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“We want President Felipe Calderón to know that we are not his enemies, that we admire him. We are open to dialogue. We do not want Los Zetas in Michoacán. What we want is peace and tranquillity. We know we are a necessary evil. . . . We want to reach an agreement, we want to establish a national pact.” This was the voice of Servando Gómez Martínez, alias La Tuta, speaking in a phone call to the show
Voz y Solución
, hosted by the journalist Marcos Knapp on a local channel of Michoacán CB Televisión. Gómez, a high-ranking member of the cartel and one of Moreno González’s associates, was proposing nothing less than an alliance with President Calderón to eliminate their most feared competitors, but the government refused to negotiate. Nevertheless, La Familia has been one of the fastest-growing cartels during the years of Mexico’s war on drugs. Its power has spread from Michoacán to the neighboring states of Guerrero, Queretaro, and México. And also into the United States: In October 2009, federal authorities released the findings of a four-year investigation—known as Project
Coronado—on La Familia’s activities in the United States. It led to one of the biggest operations against Mexican drug cartels operating in U.S. territory. More than three thousand agents took part in just one raid, which lasted two days and involved local, state, and federal authorities: 303 men were arrested in nineteen different U.S. states; 62 kilos of cocaine, 330 kilos of methamphetamine, 440 kilos of marijuana, 144 weapons, 109 vehicles, and 2 drug labs were seized, along with $3.4 million in cash. In November 2010 La Familia proposed another pact: It offered to dismantle its own cartel on the condition that the state, the federal government, and the federal police guarantee Michoacán’s security. The proposal appeared on flyers slipped under the doors of homes and shops, in phone booths, on cartel banners hung across streets, in letters sent to blogs, radio stations, newspapers, and national and international press agencies. It claimed that La Familia was created to make up for the government’s failure to provide for the safety of its citizens, and that it was composed of Michoacán men and women who were prepared to give their lives to defend the state. But once again Felipe Calderón, who was born in Michoacán, refused to negotiate with the cartel.

The conflict between La Familia and Los Zetas reduced Michoacán to a war zone. What is considered to be the first act of narco-terrorism in Mexican history took place in Morelia, Michoacán’s capital city, on September 15, 2008, the eve of Mexico’s Independence Day. Shortly after Governor Leonel Godoy rang the Independence bell and declared three times “
¡Viva Mexico!
” two frag grenades exploded in the crowded square, killing eight people and wounding over a hundred, all of them innocent civilians. Even the innocent are victims in the narcos’ war. The authorities pointed a finger at La Familia, which in turn hung banners blaming Los Zetas: “‘Coward’ is the correct term for those who undermine the peace and tranquillity of the country. Mexico and Michoacán are not alone. Thank you, Zetas, for your contemptible acts.”

The Morelia attack marked a turning point, a shift from El Chapo’s methods to those of Los Zetas and La Familia. Before there were rules.
If you betrayed El Chapo, you were simply put to death, period. No macabre or gruesome scenes. Today ferocity is theatrically displayed. Extreme violence is compounded by public humiliation. El Chapo understood the shift immediately. The day after the attack he sent around a prounouncement via e-mail denying responsibility for this and similar attacks that was signed by El Mayo as well. “We of Sinaloa have always defended the people, we have always respected the families of capos and the crew, we have always respected the government, we have always respected women and children. When the Sinaloa cartel ruled all over Mexico, there were no executions, and do you know why? Because we know how to do our job, and we have feelings. Soon you will see more Sinaloans in Michoacán (we will take back all the territory that was snatched from us and kill all those who have offended the Sinaloa family), and neither the government nor the cartels will be able to stop us.”

The new cartels flaunt their ferocity, which serves as a sort of ambassador. Sinaloa resorts to ferocity only when necessary. It is a confrontation between postmodernism and modernism. Between screams and silence. The rules of the game have changed. The number of players has increased. New cartels spring up quickly, devouring territories and entire regions. It’s crazy making, all these new cartels. More flexible structures, faster responses, familiarity with new technology, ostentatiously lurid killings, and obscure, pseudoreligious philosophies. It is altogether a new level of frenzy.

