After Operation Condor, the Sinaloan mobsters found a paradise in capital city of Jalisco state and Mexico's second largest city. There they found a welcome committee of the Guadalajara elite and crooked government officials and cops. The rich Tapatios (natives of Guadalajara) with shady businesses on the side would introduce the kingpins to their friends in the city government: The notoriously corrupt DFS (Directorate of Federal Security) would use their agents to provide the fleeing gangsters safe houses, fronts for their illegal businesses and security.
The newly arrived capos quicky established the notorious La Langosta Sinaloa style seafood restaurant and El Yaqui restaurant, both mobster hangouts. They also acquired the Lebanese Sports Club, the Malibu, Americas and Holiday Inn Hotels, the Del Real Suites, the Salon Aztlan nightclub. They built Isaac's Restaurant, Marseilles Suites, and bought huge luxurious ranches: La Herradura ranch in Villa Purificacion, Jalisco; La Provincia ranch in Puente Grande, Jalisco and Villa de Guadalupe in Atequiza, Jalisco besides the huge 30 acre mansion on 1839 Acueducto Street in the posh San Javier Hills section of Guadalajara belonging to Rafael Caro Quintero.
The crooked DFS provided the gangsters with DFS badges, authorized and signed by DFS Chief Jose Antonio Zorrilla Perez, so that if any city cop or anybody not in the know stopped them, they could flash the badge and go on their merry way.
Among the drug dealers was up and coming pot dealer Rafael Caro Quintero and his partner and relative by marriage Ernesto Fonseca Carrillo "Don Neto". Fonseca had been in the business for years and was mentoring, along with Pedro Aviles before his death, Caro in the drug trade. Rafael was a fast learner and soon was a young millionaire with a penchant for women and gold. Another partner of Fonseca and Caro Quintero was an ex state cop and fellow Sinaloan named Miguel Felix Gallardo. Gallardo was a slick businessman and was rapidly setting up contacts in South America and specializing in trafficking tons of Cocaine from Colombia to the U.S via Guadalajara.
The trio soon after their arrival formed the so called "Guadalajara Cartel". Manuel Salcido Uzeta "El Cochi Loco" (Crazy Pig) also worked with Caro Fonseca and Gallardo. He provided muscle and was a drug kingpin in his own right, who owned hotels, restaurants and discotheques in the city and in the resort city of Mazatlan, near the hamlet of San Juan where he was born. Juan Jose Esparragoza 'El Azul" (Blue, nickname he earned for his complexion was so dark he was almost blue), Javier Barba Hernandez, lawyer turned gangster and a platoon of crooked Jalisco state cops served as bodyguards and protection.
Don Ruben Zuno Arce, son of an ex governor, brother of an ex First Lady and a native of Mascota, Jalisco, well known among the Mexican elite, served as a mediator between the drug traffickers and those high up in the government. Don Ruben sold Caro Quintero one of his mansions in Guadalajara and delivered payments and messages to the government officials who needed turn a blind eye to the cartel's illegal doings.
Rafael Caro Quintero, born in La Noria, Sinaloa, near Badiraguato was nephew of the late old time drug lord Lamberto Quintero Paez. He along with his brothers and other uncles, had huge pot farms in Northern Mexico. One huge plantation was located in Bufalo, Chihuahua, with other large farms in Sonora, Zacatecas and San Luis Potosi. He made the desert green, right under the governments nose. Caro and Fonseca invested millions of dollars in this new ranch at El Bufalo. Thousands of workers worked in the growing and cultivation of marijuana. Rafael would harvest the weed and send it up north in tractor trailers to several customers he had in the border states. At the age of 29, he was worth almost 400 million dollars.
With the money he bought hotels, restaurants and car dealerships in Guadalajara. He was also known to buy his crooked cop friends brand new Grand Marquis. Caro Quintero, who would dress in the finest cowboy gear and gold, would hold meetings with the local comandantes: Look the other way and be greatly rewarded. Be a pain in the ass and look down the wrong end of an AK-47. Most were smart enough to accept bribes or gifts in the form of brand new cars, or prized Arabian horses.
Through their contacts in the Mexican government the Central Intelligence Agency learned of the Guadalajara Cartel. The CIA was well aware of the cartels operations in Mexico and they really werent deemed a threat. Rafael Caro Quintero even lent out his remote ranches in Veracruz and Jalisco to the CIA so they could train anti Communist Nicaraguan guerrillas. Parties held by Caro, Fonseca and Gallardo, attended by government officials, Mexican and American alike, were not uncommon.
Miguel Felix Gallardo, born poor in Bellavista, Sinaloa was an ex Sinaloa state cop and bodyguard to the governor of the state. An intellectual with a knack for business, he soon started buying real estate, owning several legit businesses all over Mexico and partnering with a Honduran chemist named Ramon Mata Ballesteros. Through Ballesteros he made contacts in Colombia and soon established a pipeline of drugs with which he would flood the US with Cocaine. Felix Gallardos private jets, loaded with Cocaine touched down at Guadalajara international airport regularly.
Old lazy eyed Ernesto Fonseca Carrillo was an old time bandido. He had been trafficking for ages, coming from a family who was in the business for generations. He was married with dozens of mistresses and the father to many illegitimate children. A playful goofy man with his friends and terror to his enemies, he introduced his nephew Rafael Caro into the business.
Tall, fair skinned and blue eyed Manuel Salcido Uzeta "Cochi Loco' , had a reputation as a sadistic killer. Known to his friends and family as Crazy Pig, his mother had given him that nickname as a child; he wouldnt stay still and would run around the house like a crazy pig. Others contend that he earned his nickname by the way he took delight in murdering his rivals. Contradictions exist to Salcido's true nature: One day one of his pistoleros botched a job and staring down the barrel of an irate Salcido Uzeta's gun, he decided to be a smart ass one last time. "Boss, don't be mad, slap me a few times and I wont fail you next time". Salcido cracked a smile and lowered his gun, sparing his pistoleros life and seeing the man had guts, bought him a drink.
For years the Guadalajara cartel prospered, netting millions of dollars and practically taking over the city. In the early 1980's the U.S Drug Enforcement Agency's Guadalajara office would start to investigate the groups business and identify its leaders. With a handful of agents, the DEA track the Cartels movements and build up cases against almost everyone in the cartel. But the Mexican government didnt care and the Jalisco state cops were on the traffickers pay roll. Governors Flavio Romero de Velasco and his successor Enrique Alvarez del Castillo seemed uninterested in the thugs that actually ran Guadalajara.
Through the hard work and tenacity of the DEA agents, including one in particular, DEA Special Agent Enrique Camarena Salazar, they would bust one by one the cartel's operations and put the Mexican Federal Judicial Police to work for the first time ever against the mafiosos. In November 1984, the Mexican Army and Federales raided the huge marijuana farm at El Bufalo, Chihuahua thanks to Camarenas investigations. Other large but not as huge as El Bufalo, farms were raided in Sonora and Zacatecas. The Mexican Government denied such huge pot farms existed in the country and El Bufalo was a huge embarrassment. This cost the Cartel, and Caro Quintero himself millions of dollars in profits.
El Bufalo, along with almost 10,000 tons of marijuana burned down by the army, went up in flames.
Caro's and Fonseca's farms were being raided and destroyed. Gallardos planes were being detained and searched. Properties were being confiscated, money lost. Camarena was becoming a huge nuisance to the cartel's operations. Up to this point, the cartel had no knowledge of who the informant was but a crooked cop would soon betray Camarena to the traffickers.
