From Smuggling Cocaine in Coconuts to Redemption: One Man’s Struggle

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.”