house right in front of a surf beach in Baliâs Canggu area, paying a customary bribe for permission to erect it within the 100-metre no-build zone. He slung an official $15,000 to set it back just 93 metres from the water. The only catch with the islandâs endemic corruption was that, within a year, someone else had slung cash to build even closer, directly in front of Rafaelâs house. He could hardly complain.
Designed by a top architect and featured in magazines, the two-storey mansion was spectacular. It incorporated all Rafaelâs boyhood fantasies, like the diving board off his bedroom balcony. Most mornings he got up, coming down from a cocaine high, and stumbled bleary-eyed to the board, then dived into the 22-metre pool, racing straight back up his stylish spiral staircase to dive again and again, until he felt fresh.
Anyone entering the high-walled playground through the sliding wooden gate could see it was a labour of love, created by a person with a passion for the ocean. The Beverly Hills-style palm-lined driveway was built with coloured pebbles, shaped in waves. Wave-shaped indents, each with its own lighting, decorated the outside house walls. Beautifying the edge of the pool were four big-breasted mermaids that spouted water strong enough for Rafael to stand under for a hydro massage, usually after a surf. For his more indulgent massages, there was a poolside cabana with its own Bose sound system, and a limestone deck for sunbaking.
Inside the house, large twin feature doors were inlaid with mother-of-pearl flower designs and the floor was recycled teak. The jacuzzi on the deck â for champagne parties â had an expansive view of the surrounding paddy fields.
Next to the pool was a 12-metre high water tower, which Rafael climbed up daily to check the swell. It was also an ideal vantage point to spy on police spying on him.
I think I am the king of the world. I think nothing is going to happen, I always say this in my mind, âI am never going to get caught.â Sometimes my friends say, âHey man, you have to put some money away in case one day you have problems.â I say, âFuck off, man, Iâm never gonna get caught. Never.â
â Rafael
Rafael refused to think negatively, but wasnât oblivious to the constant threats to his freedom. For protection, he put shards of glass along the top of the concrete walls, kept three large dogs roaming and installed state-of-the-art cameras, infrared laser sensors and intercoms bought in Singapore. His elaborate security wasnât to stop thieves, but to prevent Bali cops scrambling over the wall and planting drugs.
But most of the time he was lax anyway, keeping evidence inside his house.
When you do this shit for a long time, you think itâs normal. Sometimes I sit with 5Â kilos of coke in my house. I know I am doing something wrong, breaking all the rules.
â Rafael
He was also keeping up to half a million dollars at home, which could be used as evidence against him in a drugs case. After a run or two, the whole house would be billowing with cash â bursting from his Bose speakers, the wardrobes and his capacious safety deposit box, which was sometimes so overstuffed with money he had to bang it shut with his feet.
To help solve the problem, he hired a Frenchman who specialised in designing magician-like hiding places, and whose ingenuity was a godsend to Baliâs drug dealers. He built Rafael a TV cabinet with invisible drawers, towel racks with large hollow tubes and a vacuous Buddha head that opened with an undetectable screw.
I have so many secret spots but I still have too much money. I have half a million dollars in my hand, in my safe. Money was not a problem at all. I have plenty of problems, but money was not one. The only problem was this: where am I gonna put these fucking bags of money because I donât have any more space? It was totally crazy.
â Rafael
Early on,
Designed by a top architect and featured in magazines, the two-storey mansion was spectacular. It incorporated all Rafaelâs boyhood fantasies, like the diving board off his bedroom balcony. Most mornings he got up, coming down from a cocaine high, and stumbled bleary-eyed to the board, then dived into the 22-metre pool, racing straight back up his stylish spiral staircase to dive again and again, until he felt fresh.
Anyone entering the high-walled playground through the sliding wooden gate could see it was a labour of love, created by a person with a passion for the ocean. The Beverly Hills-style palm-lined driveway was built with coloured pebbles, shaped in waves. Wave-shaped indents, each with its own lighting, decorated the outside house walls. Beautifying the edge of the pool were four big-breasted mermaids that spouted water strong enough for Rafael to stand under for a hydro massage, usually after a surf. For his more indulgent massages, there was a poolside cabana with its own Bose sound system, and a limestone deck for sunbaking.
Inside the house, large twin feature doors were inlaid with mother-of-pearl flower designs and the floor was recycled teak. The jacuzzi on the deck â for champagne parties â had an expansive view of the surrounding paddy fields.
Next to the pool was a 12-metre high water tower, which Rafael climbed up daily to check the swell. It was also an ideal vantage point to spy on police spying on him.
I think I am the king of the world. I think nothing is going to happen, I always say this in my mind, âI am never going to get caught.â Sometimes my friends say, âHey man, you have to put some money away in case one day you have problems.â I say, âFuck off, man, Iâm never gonna get caught. Never.â
â Rafael
Rafael refused to think negatively, but wasnât oblivious to the constant threats to his freedom. For protection, he put shards of glass along the top of the concrete walls, kept three large dogs roaming and installed state-of-the-art cameras, infrared laser sensors and intercoms bought in Singapore. His elaborate security wasnât to stop thieves, but to prevent Bali cops scrambling over the wall and planting drugs.
But most of the time he was lax anyway, keeping evidence inside his house.
When you do this shit for a long time, you think itâs normal. Sometimes I sit with 5Â kilos of coke in my house. I know I am doing something wrong, breaking all the rules.
â Rafael
He was also keeping up to half a million dollars at home, which could be used as evidence against him in a drugs case. After a run or two, the whole house would be billowing with cash â bursting from his Bose speakers, the wardrobes and his capacious safety deposit box, which was sometimes so overstuffed with money he had to bang it shut with his feet.
To help solve the problem, he hired a Frenchman who specialised in designing magician-like hiding places, and whose ingenuity was a godsend to Baliâs drug dealers. He built Rafael a TV cabinet with invisible drawers, towel racks with large hollow tubes and a vacuous Buddha head that opened with an undetectable screw.
I have so many secret spots but I still have too much money. I have half a million dollars in my hand, in my safe. Money was not a problem at all. I have plenty of problems, but money was not one. The only problem was this: where am I gonna put these fucking bags of money because I donât have any more space? It was totally crazy.
â Rafael
Early on,
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