Agent Camarena had to be dealt with. Something had to be done. And fast.
(Next: The Guadalajara Cartel Part III: The Torture and Murders of Camarena and Zavala and the fall of the Cartel)
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The Guadalajara Cartel Part I: Birth of Organized Crime in Mexico
criIn the early 20th century, the rural areas of the northern Mexican states of Chihuahua, Sinaloa and Durango were desolate lands. Small villages dotted the Sierra Madre, isolated from civilization. Access to these backwater hamlets were by horse or by mule and trips that would take hours now by car, would take days back then. Their source of life was growing beans and vegetables. If it was a good crop, they would eat. If it was a bad one, they would starve. To eat meat, was a luxury.
After World War I, the Mexican government approached these humble ranchers with a proposition: Grow Opium Poppy on these fertile lands. The poppy is used to make Morphine, which was in dire need for the United States soldiers who came back wounded or the ones who just came back addicted. Poppy however, is also used to create something else much more nefarious and sinister:
Heroin.
The hill folk of the Sierra Madre who during Prohibition made some extra cash bootlegging liquor and sending it up north to the Hooch starved Gringo, now started to grow the Poppy flower. The mountain man of Sinaloa, Chihuahua and Durango soon learned that out of the sticky Opium gum, you can do this, and do that and presto: you have Heroin.
Another notorious herb grew happy and green in these fertile and warm climates: Marijuana. Soon the old bean farmers and bootleggers started growing opium and marijuana and through their kin, either by blood or by marriage, started smuggling the stuff north. Many of the entrepreneurial hillbillies made contacts with infamous mob bosses in Los Angeles, Las Vegas and all the border cities. Lucky Luciano and Bugsy were some of the famous clients of the Mexicans.
For years throughout the 1940s and 1950's up till the sixties, the boys from Sinaloa grew the pot and sold the pot up north. These poor peasants soon found themselves rolling in dough and left their poor crumbling houses in the mountain towns of Badiraguato and surrounding villages and migrated to the Sinaloa state capital city of Culiacan.
There the noveau riche drug kingpins bought ostentatious mansions, rolled around in armored Lincolns and Fords, shot it out with rivals at weddings and nightclubs, and held lavish parties that lasted days, with the finest Sinaloan brass bands of the time livening up the fiestas.
In the 60's Pedro Aviles Perez, born in Durango but Sinaloan at heart, was the man who controlled the drug trade in Mexico. He was untouchable and said to be a friend of Ol' Blue Eyes Frank Sinatra himself. Pedrito would be the man who would serve as mentor to many and most of Mexicos future notorious mafia bosses. Many of the men responsible for the illegal drug trade in Mexico now were snot nosed kids running errands for Aviles when he was king of "contrabandistas".
Many others ran the trade in the state of Sinaloa, violence was rare but not unheard of in Culiacan, all the men worked together, and if not, they at least respected each other. It was a man's business, families and women were not touched. That was taboo. Lamberto Quintero Paez was one such man, as well as Roberto Alvarado, Ruben Cabada and Lalo Fernandez.
Around 1975, the Mexican government was growing weary of the monster it had created. These Narcos were getting out of hand and something had to be done. They had too much power, and too much money, they ran the state of Sinaloa and much of the north like feudal warlords. Governors and Mayors were friends of the traffickers. The Mexican Government came up with "Operacion Condor".
Hundreds of soldiers and federal agents descended upon the "Golden Triangle" of Sinaloa, Durango and Sinaloa, beating up the farmers, whether they were pot farmers or legitamite, it didn't matter. They sprayed herbicides all over the lands so now not even beans would grow. Many were tortured and killed, thrown out of helicopters or simply "made disappeared" by the brutal soldiers. The brutal campaign lasted three years.
In January 1976, drug kingpin Lamberto Quintero was killed by rivals in El Salado. On September 15, 1978, big boss Pedro Aviles was set up and ambushed by Federales outside a roadblock in Culiacan. The heat was growing for the Sinaloan mafia with the violence and Operation Condor, they could no longer stay in Culiacan. They had to set up a new base of operations:
Guadalajara.
After World War I, the Mexican government approached these humble ranchers with a proposition: Grow Opium Poppy on these fertile lands. The poppy is used to make Morphine, which was in dire need for the United States soldiers who came back wounded or the ones who just came back addicted. Poppy however, is also used to create something else much more nefarious and sinister:
Heroin.
The hill folk of the Sierra Madre who during Prohibition made some extra cash bootlegging liquor and sending it up north to the Hooch starved Gringo, now started to grow the Poppy flower. The mountain man of Sinaloa, Chihuahua and Durango soon learned that out of the sticky Opium gum, you can do this, and do that and presto: you have Heroin.
Another notorious herb grew happy and green in these fertile and warm climates: Marijuana. Soon the old bean farmers and bootleggers started growing opium and marijuana and through their kin, either by blood or by marriage, started smuggling the stuff north. Many of the entrepreneurial hillbillies made contacts with infamous mob bosses in Los Angeles, Las Vegas and all the border cities. Lucky Luciano and Bugsy were some of the famous clients of the Mexicans.
For years throughout the 1940s and 1950's up till the sixties, the boys from Sinaloa grew the pot and sold the pot up north. These poor peasants soon found themselves rolling in dough and left their poor crumbling houses in the mountain towns of Badiraguato and surrounding villages and migrated to the Sinaloa state capital city of Culiacan.
There the noveau riche drug kingpins bought ostentatious mansions, rolled around in armored Lincolns and Fords, shot it out with rivals at weddings and nightclubs, and held lavish parties that lasted days, with the finest Sinaloan brass bands of the time livening up the fiestas.
In the 60's Pedro Aviles Perez, born in Durango but Sinaloan at heart, was the man who controlled the drug trade in Mexico. He was untouchable and said to be a friend of Ol' Blue Eyes Frank Sinatra himself. Pedrito would be the man who would serve as mentor to many and most of Mexicos future notorious mafia bosses. Many of the men responsible for the illegal drug trade in Mexico now were snot nosed kids running errands for Aviles when he was king of "contrabandistas".
Many others ran the trade in the state of Sinaloa, violence was rare but not unheard of in Culiacan, all the men worked together, and if not, they at least respected each other. It was a man's business, families and women were not touched. That was taboo. Lamberto Quintero Paez was one such man, as well as Roberto Alvarado, Ruben Cabada and Lalo Fernandez.
Around 1975, the Mexican government was growing weary of the monster it had created. These Narcos were getting out of hand and something had to be done. They had too much power, and too much money, they ran the state of Sinaloa and much of the north like feudal warlords. Governors and Mayors were friends of the traffickers. The Mexican Government came up with "Operacion Condor".
Hundreds of soldiers and federal agents descended upon the "Golden Triangle" of Sinaloa, Durango and Sinaloa, beating up the farmers, whether they were pot farmers or legitamite, it didn't matter. They sprayed herbicides all over the lands so now not even beans would grow. Many were tortured and killed, thrown out of helicopters or simply "made disappeared" by the brutal soldiers. The brutal campaign lasted three years.
