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You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Mmm.

Life goes on, right?

And for Escobar, that was a pretty good thing.

He remained at large, protected by an army of sicarios...

in a city that refused to give him up.

Pablo kept his lawyers working overtime...

continuing to negotiate his surrender

with Colombian Attorney General De Greiff.

But it was bullshit.

Why surrender when you're holding all the cards?

He was free. And business was booming.

LEADER OF THE SEARCH BLOC KILLED

For those of us tasked with catching Escobar,

Carrillo's death was a punch in the gut.

But life went on for us as well.

Centra Spike was still busy gathering intel.

The brass was still reviewing and approving it.

And it was still finding its way to us.

But, shit, man...

you can have all the intelligence in the world,

but if nobody's there to act on it, what's it worth?

Nothing.

All it adds up to is a growing stack of unread files

on a dead man's desk.

We were back where we started: nowhere.

You're breaking my fucking heart, baby.

She's good with kids.

I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Carrillo.

I keep wondering if it's better to know the truth.

I don't follow.

The things they said about my husband, about what he did before he was killed.

Did he shoot a child?

Did he kill that boy like they said on the news?

No. Absolutely not.

Your husband

did everything in his means to get Escobar.

But he did not cross the line.

Well, that was rough.

- I just kept looking at her, thinking... - Hey.

It's not gonna happen to me, it's not gonna happen to us.

You want me to come home?

Just make sure you're still you when it's all over.

So three years in the jungles fighting FARC.

Hugo Martinez chose his own path a long time ago

and he hasn't deviated from it since.

He's methodical, favors procedure and strict protocol.

Do you think you can get him to do it?

How do you get a man to take a job that nobody wants?

Don't get me wrong.

There was no shortage of brave men in the Colombian National Police.

But signing up to replace Carrillo as the head of the Search Bloc

would take a lot more than bravery.

Gaviria couldn't count on someone raising their hand.

It would take a certain kind of pressure to find the right volunteer.

- Carlos! - Tata!

Business was pretty good.

And a large part of that was due to a guy they called the Lion.

You might remember him as a Medell�n hustler

who used to stuff bricks of cocaine into his jacket and smuggle them into Miami.

Well, he stayed in Miami and he made it his town.

He was responsible for a smuggling network

that brought in Pablo's cocaine by the ton. He was great at it.

But getting cocaine into the States wasn't really the problem.

The problem was, what do you do with all that money?

Sure, some of it could stay in the States.

And the narcos did that.

They bought crooked banks, real estate, car dealerships,

race horses, art, you name it.

But if you're gonna run a cocaine empire,

you need to have a lot of cash on hand.

And getting cash back into Colombia wasn't easy.

Let me put it this way:

This is what a ton of cocaine looks like.

And here's what the same ton of cocaine looks like

when it's converted into cash.

See the problem?

Lion had to be creative with how he got that money to Pablo.

And he was. His shipments showed up like clockwork.

But the deeper Pablo went into his war with the government...

the more important these shipments were.

Pablo needed more money than ever.

Without it, he was fucked.

Okay, here we go.

Oh, shit. That's Velasco.

Hey!

Mr. Ambassador,

I believe people fall into two categories, basically:

those who rely on hope...

and those who rely on faith,

who see a system at work in the world and are devoted to it.

It may be religion,

but in the case of police work, a method.

I'm guessing that you fall on the faith side.

Correct.

We can catch Escobar in any number of ways.

But if the one we choose

furthers an already strained relationship

between the Colombian people and its police,

a strain caused by years of corruption and abuse,

then we'll have lost.

Even if we catch him.

Your philosophy is our philosophy, Colonel.

Yeah, we'll see about that.

Thank you very much.

- Good to sit down with you. - Mr. Ambassador,

the whole world is watching how we handle this.

I won't allow it to be corrupted by...

outside interests or darker instincts.

Let's go. Get in.

We're polishing this bottle off pretty fast.

Listen, I am not missing my flight for anything tomorrow.

Mmm?

No.

You sure you can't stay?

I can't leave Olivia with my sister forever, Steve.

- Anyway, you'll be in Medell�n. - Ah.

You know, I met the new head of Search Bloc.

- Yeah? - He's an interesting guy.

I have a good feeling about him.

Before I forget, I want you...

I want you to give this to Olivia.

Meant to be good luck.

You keep it then.

I am gonna miss you.

A fucking grid search?

Isn't that how they caught the guy who shot Abraham Lincoln?

- It's a change. - Yeah, it's dated and conventional.

Well, we tried going bullet for bullet with him,

and you saw how that ended up.

Oh, so that's it?

A week ago you volunteered to jump into a chopper with Carrillo

and now it's a change?

Don't worry about it, man. We'll all feel better once Escobar's in the ground

- one way or another, right? - There is no other way, Javi.

Search Bloc is the only game in town.

You really think this asshole can get it done?

I don't know. Maybe he'll surprise us.

Okay.

Grid search it is.

Of course, Pe�a knew the information he had given Berna

was already bearing fruit.

The Casta�os and their men were efficient, if not always subtle.

What's newsworthy about a few dead sicarios

in the murder capital of the world?

Of course, I'm not sure Javi knew

just how fucked up things were really gonna get.

Hard to feel sorry for a bunch of drug dealers getting whacked, right?

These guys had sown a lot of violence over the years...

killed a lot of people.

It was about time they got some payback.

But turning a bunch of well-armed vigilantes loose

on the streets of Medell�n...

was like pouring gasoline on a fire that was already out of control.

Martinez was right.

We all need a method.

Something to cling to when the shit around us gets so deep,

we might go under.

Something to guide us home when we feel we've lost our way.

If we're lucky, someone gives us a method and we follow it.

If not, we find our own.

Pablo's enemies had found their own method.

And it was an ugly one.

They had opened up a new war against him,

striking from the shadows.

Showing him that, even in his hometown, he wasn't safe.

And the moment their method became apparent...

...the message was clear.

There was a new player in town.

What does it say?

And they weren't fucking around.

"Your days are numbered, Pablo. No one around you is safe."

Signed "Los Pepes."

Who in the hell are Los Pepes?

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