A balmy southern California afternoon, tourists and locals mingling in the coffee shop, and at first glance there was little to distinguish the 39-year-old American from other regulars.
Dressed casually in a black and white dress with black leggings and boots, she sipped her coffee and talked about work, kids and the importance of staying in touch with family. Her small chain of carwashes, beauty salons and cafes was going well, she said.
Very well, judging by the Rolex on her wrist, the Louis Vuitton bag at her feet and the Mercedes Benz parked outside.
There was another hint of a life less ordinary. Her features bore a distinct resemblance to a man whose face had long gazed from newspapers and televisions – a man hated and feared and admired for creating the world’s biggest and richest criminal syndicate.