These men who flew up on one of Herbie’s ganja flights might have thought they had lucked into a great opportunity. Maybe the first few days they believed the situation was temporary. As time passed it became clear their slavery was near permanent.
They became slaves to move the ganja, sort it, roll it, sell it, and be given no more than a mat on a floor and a few meals.
After a few weeks, some tried to run away. Some got caught, some got killed.
For those who had enslaved them, their deaths were a shoulder shrug. They were replaceable.
They were men who came up on an illegal flight ahead of a warrant or jumping bail. They had no papers, no choice. The Distros could, if they had personally known the man, or knew his connections, give him a chance. Other than that, he was a slave. It was cheaper to have a slave do this work than have to pay an equal.