In the late 1960s, Frank Larry Matthews rose from Durham, North Carolina to the top of the American drug trade. He built an independent heroin and cocaine network across more than 20 states, earned hundreds of millions of dollars, operated outside Mafia control, and became one of the most powerful traffickers federal agents had ever tracked.
In January 1973, he was arrested and released on reduced bail while awaiting trial. On July 2, 1973, he failed to appear in court and disappeared with his girlfriend and millions in cash. No verified sighting, body, or credible lead has ever surfaced.
More than fifty years later, his disappearance remains one of the most unexplained endings in U.S. organized crime history.
Early Life
Frank Larry Matthews was born on February 13, 1944, in Durham, North Carolina. His childhood began with loss and instability. His mother, Lucille Matthews, died when he was four years old. After her death, Matthews was taken in and raised by his aunt, Ruby Mae Matthews, who became the primary adult figure in his early years.
He grew up in one of Durham’s poorest neighborhoods, an area marked by hardship, segregation, and limited opportunity. Yet the city itself was unique in the South. Durham was home to a thriving Black business community and some of the most financially successful Black entrepreneurs in North Carolina. Matthews grew up in poverty but surrounded by visible examples of Black wealth, ambition, and independence. Many who later studied his life believe this environment shaped how he viewed power and success.
People who knew Matthews as a boy described him as confident, forceful, and charismatic. Children followed his lead. He was generous at times, but he could also be aggressive and violent when challenged. Even at a young age, Matthews appeared comfortable asserting control and taking risks.
School did not interest him. Matthews preferred the streets, the activity, and the possibility of quick money. By his early teens, he was already involved in petty crimes and leading other neighborhood kids. At age 14, he was arrested for stealing chickens from a local farm. It was his first serious encounter with law enforcement.
He briefly attempted legitimate work and attended barber school, but he did not stay long. Accounts suggest he was caught stealing equipment. Soon after, he was back on the streets and looking for larger opportunities. Matthews made it clear to those around him that he wanted money, influence, and a bigger life than Durham could offer.
In the early 1960s, still in his teens, he left North Carolina. He first went to Philadelphia, where he worked as a barber and became involved in illegal gambling. Within a short time, he moved again this time to New York City. That decision placed him at the center of the largest narcotics market in the United States and set the stage for one of the most remarkable rises in organized crime history.
Arrival in New York
When Frank Matthews arrived in New York City in the early 1960s, he settled in Brooklyn and returned to what he already knew cutting hair and hustling. He worked as a barber, but that job was never his real ambition. Like in Philadelphia, he became involved in illegal gambling and numbers rackets, where quick cash moved daily and connections formed fast.
New York at that time was in the middle of a heroin crisis. The drug was spreading rapidly through Black communities, especially in Harlem and Brooklyn. Matthews saw the money drug dealers were making and understood immediately that narcotics offered far greater profit than gambling ever could. The question was how to enter a trade controlled almost entirely by the Italian Mafia.
He tried the direct route first. Matthews approached major Mafia families, including the Gambino and Bonanno organizations, hoping to form a partnership and secure supply. They rejected him. For most young criminals, that refusal would have marked the end of ambition at that level. Matthews did not stop. He kept looking for another door into the trade.
That door came through a man known as Spanish Raymond Marquez, a powerful underground lottery figure in Harlem. Marquez had connections Matthews needed. He introduced him to Rolando Gonzalez Nuñez, a Cuban trafficker with access to large quantities of cocaine and heroin tied into the wider “French Connection” network that supplied much of the United States. Matthews made a deal. He bought his first kilogram of cocaine for around $20,000.
From that moment, his rise accelerated. Gonzalez supplied him regularly. Matthews built a distribution system in New York and proved he could move product quickly and efficiently. Within roughly a year, he shifted from being another street hustler to one of the most significant drug dealers operating in the city.
He was ambitious, disciplined in business, and willing to take risks others avoided. Unlike many traffickers who operated under Mafia authority, Matthews was determined to stay independent. He paid higher prices for purer product and offered better deals to those he supplied. That strategy helped him expand rapidly beyond New York. Soon, his network was supplying heroin and cocaine in multiple states across the eastern United States.