In January 1976, drug kingpin Lamberto Quintero was killed by rivals in El Salado. On September 15, 1978, big boss Pedro Aviles was set up and ambushed by Federales outside a roadblock in Culiacan. The heat was growing for the Sinaloan mafia with the violence and Operation Condor, they could no longer stay in Culiacan. They had to set up a new base of operations:
Guadalajara.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Alfredo Rios Galeana: Mexico's Public Enemy Number One
Army Sergeant. Ex Policeman. Army Parachutist. Nightclub Singer. Bank Robber. Kidnapper. All this and more was Alfredo Rios Galeana, pain in the ass for the Mexican authorities for years and admired by much of Mexican lower class society.
Born into poverty in 1951 in Arenal de Alvarez, Guerrero state, Alfredo Rios Galeana lost his father when he was only one year old. He left with his mother to Acapulco where she had to work hard now as a widowed mom, Rios Galeana didnt finish school. Soon after he and his mother moved to Mexico City.
When he turned 18 years old he joined the Mexican army. Due to his body build and height and natural proficiency for handling firearms and explosives he was made Sergeant by age 22. Using his combat skills learned in the military along with his knowledge of handling submachine guns and pistols, he started to rob stores and homes and a bank here and there. Pretty soon he ran afoul of the feared Secret Service police, who luckily for him, seeing how Rios Galeana was a bad ass, they employed him and soon after that he became a Police Officer for Mexico state (which borders the Federal District).
Despite Rios having a criminal record and being an army deserter he became policeman and under the protection of the Directorate of Federal Security, DFS (Mexico's CIA) he was allowed to keep doing his robberies. He started to make up his gang and together they would rent homes or apartments near or in front important bank branches all over the capital city and surrounding states, stake out the place then hit it.
During the 70's he was Mexico's most feared outlaw. Always armed with a machine gun and holding a grenade, he robbed dozens of banks in several states, not hesitating to shoot any cocky guard or policeman who tried to be a hero. But he wasnt all a mean bad ass bank robber ala John Dillinger. He had his soft side.
He would sometimes anonymously send the widows of the guards and cops he killed cash money for all their troubles.
One time during Christmas week, dressed as a businessman, Rios Galeana convinced a bank to open after hours, so he could give "his friend, the manager" a Christmas gift. Once inside, Rios and 4 others robbed the place.
Everytime he fell in the hands of the law, he would escape. Ever so vain he would comb his hair and flash a smile for the waiting reporters. He would joke and put his arm around the cops and jailers. So cocky and arrogant was he that sometimes he would announce by what date he would escape. And escape he would. In 1974 he fled the Tula, Hidalgo jail. Months later he was caught and sent to Santa Martha Acatitla prison in Mexico City and again he escaped.
When he wasnt busy looting banks, going on wild high speed chases and shooting it out with the cops, he had another passion: Singing.
He had plastic surgery done, he would don a Charro suit, and under the pseudonym Alfredo del Rio, he would sing at cock fight rings, nightclubs and he even recorded a LP singing his favorite ranchera songs.
In 1981 he once again was apprehended and Public Enemy number One was paraded in front of the Mexican press by none other than notorious Mexico City police chief Arturo Durazo. An arrogant Rios Galeana sat nonchalant in a chair and regaled the press with stories of his exploits, vowing to not stay in prison for long. He grew tired of jail and once again busted out, just as promised.
After the disastrous gas explosions in San Juan Ixhuatepec in 1984, Alfredo Rios Galeana donated thousands of dollars in cash to those affected by the blasts. In 1985 he was once again arrested and sent to Mexico City's Reclusorio Sur prison.
On November 22, 1986, an armed commando made up of men and women wielding machine guns stormed the prison courtroom where Rios Galeana was and tied everyone up. Using a hand grenade they blasted a whole in the wall and escaped. Once again Alfredo Rios Galeana was gone. This time for good. It was said his wife Yadhira led the armed commando that busted him and several others out of Reclusorio Sur.
But not for long. Alfredo Rios Galeana might of been a criminal mastermind but his skills faltered in his old age.
On July 12, 2005, after trying to renew his California drivers license near Los Angeles, Alfredo Rios Galeana, now known as Arturo Montoya was identified and after weeks of surveillance was arrested by ICE on charges of entering the US illegally.
His neighbors described Arturo Montoya, whom they had known as for 12 years, as a quiet religious man who ran his own janitorial service. He was active in church and loved to sing spiritual songs and show religious movies in his front yard for all to enjoy. Everyone was shocked to find out they lived next door to a notorious killer and bank robber.
He had been ID'd by his fingerprints that were still on record at Mexico's Attorney Generals office. He was deported over the border where he was met by a group of Mexican AFI agents armed to the teeth, put on a plane and sent to Mexico City where he would be charged with six murders and dozens of robberies and destruction of federal property, kidnapping, extortion and illegal arms possession.
Upon arrival in the capital the Federal District government said they didnt want him in any of the cities' prisons, due to Galeanas afinity for escaping and blowing things up.
They sent him to La Palma Maximum Security prison where he told the press eagerly awaiting Mexico's Public Enemy Number One, that he was a born again Christian, had found Jesus, was sorry for killing and robbing banks and all his loot from the holdups had been spent.
Songs were written in honor of Rios Galeana. Here is the translation of one sung by El Puma de Sinaloa, Fredy Bojorquez in 1990.
The Bank Robber
I am the bank robber
That the law is looking for
Because robbing from the rich
Gives me great pleasure
They search for me in Jalisco
In Sonora and Monterrey.
10 armored trucks
in Sinaloa state I robbed
Also in Tijuana and Ciudad Juarez
I "visited" several banks.
From the Federal District's jail
I recently escaped.
So that you can catch me again
Its going to be rather hard
for I carry good machine guns
and a legal passport.
They call me Rios Galeana
at your service.
When you have more millions
I will pay you another visit
Let me "borrow" more millions
So I can help you spend them.
Alfredo Rios Galeana
My name you wont soon forget.
I send out a greeting
and to my friends I met in jail
To all the cops and agents
of the Federal District.
Songs were written in honor of Rios Galeana. Here is the translation of one sung by El Puma de Sinaloa, Fredy Bojorquez in 1990.
The Bank Robber
I am the bank robber
That the law is looking for
Because robbing from the rich
Gives me great pleasure
They search for me in Jalisco
In Sonora and Monterrey.
10 armored trucks
in Sinaloa state I robbed
Also in Tijuana and Ciudad Juarez
I "visited" several banks.
From the Federal District's jail
I recently escaped.
So that you can catch me again
Its going to be rather hard
for I carry good machine guns
and a legal passport.
They call me Rios Galeana
at your service.
When you have more millions
I will pay you another visit
Let me "borrow" more millions
So I can help you spend them.
Alfredo Rios Galeana
My name you wont soon forget.
I send out a greeting
and to my friends I met in jail
To all the cops and agents
of the Federal District.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Arturo Durazo Moreno : Epitome of Corruption
Arturo "El Negro" Durazo (Center) was Mexico City's most corrupt and infamous police chief.A peasant was walking along the muddy banks of the Tula river on the cold gray morning of January 14, 1982 when he spotted something macabre: A rotting, severed human head. In shock he peered out to the dark waters of the river and saw one body. Then two, then three. Five
bodies.
One was missing a head. Another was missing a arm and a leg. Some were naked with visible signs of torture others were clothed, all with a shot in the head. One man had been castrated, another had machete cuts all over his torso and yet another had been shot 20 times with a machine gun.
By mid afternoon, a Red Cross diving team had pulled out 14 bodies from the Tula river. a curious throng of villagers gathered at the sides of the river, witnessing the beginning of a scandal and one of Mexico's most heinous crimes commited by people in power.
