Still, the message was clear to the people it was meant for. Within two hours of the Templo Cristiano Fe y Vida massacre, a series of seemingly unconnected shootings in Ciudad Madero, just outside of Tampico in Tamaulipas, left 18 men and two women dead. Social media was alive with threats of retaliation for both incidents.
Calderón, who was in South Africa attending Mexico's opening game in the 2010 FIFA World Cup was told of the incidents and commented: “[These] are outrageous acts that reinforce the need to fight with the full force of the law criminal groups carrying out such barbarism.”
Major Los Zetas targets nabbed
At 5:30 in the afternoon of the next day, a heavily armored army unit set out for the quiet, residential Solidaridad neighborhood of Monterrey. They arrived at a cookie-cutter poured-concrete townhouse at 223 Avenida Fénix and surrounded the place. After tense negotiations, they emerged with two men. The fat one was Raúl Héctor “El Tory” Luna Luna and the thin one was David Eduardo “El Mantequilla” (the Butter) Fuentes Martínez. Luna Luna was said to be the leader of Los Zetas for the area and Fuentes Martinez was a major trafficker. Also seized in the townhouse were four AR-15s, another frightening Barrett .50-caliber, a handgun known in Mexico as the “cop killer,” a grenade launcher, 45 pounds of marijuana and 58 ounces of cocaine. The state attorney general said that Luna Luna was Los Zetas' top man in the area and was connected with two kidnappings and at least six assassinations. He was also allegedly one of the two men who shot at the U.S. consulate in Monterrey back in October 2008. Fuentes Martinez was accused of trafficking and assisting Luna Luna.
As news of the arrests spread, armed, masked men set up 10 roadblocks in the city. On Avenida Universidad, members of Los Zetas commandeered a city bus and a three-ton truck to block traffic in both directions, while at Avenida Lincoln, two vehicles had their tires shot out in order to immobilize them and traffic around them. It took a combined military and state police force two hours to chase the gunmen away. There were no injuries, but at least two people complained to police that their vehicles had been robbed.
In the same city two days later, police made another huge arrest. A few months earlier, nine men had been arrested when they were discovered stealing thousands of gallons of gasoline from a Pemex pipeline they had tapped. Their sophisticated tools and methods indicated connections to organized crime. A subsequent investigation led police to Francisco Guizar Pavón, known as “El Rey de la Gasolinas” (the King of Gasoline). He had been a Pemex drilling engineer from 1974 to 1993, but was fired for alleged involvement in a plot to steal gasoline. Since then he had allegedly been supplying stolen fuel to Los Zetas and La Familia and enjoying their protection.
On Monday June 14, the violence began when two busloads of Federales headed to Mexico City were ambushed in Zitácuaro, a small city in the mountains of Michoacán. The resulting gun battle left 10 Federales and seven sicarios (believed to be associated with La Familia) dead.
Later that day, a riot erupted at a prison in Mazatlán, leaving 29 inmates dead, 18 shot and 11 stabbed. After the fighting stopped, it was revealed that a week earlier, 20 inmates who had been associated with Los Zetas had asked to be transferred out of the prison, which was deep in Sinaloa territory, but their request had been refused.
Confronted again by reporters, a visibly frustrated Calderón blamed the United States (and, by extension, Canada) for the need for a Drug War. “The origin of our violence problem begins with the fact that Mexico is located next to the country that has the highest levels of drug consumption in the world,” he said. “It is as if our neighbor were the biggest drug addict in the world.” He did not mention that his simile painted his own country as the world's biggest drug dealer.
Making matters much worse between the two countries was a June 9 border-crossing incident in which two people were killed. U.S. Border Patrol officers on bicycles intercepted a large group of Mexicans passing into El Paso over a railway bridge and moved in to stop them. Rather than acquiesce or attempt to flee, the group attacked the officers using a variety of methods, including throwing large rocks at them. The officers fired and two people were hit. One of them was 15-year-old Sergio Adrian Hernandez Huereka, who later died. Federales arrived, drew their guns and ordered the Border Patrol officers, who were still under attack from rocks and firecrackers, to leave.
