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Why do women commit crimes? While crime isn't biased to gender, the reasons behind the crimes can be. GBRLIFE of Crimes dives into women's crimes and the Psychology behind them. Support this podcast:
GBRLIFE Transmissions
The Black Widow of Miami: The Rise and Fall of Griselda Blanco
She started as a child in the slums of Cartagena. By eleven, she had committed her first homicide and by adulthood, she was one of the most feared women in organized crime. In this episode of GBRLIFE Of Crimes, the haunting journey of Griselda Blanco is unraveled as —The Black Widow. Explore the trauma, the rise, the reign, and the psychology that shaped her into a queenpin with blood on her hands and power in her grasp.
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The smell of salt hangs in the air, mingling with exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke. Tejana Colombia is alive with chaos. Street vendors yelling over each other. Children darting barefoot between cars, radios, crackling with music and unrest. It's 1954, and the sun has long dipped beneath the rooftops of the slums. In one crumbling building, barely held together by rusted nails and old wood, a girl crouches beside the door. She's small, no more than ten. Her eyes are sharp and too old for her face. She listens. A voice from inside calls out in anger. Her mother again. Another fight. Another man. Another night of violence. But the girl doesn't flinch. She already learned how to hide in silence, how to move in shadows, how to wait. By the time most children are learning right from wrong, this girl has chosen survival. And survival in her world requires something darker. That girl's name is Griselda Blanco. And within a year, she'll commit her first unaliving. Welcome to GBRLIFE Transmissions. I'm your host, Kaitlyn, and you're listening to GBRLIFE of Crimes, where we explore not just what happened in crimes committed by women, but why they happened, and the twisted psychology behind them. Today, we unravel the story of Griselda Blanco, a woman born into violence and shaped by survival. She would go on to build one of the most feared and deadly substance empires in history. But beneath the power was a mind, wired with cruelty, chaos, and control. Unlike Delphine LaLaurie, who had power from the beginning, Griselda earned hers, not with charm, not with luck, but with bodies. Because in Carrejena, there were no lullabies or bedtime stories, only the shrill whisper of danger around every corner. Danger, like Griselda Blanco. Born Griselda Blanco, on February 15th, 1943, Griselda grew up in a shanty town where every alley whispered stories of betrayal and every home had a secret. Her mother, purportedly a woman of the night, was hardened by life and had no patience for childhood innocence. Griselda's father, absent, forgotten. He was simply not part of the picture and the life of Griselda, even as an infant. As she grew from infancy into childhood, Griselda was taught one rule. Survival comes first. By the age of five, Griselda was already running errands for street hustlers. By 10, she was stealing. And by 11, she was lethal because she had crossed a line most adults feared to even imagine. The story, The One Passed Down Like a Ghost Tale, says she kidnapped a boy from a wealthy family with her teenage boyfriend. The motive? Ransom. The outcome? Unaliving the boy. And that day, the girl who once played barefoot in the dirt vanished, replaced by someone else entirely. Griselda didn't weep. She didn't crumble. Instead, she learned something powerful that day. People are just obstacles, and obstacles can be removed. Psychologists would later point to this moment, this early trauma, this violent threshold, as the possible onset of antisocial personality disorder. It's marked by a coldness, to consequence, and a complete detachment from empathy. She didn't just lack empathy. She weaponized it. Years pass. Colombia blurs into the rear view. Now it's the 1970s. Queens, New York. The air is colder. The streets are busier. But Griselda? She adapts like smoke in a bottle, armed with false documents and a heart that forgot how to feel. She lands in the U.S. and begins to build something bigger than anyone could have imagined. At first, she blends in stealing wallets, running scams, using children as decoys. But petty crime couldn't hold her. She wanted more, more money, more fear, more control. And so she began transporting substances, smuggled through airports and hidden linings, stitched seams, carried by women she paid, manipulated and threatened into silence. Griselda didn't just create a smuggling ring. She created an empire, and with it, some ruthless tactics. People who stole from her disappeared. Those who questioned her were eliminated. She surrounded herself with armed enforcers, many of whom were women. Mothers, teenagers, lovers. To the outside world, she was a mysterious businesswoman. But behind closed doors, she was already being called something darker, the Black Widow. By the late 70s, Griselda moved to Miami, and the city would never be the same again. The palm trees were swaying, the beaches were glittering with sun, but under that bright Miami glow, a war was brewing, and Griselda was at the center of it. She brought her violence with her, and she upgraded it. She pioneered what would later be called motorcycle executions, where masked men would pull up beside targets and open fire in broad daylight. No, that wasn't just the movies. That really happened. It wasn't just homicide. It was a statement. And law enforcement knew it. They even gave it a name. Griselda's Law. No witnesses, no hesitation, no mercy. She ruled with paranoia, brutality, and brilliance. One of her most twisted fantasies, a rumored plot to kidnap JFK Jr. For ransom to prove she could. And here's the most terrifying part. No one questioned her because everyone was afraid of her. But even the most feared empires crack under pressure. In 1985, after years of surveillance, the DEA finally made their move. Undercover agents posed as potential clients setting the perfect trap. Where Griselda walked in, cloaked in confidence, flanked by bodyguards. She had no idea the walls were already closing in. The takedown was swift. In one moment, the Queenpin of Miami stood at the top of her world. The next, she was in handcuffs, her reign shattered by a sting operation straight out of a Hollywood film. Charged with everything from trafficking to orchestrating multiple homicides, her criminal empire was finally laid bare. And yet, the system couldn't hold her. Due to juror misconduct and questionable witnesses, Griselda served just 10 years in prison, not life, not even half of it, a decade. Then, in 2004, she was deported back to Colombia, where she tried, some say, to live in peace. But peace was never hers to claim. There was never an official psychological profile released on Griselda Blanco, but if we were to examine her life through the lens of modern criminal psychology, the signs would be unmistakable. Psychopathy, narcissistic personality disorder, and paranoid tendencies. Griselda showed all the markers. No remorse, no empathies, and a flair for manipulation. She also showed a deep hunger for dominance, and a belief that everyone was a threat or a pawn. To her, people weren't people, they were tools. And the second they stopped being useful, they were gone. It's also likely that she suffered from delusional thinking. Believing herself untouchable, invincible, even divine. She wasn't just building wealth, she was a legend. And like many narcissists before her, she believed her story would never end. On a quiet afternoon in 2012 in a butcher shop in Colombia, Griselda was harmed twice in the head by a man on a motorcycle. No words, no warning, just silence and then two loud pops. She was unalive the way she lived. Quick, brutal, feared. Some say it was karma. Others say it was poetic justice, but the truth, Griselda was a monster made by survival, then fed by power. She began as a little girl in the slums of Cartagena. She died as the most feared woman in the world of organized crime. And yet, we're still left wondering, what if someone had protected her? What if someone had seen the signs? What if she could have been saved? Or was she always destined to fall? This has been GBRLIFE of Crimes, part of GBRLIFE transmissions and i'm Kaitlyn reminding you that understanding the darkness helps us appreciate the light join me next time as we uncover another story that challenges everything we thought we knew about the criminal mind.