Arturo Durazo Moreno was born in 1924 in the town of Cumpas in Sonora state. He came from a poor family. Despite his humble beginnings, "Humble" was not a word in Durazo's vocabulary. He didnt know the meaning of it. In grade school he was the typical bully. Nicknamed "El Negro" (Darkie) for his dark complexion he was a rough brute not averse to fighting dirty. One of his best friends was Jose Lopez Portillo, future president of the republic of Mexico. In exchange for copying Lopez' homework, Durazo would defend and protect the meek Jose Lopez. This friendship would forge one of Mexico's most darkest partnerships and culminate in one of the country's most shameful episodes of corruption ever.
Durazo worked at the Banco de Mexico until 1948. He then became Traffic Inspector. A short time later he came a Direccion Federal de Seguridad (Mexico's CIA the DFS) Agent. At the end of the 1960s he became a member of the terrible White Brigade, a right wing paramilitary police force made up to crush the Student movements of 1968 and eradicate (IE: torture and kill) the threat of Communists and Communism in general in Mexico.
In the early 1970's he was assigned bodyguard during Lopez Portillo's campaign for president, following him on tour throughout the states. It was then that Lopez, The PRI's choice for candidate, promised Durazo a cushy job in his administration when he won the race (note the word "WHEN he won, not IF he won, Lopez was a shoo-in)
Having "won" the election, Lopez Portillo made Durazo Chief of Police of Mexico City. He was rude, crude and a brute, someone probably "good" to have as boss of the city's police force. Being the Presidents friend was good enough to have one of the country's most important positions of power. Durazo then created the Direccion para Investigaciones y Prevencion de Delincuencia (DIPD).
Almost immediately Durazo started to figure out ways of how to pocket the police budgets money for himself and his family. His wife Silvia Garza demanded only the best, and as her husband as police chief of the Federal District the she was ENTITLED to the best. Instead of using the money for the maintanance of the city's police cars, he pocketed it. Policemen were forced to use their own cars to patrol the city's streets. Did a Policeman need a new uniform because the one he had was kind of worn? He had to pay for it. Fork over the cash, man. Do you want a promotion? A few thousand pesos to be Sergeant, a few thousand more and some change to be Lieutenant. Pay the boss Durazo.
The city's Tow trucks stopped cars and towed cars for no reason. The owners of the cars had to pay exagerated amounts to retrieve their vehicles, a portion of the loot of course went up to El Jefe Durazo.
His right hand man was Francisco Sahagun Baca, an equally nefarious and sadistic fellow. He would gladly kill anyone for his boss Durazo. He was once quoted as saying "I would not do for my own son what I would do for Boss Durazo". He was also known for changing his tie and suits four times a day and spraying his office with cologne. He was appointed director of the DIPD (Delinquency Prevention Investigations Division), the much feared Mexico City detective goon squad created by Durazo. When the city's criminals saw the Ford LTD's with hard looking men in snazzy suits, ties and dark shades pull up, they ran for the hills.
One day Durazo (most likely his wife) had a dream: To build a huge mansion, a Swiss type Chalet on top of Ajusco Hill. When the architect asked the couple where they wanted their access road, Mrs Durazo exploded. "Where there are roads there are poor people!". No roads were to be built. Access to the house had to be BY HELICOPTER.
In order to save on workers wages to build their grandiose home, Mrs Durazo using her intellect, had an idea. Ol' "Negro" had thousands of policemen at his orders. Put them to good use. So now veteran cops and rookies alike were bricklayers and construction workers too, and if any of them complained, they would spend 15 days in jail, placed on probation or simply fired. So no one dared complain. Since there was no access road, vehicles could not be used to haul up the materials need for the house. The boys in blue had to carry bricks and sacks of cement on their backs in a scene reminiscent of the building of the egyptian Pyramids.
When construction was complete, the generous and gracious Mrs Durazo threw the slaves/policemen a party not on Policemen's Day but rather on Mexican Labor Day, May 3. They werent respected policemen to her, they were mere bricklayers. Everyone was treated to two tacos and one soda each. If they wanted to drink alcohol they had to provide it themselves out of pocket. What a grand party it was.
It was said that President Lopez Portillo was so impressed with the house that he told Durazo to build him one just like it. Thats how the House on Dog Hill * came to be.
Not only did Durazo Moreno have his house on Ajusco Hill, he had another huge compound on the Cuernavaca Highway at KM 25.5. This "modest" ranch, included its own discotheque (an exact replica of famous NYC Studio 54), bullring, horse racing track, helipad, and huge garage to store Darkies' collection of antique and sport cars. He also built a third palace on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Zihuatenejo, Guerrero complete with Greek style columns, gaudy Roman statue replicas and huge iron gates that, the joke went, were stolen from historic Chapultepec Castle in Mexico City. The palace was nicknamed "The Parthenon".
Durazo was never known for his kindness or respect towards others but rather his immaturity , pettiness and egomaniacal ways. He asked President Lopez Portillo to make him a five star Army Division General even though Durazo never served in the military. Granted. He proudly wore the five star insignia, ignoring the fact that Mexican Division Generals only wear Four.
This angered the Secretary of Defense, Felix Galvan Lopez, who disgusted, politely voiced his dissaproval to Durazo during a speech made by President Lopez Portillo. "Arturo, with all due respect, I think Mr President made a mistake assigning you that extra star and making you General".
Irate, Durazo snapped back "Well see about that". Durazo then hurried to his buddy Lopez Portillo and told him about Galvan's comments, who now embarrassed, was the victim of Lopez angry glare.
At the end of the speech, the President shook everyone's hand and said goodbye. To everyone except Galvan, publicly snubbing and embarrasing him.
From 1976, to 1982, "General" Arturo Durazo Moreno amassed a huge fortune. He only smoked imported cigarretes from the US, drank the finest French wines and ate only the best French and Swiss cheeses. Anything Mexican was deemed too low class for him and his family.
He always used and paid with Dollars, he refused to touch national currency. An Honoris Causa degree was awarded to him as well, by the Mexican Supreme Court of Justice, just because he wanted one. He also asked the President to name him Governor of his native state of Sonora, but the president declined, the one thing he had to say no to.
In an attempt to cheer up an upset Durazo, the President wrote a letter to the man who won the Sonora Gubernatorial race saying that "Durazo had been nominated to the Sonora race but had gracefully declined the offer in order to fulfull his duties in Mexico City and continue helping out President Lopez Portillo". Anything to make Arturo happy.
He gave out submachine guns as gifts to the country's stars and singers, gave out authentic Mexico City police badges as souvenirs to his guests and friends and let his son close down part of the capital's beltway so he could stage drag races and motorcycle races in order to impress a local newswoman he had his eye on. If Durazo Jr had bad grades at school, he would machine gun his teachers cars, I mean what are they going to do? His dad is the city's police chief. Daddy would simply tell the teachers to let it go, and allow him to buy them new cars.
He also grew fond of having prostitutes over in his office, specially built with secrets doors and passages which allowed him to hide the hookers and for him to change in case Mrs Durazo came charging in to the Police Headquarters like she often did. Mrs Durazo didnt like or allow closed doors: Someone always had to be on hand to open the doors for her or to make sure doors were open when she was around, lest she throw a fit.
In 1981 a gang of Colombian bank robbers arrived in the city and started to cause problems for the police. No problem, they would now work for El Jefe. Rob all the banks you like, but give Ol' Jefe a piece of the pie.
