Pubdate: Sun, 12 Dec 2010
Source: Los Angeles Times (CA)
Page: A1, Front Page, continued on pages A8 and A9
Copyright: 2010 Los Angeles Times
Contact:  http://www.latimes.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/248
Authors: Ken Ellingwood, Reporting from Mexico City and Tracy 
Wilkinson, Reporting from Morelia, Mexico
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/topic/Mexico+Under+Siege

Mexico Under Siege

BRIBERY CHARGES UNRAVEL IN COURT

The Collapse Is an Embarrassment for Efforts to Crack Down on Drug Corruption.

When 35 mayors, prosecutors, police chiefs and other officials in the 
state of Michoacan were hauled into jail and accused of taking bribes 
from a cartel last year, it looked as if the federal government was 
finally attacking the political collusion that has long nurtured the 
drug gangs.

But instead of heralding a bold new front in Mexican President Felipe 
Calderon's 4-year-old drug war, the case has turned out to be an 
embarrassing example of how that offensive is failing.

More than a year later, the prosecution is in ruins.

Judges ruled that the evidence was too flimsy, and all but one of the 
suspects has been freed. Many have returned to their old jobs, 
accusing the government of a politically motivated witch hunt during 
an election season.

The high-profile collapse underscores fundamental defects in the 
Mexican criminal justice system, including the country's ministerios 
publicos, a combination detective and prosecutor. These officials are 
poorly paid, frequently lack professional training and have been 
known to throw cases in exchange for bribes or to escape possible retribution.

"This is the weak link of the Mexican criminal justice system," said 
John Mill Ackerman, a law professor at the National Autonomous 
University of Mexico and editor in chief of the Mexican Law Review. 
"If the ministerio publico doesn't do its job right -- even if you 
have an honest judge -- you're not going to be able to convict."

An examination of the sealed case file shows that prosecutors relied 
on circumstantial evidence that didn't hold up under judicial 
scrutiny and on three anonymous paid informants whose testimony 
consisted largely of hearsay.

Court files in criminal cases in Mexico, unlike in the United States, 
are not public. The Times obtained the file from participants in the 
case, opening a rare window onto the workings of the Mexican judiciary.

Some suspects were accused of accepting tens of thousands of dollars 
a month from La Familia, the dominant cartel in Michoacan, according 
to the court filings. But there was no sign that investigators found 
or even looked for proof in the accused officials' financial holdings 
or telephone records.

In affidavits, Mexican federal police described stakeouts in which 
they watched alleged drug figures hand suitcases and envelopes to 
people the officers said they believed to be corrupt officials. But 
investigators were not sure of the identities of the recipients, and 
the file contains no evidence that they ever determined what was in 
the bundles. The accused officials denied they were at such meetings.

The disintegration of the case has added to skepticism among Mexicans 
already mistrustful of the justice system. The Calderon government's 
suggestion that judges acted improperly won't do much for public 
confidence either.

"If even a case with so much resonance and so much attention can't 
end in conviction," political analyst Alfonso Zarate asked, "what can 
we expect from the rest of the cases that don't claim as much attention?"

++

La Familia, one of Mexico's newest drug cartels, has grown steadily 
in ruthless power and influence in Michoacan, Calderon's picturesque 
home state.

Unlike other criminal organizations, La Familia has deep roots in 
society, projects a cult-like aura and sees itself as a political 
player. It has penetrated city halls and police departments while 
maintaining tight control over methamphetamine labs and vast marijuana fields.

It had long been an open secret that numerous Michoacan officials 
took money to facilitate La Familia's operations or turn a blind eye. 
The arrests last year stunned many who thought so-called 
narcopoliticos were untouchable.

Ignacio Mendoza, then deputy state prosecutor for Michoacan, was on 
vacation in Las Vegas with his wife and friends when Mexican soldiers 
and federal police swept into the state May 26, 2009, in a surprise 
roundup. When he got word that he was among those wanted, Mendoza 
went home the next day and turned himself in.

He says he assumed he would give a statement and be done. Instead, he 
was bundled off to a row of small cells where he found his boss, 
state prosecutor Miguel Garcia Hurtado, and a who's who of 
Michoacan's political and law enforcement elite.

The indictment accused Mendoza of accepting $20,000 a month to 
provide La Familia with protection and to inform its henchmen about 
pending military operations, information to which Mendoza says he did 
not have access.

In an affidavit, four federal agents said they watched from a 
neighboring table as Mendoza and a police commander met in a 
Sanborn's restaurant in the state capital, Morelia, with an alleged 
La Familia leader known as "El Tio," or "Uncle." At the end of a 
15-minute meeting, the alleged drug boss handed over a black 
suitcase. Its contents were not revealed, and it was not clear from 
the court documents examined by The Times whether any photographs were taken.

Mendoza insists the meeting never happened.

After Mendoza had spent eight months in prison, a judge threw out the 
case, saying the testimony by the prosecution witnesses was vague and 
contradictory and didn't meet legal standards of proof.

"Their case was full of inconsistencies and lies. We are not the 
Sisters of Charity, but what they accused us of was not true," 
Mendoza said in an interview.