In just a few years, Frank Matthews transformed himself from a Brooklyn barber and small-time hustler into one of the most powerful independent drug traffickers in America. His empire was growing, his profits were increasing, and his name was becoming known among some of the highest levels of organized crime. The foundation of his criminal empire was now firmly in place.
Building the Empire
By the early 1970s, Frank Matthews controlled one of the most extensive drug distribution networks on the East Coast. His system supplied heroin and cocaine across more than 20 states, reaching major cities and regional hubs. Federal officials later stated that if Matthews had not been stopped in 1972, he likely would have dominated the national narcotics trade.
His profits were extraordinary. Investigators estimated that Matthews could make up to $600,000 a day, with his total fortune eventually reaching around $300 million the equivalent of roughly $2 billion today. Unlike many traffickers of the era, he built this empire without placing himself under Mafia authority. That independence made him both remarkable and dangerous.
At first, Matthews lived modestly. That changed as his money and confidence grew. He began wearing expensive suits, driving luxury cars, and surrounding himself with women. He moved into an upscale mansion in the Todt Hill neighborhood of Staten Island, a community known for housing some of New York’s most powerful Mafia figures, including Gambino boss Paul Castellano, who lived directly across from him. Matthews was the only Black resident in the area, an unusual and provocative presence.
Behind the wealth was growing instability. Matthews was a heavy cocaine user. Law enforcement officials later noted signs of addiction and health concerns, including a rapid, irregular heartbeat. His moods fluctuated sharply. Despite that, he continued to run his organization aggressively and expand its reach.
He also positioned himself as a central figure among Black and Hispanic traffickers nationwide. In October 1971, Matthews organized a major meeting in Atlanta, bringing together leading drug dealers to discuss improving distribution networks and strengthening independence from the Italian Mafia. He hosted another strategic gathering in Las Vegas during the 1972 Muhammad Ali fight. Intelligence later confirmed that the attendees represented some of the most powerful non-Mafia drug leaders in the country. Matthews was the one they followed.
His empire had structure, money, supply, and loyal distributors. He had influence, ambition, and unprecedented power for a Black drug trafficker of that era. But he also had increasing visibility. The meetings, the wealth, the independence, and the scale of his operation eventually forced federal authorities to focus on him. For the first time, Frank Matthews shifted from being an underworld powerhouse to a federal priority and momentum began to move against him.
Federal Pressure Builds
For years, Frank Matthews operated largely outside law-enforcement focus. That changed after his high-profile meetings and rapid expansion. Federal authorities finally began to recognize the scale of his operation. A specialized investigative unit, known as Group 12, was assigned to build a case against him.
They coordinated with the DEA, IRS, and Interpol, using wiretaps, surveillance, and financial investigations to trace his network.
The investigation was difficult. Matthews had almost no criminal record beyond a childhood arrest, and he stayed ahead of law enforcement. Agents reported that he drove recklessly to evade surveillance and appeared unconcerned about being watched. But slowly, pressure began to build. Associates were arrested. Some cooperated. Every new arrest provided more pieces of the puzzle.
By early 1973, federal prosecutors believed they finally had enough. On January 5, 1973, authorities arrested Frank Matthews at Las Vegas International Airport while he was traveling with his girlfriend. He was charged with federal drug conspiracy and tax offenses. For the first time, the man federal agents believed was one of the most powerful traffickers in the country was in custody.
At his bail hearing, Matthews appeared confident, even dismissive of prosecutors. That changed when the judge initially set $5 million bail, the highest bail in U.S. history at that time, citing his wealth and high flight risk. Over time, through legal maneuvering and agreement not to contest extradition, the amount dropped dramatically to approximately $325,000. For a man believed to control millions, it was insignificant. He posted bond and walked out of custody.
He returned to the streets while awaiting trial, still tied to a massive criminal empire and facing the possibility of life in prison. Federal agents lacked resources to track him full-time. They hoped he would continue appearing in court. Matthews understood reality more clearly his empire was under pressure, the heroin landscape was changing, and the window to escape was closing.
The fall had begun but it had not finished yet. The most dramatic part of his story was still ahead.
The Disappearance
On July 2, 1973, Frank Matthews was scheduled to appear in federal court. He never arrived. By the next day, he was officially declared a fugitive. The man the DEA ranked among the most significant drug traffickers in American history had vanished.