Dozens of bank robberies in Mexico City, Guadalajara and Zamora, Michoacan netted millions of pesos, most of which Durazo recieved the lion's share of the loot. But Durazo grew tired of this gang and in order to cover his ass, he had the gang, and their Mexican getaway driver picked up by Sahagun Baca and his goons, and tossed into La Castaneda insane asylum where they were tortured day and night. Finally, the 14 men were bound and gagged, hacked to death with machetes or shot in the brain and tossed into Mexico City's sewage canal.
When the tortured and mutilated bodies ended up in the Tula river in Hidalgo state, a few miles up north from the capital, Durazo dismissed the ghastly discovery of the dead men as simply a "mafia hit". "Rivalry between drug gangs" led to the Tula River Massacre as the city's media dubbed the crime.
After 1982 when President Lopez Portillos term was up, the gang of thieves and murderers with badges fled town.In January 1984 a court in Los Angeles charged Durazo in absentia with several counts of illegal arms possetion and drug trafficking. Durazo was arrested later that year in June in Puerto Rico by Interpol on charges of mass corruption and an assortment of other crimes, including, murder, extortion, robberry and arms and drug trafficking.
Despite all his wrongdoings and abuse of power, Durazo was respected by domestic and foreign police forces. A Soviet delegation once voted him "Best Police Chief in the World." Also during the six years he was police chief, crime actually went DOWN in Mexico City. Maybe because the police WERE the crooks or maybe because Durazo actually did a good job when he wasnt busy embezzling, thats up for speculation.
On July 6th, 1989, the Mexican Federal Judicial Police raided Francisco Sahagun Baca's ranch in Sahuayo, Michoacan and brought him out in a body bag. Apparently "Pancho" had given he Federales hell with his machine gun and they had to cut him down. People in town however say, that Don Pancho did not die in 1989 but he is alive, hiding out under another name and another face thanks to plastic surgery and they also say he is the man who controls drug trafficking in the Jiquilpan area.
In an interesting note, caught by the Mexican media, during a 2005 party for Martha Sahagun de Fox, wife of Mexican President Vicente Fox, and cousin of Sahagun Baca, the name "Francisco Sahagun Baca" appeared on the guestlist. Despite Martha's cousin Pancho being "dead" for 16 years, she decided to still invite him to her party. How nice.
In 1992, Durazo Moreno was paroled, due to his old age and bad health. He lived out his days in obscurity at his Parthenon style mansion overlooking the Pacific Ocean in the resort town of Zihuatenejo.
Arturo Durazo Moreno "El Negro" died August 5, 2000 of respiratory failure. He was 76.
*House on Dog Hill, dubbed Dog Hill for President Jose Lopez Portillos nickname "El Perro" meaning the Dog. In September 1982, during an impassioned speech at the senate in Mexico, President Lopez Portillo loudly exclaimed to "Defend the Mexico Peso like a Dog!". This prompted the Mexican people who didnt like the President to bark at him whenever he attended a public function.
Monday, April 27, 2009
El Ano de La Peste 2009 (Year of the Plague)
An armed Mexican marine guards Pantitlan subway station amid Influenza epidemic in Mexico City - Apr 24, 2009"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death."
- Reveletions 6:8
In 1979, Mexican moviegoers were terrified by the new sci-fi/thriller/drama El Ano de La Peste, starring Alejandro Parodi, Daniela Romo and Jose Carlos Ruiz. The film tells the story of a mysterious disease that hits Mexico City and only Dr. Sierra Genoves (Parodi) seems to notice anything going on. People fainting on the subway, more than usual cases of "bronchial pneumonia" at the city's hospitals. He warns the city government of the possibility of a epidemic in the city and a resulting pandemic.
The city government decides to cover everything up. There is no plague in the city. Shocker right? Its Mexico. Nothing ever goes wrong in Mexico. In the seventies (pretty much as long as the PRI was the ruling party) NOTHING ever went wrong in the country. Sure problems here and there but "nothing serious". Ever.
So in the metropolis of 18 million, nothing is wrong. Health and Sanitation crews go through the city spraying freaky looking neon yellow "disinfectant" foam on buildings, inside homes and in one memorable scene, on a group of homeless men in sitting on a sidewalk in a drunken stupor. Buildings are evacuated due to "gas leaks". Bodies are quietly picked up in garbage trucks and buried in mass graves outside the city.
So Dr Sierra Genoves, while he isn't boinking his lover, hes out trying to warn people about the plague. A visiting diplomat from Norway, dies from the disease at the city airport and the news is out. Something is wrong in the city. By Christmas Eve, some 5 months after the disease is first detected, Mexico City is a dead city, a barren landscape devoid of life, trash and bodies littering the streets, its surviving residents scared of contact with other humans, gas mask wielding city police beating the mobs who demand medications.
As the President gives a Christmas toast with his guests and Cabinet, Mariachi band playing Las Mananitas, he smiles and proclaims:
"During my term, there wasn't any, and there will be no, plague".
Dr Sierra however, giving up hope, gets a flat tire in a ravaged neighborhood. He asks for helps and a passerby instead, runs away from him. Defeated, kicking trash, he walks into the night, passing debris on the street and cadavers.
Reading the Breaking News on ElUniversal.com.mx on the night of Thursday April 23rd, I was reminded of this movie. I remember the scenes of residents wearing gas masks throughout the city, the gas mask wearing and billy club wielding cops beating the people who demand answers. The mass suicides at the pyramids of Teotihuacan of people imploring the Aztec gods for some sort of mercy.
"Influenza epidemic strikes the Federal District (Mexico City) read the headline on April 23rd. Reading Influenza I remembered high school history class. The 1918 Spanish Influenza pandemic which killed more than 40 million people. Spitting in the streets became illegal. I worried when news outlets started to use the words "potential pandemic". I wondered if Mexican authorities would be truthful during a health crisis like this. I quickly realized that the answer was NO. Probably Not.
You see, this epidemic of swine flu was detected as early in March and possibly as far back as December. During March and the first weeks of April, many people fell ill with what seemed was a common flu but then they died. Quickly. Healthy people woke one day fine, fell ill the next day then died days later. Dozens died. On April 23rd, the Ministry of Health broke the news. It was an Influenza epidemic in the city.
But not just in the city. People started dying in villages in Oaxaca. In the city of San Luis Potosi. Then cases popped up in Hidalgo. Then Veracruz. Then Mexicali, Baja California, near San Diego. Tlaxcala state. Zacatecas state. Deaths reported in Guanajuato. The United States had reported some cases in Southern California and Texas. Then a group of high school students fell ill in New York, they had visited Cancun during Spring Break. 20 cases so far in the US. Some in Nova Scotia, Canada. Others reported in Israel and New Zealand. Almost a dozen countries reporting people stricken with Swine Flu symptoms.
Then I noticed something peculiar. There was virtually no reports of the doctors and nurses who fell ill and died because of this outbreak. No attention was paid to the claims of a doctor that allegedly "dozens and dozens of people" had been dying in city hospitals since March but doctors were told NOT to report the cause of deaths as "influenza". They were told to put "heart attacks" or "pneumonia". The government death toll of 103 that stood as of April 27th, was far far too low. How many had died of Influenza but had been misdiagnosed? Maybe the doctors thought they had died from a common cold? Or flu? Or a heart attack? or pneumonia?