He said the case was riddled with errors, including mistaken names of 
suspects, reports of surveillance at locations that didn't exist, and 
an allegation that dirty money financed a political candidate who was 
appointed to office, not elected.

A witness who claimed Mendoza met with cartel leader Jose de Jesus 
"El Chango" Mendez later could not recognize Mendoza's photograph 
when police showed it to him, according to the court file.

In bits and pieces, the broader prosecution unraveled as district 
judges and appeals courts examined the evidence.

Three suspects were freed almost immediately and nine others 
eventually acquitted. In 22 other cases, judges set aside charges or 
granted injunctions halting proceedings.

"Once I got out of prison, I knew we would all get out," Mendoza 
said. "The kernels were falling from the cob."

Mendoza, 39, whose family has strong ties to the opposition 
Democratic Revolution Party, or PRD, said he is convinced he was 
targeted because of his politics. He has not returned to the 
prosecutor's office but is working as a special advisor to leftist 
Michoacan Gov. Leonel Godoy of the PRD.

One of the last to be freed was Mario Bautista, who at the time of 
his arrest was commander of the Michoacan state police. He was one of 
the nine detainees acquitted by a judge.

"I was a police officer for 32 years, and in 10 minutes they 
destroyed my life," said Bautista, who was accused of accepting 
$20,000 a month from La Familia's reputed boss, Nazario Moreno. "We 
had to prove our innocence."

Among those accused was also Genaro Guizar, mayor of the remote city 
of Apatzingan, a stronghold of La Familia. Guizar is a U.S. citizen 
who lived for many years in San Jose, where he made a small fortune 
operating restaurants and liquor stores. He returned to his native 
Michoacan in 2004.

In court filings, prosecutors alleged that Guizar was point man for 
the importation of chemicals used in La Familia's methamphetamine 
labs and for distributing the finished product.

In an interview, Guizar, 63, said the charges were politically 
motivated and presumed he had powers he did not. Guizar, who owns a 
400-acre lime farm in semitropical flatlands around Apatzingan, was 
freed in April after a judge declared him not guilty. He is back at 
work, inaugurating hospitals, meeting voters and even attending a 
meeting with Calderon.

"Calderon just had to try to impress the world, to prove that he was 
catching traffickers," Guizar said. "But we are all out now. So you 
tell me what he achieved."

Some of the former prisoners strain credulity in denying any 
knowledge of or dealings with La Familia. Mendoza claimed he'd never 
heard of Servando "La Tuta" Gomez Martinez, one of Mexico's most 
notorious drug suspects, until he was questioned in jail. Bautista 
said it wasn't his job to investigate the cartel because drug 
trafficking is a federal crime, not a state offense. Guizar said, 
essentially, that one survives by not noticing.

Guizar noted proudly that he moved about without the bodyguards who 
escort most officials: "If you don't get involved, you shouldn't be afraid."

++

The piece of evidence that federal authorities regarded as a smoking 
gun was discovered when police captured Luis Gomez, the son of "La 
Tuta," in January 2009.

In the younger man's Cheyenne truck, police testified, was an Excel 
spreadsheet listing La Familia payoffs to 28 mayors, police 
commanders and other officials. Judges said prosecutors never proved 
a direct link between La Familia and the suspects, rendering the 
spreadsheet meaningless.

Much of the case was based on the testimony of three witnesses 
identified in court records with code names: "Ricardo," "Emilio" and "Paco."

Far from bolstering the prosecution, these paid informants 
contributed to its unraveling. Judges said they found it improbable 
that the informants could know all they claimed to know about so many 
defendants, and that much of their testimony was mere hearsay.

"Ricardo," a former Michoacan police officer who said he had worked 
as a bagman for La Familia, offered a lengthy list of officials to 
whom he allegedly delivered cash. But defense attorneys say 
"Ricardo," once charged with kidnapping, became an oft-used 
government witness in 2005 -- before much of what he testified to happened.

In case after case, evidence was thrown out on the ground that it was 
hearsay or came from unqualified witnesses, such as street vendors 
speaking about payments to top officials.

Calderon's office and the federal attorney general's office did not 
respond to requests for comment for this article.

In public comments in October, Mexican officials accused the 
Michoacan judge, Efrain Cazares, of ignoring evidence and 
overstepping his power. Some officials hinted at judicial misconduct. 
Calderon, a lawyer, called the judge's standards "absurd," saying 
Cazares erred in rejecting testimony from the unnamed witnesses.

The government's heavy reliance on unnamed "cooperating witnesses" 
was a fundamental flaw, analysts said.

"This is where the process broke down," said Pedro Jose Penaloza, a 
criminologist who teaches at the Ibero-American University in Mexico City.

In the same case, charges are pending against a federal congressman, 
Julio Cesar Godoy, half brother of the Michoacan governor. Accused 
before his July 2009 election victory of having ties to La Familia, 
he vanished for 15 months. Then, in September, he slipped past police 
surrounding the Chamber of Deputies to take the oath of office.

As a congressman, Godoy is immune from prosecution.

Federal prosecutors are trying to strip Godoy's immunity. But that 
decision rests with his fellow congressmen -- far from the reach of 
Mexican law enforcement.  
- ---
MAP posted-by: Richard Lake