You think I’m worried they captured me. Don’t be dumb. I let them take me. I’m tired of hiding in hovels in the Sierra or scurrying like a rat through city tunnels. I want the good life I’ve earned as a billionaire and one of the world’s most dangerous men. I want luxury and safety and convenience. Let politicians start living like dogs. It’s time for Chapo Guzman to get a great place in prison.

My people, the best trained and most ferocious in the land, have already forwarded my specifications to President Enrique Pena Nieto and appropriate prison and judicial figures. I’m sure they will cooperate. I only ask for ten thousand square feet of luxury living space in a prison I’ve selected but won’t name at this time so construction crews are not disrupted.

I merely require a deluxe master bedroom, an adjoining gymnasium, a cozy movie theater, a command and communications center, a gourmet kitchen, and assorted bourgeoisie spaces such as a living room with a high ceiling and stone fireplace, a few guest bedrooms, a patio and a garden in which I’ll grow strong plants. Everything will be low key as I plan to host no more than ten visitors a day.

If the Mexican government does not cooperate, I’ll break out of prison and get tougher than ever. I don’t want that. Trust me, I’m offering the people of Mexico peace and prosperity and a hero they can write more songs about. And in addition to hundreds of millions of dollars, I’d provide information on every bad guy I’ve known and I’ve known quite a few.