The Mexican media went wild, turning Hernandez Huereka into a martyr for illegal immigrants. The Border Patrol issued a statement in defense of the officers, stating: “No agent wants to have to shoot another human being, but when an agent is assaulted and fears for his life, then his hand is forced... . The loss of this teenager's life is regrettable, it is due solely to his decision to pick up a rock and assault a United States Border Patrol Agent. We stand behind the actions of the agents who did their duty in El Paso, and are confident that the investigation into this incident will justify their actions.” It also noted that the officers in question would undergo an investigation similar to the one that sent officers Ignacio Ramos and Jose Alonso Compean to prison for shooting an unarmed drug smuggler on the border in 2006.
All of the north was violent. As death threats increased, the police force of Guadalupe Municipality—a mostly rural region analogous to a county on the Rio Grande just east of Juárez—dwindled from 40 to just four officers. Guadalupe's staunchly anti-cartel PRI mayor, Jesús Manuel Lara Rodríguez, moved in secret to the quiet tree-lined Santa Teresa neighborhood in eastern Juárez. His government-in-exile did not last long, though. At 4:30 on the afternoon of June 19, as he was getting out of his car, he was gunned down and killed in front of his wife and daughter. Investigators found 11 spent cartridges in the driveway. Chihuahua's PRI governor José Reyes Baeza Terrazas—who claimed he had not been aware that Lara Rodriguez had moved to Juárez—immediately ordered 100 state police and Federales into the region to establish order and act as local police.
The Lara Rodriguez assassination came just two weeks before municipal and state elections, throwing the race for mayor into disarray. Thing got worse in the northeast on June 28, six days before the election. A convoy of two brightly decorated Chevy Trailblazer SUVs carrying Tamaulipas gubernatorial candidate Rodolfo Torre Cantú and some supporters to Ciudad Victoria's General Pedro J. Méndez International Airport was stopped by two Ford SUVs bearing Naval Infantry markings. According to witnesses, the politicians' bodyguards exited the vehicles to tell the masked men who they were transporting. The men posing as Naval Infantry disarmed the security detail and forced the others out of the SUVs before opening fire with a mix of AK-47s and AR-15s. Torre Cantú was killed at the scene, along with state congressman Enrique Blackmore Smer and bodyguards Gerardo Soltero Subiate, Rubén López Zúñiga and Francisco David López Catache. Severely injured were PRI congressional candidate Enrique de la Garza Montoto (Torre Cantú's brother-in-law), Torre Cantú's personal secretary, Alejandro Martínez Villarreal, and bodyguard Aurelio Balleza Dante Quiroz. Torre Cantú's last-minute replacement—his older brother, Egidio Torre Cantú—won the election for a PRI/Green coalition.
As had been true since the war began, politicians were not the only assassination targets. On June 26, a rumor spread throughout Mexico that Sonora-born, Phoenix-based narcocorrida singer El Shaka (José Sergio Vega Cuamea) had been murdered. It prompted him to write that the rumors of his demise were premature. “It's happened to me for years now, someone tells a radio station or a newspaper I've been killed, or suffered an accident,” he wrote. “And then I have to call my dear mom, who has heart trouble, to reassure her.” He also mentioned that he had taken extra security measures.
Hours after publishing the update on his site, El Shaka was on his way to a concert in Culiacán. He stopped his red Cadillac to pay a toll in the picturesque Sinaloa town of San Miguel Zapotitlán. As he headed out of the tollbooth, his car was showered in heavy weapons fire. He was killed immediately. His manager, Jesus Tirado Camacho, claimed that he could not understand why anybody would want to kill
his client and that the 40-year-old had left behind at least 18 children.
As the summer of 2010 dragged on, the level of violence became almost constant. The day after El Shaka was killed, gunmen attacked another drug rehab clinic—the Fuerza Para Vivir (Strength to Live) in the mainly quiet Durango city of Gómez Palacio. They arrived in three trucks at about 2:00 p.m. But unlike other attacks on rehab clinics, this one seemed directed. The assailants searched every room of the facility, shooting only those they recognized. Of the 49 people inside the building, only nine were killed and nine more injured. The dead ranged in age from 17 to 50. Surviving witnesses said that the masked men were looking in particular for the clinic's director, who they killed.
