Drugs on Vacation

Last weekend while I was vacationing in Cancun for a friend's wedding, I realized that if you really want drugs, all you have to do is ask...anyone.  I struck up a conversation with a Canadian tourist and we started to talk about what we did for a living, why we were there (turns out he was there for a wedding, too), about the resort we were staying in, etc.

What I remember most is that he started to talk about how he also sold cocaine and marijuana back home and how the first few days of arriving to Cancun he was "blasted out of his mind."  Apparently, all he had to do to score some really "good" cocaine was ask a taxi driver.  What's most interesting is that the taxi driver delivered the stuff to the hotel without the Canadian ever having to leave like if it were a pizza delivery.  Frankly, I'm not really sure why he felt comfortable telling me this or even how we started that conversation.  He went on to say that back home, his friend recently went to jail for selling drugs and that he was surprised he had not been caught yet because he sold "a **** load."  I wanted to know who his supplier was, so I asked.  He said the Hell's Angels supplied him with the merchandise.  "Are you sure?  At the end of the day, it probably comes from Mexico."  I could't help myself.

People like this Canadian tourist keep the Mexican cartels in business.  He sounded so proud, proud like the parent watching his son perform the lead role in the school play or like getting first place at the championship match.  He didn't seem to be phased about the possibility that he could go to jail like his old buddy.  

For him, it was just another day.  For me, it was just another day in the Mexican drug country.  

The Lookout (El Alcon)

On Saturday afternoon, we were making our way to visit a relative's house when we spotted a green camouflage humvee filled with Mexican soldiers.  Its common to see soldiers in the area because they have a post nearby and they normally come into town to buy food and other necessities.  Some stood while others sat in the vehicle's bed as they watched each others back.  I was reminded of a war movie when the lookout stood watch while the other soldier slept, each facing away from each other.  

You could see that they were prepared for war.  They were fully armored with kevlar helmets, bullet proof vests, high powered weapons, and expressionless, serious faces.  For a split second, I felt as if I had made eye contact with one of them and I immediately started to think; "Does he think I'm one of them?"  I had stopped for a cold treat to keep cool from the humidity.

We approached our destination and immediately right after, we spotted a black four door car with heavily tinted windows.  The driver was backing into the dentist office in front of us, the car and the driver facing us.  We all went about our business.  We talked, we laughed.  We were having normal conversation.  I felt a little uneasy, trying really hard not to look toward the car's way.  It was obvious that the person in the car was sent to keep a close watch on the soldiers and other potentially threatening activity that might disrupt local drug operations.  As we joked, my mind started to drift away.  I started to think about what would happen if the soldiers and the lookout started to gun each other right in front of us.  

After about half an hour, he left as nonchalantly as he had come.  We continued our conversation.  

Apparent shooting near middle school

 
People have been talking over the last couple weeks of an apparent shooting near an elementary school of a nearby town.  The individuals involved are believed to be related to the Zetas drug cartel.  Witnesses could not say what the motive for the shooting was, but the apparent sound of gunshots alarmed teachers who had been outside with children during recess.

The local radio station had been reporting on other matters and apparently started to report of the shooting, but later retracted what had been reported stating that the radio station made an error and misreported something that never actually took place.

These brazen acts may be common in other parts of Mexico, but not here.  This is the first of its kind.  Is this an indication that things may be getting worse for our relatively violent free border towns?  Various news sources suggest that it is more dangerous.  Just last year in a nearby border city, the police chief was assassinated after being on the job for less than a month and vowing to "in no part to commit corruption."  Another border town police commander nearby also experienced a similar fate just three weeks ago.  Are we headed to the likes of Ciudad Juarez or Tamaulipas where drug violence has become common place and people live in fear 24 hours a day?  

Narco Wildlife

 
Ranches are popular in this northern Mexican region.  Some people make a living raising animals like cattle and goats to sell to meat markets and export to the United States.  Drug traffickers use ranches to hide away from law enforcement and to disappear bodies by literally feeding them to the lions.  Narcos have evolved from burning bodies or placing them in acid filled barrels to raising large, living carnivorous predators capable of devouring a human body in minutes.

Feeding a large predator like a lion is doubtfully more economical than the cost of matches, but whats frightening is that feeding a lion with enough bodies can be cheaper.  How many bodies does it take to feed a lion?  Based on some research, lions eat on average of 40 lbs (18 Kg) of meat a day and eat up to two times a week.  If the average human weighs 190 lbs (86 Kg), then the average body can feed a lion for more than two weeks.

Mexico's drug violence has killed over 23,000 people plus countless others who have gone missing and have never been found.  The feeding frenzy at narco ranches may be a huge contributor to the missing.  Now there's some food for thought.

