Pubdate: Fri, 08 Jul 2005
Source: Sun-Sentinel (Fort Lauderdale, FL)
Copyright: 2005 Sun-Sentinel Company
Contact:  http://www.sun-sentinel.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/159
Author: Marla Dickerson, LA Times Staff Writer

MEXICO CITY PAYS THE PRICE AS DRUG GANGS FIGHT FOR TERRITORY

NUEVO LAREDO, Mexico -- His predecessor was gunned down on his first day on
the job. He has three young children and a pregnant wife. But Omar Pimentel
on Wednesday pledged to help end a spate of drug-related violence by
becoming the police chief of this bloodied border town.

After his swearing-in, the 37-year-old Pimentel said he didn't want to dwell
on the fate of Alejandro Dominguez Coello, who was assassinated in early
June just hours after he took the same oath. But it's clearly on the mind of
his employer. The city has assigned four bodyguards to protect its new top
cop.

This sweltering city just across the river from Laredo, Texas, is at the
center of a heated battle between rival drug gangs vying to control
smuggling routes into the United States. More than 80 people have been
killed in Nuevo Laredo this year, more than in all of 2004. Many of those
corpses have shown signs of mutilation, torture or execution-style slaying,
the calling cards of organized crime.

In the wake of the brazen hit on Dominguez, the federal government suspended
all members of Nuevo Laredo's police force, some of whom are believed to be
working for drug traffickers. More than 10% of the city's 700 cops have
already been fired for failing drug tests and background checks, and more
dismissals are on the way.

In the meantime, army units, state police and agents from Mexico's version
of the FBI have taken over security in Nuevo Laredo, setting up checkpoints
and patrols in a mission dubbed Operation Safe Mexico. But the mayhem
continues on their watch.

Gunmen recently blasted their way into a hotel with grenades and automatic
weapons, kidnapping three men who have yet to be found. A 22- year-old man
was shot to death in broad daylight near City Hall in front of his mother
and his young child.

"It's beyond anything we've known," said Basilio Ramos Zapata, a member of a
citizens group that canceled a peace march last month over fears of
violence.

Nuevo Laredo residents are a stalwart lot. The city was settled by proud
Mexicans who moved south of the Rio Grande rather than remain on U.S. soil
after Mexico's defeat in the Mexican-American War in 1848. The population is
officially listed at 315,000, but the constant ebb and flow across the
border makes counting tricky. Locals guess that at least half a million
people live in this flat, dusty expanse enveloped by searing blue skies.

People here have adapted to other extremes that accompany life on the edge
of the United States. Although international trade and maquiladora export
factories form the core of Nuevo Laredo's economy, the U.S. appetite for sex
and drugs long has fed a rougher fringe. Prostitution is legal in the "zona
de tolerancia" known as Boys Town. Narcotics traffickers eager to be close
to their prime export market have long operated in the region.

So although the latest headlines have spooked tourists and some wealthier
residents have fled, most in Nuevo Laredo have gone quietly about their
business.

On a recent afternoon, old men lounged in the shade while young mothers
trailed their scampering children through the city's charming public
squares. Shoppers admired the cowboy boots that fill the displays of
downtown shoe stores. Horses pulling carriages clip-clopped languidly. A
trio of country singers serenaded the lunchtime crowd bellying up to a
sidewalk taco stand. Not exactly the images of a city under siege.

"People have this impression that there are bullets flying everywhere, but
it's just not so," said Paola Grammer de Riojas, a jewelry vendor who said
her sales were off 80% because U.S. tourists had stopped coming. "There have
been a lot of false rumors and exaggeration."

Yet there is a nagging unease among even the most resolute Nuevo Laredo
boosters that something fundamental has changed. Locals say traffickers
historically settled beefs among themselves and rarely preyed on civilians
or officials. The rising body count and expressly public executions of
high-profile figures such as Dominguez signal a new era in which anyone is
fair game.

"The idea is to create fear and generate fear," said Jorge Chabat, a Mexico
City political scientist and organized crime expert.

It's working. Authorities say that criminal gangs have found a profitable
sideline in kidnapping and extortion. Most families and businesses simply
pay up if they can, fearful of contacting police who may be in league with
the criminals. Now the traffickers are snatching one another. In late June,
federal agents and soldiers rescued 44 kidnapping victims from three houses
in Nuevo Laredo, many of whom are believed to be involved in the drug trade.

A series of home invasion attacks has spawned an exodus from portions of the
city's exclusive Colonia Madero neighborhood. Weeds, graffiti and "for sale"
signs have sprouted on the perimeters of vacant mansions, where well-heeled
residents are moving out and gangsters are said to be moving in.

Reporters are looking over their shoulders as well. Since 2000, seven
journalists have been killed in Tamaulipas state, where Nuevo Laredo is
located, making it the most dangerous region in Mexico for the media. The
most recent fatality was radio crime reporter Dolores Guadalupe Garcia
Escamilla, who was shot multiple times outside her Nuevo Laredo office in
April.

With their employees in danger, some media outlets have stopped digging
deeply into sensitive issues, or have refrained from even mentioning the
names of suspected traffickers and drug cartels. "It's frustrating and it's
sad because we have an obligation to help make things better," said Marco
Guillermo Villarreal Marroquin, director of the Nuevo Laredo daily newspaper
El Diario.

