Aubrey Lee Price, forty-seven, a once beloved Georgia pastor turned financial advisor, faked his death in June 2012 after embezzling millions from clients of his small-town firm. Having sent what amounted to suicide notes to friends and family, the father of four boarded a ferry from Key West to Fort Myers, Florida—and disappeared. Then, on December 31, 2013, looking like a different man, he was pulled over in Brunswick, Georgia, for having windows tinted too darkly. Now a convicted felon, Price has been ordered to pay up to $51 million in restitution to the clients he defrauded. Here, he talks about those eighteen months on the run, which, he claimed, involved working as a bagman for a cocaine kingpin in South America and fighting in a cage more than once:
When I left in June 2012, I really had no idea what was going on. It was to a point where … I could commit suicide. That was my main option. Before I left, I'd spent thirty days preparing departure letters and planning for my physical departure from this earth.
I don't want to talk too much about the ferry. Obviously, it's a big black eye for me to pull off what I did and not go through with my death. But, honestly, when I was on the boat, I wasn't sure if I was gonna jump. I was prepared to. I did have a plan B, a plan C, and a plan D. As you get to that point...you think, I'm gonna go.
I don't know why I didn't kill myself. Once it got dark on that boat and no one was there, I threw everything over except the backpack with my driver's license and wedding ring. I threw all my credit cards away. I had, like, eighteen dollars left to my name after paying for postage at the Key West post office and paying the taxicab driver. I don't want to go into details, other than: Later that night, I was tracking across Florida to a different place, and a friend picked me up.
I had no idea what I was doing. No template. I was improvising by the minute.
I flew to Venezuela, like, two weeks before my "departure," we'll call it. I had to go there to sign power of attorney to two other people. I have three farms that are still worth a lot of money there. I had another individual I was doing business with down there; I'd done business with him for seven years. And my understanding was that he had a legitimate, honest business. And he does have a lot of legitimate, honest businesses. But after I spent some time talking to this guy after my departure, I found out that there was a whole lot more to it than just widgets and gadgets.
Soon after I got off that ferry, I was down in South America working for him. He was like a king in his compound. Everyone moved out of the way for him. He liked me because I spoke good English, and I was a criminal, too.
One day, he and I walked through another door and into basically a warehouse. And it's just stuffed full of coke. I didn't know he had a club like this. And I didn't know he had the operation. When we walk back in this room, it's obvious. There's thirty to forty workers, they're stuffing little bags full of white powder, and the cocoa leaves are in another spot over here. He took me to every little station. I spent a couple of hours just listening. It was very interesting. And then we walked outside and stood on the back of the loading dock, looking over a lake and over this incredible city. And he stood there and he said to me: Do you want to be on the receiving end of a stream of piss? Or do you want to be on the giving end of the stream of piss?
I worked for him for a while before I made it back to the U.S.
The first month and a half was just: Can I survive? I was trying to get my mind back. My mental capital was completely deleted. I had no desire to live. I had no desire to be on the earth. The only thing that kept me alive was my kids.
I never went to my children's Facebook accounts, never e-mailed any of them. I didn't want to get them in trouble.
Back in the states, I downloaded software on how to make fake IDs, at a Starbucks or a McDonald's. I had six false identities. I had foreign identities, local identities. I used a number of different aliases. I was known to some people as "Diesel." Others as "Gator." I was "Javier." I was "Jason"—that's the only one people talk about. Hopefully nobody else comes forward.
I was a fugitive, I wasn't gonna tell anyone my real ID! Yeah, my name is Lee Price, there's a big reward for me. Go ahead and call. I'll wait right here.
I was disappointed in the reward for me—it was only $20,000! I was on the FBI's top ten list! Come on, put some money out there! I wanted to be number one.
I stayed at a bunch of cheap hotels, always with somebody else on the register. This is gonna sound really crazy, but I did have a bunch of prostitute friends. They were on drugs and into all kinds of stuff. I remained chaste the whole time, and I don't have a problem telling anyone that.
I fasted, prayed, exercised. I just wanted to drop all that weight. I didn't want a 35-waist size. I got back to a 31, 32. I got healthy and strong. Started lifting weights like crazy. Now I'm doing three hundred push-ups a day. (I've still got two hundred left today. Sit-ups, too.) I was down to, like, 9 percent body fat. I wore baggy pants on purpose.
I got knocked out in this cage fight in New York. That's when I got introduced to a strain of Indica Kush. I couldn't believe how much better I felt after that. The pain in my body was leaving. I couldn't take Vicodin or Percocet. Now I understood what these cancer patients were asking for!
I longed to be with my dog again, a golden retriever named Holly Jolly. I probably won't see my dog ever again. And she was my best friend.
Look, I didn't like running. It's a terrible thing to be on the run, always worrying everyday about who's gonna drive up. You're always looking around, always paranoid, careful about who you're talking to. Is your hair changing color? You're constantly worried about getting pulled over. You try not to drive very much, but you try not to ride with someone else, because police check everyone's IDs now. I'd rather be alone, because I can at least control what the car does.
The day I was arrested, I was beating my steering wheel, angry at God. I felt like I wasn't making any progress towards restitution. I'm riding up I-95. And I remember saying, Lord, where are you? I said that, like, ten times. And then I looked up and there were blue lights behind me. I said, Thanks, Lord. That's where you are. So I pulled over eighteen months after I disappeared. And that was it.
God matures us through affliction and suffering. I wouldn't have been where I was if I didn't go through what I went through. I'm so glad to be in the truth now.
