Pubdate: Sat, 20 Nov 2010
Source: Wall Street Journal (US)
Page: A1, Front Page
Copyright: 2010 Dow Jones & Company, Inc.
Contact:  http://www.wsj.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/487
Authors: Nicholas Casey and Jose De Cordoba
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/topic/Tamaulipas
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/topic/Mexico
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/people/Felipe+Calderon

NORTHERN MEXICO'S STATE OF ANARCHY

Residents Abandon a Border Town as Vicious Drug Cartels Go to War

Ciudad Mier, a picturesque colonial village on the Texas border, was 
a sleepy tourist attraction until February, when two rival drug 
cartels turned it into a slaughterhouse.

Caravans of armored SUVs crammed with gunmen firing automatic rifles 
prowled the streets. Parents pulled terrified children from schools. 
The town of 6,000 went dark every time the combatants shot out the 
transformers. In May, a man was hung alive from a tree in the central 
plaza and dismembered while town folk heard the screaming from behind 
shuttered doors.

Then last week, after a new offensive by the Zetas, one of the two 
groups that have turned the town into a no-man's land, hundreds of 
residents packed what they could into their cars and fled, leaving 
eerily empty streets with burned out shells of cars and bullet-pocked walls.

"It's like we're in the Wild West," says Santos Moreno Perez, a 
Pentecostal minister who is among the refugees here in neighboring 
Miguel Aleman. "We have no mayor, no police, no transit system. We 
have been left to fend for ourselves."

Two years ago, the U.S. military warned that the Mexican government 
was "weak and failing" and could lose control of the country to drug 
traffickers. Mexican officials quickly rejected the assertion, and in 
truth the most dire predictions now seem overblown. Mexico's economy 
is rebounding from the aftershocks of the U.S. recession, with gross 
domestic product growth expected to top 4% this year. Foreign 
companies not only haven't fled, they continue to make some 
investments along the country's northern manufacturing belt where 
much of the drug war is playing out. Mexico City and large parts of 
south so far have escaped the mayhem, and the country as a whole 
remains stable.

Still, some parts of Mexico are caught in the grip of violence so 
profound that government seems almost beside the point. This is 
especially true in northern places like Ciudad Mier and surrounding 
Tamaulipas state-a narrow, cleaver-shaped province that snakes along 
the Texas border and hugs Mexico's Gulf Coast.

Across Tamaulipas, gunmen run their own checkpoints on highways. The 
cartels have forced Mexico's national oil company to abandon several 
gas fields. Many farmers have given up on tons of soybeans and 
sorghum in fields controlled by criminals. Leading families, fleeing 
extortion and threats of kidnapping, have escaped to Texas-as have 
the mayors of the state's three largest cities.

Most of the brutality that takes place along this vast arid landscape 
goes unrecorded. Newspapers as well as television broadcasters have 
been silenced. Rumors have taken the place of news and circulate on 
social networks like Twitter, which people check regularly to make 
sure that no shootouts are taking place on the routes they take to 
work or school.

"Public space has been taken over by criminals, and Tamaulipas 
society is at their mercy," says Carlos Flores, a visiting professor 
at the University of Connecticut who studies the state's crime groups.

As goes Tamaulipas also go a small but growing number of Mexico's 31 
states, including Chihuahua and Michoacan-places where rival 
organized crime groups either exert political and territorial control 
or are in the midst of bloody battles to impose their hegemony. In 
these states, despite four years of intense effort, the Mexican 
government and its institutions hold little sway.

The failure of Tamaulipas carries consequences for the U.S. The state 
shares roughly 230 miles of border with Texas and handles nearly 50% 
of the merchandise moving between the U.S. and Mexico. Only a river 
separates it from the U.S. cities of Laredo, McAllen and Brownsville.

Last month, an American riding a jet ski on Falcon Reservoir, a 
border lake not far from Ciudad Mier, was shot dead by suspected 
cartel gunmen, his body never recovered. Days later, the severed head 
of the lead Mexican investigator on the case was dumped in a suitcase 
in front of a Mexican army barracks.

In the state capital of Ciudad Victoria, the man poised to win the 
state governor's election was ambushed and shot dead in broad 
daylight this summer, along with his four bodyguards. Two months 
later, Mexican marines arrived at a secluded ranch and found a 
grotesque sight-the bodies of 72 would-be immigrants to the U.S who 
had been lined up and executed. Authorities blamed the Zetas. The 
investigator in the case was murdered two days later.

Despite such gruesome milestones, Alejandro Poire, President Felipe 
Calderon's spokesman on security matters, disputes the notion that 
Tamaulipas is falling into anarchy. "Tamaulipas is not a failed 
state," he says. "Organized crime is being fought with strength and 
determination." He says that Tamaulipas continues to provide public 
services, collect taxes and organize elections. He notes that 
violence is concentrated in eight out of the state's 43 
municipalities, and that authorities have scored a number of 
successes against drug lords.

Outgoing governor Eugenio Hernandez also said the state's troubles 
have been exaggerated. "We are far from being a failed state," Mr. 
Hernandez said in an interview in the capital city of Ciudad 
Victoria. "We are working. We have order. There are some eye-catching 
events, but most people have no problems."

Days after the interview, the governor struck a less optimistic note, 
telling journalists that "municipal and state forces, on their own, 
can't do very much [against organized crime], which is why it's 
urgent that the federal government send reinforcements to the border region."

