I never had intentions of writing a book, and I never envisioned myself a published author. In fact, my only intention was to keep serving my country in any way possible and for as long as possible. My old boss and good friend Cofer Black was the first to harp at me regarding writing a book. At our frequent breakfast meets during our tenure at Blackwater, he would always end with “Ric, you are a good American; your story and career need to be told.” A few years ago, when working on another of his literary masterpieces, Steve Coll called to interview me for his book Directorate S. Cofer brokered the introduction, as he knew I would not be favorably disposed to speak with any investigative reporter or even writer.
Steve spent a whole day asking me granular questions about post-9/11, about which Cofer assured him I had plenty of unclassified atmospherics. During our lunch, aspects of my personal life came up, and Steve further encouraged me to write a book about the CIA as seen through my eyes. Steve pushed back on my hesitation by saying that if I was really upset about how our Agency is portrayed in the media and especially in Hollywood, that I owed it to my family and colleagues to help clear the perception proliferated by the likes of Jason Bourne and American Made. He even added, “I will help you find a publisher!” I was noncommittal, but my oldest son also encouraged me to write something for the family. “Pops,” he said, “we don’t have a clue what you did at the CIA. We don’t want your story to disappear when you are gone.” So I started a fleshed-out outline, but only for a family audience.
Fast-forward to 2018, when I got a call from my dear friend and mentor, Green Beret legend Sergeant Major Billy Waugh. Billy asked me to speak with Annie Jacobsen about a book she was researching, which had Billy as the main protagonist. Similar to what transpired with Steve also materialized with Annie, only that she immediately reached out to her literary agent, Jim Hornfischer. He, in turn, got me to New York City for a marathon interview with ten publishers, the most enthusiastic of which was Marc Resnick of St. Martin’s Press. And as they say, the rest is history.
I want to thank Cofer, Steve, Annie, and Jim Hornfischer, without whom this book would have never left the family library. But they were not alone. Still fighting my hesitation, I consulted with two of my best Agency friends, Jose Rodriguez and Hank Crumpton. Both were very supportive and encouraged me to go for it. Marc Resnick for taking me under his wing after my literary agent became incapacitated. Last but not least, my writing coach, John Bruning, who so skillfully walked me through converting my “decent ops writing” skills into words that captured atmosphere, feelings, impressions, love, and other subtleties absent in CIA writing.
The true impetus for my writing is that I am deeply hurt when I see and read about how the CIA is depicted to the masses. At best, we are that pit bull chained in the backyard who is supposed to protect the homeowner from any and all harm. However, that loyal pit bull is never petted, thanked, or much less loved. In the worst light, we are a bunch of immoral—often rogue—mercenaries bent on carrying out illegal operations without presidential or congressional approvals. Bollocks!
The men and women of the CIA are the bravest, brightest, most dedicated, and most selfless I have ever been associated with. It is to them and their families that I dedicate this humble effort to clear our “Company’s” name.
Of course, none of this happened in a vacuum. My life is rife with people, events, and circumstances that pushed me toward my God-intended path. In true form of Paulo Coelho’s teachings, I was walking the path of the “Warrior of the Light.” So I must start with Pararescue legend Chief Master Sergeant Wayne Fisk, who saw something in me during PJ training that I did not discover for myself for decades to come. To this day, he remains a close friend and mentor.
The list is endless, and there are many I cannot even name for security reasons. However, I must honor them in some form, even if it is in alias: Colonel Ray, my first CIA boss. Dewey Clarridge, a lifelong mentor of mine. “Cape Crusader,” who was my last deputy and one of the smartest, bravest ops officers I ever worked with. “King Ralph,” who gave me my shot at “Senior Grade” and who remains a trusted and admired friend.
Unfortunately, there is a plethora of colleagues who are no longer with us: Ben B., Les W., SF, and classmates Tim M. and Pat T., Jennifer Mathews, Mike Spann, Leon K., Glenn E., dear friend George B., dear friend Roy P., Frank A., mentor Jim D., former SFer Tom B., among too many others. And to my beloved Nicaraguan Contras who paid the ultimate price for the success of that mission.
Last but certainly not least, my family. I was blessed with the best parents possible. I am my pops’s shadow, the fruit of his moral character, courage, conviction, and quick decision-making. From my mom, I inherited my thirst for reading and learning and her natural flair for always dressing the part. To my abuelo Emilin, who gave me his gift of cool under pressure. My beautiful and loyal wife, Carmen, the second love of my life, only after my daughter. Our three wonderful kids, all in dedicated service to God and country in their own very special way. I give no further details on them to afford them their own privacy, but I could not be prouder of them if my chest were twice the size. My cousin Manny—closest thing I have to a brother. And to my inner-circle “veterans of many adventures”: Steve B., Mike B., BullDog, G. T. Robles, Michael F., Max V., S. M. O., and Godson Mike.
I also say thanks, one more time, to Monsignor Bryan O. Walsh for creating the Pedro Pan Program (Peter Pan), the venue that facilitated my legal journey to this wonderful country I call my home.