How a cartel double crossing worthy of Hollywood triggered a brutal street war
Legendary drug lord Ismael "El Mayo" Zambada was expecting it to be a routine, private meeting with state governor Rubén Rocha.
But as he headed to the gaudy conference centre on the dusty outskirts of Culiacán, the capital of Mexico's ultra-violent Sinaloa state , he was in fact walking into a trap worthy of a Hollywood script.
Zambada, 76, had been asked to arbitrate, he says, in a dispute over a local university, involving Mr Rocha and his political rival Héctor Cuén, a former Culiacán mayor and ex-rector of the university.
For the co-founder of the Sinaloa cartel, Mexico's most feared organised crime syndicate, such clandestine dealings with elected powerbrokers were part of his job description – funnelling huge volumes of cocaine, heroin and fentanyl into the United States – as he kept the authorities onside with a combination of lavish bribes and extreme brutality.
But instead of the business meeting he was expecting, Zambada was ambushed, his four bodyguards overpowered by armed and hooded men. He was then bound, blindfolded and driven to a nearby airstrip.
After a three-hour flight in a small plane, he landed in El Paso, Texas, where he was arrested by federal agents. Separately, his friend Cuén was found dead in Culiacán that evening, shot, according to an official account disputed by the abducted cartel kingpin, during a botched attempt to steal his pickup.
The fallout from Zambada's betrayal on July 25 – apparently at the behest of Joaquín Guzmán López, the 38-year-old son of his former business partner and fellow Sinaloa Cartel boss, Joaquín "El Chapo" Guzmán – has been both spectacular and savage.
Not just has it landed Zambada in a federal court in New York, where he faces a laundry list of extremely serious charges.
It has also triggered a bloodbath on the streets of Culiacán as the Sinaloa Cartel descends into a civil war that could reshape the booming Mexican drugs trade.
And it has laid bare the alleged cosy relationship between officials, including allies of outgoing president Andrés Manuel López Obrador, and the immensely profitable drugs trade while sparking a diplomatic row with the United States.
In a letter released by his lawyer, Zambada blamed Guzmán López, whom he has known since the latter was a child, implying that he had used him as a bargaining chip with US law enforcement, apparently to strike a plea deal.
Guzmán López, who has been filling in for his father since "El Chapo" – the name means Shorty – was extradited to the US where he is now serving life plus 30 years, accompanied Zambada on the flight to Texas and handed himself in, along with his prized captive, on arrival.
Ever since, thugs from the two factions of the cartel, the Chapitos and Mayitos, have been massacring each other in Culiacán, bringing life in the city to a blood-spattered halt.
The streets have been littered with burning vehicles, bullet casings, graffitied death messages and mutilated corpses. Last Saturday hit a new record, with a reported 10 homicides in a single day in the city of 800,000.
Schools and businesses have been shuttered for weeks as residents cower at home. Cartel foot soldiers openly parade in pickup trucks with mounted machine guns in the city centre with the police and military often nowhere to be seen.
The official death toll is now 60 but that is likely an underestimate. The cartels typically take their dead with them lest they be used as macabre trophies by their enemies, hung from bridges or strategically placed in public squares.
In one case earlier this month, five partially-naked corpses showing signs of torture were found propped up against a wall, with messages pinned to their chests and sporting new sombreros, with the price tags still attached.
Zambada's arrest has also had huge political fallout. At one point, López Obrador, rather than welcoming the cartel boss's arrest, bitterly blamed Washington for the mayhem now unfolding in Culiacán.
Mexican prosecutors even opened a "treason" investigation over the kidnapping of a Mexican citizen.
Yet the president has also downplayed the violence as a turf war between criminals that barely touches the general population. He has called on the press to avoid "alarmism" in its coverage.
Meanwhile, Rocha, the governor of Sinaloa and an ally of López Obrador, has denied any involvement, saying that he had flown in a private jet to Los Angeles two hours before Zambada's abduction.
He has been backed by López Obrador, who insisted: "We have all the confidence in the governor." Yet Rocha has failed to provide confirmation of his flight or details of what he was doing in California.
Although Zambada's account is that of a notorious career criminal, his public letter provides times, dates and other specifics that Rocha's claims lack.
