Jacob Diaz

The prosecutor was so angry, she told Wilson, no more pleas, we're going to trial.

Day one went well, Diaz tells me.

On the second day, though, I rode the elevator up to the courtroom with Nate and Casey Shuler.

I couldn't believe I was standing in an elevator with the two idiots who'd set me and Ole up.

They were wearing pastel suits.

They looked like clowns.

Nate testified that Diaz was a huge drug trafficker working out of Acapulco, Mexico.

He told the jury Diaz had supplied him with nearly 300 kilos of cocaine, which, according to Diaz, was a grossly inflated number.

They didn't have any drugs, just some money, says Diaz.

But my lawyer was right.

It didn't look good.

On the third day of trial, the judge gave the jury the case.

They deliberated for about an hour.

Then, they found Diaz not guilty of several of the counts, but guilty of one count of conspiracy to distribute.

His bail was revoked, and he was immediately taken into custody.

At Diaz's sentencing on May 1, 2012, the government asked for 14 years.

The judge, however, after listening to Diaz's attorney lay out the tragedy of his client's childhood, declined.

She teared up when she gave me the mandatory minimum 10 years, says Diaz.

She said she didn't think I deserved it, but her hands were tied.

By the time I met Diaz at the Coleman Federal Correctional Complex in Central Florida, it was the summer of 2017.