MEXICO CITY — In the ongoing violent conflict within Mexico’s Sinaloa drug cartel, cellphone conversations are proving to be lethal.
Cartel members are stopping young people on the streets or in cars, demanding to inspect their phones. If they find a connection to a rival faction or discover compromising chats or images, the owners of those devices face death. The implications stretch further than just the individual; the cartel targets everyone listed in that person’s contact list, creating a grim cycle of abduction, torture, and fatal outcomes. As a result, those living in Culiacan, the small capital of Sinaloa state, are increasingly hesitant to leave their homes after dark and avoid visiting nearby towns that were once popular weekend retreats.
“You can’t go five minutes out of the city, … not even in daylight,” expressed Ismael Bojórquez, an experienced journalist from Culiacan. “Why? Because the narcos have set up roadblocks where they stop you and search through your cellphone.”
The situation is precarious not only for individuals traveling alone but also for groups. If a single person in a car has a dubious connection, everyone in the vehicle can be put at risk. A tragic example is the case of a local news photographer’s son. The 20-year-old was stopped with two friends; after something suspicious was discovered on one of their phones, all three vanished. The son was later freed following calls made by his father, but his two companions remain missing.
Residents of Culiacan had grown accustomed to sporadic violence; the Sinaloa cartel’s influence is deeply embedded in the community, and there was an understanding that staying indoors during cartel convoys would keep them safe. However, the violence witnessed for the last month is unprecedented, ignited by the recent arrests of cartel leaders Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada and Joaquín Guzmán López in the U.S., a situation that triggered a severe conflict between different factions.
This newly intensified battle stems from claims by Zambada that he was coerced onto a flight by Guzmán López, fueling violent confrontations between Zambada’s faction and the “Chapitos,” the group led by the sons of the infamous drug lord Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzmán. The dire consequences of this feud have led many in Culiacan to lament the loss of their once-stable existence, marked by cartel wealth that supported local economies, while keeping civilians relatively safe unless they posed a threat in traffic.
According to Juan Carlos Ayala, an expert on the anthropology of the drug trade at the Autonomous University of Sinaloa, the recent arrests have led to a new wave of brash and cosmopolitan younger drug lords who employ extreme violence, relying on abductions and cellphone tracking rather than the once-prevalent handshake agreements of the prior generation. The new generation prioritizes harsher tactics, believing that violent shootouts are less effective.
“These new leaders of drugs and organized crime operate differently. They aren’t sticking with traditional methods anymore; they emphasize kidnappings,” Ayala stated. “When they capture someone and discover that person has messages from adversaries, it sets off a chain reaction of pursuing them for further intelligence.”
The shift in strategy is evident in the surge of armed carjackings involving cartel members. Initially, they targeted SUVs and trucks for cartel operations, but now, the focus has changed to smaller sedans, which help them carry out kidnappings discreetly. Often, a driver becomes aware of the peril only when spikes are thrown to deflate their tires, leading to a chaotic ambush where they’re forcibly taken away. Neighbors are left to find abandoned vehicles with opened doors and running engines, hinting at the grim fate of the occupants.
The State Council on Public Safety, a civic organization, has reported an alarming average of six murders and seven kidnappings each day around Culiacan recently. Roughly 200 families have fled their homes due to this increasing violence. Culiacan has a history of violent incidents; in October 2019, an attempt by soldiers to apprehend one of Chapo Guzmán’s sons resulted in 14 deaths.
Following this, civic activist Estefanía López organized a peaceful protest, drawing 4,000 attendees. This year, her subsequent attempt at a demonstration only managed to attract approximately 1,500 individuals. “We received many messages from people wanting to join the cause but were too fearful to do so,” she said.
This fear is warranted. Recently, armed individuals invaded a hospital in Culiacan to execute a patient who had survived gunfire. Additionally, in a nearby town, people were shocked to see military helicopters trying to capture armed assailants close to a highway while facing gunfire. In response to the violence, the government has pointed fingers at the U.S. for allegedly causing unrest through the extradition of drug lords and has deployed hundreds of troops. However, combating urban violence in a city of one million residents, particularly against a cartel that’s heavily armed, is outside military expertise.
A military operation in a luxury apartment complex led to the accidental shooting of a bystander who was merely passing through. In light of rising concerns for safety, López has called for military and police presence outside schools to protect the children as most are resorting to online classes, convinced it’s too dangerous to physically attend school. Unfortunately, things are even more complicated as the entire Culiacan municipal police force has temporarily had its weapons taken for inspection by soldiers, a procedure known to occur when the army suspects local police involvement with cartels.
The impact of these events has shaken the community’s trust in law enforcement, with many believing that it’s not the authorities, but the factions that dictate when the violence will cease. “There’s a palpable loss of faith in safety, regardless of the presence of police or military,” López noted, highlighting the significant adverse effects on both daily life and the local economy, as numerous businesses like restaurants and nightclubs have ceased operation over the past month.
Laura Guzmán, who heads the local restaurant association, reported that approximately 180 businesses have either temporarily or permanently closed since the escalation began, resulting in nearly 2,000 job losses. Local businesses attempted to host evening events to draw in frightened residents but struggled to attract enough patrons. “Young people aren’t interested in going out right now,” Guzmán remarked.
For those desperate to escape the turmoil, Mazatlan, a coastal resort once just a short drive away, is now off-limits after cartel gunmen seized passenger buses, forcing tourists off before setting the vehicles ablaze to block access. This only leaves limited options for those with sufficient financial resources to leave the city by plane for a brief respite. “Only those with means can afford to fly out of the city,” Guzmán added.