses in Miami, New York, Los Angeles, and the Bay Area.
When the Godmother and her sons fled to Irvine, California, the DEA ratcheted up its hunt. According to federal court documents, agents got a big break in 1984 when an old family friend named Gerry Gomez, who was doing a ten-year prison stint, volunteered to bring Griselda and her boys down. Gomez had owned a garage in Medellín where he had serviced cars and motorcycles owned by the Blancos.
Agents tracked down Griselda's house in Irvine. On the second day of surveillance, they spotted a 6-year-old Michael at the door. His mom was standing behind him. About 20 minutes later, six DEA detectives stormed the house. Michael watched as his mom was hauled off to jail. His brothers were subsequently arrested on trafficking charges. The Blancos' run had come to an end.
During the first five years his mother was incarcerated, Michael lived with his maternal grandmother. According to his friend Cristian, the boy had access to money and homes in Colombia that the U.S. government wasn't able to seize from his mother. When Griselda was sent to prison, Michael traveled back and forth between Medellín and the Bay Area, near the correctional facility where his mom was held. Sometimes he lived on his own. He would also seek out people to give him room and board.
In 2008, Michael told AllHipHop.com that from the time he was 12 until he reached adulthood, he was raised by various legal guardians whom he did not identify. "I would meet someone that my mother would know, and I would say, 'I'm going to live in your house and I'm going to pay you rent and you're going to be my legal guardian,'" Michael told the website. "At one point, the legal guardian happened to be a minister, and he taught me a lot about the Lord."
As the gatekeeper who guards entry into Michael's world, Cristian, a rakish chap with a scraggly beard and straight, shoulder-length black hair, confirms that account. "Michael was always searching for a familial atmosphere that he lacked," Cristian says. "He came away a better person because of those experiences. Michael would give a friend the shirt off his back. That's the man of substance he is."
During his late teen years, Michael experienced a bout of depression, Cristian adds. "His entire family was in prison. He didn't know what he was going to do with his life. He certainly wasn't accustomed to getting a 9-to-5 job. I told him to start writing down his memoir because someone would one day buy his story."
