Route of Evil

Video

West African Country Becomes Cocaine Hub

The tiny West African country Guinea-Bissau has become the center for Colombian cartel cocaine shipments heading to Europe. As a result, the country is experiencing drug addiction, money corruption, and a barely functioning government struggling to help.

» LAUNCH VIDEO PLAYER

"I don't ask questions," Vallance said. "If they give me cash, I give them a car. That's my job."

The city is full of jarring signs of incongruous wealth -- the exclusive restaurant selling a plate of jumbo shrimp for more than $50, the grocery store selling Johnnie Walker green label whiskey for $132.

At the brightly lighted X Klub, a downtown bar and disco, a burly bouncer in a tight black T-shirt stood guard over the Mercedes sedans and BMW SUVs parked outside at midnight, while inside foreign men chatted with dolled-up local prostitutes sipping drinks along the wall.

"The traffickers have a paradise here," said Constantino Correia, a top Justice Ministry official who is coordinating the government's efforts against the traffickers.

"Justice does not work. The police do not work," he said. "A place where criminals can do whatever they want is not a state. It is chaos."

Correia said that last year, police intercepted a shipment of almost three-quarters of a ton of cocaine and arrested two suspects, who turned out to be army officers. The rest of the traffickers fled, along with an estimated 2 1/2 additional tons of cocaine. The two officers have not been convicted of any crime.

Without computers or other investigative tools, police have no way of telling which of the foreign "businessmen" in Bissau might be smuggling drugs. "It's a war without faces or borders," Correia said.

Portugal and a handful of other countries, the European Union and the United Nations have pledged more than $6 million to help overhaul the justice system, Correia said, adding that the problems would take much more to fix.

Correia also said, with a deep sigh and his hand to his forehead, that even if Guinea-Bissau does manage to capture a big drug trafficker, it lacks a real prison in which to hold him.

Along the capital's bumpy streets, Correia, 52, pointed out mossy hulks that were once distinguished buildings. He came to a baby-blue structure that used to be an office building.

At the door, he greeted two uniformed police officers, one of whom had a pistol. They were guarding about 40 prisoners who slept on thin mattresses on the floor, with nothing but an open door between them and freedom.

Down a dark flight of stairs, an officer opened a padlocked room where a dozen serious offenders were held. In the baking-hot basement with no electricity, the men sat beneath walls painted with graffiti and murals of Jesus.