Confessions of a Drunken Hit Man

Back in the 1980’s I was in the oil business in Dallas Texas. I developed a friendship with a petroleum engineer by the name of Jim Cash. Jim had grown up in Dallas and lived abroad for a number of years. I believe his dad was in the rendering business in South Dallas.

Jim helped me and mentored me in the ways of Dallas Oil and we exchanged several deals. One of which I bought a lease for salvage and perforated where he recommended. The gas well made its money back in just a few weeks. He was very business like and professional except for one thing.
He would get drunk after a few sips of his martini. Then things would get wild. He was guilt ridden and would start crying, even in public places. I never saw him drink more than two or three.
The first time this happened we were in a restaurant bar in Addison (most of Dallas is dry- can’t buy liquor) and he blurted out. “He had such a beautiful family” “He treated me like a good friend, and then they told me to kill him” “ Hell I lived them for almost a month and then I killed him” His beautiful family didn’t deserve it”
Who did you kill, Jim?

“The President of Chile”.

Jim never bragged about being with the government. It always seemed to be a burden he carried. From time to time, we would meet at his townhouse in Addison reviewing prospects and oil deals. On two occasions men in suits and sunglasses would come to the door, Jim would excuse himself talk to them for ten minutes and come back. Once he joked that he had brought some money into the country and they showed every time he did.

Shortly after we made the gas well Jim and I had a disagreement and I never heard from him again. I believed he was dying and I’ve never been able to find out what happened to Jim or his wife, Marilyn.

I believe he told me the truth and couldn’t live with the fact that he made a friend, and then killed him. How many “spooks” are dying inside that did the dirty work of the Banksters would talk? Would posting this story help the cause? I’ve never made it to South America but now I understand how the “Ugly American” got his name.