The Beating

 
Just a few minutes ago I witnessed something that I thought I would never see. It has been over two weeks since I wrote about anything.  Late model trucks and SUV's next to our house piled into a dirt field.  You could hear the diesel engines running.  One right after another.  I had been enjoying a calm, pleasant night with friends and family on our front porch until "Los Feos," the ugly ones, arrived.

About ten to fifteen of them grouped together around another person of interest.  He was wearing flannel-striped shorts and a dark t-shirt.  He tried to resist, but the power of the others overwhelmed him.  Los Feos pulled a large 2X4. Five hits, maybe more, right on his backside.  They had bent him over and pulled his shorts down.   Flashlights illuminated the scene. They told him that if he screamed or cried that it would get worse.  We all had been watching silently and then I told everyone to get inside.  I was afraid that if they saw us, we might be next.  Once we were all inside, I watched the rest of the incident, peeking from behind the curtains of my room.  A truck went by and they all shut their flashlights.  The truck passed and they continued the beating.  Just as quickly as they arrived, they left.  They forced the individual back into one of the trucks and took him to a more remote place West of here. I wonder what the person did to realize his beating.

I have heard stories describing beatings like the one I just witnessed.  These beatings serve as a way to keep common citizens unrelated to the drug trade in check and also serve to keep those involved in the drug trade from disobeying orders.  I am reminded of my old first grade teacher.  He used to spank his students with his bare hand as a form of punishment.  In this small town, narcos police the streets.  Individuals have gotten beaten for intentional reckless driving like making your wheels squeal and driving significantly above the speed limit, disobeying traffic signals, and other misdemeanors like fighting in the streets.

One thing I'm adding to the "Keep Me Safe" checklist is avoiding the streets at night.

Creel Chihuahua

 
This video has made a huge impact on me.  I want to stay focused on continuing to share my experiences, but I decided to make an exception this time.  Watch this video of drug traffickers from Creel, Chihuahua from March 15, 2010

Roadside Bodies On Highway

 
Its common to read stories of beheaded bodies, bullet riddled carcasses, and other brutal acts by narco hitmen.  Our small town is not immune to such brutally either.  Just over a month ago, I heard reports from various local sources, of bodies apparently hung from a large, metal horse trailer and other lifeless bodies lying on the side of a   highly commuted highway.  Individuals that witnessed this gruesome scene had been on their way to work early in the morning.  I doubt people were eager to report to local authorities what they had seen.

Narco henchmen use this tactic to intimidate Mexican citizens and frankly, its working.  Narco activity goes unreported most of the time by journalists, police and citizens due to potential retaliation from drug traffickers.  My guess is that those bodies belonged to other narcos who may have worked with the local drug cartel at one point or narcos from rival gangs.  Who knows.

Whats interesting is that I travel near there every time I visit this small border town.  I could have seen dead bodies next to the highway, too.  Would I have reported what I saw?  Absolutely not.  Especially knowing that local authorities frequently work with these violent groups to help them evade Mexican military and surprise checkpoints.  

The Mobile Gas Station

 
He drives a late model gold Chevrolet Avalanche with 20 inch chrome rims and dark tinted windows. There are two fifty gallon dirty brown cylinder shaped tanks filled with gasoline in the truck bed. He is on call 24 hours a day 7 days a week, a person I frequent with told me. His primary job is to fill cartel members' vehicles with fuel at moments notice. It makes sense. Why would drug bosses go to the gas station when they can have the gas station come to them?

I was outside enjoying an amazingly sunny and warm day by the street when the gold Avalanche stopped right next to me. I looked back and a person came out of the house from behind me. I remained calm. I knew he was not looking for me. The driver of the Avalanche and the person exchanged a dialog. He got off the truck and they both walked toward the house and entered the backyard. The Mobile Gas Station Man had a unique mission today.

He is dark complected and short. Both his arms and neck covered in tatoos. He was wearing black sport sunglasses, a blue short sleeve shirt and dark cotton pants. He pulled out his cell phone and started to have a conversation with someone. His boss had sent him to look for a pleasant place to spend Easter Sunday with his family. He liked it and arrangements were made.

We all had to leave the premises and were told not to return until they had left the property.

El Ingeniero (The Engineer)

 
You've probably read articles about how sophisticated Mexican drug cartels have become.  Cartels have diversified from drug trafficking into other money-making business opportunities including music/DVD pirating, prostitution, human smuggling, extortion, and kidnapping.  Selling drugs does not seem to be the money maker it was due to increased US-Mexico border security, Mexican government involvement and fighting for drug trafficking routes amongst cartels.  Either way, many of these opportunities require that cartel members use vehicles, sometimes stolen, to conduct day to day business activities.