Investigators believed Matthews had prepared his escape carefully. Reports suggested he laundered up to $20 million in advance worth over $100 million today. Some accounts claimed he said quiet goodbyes before leaving New York. One associate later recalled watching Matthews drive away in a black-and-white 1972 Ford Thunderbird around 4 a.m., saying he would never return.
He did not disappear alone. His girlfriend, Cheryl Denise Brown, vanished at the same time. Neither has been seen since. No confirmed sightings. No verified financial trail. No credible communications with family or former associates.
The federal response was immediate. The DEA launched the largest manhunt in its history at the time. Thousands of wanted posters were distributed. Tips came from across the United States and around the world. Interpol reported possible sightings in Europe. Other leads pointed to the Bahamas, Paraguay, Algeria, the Caribbean, Africa, South America, and rural North Carolina.
Investigators also turned to the people closest to him. They interviewed Barbara Hinton, the woman who had lived with Matthews in Durham and was the mother of his three children. She was running a small liquor store at the time, sparsely stocked and struggling. Agents described her as bitter but concluded she had no recent contact with Matthews and no knowledge of where he had gone. Her situation raised an uncomfortable question for investigators: if Matthews truly escaped with millions, why had he never taken care of his children?
None of the leads held.
There was no body. No passport trail. No fingerprints. No undeniable proof he was alive. No proof he was dead. Investigators interviewed family, former partners, and criminal associates. No one provided anything meaningful. Many said that even if they knew where Matthews was, they would never say a word.
As months turned into years, frustration grew. The DEA eventually dismantled its special task force and handed the case to the U.S. Marshals Service. They started from the beginning, chased every rumor, pressured anyone who had known him, and still found nothing. Over time, priorities shifted to new threats Colombian cartels, Mexican traffickers, changing drug markets.
Frank Matthews simply ceased to exist on paper.
The disappearance marked something rare in organized crime: a kingpin who did not die in prison, did not die in a street war, did not become an informant, and did not leave behind a body. He walked away from a collapsing empire and evaporated from history, leaving investigators with only unanswered questions and a case that never truly closed.
The Unanswered Mystery
After Frank Matthews disappeared, investigators faced a case unlike any they had handled. There were no financial traces, no credible eyewitnesses, no intercepted communications, and no remains. Over time, only theories remained.
One theory suggests Matthews survived and built a new life under a different identity. He reportedly had millions in cash, international connections, and the intelligence to disappear. Some federal agents believed he was still alive decades later, convinced that someone capable of building an empire could also engineer a permanent escape.
Another theory points to the Mafia. Matthews operated independently, openly challenged their dominance, lived in their neighborhood, and reportedly kidnapped a Mafia associate during a dispute. Law enforcement records indicated hostility toward him, including talk of eliminating him. According to this theory, Matthews was killed shortly after fleeing, and his body was hidden permanently.
A separate line of suspicion leads to the Corsican traffickers and possibly U.S. intelligence interests connected to Venezuela’s narcotics pipeline. Matthews allegedly exposed elements of their operation, contributing to its collapse. That move may have angered both international criminals and powerful agencies operating in the region. Some investigators later suggested Matthews may have been viewed as a liability and removed.
There is also a simpler possibility Matthews died from drug use or health complications. He had a known cocaine habit and documented heart issues. If he died unexpectedly while in hiding, his body may have been disposed of quietly to avoid exposure.
What complicates every theory is the absence of Cheryl Denise Brown. She vanished with him, and like him, left behind no record, no contact, and no remains. Two people disappeared completely, and nothing surfaced not in five years, not in ten, not in fifty.
As the years passed, priorities changed. Colombian cartels emerged. Mexican organizations dominated. Federal focus shifted. Matthews’ case remained technically open but slowly drifted into history.
No court ever tried him. No agency ever captured him. No grave ever confirmed his fate.
Frank Matthews built one of the largest independent drug empires in U.S. history. In July 1973, he walked away from all of it and disappeared. Today, his story remains unresolved a rare moment in organized crime where a kingpin did not fall in prison, did not die in a war, and did not reappear. He simply vanished, leaving behind one unanswered question
What really happened to Frank Matthews?