All of the deaths have been in Mexico. All the other cases abroad have been minor, and most of the victims well on their way to recovery. Why? What was the disease so lethal in Mexico? Questions that were not answered quick enough. Where had the disease come from? Why Mexico? Was it man made? Or somehow mutated from pigs, birds and humans? How many people had died from it, since March? All year?. Questions.
Only time will tell and the world is anxiously waiting and watching to see if the "Gripe Porcina" outbreak as it is called in Mexico, turns out to be the worlds next global pandemic.
Will authorities in Mexico proclaim 'There isn't and wont be any plague here"? Time will tell.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
"Guadalajara has disappeared": The 1992 Guadalajara Sewer Explosions
Cars lay buried in the ruins of a blown up street in Guadalajara after the Apr. 22, 1992 explosions.When they built the Colector Intermedio del Oriente under Reforma district in the southeastern part of Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico, they found out the sewer line would hit several subway tunnels. Rather than over, against gravity they would build the line UNDER the tunnels. Years later these errors in engineering would prove catastrophic to the city of 4 million people.
The strong smell of gasoline or paint thinner wafted over the streets of Analco neighborhood in the Reforma district of the city. The April heat was hitting the city and it seemed that the hotter the day, the stronger the smell. Residents would find the smell would come from the water faucets and even the toilets. What was the source of the smell?
Several residents called the city and complained.On April 20th, They called the city's water and sewer department, SIAPA. Something needed to be done, the children were getting dizzy and it was hard to sleep at night. The smell of gas was strong.
On April 21st, SIAPA department workers were sent to inspect the streets of the Analco neighborhood and that night firefighters from the Guadalajara Fire Dept. found the source to be the sewers. The mysterious gasoline smell was coming from under the streets. The firemen opted for leaving a few manholes open and letting the fumes dissipate in the air rather than build up underground. Further inspection of the sewers were scheduled for the next morning, April 22nd.
The city goverment decided to not order an evacuation. That would probably just cause panic among the thousands of residents of Reforma. Telling them their neighborhood was a ticking time bomb was foolish. Such panic would cost the city money. Trinidad Lopez Rivas, the city's fire chief decided not to order an evacuation pending further inspections of the city's sewer system. In March 1983, Sierra Morena Street had exploded, causing dozens of injuries. A nearby clinic had illegally dumped chemicals into the sewer causing the blast. Would there be a repeat of that event?
It was 9 am on April 22, 1992. People drove to work, rode the city buses to and fro and children walked the streets. Vendors sold their food and drinks in little stalls on street corners in the neighborhood, a typical spring day. A group of firefighters descended into the sewer in order to find out where all the gasoline was leaking from.
At 10 am, the search was called off. At that time, white steam was seen pouring out of storm drains and manhole covers were popping, shooting high into the air. The firefighters had not yet reached the surface when five minutes later, a spark, perhaps from a lit cigarette, or a pilot light, or the spark of a manhole cover being dropped into place, unleashed a huge explosion. The ground under Gante and Aldama Street exploded in a huge cloud of dust, hurling cars, buses and trucks into the air like toys and tearing people apart. Eight kilometers of street exploded, one after another. Gante Street exploded. 20th of November St. exploded, Violeta St. exploded, Rio Nilo St. exploded, Doctor R. Michel St. exploded, Corregidora St. exploded, ten huge blasts, ripping apart the streets, and blowing up the adobe homes lining them, killing almost everyone who were on the streets at the time.
A city bus full of people fell into one of the trenches, its passengers killed or seriously injured. A big rig landed on top of a house. A pickup truck fell on a crowd of people pleasantly eating a snack at a taco stand. A Telmex telephone employee working on a telephone line was killed, his body cut in two. Another headless body, hung grotesquely entangled on a telephone pole. A enormous mushroom cloud of dust rose over downtown Guadalajara and the explosions sounded like thunder. Stunned witnesses wondered what was happening in the direction of the Reforma district.
The emergency calls started pouring into the Red Cross stations in the city. A bus full of people had been swallowed up by a hole in the street. A whole street had exploded. Many people were trapped inside their collapsed homes. There were bloody, dirt covered bodies everywhere. There had been in explosion. Something ghastly had happened in Analco.
Rescue workers and ambulances were met by dozens of people, screaming and crying running for their lives away from Gante St. "The city is blowing up!" one man cried. They wanted to get away from the streets that were erupting beneath them. Radio stations were reporting what had happened in an alarmist sense:
"Guadalajara has practically disappeared"
For an hour after 10:05 am, more explosions rocked the area. Calzada Gonzalez Gallo blew up. Calzada del Ejercito also exploded. Sometime after 12 noon, residents of the city, in fear, popped open the manhole covers to let the fumes dissipate in case there was any gas under their streets. At 1:38 PM, several neighborhoods including Mexicaltzingo, 8 de Julio, Polanco and La Nogalera as well as downtown Tlaquepaque, a Guadalajara suburb were evacuated as a precaution. Residents of the other three sectors of the city, Juarez, Libertad and Hidalgo, for fear of the entire city exploding in a mass cataclysm, hopped in their cars and fled the city to other towns or "to the hills."
Residents of the Reforma borough got to work right away, digging out the survivors and carrying them on improvised stretchers; a wooden plank or a broken door. The broken bodies of men women and children were pulled out, covered in dust and some horribly mutilated and taken to a nearby stadium for identification. Ambulances drove in and out of the neighborhood all morning and afternoon. Miles of streets had exploded, following the Colector Intermedio del Oriente sewer line. 20 city blocks had blown up. But what had caused the explosion? Residents had complained of a gas smell. Now the city and survivors were asking: Why was nothing done?
Jalisco state Governor Guillermo Cossio Vidaurri flew over the ravaged area. It looked as if Guadalajara had been bombed. Where streets, sidewalks and trees once were, now it was a jagged deep, debris filled trench full of rubble and cars flipped upside down or buried as if by a pissed off giant. He saw swarms of people, soldiers and police crowding over the collapsed buildings, rescuing the injured and bringing out the dead. Who was responsible for the disaster? By late evening on April 22, 180 bodies had been recovered from rubble, hundreds more injured and more than 10,000 were made homeless.
A hasty investigation quickly blamed the disaster on the accumulation of volatile Hexane gas in the sewers. Leaked Hexane mixed with Methane gas, a byproduct of human waste had caused the sewers to catastrophically explode. The mayor of Guadalajara Enrique Dau Flores quickly lay blame on a cooking oil factory La Central, which was near the destroyed neighborhood.
The manager of La Central told the media "I refuse to be a scapegoat in this tragedy. There has been no leaks here at the plant". Checks conducted in the blown up sewers found large pools of gasoline. The residents had complained of a "gasoline" smell not Hexane, which has no smell .President Carlos Salinas de Gortari toured the devastated area and gave an ultimatum: "The people responsable for the disaster must be found in 72 hours".
The people didnt believe the city's explanation that La Central was to blame. Further investigation found the soil around a Petroleos Mexicanos (PEMEX), Mexico's Oil monopoly gas distribution plant, saturated with gasoline. The ground was wet and the stench of gasoline was strong. The gasoline pipeline from the huge Salamanca refinery in Guanajuato state to the city of Guadalajara ran nearby. The plant was also blocks away from there the explosions originated.