 • • • 

A residential neighborhood in Cancún. A small van, left parked for days, started attracting people’s attention, so they called the police: “That van stinks of rotting meat.” When the police opened the door they discovered three bodies, handcuffed, with plastic bags over their heads. A note next to them: “We are the new group Mata Zetas. We are against kidnapping and extortion, and we will fight against them in every state, for a cleaner Mexico.” Signed: “Cártel de Jalisco Nueva Generación (Los Mata Zetas).” It was later discovered that before being
killed the three were interrogated by men with ski masks and assault rifles. A video was posted on YouTube. This was how the Cártel de Jalisco Nueva Generación—Los Mata Zetas, the Zetas Killers—introduced itself.

The cartel traces its inception to the death on July 29, 2010, of Ignacio Coronel Villarreal, the leader of the Sinaloa cartel in the state of Jalisco, one of El Chapo’s trusted collaborators, and uncle of Emma Coronel, El Chapo’s current wife. He was killed in a shoot-out with the Mexican army in Zapopan, in the state of Jalisco. His followers suspected he was betrayed by his own cartel, so they decided to break away and form a new one. Among the founders of Jalisco New Generation were Nemesio Oseguera Ramos, alias El Mencho; Erick Valencia; El 85; and Martín Arzola, El 53, all former members of the Millennium cartel, then a branch of Sinaloa. So began a waltz of alliances and ruptures. In early 2011 the Jalisco New Generation cartel decided to take possession of Guadalajara, the capital city of Jalisco. A free-for-all broke out. But only a few months later they allied with Sinaloa again. Since then they have been fighting against Los Zetas for control of Guadalajara and Veracruz, but they are also active in the states of Colima, Guanajuato, Nayarit, and Michoacán.

Los Zetas and Jalisco face off openly. On September 20, 2011, right in the center of Veracruz, thirty-five bodies—twenty-three men and twelve women—were found in two trucks, in plain daylight. The victims showed signs of torture, their hands tied, some with bags over their heads. All were Los Zetas members. A video was posted on the Internet after the massacre: five men with ski masks sitting at a table with a tablecloth, small bottles of water in front of them, just like at a press conference. Which is what it was, a press conference to claim responsibility for the crime: “We want the armed forces to believe us when we say that our only objective is to put an end to Los Zetas. We are anonymous, faceless warriors, but proud to be Mexican.” A few days later the lifeless bodies of thirty-six people were found in three different houses in Boca del Río, also in the state of Veracruz. On
November 24, a few days before the inauguration of the International Book Fair in Guadalajara, the police discovered twenty-six bodies inside three vans, dead of asphyxiation and blows to the head. On December 22, in the early hours of the morning, three public buses were attacked by drug traffickers on Highway 105 in Veracruz: sixteen dead, including three U.S. citizens from Texas who were in Mexico for Christmas vacation. The next day, in Tampico Alto, Veracruz, ten bodies were found: tortured, handcuffed, almost all decapitated. On Christmas Day near Tampico, in Tamaulipas on the Veracruz state border, army soldiers performing a routine patrol discovered thirteen cadavers in a trailer truck. They also found drug cartel banners on the scene with messages that referred to feuds among rival groups.

 • • • 

July 1, 2012. Mexico has just elected a new president, Enrique Peña Nieto. The war on drug trafficking is one of his priorities. Twenty-four hours after his election a group of about forty killers stops four kids between the ages of fifteen and sixteen who are dealing drugs for the Familia Michoacana, at ten in the morning in Zacazonapan in central Mexico. Other Familia members show up. Shooting breaks out. An hour of confusion and terror. Schools suspend classes until the army and police arrive, who confirm the number of dead: at least eight.

The forty killers belong to the Knights Templar cartel, founded just over a year earlier in yet another upheaval in the murderous madness that contemporary Mexico has been condemned to by drug trafficking. The Knights Templar are exiles from La Familia Michoacana, which, they feel, has lost sight of its principles and now regularly practices theft, kidnapping, extortion. The Knights Templar, on the other hand, maintains a very rigid honor code. Its members are required to fight against materialism, injustice, and tyranny. They are waging an ideological war to defend ethical social values. They swear to protect the oppressed, widows, and orphans. It is forbidden to abuse women and minors or to use their power to deceive them. Kidnapping for money is
strictly prohibited. Authorization to kill is required, since no one should take a life for money or for the fun of it: You first have to investigate, find out if there is sufficient motive, and only then can you proceed. A Knight Templar must not fall prey to sectarianism or pettiness. He must promote patriotism and show pride in his country. He must be humble and respectable. The use of drugs is forbidden. The Knight Templar must be an example of chivalry for all. And he must always seek the truth, because God is Truth. Whoever betrays or breaks the code of silence will be punished with death, his family will suffer the same fate, and his property will be confiscated.