Crime experts say Nuevo Laredo's troubles stem from the 2003 arrest of Osiel
Cardenas, the alleged leader of the Tamaulipas-based Gulf cartel, who is in
prison awaiting trial. His rivals in other regions of Mexico formed an
alliance to move in on his turf.

Led by Sinaloa-based kingpin Joaquin "El Chapo" Guzman, the interlopers have
gone to war with the military arm of the Gulf cartel, part of a nationwide
explosion of drug violence that has killed more than 600 people from Tijuana
to Cancun this year.

Nuevo Laredo is a key battleground because of the four international bridges
over the Rio Grande connecting it with Laredo. The area is the largest cargo
crossing point along the U.S.-Mexico border, moving more than 40% of total
trade between the two nations. Nearly 1.5 million trucks crossed north into
Texas last year, making the area a thriving hub for legal and illicit goods
alike.

Although trade and manufacturing remain solid, tourism has wilted like a
freshly ironed shirt in the 110-degree summer heat.

In a typical year, tens of thousands of Americans cross the border to Nuevo
Laredo, attracted by inexpensive medicines, fine handicrafts, pretty plazas,
stirring bullfights and tasty charbroiled goat, not to mention the lower
drinking age and other adult diversions. But two State Department warnings
and a rash of disappearances of U.S. citizens in Nuevo Laredo have dampened
enthusiasm.

Since August 2004, 19 Americans have been kidnapped in Nuevo Laredo and
subsequently released, 19 are missing, and four have been found dead,
according to U.S. government figures.

Officials say visits are down by about 21% through the end of May compared
with the first five months of last year. But many tourist- oriented
businesses say their sales are off by much more than that.

At Boys Town, a walled compound dotted with prostitutes' quarters and
cantinas with names like Bar Bum Bum, sex workers say business has plummeted
now that the Americans are staying home. Viki, a 26-year-old transvestite in
tight jeans and a striped T-shirt, said that his daily client count had
dropped by about two-thirds and that he has had to cut his fees nearly in
half to attract locals.

"When you don't have bread, you settle for tortillas," he said, a hint of
stubble showing above his perfect coral lipstick.

Mainstream businesses are hurting as well. The historic Mercado Maclovio
Herrera, whose vendors sell everything from hand-woven rugs to plastic Frida
Kahlo tote bags, was nearly empty on a recent morning.

Among the handful of shoppers was Jim Daniel, a retired Texas schoolteacher
who had brought his wife and a couple of European friends.

An 80-year-old with an iron handshake, Daniel said he had no fear "because
I'm not involved in drugs." In fact, he said he found Nuevo Laredo much
improved since he had last visited several years ago.

"It's cleaner, nicer and the people are just as friendly as they ever were,"
Daniel said. "But the crowds are gone. Where are all the shoppers?"

Down the street at Marti's, an elegant store nicknamed the "Neiman Marcus of
Mexico," owner Pablo Jacobo "Jack" Suneson fretted about the same thing. An
amiable bear of a guy who rides a Harley-Davidson, the veteran businessman
has steered his way through a number of economic crises. But he said this
was by far the roughest stretch he had seen.

On a recent afternoon, shop attendants waited expectantly among the fine
jewelry, handbags and buttery soft deerskin jackets for customers who never
materialized. Suneson has turned off the lights and air- conditioning on the
top level of his store to save money. He can't remember the last time he
bought new inventory. Meanwhile, the bills keep coming.

"I've got $1,000 a day in overhead, and I can tell you I'm not even coming
close to covering it," he said.

Like many in Nuevo Laredo, Suneson is exasperated by leaders on both sides
of the border. He said that the Mexican government waited too long to send
help and that Operation Safe Mexico would be effective only if federal
agents and troops dug in for the long haul.

He is also tired of hearing U.S. officials carp that Mexican corruption is
the biggest impediment to winning the war on drugs when it is the insatiable
demand from American consumers that is driving the whole trade.

He noted that U.S. newspapers write extensively about Mexican drug lords but
shed little light on who is moving the stuff once it hits American soil.

"We don't make the drugs here [in Nuevo Laredo]. We don't buy the drugs
here. But we're the ones paying the price," Suneson said.

He and others talk longingly of a hard-nosed government lawyer named
Salvador del Toro Rosales, who was sent to Nuevo Laredo in the 1970s when
another violent drug war erupted.

Nicknamed the "Iron Prosecutor," Del Toro became a legend here for doggedly
pursuing traffickers and putting them behind bars. Stories abound about this
outsider who kicked tail, took names and quickly restored peace in this
frontier town.

Roberto Maldonado Siller has heard those stories and just shakes his head. A
former prosecutor for the state of Tamaulipas, he said that was a simpler
era. Drug gangs didn't have the arms, lawyers, financing, sophistication,
ruthlessness, international reach and sheer numbers that they have today.

Maldonado said he understood the impatience of Nuevo Laredo residents for a
quick fix. But he said that the problem was so vast and complex that one man
couldn't do it alone. The Iron Prosecutor isn't riding to the rescue this
time.

"If people want a hero, they should go to the movies," he said.

Father Jesus Salazar Almaguer believes that only a spiritual awakening can
change this town. His bishop has organized the communal ringing of bells in
churches across Nuevo Laredo, a daily reminder for residents to pray for
deliverance from the labyrinth of violence.

"The corruption is on all levels. The intimidation of the people is total,"
Salazar said.

"We need God to show us the way."
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MAP posted-by: Josh