That same night, masked assailants entered a bar in Juárez and killed four men and a woman sitting together at a table. Witnesses could offer nothing to help the authorities, and the victims' family and friends could not explain why they were targeted.
But as routine as that shooting seemed by the incredible standards the country and that city in particular had seen in recent months, something happened on July 15 that spread even more terror by introducing a new weapon, one that had been deadly effective in other campaigns. And it was caught live on video.
Car bombs—a new threat
At about 8:00 a.m., a call came into Chihuahua state police reporting shootings in Juárez in retaliation for the arrest of Jesús Armando “35” Acosta Guerrero, leader of La Linea and accused of the murders of at least two police officers. When a combined force of state and local police arrived, they found a man who had been shot in the head, but who was still alive. The video from Notimex news agency begins with paramedics in bright-red reflective vests treating the injured man. They are surrounded by a few cops all in black with masks on and weapons drawn. Off-screen, a pair of police officers check a suspicious car stopped in the middle of an intersection. Then boom! The screen goes first yellow, then bright red then finally gray as the cameraman runs away from the ear-splitting blast with the camera, still on, pointing at the sidewalk.
There are sirens, shouting and footsteps. When the cameraman is a safe distance away, he refocuses. The first thing he shoots is a paramedic, holding his ears, moaning in pain and wandering aimlessly. He then shoots the scene of the blast. The car that had been there is now a burning wreck with very little of its original structure intact. There are piles around the car—some burning, some not—that appear to be at least in part human remains. The cops, having shaken their initial shock, approach the scene. Some of them appear injured. Two others, without masks, help an injured man from the scene.
Two police officers, a paramedic and a bystander were killed at the scene. Nine other people, including the Notimex cameraman, were injured.
When the video was shown on national television (and CNN), it was an incredible shock. The entire nation saw that car bombs had joined the frightening array of weapons the cartels would use in public places. Comparisons to al Qaeda, Hezbollah and other terrorist organizations were commonplace. “It's a lot like Iraq,” said Claudio Arjon, the owner of a nearby restaurant and one of the first spectators on the scene, not realizing his city was already a more dangerous place than Baghdad, at least statistically. “Now, things are very different. It's very different. It's very ugly.”
The bomb had been triggered by a cell phone by someone watching the scene. They used a corpse as bait. “When (the two officers) went to check the car, there was a dead body in there, dressed up like a police officer, but it wasn't one of ours,” said Juárez police spokesman Jacinto Seguro. “They put him in a civilian car, but dressed him up in a municipal police uniform. That's when the bomb went off. It's like an act of terrorism.” An investigation determined that there was 22 pounds of C4 plastic explosive in the car.
The following day, graffiti appeared throughout the city, with the Juárez Cartel taking credit for the blast. One of them read:
“What happened on September Avenue will keep happening to all the authorities who keep supporting El Chapo. Sincerely, the Juárez Cartel. We still have car bombs.”
“This is significant because usually it's La Linea, the Juárez Cartel's operatives, that sign the messages,” said Juárez mayor José Reyes Ferriz. “It's as if to say: ‘Now it's the big guys in charge, not the operatives.’”
Many media outlets, in particular the influential Christian Science Monitor, referred to this new method of terror as indicating this was the final stage of the “Colombianization” of Mexico, a reference to how drug cartels had terrorized that country in the 1990s. And the Colombians were watching. Jose Ramirez Marulanda, a former Colombian army colonel and now principal of Bogotá-based Alpha Security, called the car bombing a “turning point” in the Mexican Drug War. “Because if they decide to start using car bombs one against the other ... then the whole society, bystanders, innocent people could be affected,” he said. “We could expect more sophistication day after day if they decided to go on with these car bombs.”