Two pipelines had been laid together, one from one kind of metal and another from another type. This caused a chemical reaction between the two, causing them to rust and form holes. One pipe held gasoline, the other water. The gasoline leaked into the sewer through cracks in the tunnels and the pools of gasoline formed undetected for weeks. Rather than the gasoline flowing freely in the sewer they were backed up by a U shaped plug that went under a Subway tunnel. The gasoline flowed but the fumes were stuck with nowhere to go. That is when the residents began to notice the smell of gasoline. The sewers were pressurized bombs, only needing a tiny spark to set them off.
In all, more than 230 people officially died in the sewer blasts with hundreds more injured. Not surprisingly as tends to happen when a disaster happens in Mexico, the survivors dispute the final death toll. Many recall seeing hundreds upon hundreds of dead, perhaps the death toll being 1,000. Photographs were published of dead bodies bearing the numbers 923 and 700, but the goverment atributted these numbers to the erroneous double counting of cadavers and bad coordination among the places storing the bodies.
Several city government officials were jailed for not ordering an evacuation of the Reforma district and trying to cover up what was going on. A tragedy that could of been avoided. Mayor Enrique Dau Flores resigned as well as Jalisco Governor Guillermo Cossio Vidaurri.
Now everything is rebuilt in Reforma, with a few empty fields where buildings once stood, as the sole reminders of that fateful April morning. People now tell macabre tales of seeing the ghosts of the victims late at night, screaming and crying, haunting the neighborhood where they died instantly all those years ago, when bad planning, negligence and stupidity all combined to produce the worst disaster in Guadalajara history and one of the worst industrial disasters in Mexico in recent memory.
24 Hours of Terror: The Los Mochis Bank Heist
Onlookers crowd the armored truck where the assailants escaped on April 21, 1988 in Los Mochis. 4 people were killed, 12 injured in the notorious bank heist.Wednesday April 20, 1988
Los Mochis, Sinaloa, Mexico
Its 12:25 pm. Inside the Banco Nacional de Mexico (Banamex) bank long lines of customers await to deposit or withdraw money.
A young woman named Rosi Padilla stands near the glass doors, smiling and greeting the customers who enter the bank and informing them of the new Invermático ATM machines that Banamex will soon be adding to this branch.
On the other side of the building, bank co manager Manuel Sandoval is helping a customer.
It seems like everything is peaceful; customers and bank employees proceed with their transactions. More than 50 people fill the building, busy as many take advantage of their lunch hours to go to the bank.
5 minutes later, the peace of another routine business day at the bank ends. All hell breaks loose.
Exactly at 12:30 pm, 6 men enter the bank violently brandishing guns and yell "This is a hold up! Nobody move!"
Only a few listen to the robbers. The rest of the people run away, desperately searching for an exit; the men are blocking the main doors. They stop running when they hear a gunshot from a .38 caliber pistol.
"Nobody freak out!" yells the man who pulled the trigger, shooting his gun in the air. The rest of the gunmen take small groups of customers and employees and push them into the restrooms.
Rosi Padilla the smiling cashier at the door is still standing, petrified as she sees the men yelling and threatening to kill anyone who gets in their way.
It was planned on March 25. That day, Mario Valdez, Ivan Camarena, Ramon Terrazas "The Frog", Gilberto Valenzuela, Catarino Felix and Guillermo Gonzalez met at a house to plan the heist.
After agreeing on the type of weapons to use, they chose the date: April 20th. 12:30 pm, the time the Servicio Panamericano armored truck would make a drop at the bank.
After shooting Rosi that April afternoon, one of the robbers rushed to co manager Manuel Sandoval Rendon and grabbed him by the arm, pushing him towards the vault in the back of the building. Inside of the vault, millions of pesos awaited: the men guarding the vault had earlier picked up the money from the Bank teller stations and stashed it in the vault and the armored truck had made the deposit earlier than previously thought.
"Open the door!" one of the robbers screamed at Sandoval.
"I cant! The door opens from the inside!" Sandoval replied.
The robber in frustration proceeded to shoot the helpless co manager in the thigh and Sandoval fell to the floor in agony.
The managers agony was being watched by head cashier Raul Rendon from inside the vault via closed circuit monitor. However he couldn't do anything but watch. At the first gunshots, he had activated the robbery alarm and the vault door had automatically sealed itself. The door couldn't be opened.
By that time the Mexican Federal Judicial Police and Municipal Police had surrounded the bank and closed the streets around the building. Hidalgo Avenue, Guillermo Prieto St., Zaragoza St. and Independencia St. were shut down and no one could drive through.
The gunmen furious because they were now cornered with no money and no way out, they opted for taking the 60 plus customers and employees hostage.
Seeing that the situation grew worse by the minute, a young Mexican Red Cross worker named Marco Antonio Estrada tried to mediate with the robbers. He proposed letting everyone go and he would remain as their sole hostage. The robbers ignored him. Then all hell broke loose.
The police shot out a window on the corner of Guillermo Prieto St and Hidalgo Avenue and threw in a canister of tear gas. Then they opened fire. The gunmen holed up inside the bank returned fire and a shootout ensued.
The shooting only stopped when the robbers yelled to the police they would kill hostages if they didn't stop shooting at them. Then they called a local radio station and demanded an armored truck to escape in, cash and a helicopter to flee the state. If their demands were not met they would blow up the bank and everyone inside with sticks of dynamite they had tucked in their jeans or they would simply start executing hostages. "Were capable of anything, we're not afraid to die" one of the robbers told the radio station, his words broadcast throught the city and nation.
Minutes later as a show of good faith, the robbers released 3 hostages; manager Sandoval Rendon, the Red Cross Worker Marco Antonio Estrada and an off duty Judicial Policeman Roberto Soto Cruz.
But the three men had a tragic end. Upon walking out of the doors, they were met with a hail of bullets. The police, mistaking them for the gunmen, had opened fire. The bodies of the three hostages lay dead on the sidewalk in front of the bank while other hostages inside lay wounded by the shooting.
Overwhelmed by what was happening, Governor Labastida gave the order to comply with the robbers' demands. The order from the governor came precisely at the same time as a group of townspeople had gathered outside the bank and threatened to rush the building to protect the gunmen from the police!
It was Thursday April 21st at 12:40 pm when the violence finally ceased. By then the authorities and robbers had come to an agreement. They would trade the hostages for 3 Red Cross paramedics, Rosario Angulo, Jose Lopez and Santana Ortega, and they would be allowed to flee. Outside a Servicio Panamericano armored truck awaited the men.
National and International TV cameras were rolling as 5 robbers, wielding their guns and sacks of cash boarded the armored truck. The 6th robber lost himself among the crowd of onlookers and freed hostages.
Then something uncanny happened. The truck didnt start. No problem. The crowd of onlookers and townspeople pushed the truck up the street, four blocks until the truck started. A grateful robber stunned everyone by cracking open a door and tossing a fistful of cash to the jubilant crowd. The robbers abandoned the armored truck in the Vicente Guerrero neighborhood and fled on foot, aided supposedly by people who lived in the impoverished neighborhood.
After the heist, the city and nation asked itself. Who was responsible for the slaying of the hostages? The Chief of police of Los Mochis, Joel Velasco Flores blamed the gunmen. Others blamed the bumbling police.
Even though people mourned the deaths of four people that warm April day, Rosi Padilla's death was the most dramatic.
Nobody knew that April 20th would be the last day of her three month job contract at the Banamex bank.
Nobody also knew that months before, she had worked at the Banco Serfin bank on Leyva St. and had been a witness to a robbery at that bank. Two of the six men robbing the Banamex bank on April 20th had participated in the Serfin hold up and they recognized Rosi from before. That earned her a bullet to the chest.
