Jhon Jairo Velásquez Vasquez, famously known as "Popeye," wasn't just some guy who worked for the Medellín Cartel. He was Pablo Escobar's favorite assassin. He claimed to have personally killed over 250 people and organized the deaths of thousands more. So, when Caracol Televisión decided to drop Surviving Escobar: Alias JJ on Netflix, they weren't just making another flashy "narco-drama" for American audiences to binge on a Saturday night. They were adapting a brutal, claustrophobic memoir called Sobreviviendo a Pablo Escobar.
It's raw. Honestly, it’s kinda gross at times.
Unlike the high-budget, sweeping cinematography of Narcos, Surviving Escobar: Alias JJ starts where the party ends. Most shows about kingpins focus on the climb to the top—the private planes, the piles of cash, the hippos. This show starts at the collapse. It follows JJ (the fictionalized version of Popeye, played by Juan Pablo Urrego) as he surrenders to the authorities just before Escobar’s death. From there, it’s a grueling marathon of prison politics, shifting loyalties, and the desperate scramble of a man who realized his "godfather" was no longer there to protect him.
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The Reality Check: Who was the real Alias JJ?
Let's get the facts straight. Popeye was a controversial figure until the day he died in 2020. After spending 23 years in prison, he became a YouTube star. Yeah, you read that right. He had millions of subscribers. He called himself a "remorseful assassin," though many victims' families felt his "remorse" was just a clever marketing ploy to sell books and TV rights.
The show takes some creative liberties, sure. But the core tension of Surviving Escobar: Alias JJ is rooted in the very real terror of the Colombian prison system in the 1990s. In Modelo prison, the guards didn't run the cellblocks; the inmates did. You had the paramilitaries on one side, the guerrillas on the other, and the remnants of the cartels caught in the middle.
JJ enters this world as a marked man. Everyone wants a piece of the guy who was Escobar's right hand. If you’re looking for a hero, keep looking. JJ is a chameleon. He’s a manipulator. He survives because he knows how to play enemies against each other, even if it means betraying the few friends he has left.
Why the storytelling feels different (and better)
Most people get wrong that this is just another "Escobar show." It isn't. Pablo is barely in it. He’s a ghost hanging over the narrative. The real meat of the story is the political vacuum left behind. When a titan falls, the scavengers fight over the scraps.
Juan Pablo Urrego’s performance is hauntingly good. He doesn't play JJ as a cool, calculated killer like you see in John Wick. He’s often terrified. He’s sweaty, nervous, and constantly looking over his shoulder. The sentence structure of the show follows his life: long periods of boring, tense waiting followed by bursts of extreme, jagged violence.
The dialogue isn't polished. It's full of Colombian slang—parce, gonorrea, plata o plomo—that feels lived-in. It doesn't care if you're keeping up with the complex web of Colombian political factions like the DAS or the various search blocs. It just throws you into the deep end.
The Prison Power Dynamics
In the world of Surviving Escobar: Alias JJ, the prison is a microcosm of Colombia itself.
- The Cartel remnants: They have the money but no more muscle.
- The Paramilitaries: Organized, disciplined, and incredibly hateful toward the narcos.
- The State: Corrupt officials who are just trying to figure out who to take bribes from next.
JJ has to navigate all three. One day he's selling secrets to the warden; the next, he's narrowly avoiding a shiv in the showers. It’s a relentless pace. Honestly, it makes the glamour of the 80s drug trade look like a fever dream. This is the hangover. A long, painful, 60-episode hangover.
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Addressing the controversy: Is it "Narco-cultura"?
Critics in Colombia have often slammed shows like Surviving Escobar: Alias JJ for glorifying criminals. It’s a valid point. When you give a hitman his own TV show, you’re centering his perspective. However, this series feels different because it’s so miserable. There is no "cool" factor here.
You see the toll of the violence. You see the families destroyed. You see that JJ, despite his survival, is a broken man living in a concrete cage. The show doesn't shy away from the fact that he is a villain. It just asks the question: how does a villain survive when he’s no longer the one holding the gun?
Interestingly, the real Popeye was involved in the early stages of the production's inspiration, which adds a layer of eerie authenticity to the psychological games played on screen. But the showrunners were careful to distance the narrative from total hagiography. They added characters like Alexandra, JJ’s wife, to ground the story in a more emotional, human tragedy. Her arc is perhaps the most devastating because she represents the "normal" people sucked into the cartel's orbit.
Comparison: Narcos vs. Alias JJ
If Narcos is a history book written by the DEA, Surviving Escobar: Alias JJ is a diary found in a gutter.
Narcos uses a lot of archival footage to give it a documentary feel. Surviving Escobar: Alias JJ uses tight close-ups and dim lighting to make you feel the walls closing in. The stakes are smaller but feel more personal. In Narcos, the stake is the sovereignty of a nation. In Alias JJ, the stake is whether or not JJ gets poisoned during lunch.
It’s also much longer. With 60 episodes, it has the space to breathe. You see the slow erosion of JJ’s soul. You see the way prison changes a person over decades, not just months. The passage of time is a character in itself.
How to watch and what to look for
If you're going to dive into this, don't expect a fast-paced thriller every second. It's a slow burn. Pay attention to the background characters—the guards who are just trying to feed their kids, the lawyers who are more crooked than the inmates.
- Watch the original Spanish version with subtitles. The dubbing loses all the grit and the specific regional accents that define the characters' social status.
- Look for the historical cameos. The show references real-life events like the death of other cartel members and the changing of Colombian presidencies.
- Keep a tally of the betrayals. It’s basically Game of Thrones but with tracksuits and submachine guns.
The Legacy of the "General of the Mafia"
The real Jhon Jairo Velásquez died of stomach cancer in 2020. He never saw the full impact of how his life story would continue to fascinate and repulse the world. Surviving Escobar: Alias JJ stands as a testament to a very specific, dark chapter in Latin American history.
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It reminds us that the "glory days" of the cartels were anything but glorious for the people who actually lived through them. It’s a story about the cost of loyalty—and the even higher cost of survival.
If you're interested in the true crime aspect of the Medellín Cartel, this is essential viewing. It moves past the myth of Escobar and looks at the wreckage he left behind. It’s not always pretty, but it’s definitely compelling.
To get the most out of your viewing experience, start by researching the "La Catedral" prison escape. Understanding how JJ and Escobar actually lived in their private prison before the surrender provides crucial context for why the move to a "real" prison in the series is such a shock to JJ's system. Once you see the disparity between the luxury they had and the squalor they ended up in, the psychological breakdown of the characters makes a lot more sense.
After finishing the series, look up the documentary Countdown to Death: Pablo Escobar to see the actual news footage of the events dramatized in the show's final act. It bridges the gap between the TV drama and the cold, hard reality of Colombia's transformation in the late 90s.