Last Saturday, I found, through conversations with a well known individual, that local cartel members have frequent contact with an engineer whom specializes in providing security codes that can be easily used for auto and auto parts theft.  The person I had been talking to was trying to sell off a stolen high tech stereo from a 2010 SUV that had been supposedly stolen for parts.  His asking price was $300 US dollars.  The system supposedly retails for more than $900.  He had paid $100 US dollars for it.  He commented that cartel members have highly skilled people working for them such as lawyers, accountants, and engineers all within a phone call away.

I started to wonder about the engineer my associate talked about.  I imagined that he was probably in his late 20's, well dressed, slick hair, drove a fancy car, and, pretty much, did as he pleased.  I presumed that the Engineer probably started as a normal college student with aspirations to work for a large corporate company with intentions to make an honest living for the rest of his life.  After graduating, he probably repeatedly attempted to find work.  He got tired of looking.  He was approached by a cartel member with a job opportunity and, in desperation, he accepted.  Maybe not.  Maybe he was fortunate enough to have a job after graduating college and he was significantly underpaid and decided to work for the cartel because he would earn more money.  For whatever reason, he decided to pursue a career with the local drug trafficking syndicate.

I'm not sure how I would react to a job offer like that.  I'd be scared out of my mind, but I am 100% sure I would respectfully decline assuming my life or the lives of those I care about are not going to be harmed.  I'd decline because I have a choice and having a choice is a luxury in of itself.  


   

The Kid's Gun

 
Last Sunday I was standing in front an ice cream shop waiting for my order.  I turned around to view the traffic behind me.  I saw a late model white Ford F150 with dark, tinted windows pull up about a half block north  from where I was standing.  The passenger side door opened and a teen-aged boy jumped down.  He was wearing a white, untucked dress shirt, blue jeans, and black dress shoes.  His hair looked neatly combed.  He started to fix his front shirt because he had realized half of his gun protruded from his pants.  The driver turned his emergency lights on while he waited for his companion.  They had gone to pick up food.  Lunch time.

I'd take quick glances every so often to see if the kid had come back from the restaurant.  Shortly after, he emerged with a brown paper bag and hopped back into the truck.  This kid must have been about fourteen years old, 5 feet 4 inches tall and weighed around 135 lbs.  He walked uncomfortably back to the truck.  I thought to myself, "Maybe its the gun.  That gun must weigh more than he does."

La Brecha (The Gap)

 
I have always wondered how drug shipments make it to this small, northern Mexican town.  The town is located about forty five minutes south from the U.S.-Mexico border.  Proceed just a few miles further from here on the main highway and your commute is interrupted by a Mexican Army checkpoint.  All traffic must go through this checkpoint before heading further south into the rest of Mexico and, conversely, all commuters needing to travel up north must pass through it, too.  For those of you who have traveled by car to Mexico or Canada, you might be able to visualize what I'm trying to describe.  For those of you who have not, it reminds me of the pass lane on a tollway, but this tollway has flashing lights that light up green or red, soldiers with high caliber weapons, and parked humvies with huge machine guns.  Being well equipped is imperative to execute one of the checkpoint's primary missions; minimizing the flow of illegal weapons and drugs.  

During my Christmas break I accompanied a person I know well on some work related deliveries.  We headed south towards the checkpoint.  We slowed down, proceeded over the road bump, and the light lit green.  I turned over to the soldiers and they seemed preoccupied with day to day activities.  We continued to our destination just ten minutes past the military checkpoint and made our delivery.  As we continued back toward our origin,    we were discussing how traffickers were able to funnel drugs from deep in southern Mexico and other parts of Latin America to towns like ours and further north into the U.S. without being caught by the many military and non-military checkpoints.  He said that most of the drugs were passed via gaps or small, dirt roads that curve around checkpoints and other highly visible areas, known in Spanish as "brechas."  "You want to see the gap? You can get back home without going through the checkpoint." I accepted.

It was interesting.  We drove on a white, rocky, dirt road.  To either side, I remember passing large ranches filled with cows, horses, goats, and other animals and lots of green and colorful vegetation.  Some of these ranches are believed to be owned by rich narcos.  As we proceeded on, we unintentionally blocked a large group of people, presumably a large family, on horseback heading toward us.  We adjusted our positions and squeezed through.  The road zig-zagged to another nearby town that connected to the rest of the towns north of the checkpoint and just like that, we were back to our origin.  Easy.  I couldn't help but wonder why soldiers or police never stood watch over the gap.  Shortly after that, I wondered why I was wondering.

