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From a corpse to coconuts, this man smuggled drugs in anything. Now, he helps kids stay out of crime.

Andrew Pritchard said his first exposure to smuggling was when he was 7 and returning home to the UK from a family trip to Jamaica.

He remembers that his and his sister’s suitcases were incredibly heavy. When they got home, his parents opened them, revealing “loads of bottles of white rum,” he said.

“At the time, overproof white rum was something which you couldn’t get in this country,” Pritchard told Business Insider in an interview for its video series “How Crime Works.”

Pritchard’s spiral into large-scale criminal drug smuggling didn’t happen until later in his early 20s. He wasn’t looking for crime.

He was interested in music and started producing sound systems, which eventually exposed him to the UK’s warehouse culture in the late ’80s. He started organizing rave dance parties, and that’s when the drugs showed up in his life and sent him on a criminal path for decades.


A young man holding a record next to a record player soundsystem.

A young Andrew Pritchard. 

Courtesy of Andrew Pritchard



Over the next 20 years, there were multiple turning points where he could have walked away, but each time he got out, he eventually found himself pulled back in.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” he said.

From ecstasy to weed to cocaine, and ultimately, police custody

The raves Pritchard was organizing were drawing thousands of people each weekend, he said. They also introduced him to drug suppliers and distribution networks.

As the rave scene grew, so did demand. He began selling ecstasy, first at parties, then at scale. In the early 1990s, Pritchard moved from dealing drugs to importing them.


Two people standing in a warehouse with giant sign

Warehouse where Pritchard would host his “Genesis” raves. 

Courtesy of Andrew Pritchard



One of his most effective methods involved fruit shipments. Using existing import routes into markets like London’s Spitalfields, he concealed drugs inside produce crates, like apples and yams, that would pass quickly through customs.

After police stormed one of his drug houses in 1992, Pritchard fled to Jamaica. It was the first of several turning points where he could have started a different, crime-free life. Instead, what began as a period of hiding quickly became another opportunity to pull him back in.

For Pritchard, the money and lifestyle that drug smuggling bought him were impossible to ignore. “It’s an addiction, not that I want to take drugs. It’s an addiction that I want to be involved in that lifestyle,” he said.


Weed farm

One of Pritchard’s weed farms in Jamaica. 

Courtesy of Andrew Pritchard



In Jamaica, he built connections with local networks and learned about large-scale cannabis smuggling. By the late ’90s and early ’00s, Prichard had moved further up the supply chain and into cocaine, where he got into some creative tactics.

Traffickers were hollowing out pineapples, plantains, and coconuts and stuffing them with cocaine that was then shipped from South America, through the Caribbean, and into Europe. Pritchard also tried other smuggling methods, like on planes, and at one point tried to hide drugs inside a dead body.

He was arrested in 2004 in connection with more than £100 million ($134 million) worth of half a metric ton (about 1,100 pounds) of cocaine packed inside coconuts. Adjusted for inflation, that would be approximately $230 million today.

After a lengthy trial, he was acquitted and released from custody several years later. He recalled thinking at the time, “May 2007, I’m out, I’m going straight, just had a son born. It’s a new beginning.”

His attempt at going straight didn’t last


A man standing next to a red race car.

Pritchard was addicted to the lifestyle that the drug smuggling brought him. 

Courtesy of Andrew Pritchard



Pritchard returned to legitimate work, but he struggled to adjust to the financial difference.

“The music industry wasn’t really getting in the same kind of financial gains that drug smuggling was getting,” he said.

Ultimately, what pulled him back in was a favor for an old associate, he said.

“My own generosity came back to bite me,” he said. “I lent some money to help him out of a situation.”

That associate was still active in drug trafficking and under police surveillance. Pritchard said he initially tried to stay at arm’s length but became increasingly involved, eventually helping arrange a drug shipment and being present when it was collected.

The associate, he said, had become a “police magnet,” and Pritchard was arrested alongside him in 2013, which ended his final attempt to stay out of crime. In 2014, he was sentenced to 15 years in prison.

When his crime cycle broke


Andrew Pritchard shaking hands with another man.

Courtesy of Andrew Pritchard



While in Belmarsh prison, Pritchard recognized younger people, from families and communities he knew, facing long sentences.

That shifted how he viewed his own role, he said. Instead of focusing on his situation, he began to consider the broader impact of what he had been part of.

“I had blood on my hands,” he said.

After his early release in 2019, he founded the AP Foundation, which offers support to young people, explaining how quickly involvement in crime can escalate, and how difficult it is to leave once inside.

“I’m asked all the time, would I change anything? And the answer is I can’t change anything,” he said. “If I could look at myself as an 18-year-old, would I say don’t do it? Everyone’s expecting me to say don’t do it.’ But had I not done it, I wouldn’t be able to now change lives.”

Pritchard recounts his life so far in his autobiography “Empire of Dirt: From Raves to Riches.


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kelly burch

My rare plants sell for five figures. The business helps me support my extended family, but I work about 100 hours a week.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Harry Luu, owner of PlantZaddyTherapy. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I’ve always been a gardener and enjoyed being around plants. While I was in graduate school studying math, my collection of houseplants grew. There’s an attention to detail and a hyperfocus that I found in both mathematics and plants, so my hobby complemented my academic career.

During the pandemic, my interest in rare plants blew up. I started getting a bigger collection and trading up for more valuable plants.

Eventually, my hobby transformed into a business. I finished my graduate degree and started teaching math in California, but three years ago, I left academia to sell plants full-time.

My academic career was a safety net for my family of 8

I grew up in Vietnam, and I’m the embodiment of the American dream for my family. They put all their eggs in my basket, which allowed me to come to America and study. Now, I feel it’s fair to return their investment. I support not only myself and my husband, but also my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law, my niece, and my nephew.

