Thursday, April 15, 2010

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.  

Monday, April 5, 2010

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.  


   

Thursday, April 1, 2010

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."