La Tiendita (The Little Store)

It was not my first time. I had been to "las tienditas" before, but this time, being there made a more significant impact on me than before. Tienditas is slang for secret locations, or stores, typically located in dark, half-paved, dirt roads where addicts and leisure users go to purchase drugs. These secret stores are usually run out of old, abandoned homes, enough space for two to three drug dealers and their contraband merchandise.

One night as we approached la tiendita, I was a little surprised to find that the location was easily visible and set in the corner of what seemed like a normal residential area. The street light was on and I could easily distinguish what was happening in front of me. A person wearing a dark, hooded sweatshirt and jeans walked away calmly from the car in front of us. He had just presumably sold something. The driver we were with slowly accelerated forward, turned the headlights off, and put the vehicle in park. The hooded man came to me because I was sitting in the front passenger side nearest him. I had no idea what to order so I turned to the driver and he blurted out, "Una paloma, primo." A paloma is slang for a small, square-shaped zip lock bag enough for three to five lines of cocaine. So far, this was not what made an impact on me. As the hooded man searched for the "right" tiny sized baggy, he and the passenger seated behind and to the left of me started having a conversation as if they were long friends. They started to joke about girls and laughed out loud.

By the way, I do not take drugs, but I obviously know people who do. Continuing on...

I was amazed. I started to ask myself, "Did this really happen? Are these guys actually having a conversation that one might have with a real, normal friend? Do the people I'm with really frequent these places like a normal loyal customer might frequent their favorite ice cream shop?" I kept quiet, of course. In my previous experience, I remember going in, paying, and leaving. No conversations took place. No one laughed. We went for what we needed to and left without saying more than what we needed to say. We placed our order, paid, and left.

Another surprising thing is that as we left our hooded "friend," less than half a block away, the homes situated there seemed legit and normal, but no lights seemed to be visible from within. I wondered whether normal families actually lived there. I don't remember seeing any cars parked in front, but its normal not to own a car in many towns in northern Mexico. I thought about how I would feel if I had no choice but to let individuals sell illicit merchandise half a block where my kids play during the day. I thought about what might happen if the home owners alerted police. I got a feeling that law enforcement may be aware of these illicit activities since these drug gangs feel comfortable enough to set up shop near potentially, inhabited homes.

El Tigrillo

When the local police needs help they call El Tigrillo. Sources that I know well explained what happened when six individuals were arrested for fighting a month ago. The officers took the individuals to the police station and phoned El Tigrillo for orders. "We arrested six men for fighting. Should we let them go or keep them overnight? What should we do?," said one of the officers. His response, "Wait until I get there." My sources proceeded to tell me that three out of the six persons were released because one of El Tigrillo's girlfriends is related to them. The other three were forced to spend the night in jail and were beaten by narco henchmen as punishment.

El Tigrillo is a young, twenty-something year old womanizer who never leaves the proximity of his recent model truck. He is also the supposed narco in charge of five towns, including the one I stay in. Narcos in this area are reluctant to stray far away from their transportation because they need to be ready to evade the scene when necessary and must be ready to carry out orders when called in for duty.

I find this very fascinating. Entire towns are run by young adults and adolescents in their early teens, mostly from outside of the area and other states. At their age, I was in high school trying to determine what college to go to. They drive luxurious late model cars and trucks with pitch black tinted windows. Their car windows are so dark that even in broad daylight, the vehicle might as well be driven by a ghost because I can barely tell someone is inside. These youngsters drive with a vengeance: running red lights and weaving through traffic. Earlier this afternoon, I saw a black late model truck with tinted windows drive through a red light all the while a police truck stood just a few hundred feet away.

Narco Clandestino's Purpose

For some time now, I have contemplated creating a blog about what I see and hear related to drug trafficking activity in and around my parents home town in the northern part of Coahuila, Mexico. Corruption is commonplace. Bars, clubs, restaurants, casino's and other establishments have been built to facilitate money laundering. The local government and police force regularly assist drug trafficking leadership by alerting them when Mexican Soldiers are in the area or by turning a blind eye to suspicious, and sometimes blatantly illegal, activity.

I want to help combat drug trafficking and, for now, this blog will have to do, for whatever its worth. I want to provide frequent information about the things you might not read about in newspapers or see on television. I want to provide you with my own experiences.

Much of the information that I will write about may be difficult to prove and, at times, I may not have any evidence at all to support what I write about. Much of what I write about may be based on pure opinion and rumors. Either way, I hope you find my blog informational and, hopefully, inspirational so that you may share your own experiences, too.