Leaving my job while supporting a family of eight in California might seem risky, but it was calculated. I had reached the point where I saw the potential for financial freedom from investments I had made during grad school that had very good returns. I had years of data on plant sales, and also knew I could return to academia if needed, so I had a safety net.

I price based on rarity and desirability, without going too high

I was already connected to the rare plant community, so selling increasingly expensive plants felt like a natural progression. I grew my platform on Palmstreet, an online marketplace.

This year, I had two record-breaking sales in one day. I sold a $16,000 plant (an Anthurium Variegated Forgetii x Heinz, one of only two in the world), then a $26,000 plant (the only specimen of the True Variegated Lux Albo Mother Plant).


Man holding rare plant

A $16,000 plant sold on Palmstreet by Harry Luu

Courtesy of Palmstreet



I’m a math person, so I use a formula to price. I calculate rarity and desirability and compare them with price data from the previous three years. These plants were both very rare and highly desirable, which drove prices up. However, I didn’t want to price them too high, because I’m thinking about the long-term viability for my brand: people have to be able to purchase what I’m selling. Given how rare the plants were, their five-figure prices weren’t too big a splash.

I want to be able to connect with the community more

Despite those big numbers, the business’s income fluctuates dramatically. My best single week was over $200,000 in sales, but other weeks I might have no sales. The market is seasonal, and winter is slow. I’ve had to adapt to not having a steady, reliable income.

The money comes and goes, but the work never stops. Right now, I spend about 100 hours a week on the business. We have plants in our home, and also a large greenhouse on our property. My brother does some of the maintenance care for the plants, but all the breeding decisions are made by me.

I’m on the cusp of the company being able to sustain itself without me working so much. I look forward to that — when I can step back from the business side and focus more on the joy of growing. I would like to share my knowledge about rare plants and take the plants on the road to connect with my community more, since that’s what got me hooked on growing in the first place.




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Lauren Crosby

My friend and I hold presentation nights. We get to know each other better, and it helps us understand who we are now.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Rachel Jones, cohost of the “Is It Normal” podcast. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I was recently introduced to Eloisa by a mutual friend who was certain we’d become fast friends.

That friend was right, because Eloisa and I clicked straight away. We shared similar interests — books and art — and had this chemistry that I can’t quite explain. I knew we’d be best friends.

As we began to get to know each other, both of us keen to “dig deep” and understand each other as fully as possible, we would often say things like, “To understand this part of me, you need some context.”

We started presentation nights

Although we would have liked to jump into each other’s histories, we were limited by time constraints.

I work full-time, volunteer, own a house, participate heavily in church activities, and have family and friends I’m already committed to. Eloisa has a husband and is a full-time student. We’re both very busy people, but we’re keen to connect on a deeper level because neither of us wants coffee-once-a-month friendships.

In your late teens and early 20s, forming friendships is relatively easy, as people often have less responsibility and more time. But the older you get, the harder it can be to form meaningful relationships — because there are only so many hours in a day. And yet, when you meet friends at an older age, there is so much more life to catch up on, just not the time to do it.

I’d seen on social media a trending way to get to know friends as adults — presentation evenings. Each person involved gives a short presentation about themselves, which may include both serious and humorous topics.

Typically, people create slideshows with lots of pictures to accompany whatever is being presented. I’d seen a huge range of topics: what’s my love language, favorite books, favorite memories, teenage years, and the list of ideas for these nights goes on and on.

Excited about the possibility, I asked Eloisa if she’d be up for it, and as I suspected, she couldn’t wait.

We started with our childhoods

For our first presentation night, we decided to kick off our monthly series by sharing stories about our childhoods.

Just the process of preparing my slideshow was precious. I went through dozens of photos of my family, reflecting on the significant changes I experienced as a child, and remembering how fortunate I was to grow up in such a close-knit family with my parents and three siblings.


Friendship presentation

Rachel Jones started presenting about her childhood to her new friend.

Courtesy of Rachel Jones



We planned to present after dinner one evening, both allowing each other to share without interruption.

When I’m typically getting to know a friend just through conversation, both of us are lovingly interrupting each other, interjecting thoughts in response to what the other person has said. But in presenting, you’re quiet when it isn’t your turn, so the listener has a chance to fully absorb what the other person says.

I listened to Eloise speak about her childhood, and I immediately could piece together why she is the way she is because of her history.

When I presented, I methodically talked about my birthday, my parents, my siblings, and how I had lived in several houses in multiple countries.

It was a lighthearted theme, but even so, she now understands why stability is so important to me, and why I tend to crave acceptance from people. A lot of that is down to my childhood.

We are hoping to do these monthly

As a visual learner, I found the presentation night so helpful in remembering the people Eloise spoke about. So now, when she tells me about her sister, I can visualize her sister and recall Eloise’s relationship with her growing up. Facts about Eloise get ingrained in my memory because I’ve had photos and so much context.

I expect that as we hold these presentation nights more frequently — we’re hoping to do them monthly — we’ll get to know each other better, both on a serious and a silly level.

As we continue to be friends, carrying on with these presentations, we’ll understand each other’s triggers more and be able to respond better and give informed advice.

It’s the first time I’ve had presentation nights with a friend, but I suspect I’ll bring in other friends to join us on our evenings. I also think it would be a really helpful thing to do with a boyfriend or partner in the future.

The fact that Eloise wanted to have these presentation nights with me felt like a privilege, because it’s someone who wants to know me and invest in our friendship.

To be known and feel seen is one of the greatest desires we have a humans, and these presentations provide a way to do this in our busy, modern, adulting worlds.




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