This clearly insane parody masks a very young, very aggressive group at war with its original cartel—now grown weak—whose territory it intends to seize, perhaps along with some neighboring areas. Its members feel omnipotent enough to declare war on Los Zetas. Like the original Knights Templar—the medieval order of chivalry founded in Jerusalem after the First Crusade to protect pilgrims to the Holy Land—these new knights claim to have been charged with a divine mission. Members are elected by a council of more experienced brothers, and once they join they can never abandon the “cause”; they take a vow that they must honor at the cost of their own lives. They must participate in ceremonies in which they dress like the Templars from whom they take their name: helmets, white tunics, and red crosses on their chests. In the countryside, the cartel distributes a manual outlining its principles, which are all linked to their fundamental aim to “protect the inhabitants of the free, sovereign, and secular state of Michoacán.” The cartel flaunts its purifying intentions while it organizes an army so as to dominate the amphetamine business. The Knights Templar are well equipped and are not afraid of openly challenging the authorities.

Blood calls for blood. It’s not just an expression. The history of Mexican cartels shows that all attempts to fight violence with violence have only led to more killings. Under President Vicente Fox, from 2000 to 2006, no decisive initiatives were taken against drug trafficking. The troops sent to the U.S. border to hinder cartel operations were
insufficient and poorly equipped. The turning point came on December 11, 2006. President Felipe Calderón, who had just installed himself in Los Pinos, the Mexican White House, sent 6,500 soldiers to the state of Michoacán. It was a historic date, destined to end up in Mexican schoolbooks: a declaration of war between two opposing states, Mexico and the “narco-state.” The narco-state has an unlimited appetite, and Calderón knew it, which is why he launched the war on drugs. He couldn’t let a parasite state dictate the law. More than 45,000 soldiers have been involved in the war, in addition to the regular local and federal police forces. But blood calls for blood, and the threatened cartels have responded with worsening brutality. To judge from the numbers, Calderón’s war has not been won: The Mexican government’s official drug war bulletin of January 11, 2012, noted 47,515 people killed by violence associated with organized crime between December 11, 2006, and September 30, 2011. What’s worse is that the number of deaths increased exponentially: In 2007 there were 2,826 deaths connected to drug trafficking; in 2008 the number rose to 6,838; in 2009 it reached 9,614; in 2010, 15,273; and by the end of September 2011 it had already reached 12,903, with three months still to go before the end of the year. The new minister of the interior under Peña Nieto, Miguel Ángel Osorio Chong, declared in mid-February 2013 that Mexican drug war deaths would reach around 70,000 during Felipe Calderón’s six-year term, adding that it is impossible to provide a precise official figure because “at the end of the previous legislature they stopped keeping official accounts” of drug war victims, just as there is no register of missing persons or unidentified bodies at the morgue. But some hold that the number of deaths in this dirty war is much higher. Death accounting is an imprecise science, and a few canceled lives always slip through the cracks. How many victims were dumped in
narcofosas
, or mass graves? How many bodies dissolved in acid? How many cadavers burned, and thus missing forever? Politicians at every level—local, regional, and national—are victims: In the first six years of the Mexican drug war, thirty-one Mexican mayors were killed, thirteen of them in
2010 alone. Honest people are now afraid to run for office; they know that sooner or later the cartels will arrive and try to replace them with a more welcome candidate. Amnesty International published a report in May 2014 stating that the number of victims between December 2006 and November 2012 (that is, during Calderon’s six-year term) was 136,100 (and not the 70,000 official Mexican sources say). Associations such as the Movement for Peace with Justice and Dignity, founded by poet and activist Javier Sicilia after his son was killed by narcos, maintain that the total is much higher.