As if to underline that comparison, three days later, in the Coahuila city of Torreón, a party was being thrown on behalf of a man who had been shot and injured on the city's streets earlier in the week. The guests at the party would not identify the man by name, instead calling him “Mota” (Speck), regional slang for marijuana. At 1:30 a.m., just as the party was beginning to climax, eight trucks pulled up outside the restaurant. A group of masked gunmen broke in and started firing indiscriminately. Twelve men, including Mota, and five women were killed immediately. Another 18 were severely injured. A cop, surveying the scene, told the only reporter who showed up, an American, “they shot anything that moved.”
Chihuahua attorney general Arturo Chávez Chávez told reporters that he thought the killing was a message from one faction of the Juárez Cartel to another. “When the organizations are split, the strongest keeps what it already has and the splinter group goes in search of new latitudes, and that means they invade spaces that already belonged to somebody,” he said. “That provokes conflicts and wars, which is what we're living.”
But it was all part of a bigger war with small victories on both sides. In the early morning rush hour, Jalisco state police spotted a luxury car with two men inside run a red light on Calle Patria in downtown Zapopan, a city that is part of the Guadalupe urban conglomerate. Reinforced by an army unit, the police gave chase into the suburban San Javier neighborhood. The car screeched to a stop in front of an ordinary-looking townhouse and both men jumped out of the car. The man in the passenger seat had an AR-15 and shot it at his pursuers, managing to kill one soldier and wound another. He was killed by a hail of gunfire. The driver ran inside the house and gave up after a half-hour of negotiations.
The dead man turned out to be Ignacio “Coronel Nacho” (Colonel Nacho) Coronel Villarreal. Head of the Coronel Villarreal Gang—whose job was to ferry drugs from Mexico's Pacific coast to the United States in variety of ways, mostly maritime—Coronel Villarreal answered only to Sinaloa Cartel chief Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán Loera himself. The other man was Coronel Villarreal's No. 2, Irán Francisco “Cachas de Diamante” (Diamond Handle) Quiñónez Gastélum. Both had outstanding warrants from the U.S. dating back to 2003.
Although the house was nondescript, police found $7 million in U.S. currency inside and a huge number of luxury items like watches and jewelry. It was linked to another safe house in the same neighborhood with a similar cache of riches.
It was a huge arrest and both the U.S. and Mexican governments treated it as such, congratulating themselves and pointing out how important Coronel Villarreal was to the trafficking industry. Two days later, President Calderón visited Zapopan. While there, he gave a rousing speech about how Mexicans had to keep up with the good fight; that the days of a cartel-free country were not far off and that until then, the government would do what it could to protect law-abiding Mexicans. “We will continue working to strengthen the rule of law to achieve security, stability and tranquility of Jalisco families,�
� he said.
A year, or even six months earlier, that speech (and the death of Coronel Villarreal) would have meant a lot more. But after three-and-a-half years of war, most Mexicans knew that the removal of a capo really did little to alter the war or their way of life. The trafficking of drugs, cash and firearms didn't slow down. The violence on the street didn't slow down; if anything, it got worse. But there was still one hope. The one big boss was Guzmán Loera. Many believed that taking him down would be a huge step in defeating the cartels. Delighted by his nickname, the U.S. media began to call the strategy “Get Shorty.”
Chapter 14
“A Phase of Very Intense Violence ...”
Of course, while the hunt for El Chapo Guzmán Loera was the ultimate strategic goal, the Mexican government still had to keep peace and order as well it could, but the cartels were not going to cooperate.
The lion's share of the violence that had been suffered in Mexico had nothing to do with the police or army, but was a result of cartels fighting each other for territory. And since the death of Arturo Beltrán Leyva, the powerful Beltrán Leyva Cartel had split into two very distinct factions. One was based in Badirguato, Sinaloa, and was led by Héctor “El Ingeniero” (the Engineer) Beltrán Leyva, Arturo's younger brother. They called themselves the Cartel Pacifico Sur (South Pacific Cartel).
The other faction, based in Torreón, Coahuila, followed Edgar “Barbie” Valdez Villarreal. It was made up of his former gang, Los Negros, and some other members of the Beltrán Leyva who found Hector's leadership less than inspiring. They went by a variety of names, but were usually known as the Valdez Cartel because of their leader's notoriety.
Jerry Langton Three-Book Bundle Page 80