Weeks later the robbers were arrested. One in a hospital and the rest were apprehended individually at their hideouts in Navojoa, Sonora. In 1990, the drama was brought to the Mexican big screen in "Bancazo en Los Mochis" (Heist in Los Mochis), starring well known Mexican soap opera actor Eduardo Yanez as one of the robbers. A corrido was also made, retelling the events at the bank.
21 years have passed since the violent robbery at Banamex in Los Mochis, but for the people involved, hostages and police alike, its a memory that will never go away for a simple reason. Too many innocent people died that day.
(with information from El Debate de Sinaloa newspaper)
Los Mochis, Sinaloa, Mexico
Its 12:25 pm. Inside the Banco Nacional de Mexico (Banamex) bank long lines of customers await to deposit or withdraw money.
A young woman named Rosi Padilla stands near the glass doors, smiling and greeting the customers who enter the bank and informing them of the new Invermático ATM machines that Banamex will soon be adding to this branch.
On the other side of the building, bank co manager Manuel Sandoval is helping a customer.
It seems like everything is peaceful; customers and bank employees proceed with their transactions. More than 50 people fill the building, busy as many take advantage of their lunch hours to go to the bank.
5 minutes later, the peace of another routine business day at the bank ends. All hell breaks loose.
Exactly at 12:30 pm, 6 men enter the bank violently brandishing guns and yell "This is a hold up! Nobody move!"
Only a few listen to the robbers. The rest of the people run away, desperately searching for an exit; the men are blocking the main doors. They stop running when they hear a gunshot from a .38 caliber pistol.
"Nobody freak out!" yells the man who pulled the trigger, shooting his gun in the air. The rest of the gunmen take small groups of customers and employees and push them into the restrooms.
Rosi Padilla the smiling cashier at the door is still standing, petrified as she sees the men yelling and threatening to kill anyone who gets in their way.
One of the robbers notices that she doesn't move, looks at her in the face and shoots her in the chest. The young woman falls backwards spitting blood and with her bright eyes wide open as if asking "Why me?".
The bank robbery has claimed its first victim. The robber doesn't flinch as he watches Rosi die on the marble floor.
It was planned on March 25. That day, Mario Valdez, Ivan Camarena, Ramon Terrazas "The Frog", Gilberto Valenzuela, Catarino Felix and Guillermo Gonzalez met at a house to plan the heist.
After agreeing on the type of weapons to use, they chose the date: April 20th. 12:30 pm, the time the Servicio Panamericano armored truck would make a drop at the bank.
After shooting Rosi that April afternoon, one of the robbers rushed to co manager Manuel Sandoval Rendon and grabbed him by the arm, pushing him towards the vault in the back of the building. Inside of the vault, millions of pesos awaited: the men guarding the vault had earlier picked up the money from the Bank teller stations and stashed it in the vault and the armored truck had made the deposit earlier than previously thought.
"Open the door!" one of the robbers screamed at Sandoval.
"I cant! The door opens from the inside!" Sandoval replied.
The robber in frustration proceeded to shoot the helpless co manager in the thigh and Sandoval fell to the floor in agony.
The managers agony was being watched by head cashier Raul Rendon from inside the vault via closed circuit monitor. However he couldn't do anything but watch. At the first gunshots, he had activated the robbery alarm and the vault door had automatically sealed itself. The door couldn't be opened.
By that time the Mexican Federal Judicial Police and Municipal Police had surrounded the bank and closed the streets around the building. Hidalgo Avenue, Guillermo Prieto St., Zaragoza St. and Independencia St. were shut down and no one could drive through.
The gunmen furious because they were now cornered with no money and no way out, they opted for taking the 60 plus customers and employees hostage.
Seeing that the situation grew worse by the minute, a young Mexican Red Cross worker named Marco Antonio Estrada tried to mediate with the robbers. He proposed letting everyone go and he would remain as their sole hostage. The robbers ignored him. Then all hell broke loose.
The police shot out a window on the corner of Guillermo Prieto St and Hidalgo Avenue and threw in a canister of tear gas. Then they opened fire. The gunmen holed up inside the bank returned fire and a shootout ensued.
The shooting only stopped when the robbers yelled to the police they would kill hostages if they didn't stop shooting at them. Then they called a local radio station and demanded an armored truck to escape in, cash and a helicopter to flee the state. If their demands were not met they would blow up the bank and everyone inside with sticks of dynamite they had tucked in their jeans or they would simply start executing hostages. "Were capable of anything, we're not afraid to die" one of the robbers told the radio station, his words broadcast throught the city and nation.
Minutes later as a show of good faith, the robbers released 3 hostages; manager Sandoval Rendon, the Red Cross Worker Marco Antonio Estrada and an off duty Judicial Policeman Roberto Soto Cruz.
But the three men had a tragic end. Upon walking out of the doors, they were met with a hail of bullets. The police, mistaking them for the gunmen, had opened fire. The bodies of the three hostages lay dead on the sidewalk in front of the bank while other hostages inside lay wounded by the shooting.
Overwhelmed by what was happening, Governor Labastida gave the order to comply with the robbers' demands. The order from the governor came precisely at the same time as a group of townspeople had gathered outside the bank and threatened to rush the building to protect the gunmen from the police!
It was Thursday April 21st at 12:40 pm when the violence finally ceased. By then the authorities and robbers had come to an agreement. They would trade the hostages for 3 Red Cross paramedics, Rosario Angulo, Jose Lopez and Santana Ortega, and they would be allowed to flee. Outside a Servicio Panamericano armored truck awaited the men.
National and International TV cameras were rolling as 5 robbers, wielding their guns and sacks of cash boarded the armored truck. The 6th robber lost himself among the crowd of onlookers and freed hostages.
Then something uncanny happened. The truck didnt start. No problem. The crowd of onlookers and townspeople pushed the truck up the street, four blocks until the truck started. A grateful robber stunned everyone by cracking open a door and tossing a fistful of cash to the jubilant crowd. The robbers abandoned the armored truck in the Vicente Guerrero neighborhood and fled on foot, aided supposedly by people who lived in the impoverished neighborhood.
After the heist, the city and nation asked itself. Who was responsible for the slaying of the hostages? The Chief of police of Los Mochis, Joel Velasco Flores blamed the gunmen. Others blamed the bumbling police.
Even though people mourned the deaths of four people that warm April day, Rosi Padilla's death was the most dramatic.
Nobody knew that April 20th would be the last day of her three month job contract at the Banamex bank.
Nobody also knew that months before, she had worked at the Banco Serfin bank on Leyva St. and had been a witness to a robbery at that bank. Two of the six men robbing the Banamex bank on April 20th had participated in the Serfin hold up and they recognized Rosi from before. That earned her a bullet to the chest.
Weeks later the robbers were arrested. One in a hospital and the rest were apprehended individually at their hideouts in Navojoa, Sonora. In 1990, the drama was brought to the Mexican big screen in "Bancazo en Los Mochis" (Heist in Los Mochis), starring well known Mexican soap opera actor Eduardo Yanez as one of the robbers. A corrido was also made, retelling the events at the bank.
21 years have passed since the violent robbery at Banamex in Los Mochis, but for the people involved, hostages and police alike, its a memory that will never go away for a simple reason. Too many innocent people died that day.
(with information from El Debate de Sinaloa newspaper)
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