The troubles in Tamaulipas stems from a turf war which broke out 
early this year between the Gulf Cartel and the Zetas, two former 
allies in drugs and organized crime, now fighting for control of the 
state. More than 90% of Tamaulipas is in the hands of the crime 
groups, says a newsman there.

The fighting has caused more than 1,300 deaths so far this year in 
the state, or one in six drug-war killings nationwide, mostly members 
of rival gangs, according to the federal government. Since President 
Calderon took office in December 2006 and declared war on 
traffickers, about 31,000 people have died.

For Mexico's armed forces, Tamaulipas and next-door Nuevo Leon, where 
the fight between the Zetas and the Gulf Cartel has spilled over, are 
Mexico's most dangerous states. So far this year, the army has been 
attacked 128 times across Mexico; 91 of those attacks have taken 
place in Tamaulipas and in Nuevo Leon, up from only three the previous year.

On a recent day, unknown assailants threw a grenade at an army base 
in the border city of Matamoros, just across from Brownsville, while 
cartel gunmen fought in broad daylight in Reynosa, the state's biggest city.

The armed forces have scored some successes. Earlier this month, 
about 660 Mexican Navy special forces fought a 10-hour battle in the 
streets of Matamoros with some 300 gunmen from the Gulf Cartel. 
Fearing stray bullets, the University of Texas at Brownsville on the 
other side of the Rio Grande suspended classes. The battle ended with 
the death of one of the cartel's top leaders, Ezequiel Cardenas 
Guillen, known as Tony Tormenta.

Ciudad Mier, Tamaulipas's abandoned town, could offer a glimpse of 
where Mexico may head if the conflict remains unchecked. In 2007, the 
government declared it a "Pueblo Magico," or Magic Village, a special 
designation to attract tourists to the cobblestone streets and artisan markets.

"This was a town where we had outdoor dances, art fairs," recalls a 
20-year-old school teacher who fled Ciudad Mier and declined to give 
his name. People gathered freely for family baptisms or quincenera 
celebrations, when girls turn 15. "You walked around at night in 
Ciudad Mier," he says.

But trouble was brewing here and in the rest of the state. Since the 
1980s, Tamaulipas had been home to the Gulf Cartel, which began as an 
outfit that smuggled electric appliances into Mexico's closed economy 
and turned into one of the country's largest drug-trafficking groups 
as trade opened to the U.S. The Gulf Cartel's leader, Osiel Cardenas 
Guillen, the younger brother of Ezequiel, planted the seeds for the 
present bloodletting when he persuaded 31 highly trained Mexican army 
special forces soldiers, called the Zetas, to defect and work as 
enforcers for the cartel in the early 1990s, analysts and government 
officials say.

Mr. Cardenas Guillen was arrested in 2003 and extradited to the U.S. 
in 2007. He was sentenced to 25 years in prison this February in a 
Texas court, although court transcripts say he is cooperating with 
authorities, which could lead to a sentence reduction. Mr. Cardenas 
Guillen's lawyer, Chip B. Lewis of Houston, declined to comment on 
his client's purported cooperation.

As Mr. Cardenas Guillen's case was coming to a close, his former 
allies the Zetas broke from the Gulf Cartel. Now believed to number 
in the low thousands, they declared a war to grab control of illegal 
markets, which spread throughout the state.

Though peaceful, Ciudad Mier, a short drive from Roma, Texas, was 
ripe for conflict. The town and surrounding area had long been a Zeta 
stronghold. This year, analysts say, the Gulf Cartel tried to oust the Zetas.

On Feb. 23, the city was plunged into chaos after several dozen SUVs 
arrived at the municipal police station, sacked the facility and took 
officers hostage. No one has seen them since. Not long afterward, 
residents found a group of decapitated heads from unknown victims on 
the outskirts of town.

Ciudad Mier began to collapse. After an attack on the water-treatment 
facility this year, the town had no drinkable water as workers were 
too frightened to begin repairs, residents say. For a week this fall, 
parts of the city had no water at all. Electrical outages became 
frequent after attacks on transformers. Finding gas became impossible 
when the city's one gas station was shot up. Residents say they 
headed to neighboring Miguel Aleman to fill up their cars.

While schools remained in session, parents often refused to send 
their children, deeming it unsafe. "Every child I taught was 
thinking: 'I'm next to be killed,'" says a town teacher, who recalled 
that a theater class he taught suddenly sank from 20 students to just four.

Medical services were scant. "The pharmacies were closing down or 
weren't open," recalls an 87-year-old man who fled the town last 
week. Manuel Alejandro Pena, a general practitioner who heads a 
branch of the state's health office in the village, recalled that he 
was unable to get penicillin for two months this summer when drivers 
couldn't safely make the journey from the city of Nuevo Laredo, 
fearing they'd be attacked on the highway.

"We watched our medicine reserves begin to vanish," Dr. Pena recalled.

By last week, the city was ravaged again. Emboldened by the death of 
Mr. Cardenas Guillen, the Gulf Cartel leader known as Tony Tormenta, 
Zetas staged a counterattack, townspeople say. Signs leading into the 
town were pocked with hundreds of bullet holes, along with nearly 
every major building in town.

Except for a few holdouts, nearly all the former residents have fled. 
Some moved in with family members elsewhere in Mexico or the U.S. 
About 300 refugees now bunk on cots at a local Lion's Club in nearby 
Miguel Aleman, a larger city down the road which is thought to be 
less violent. On a recent day, an older deaf woman sat in a 
wheelchair by herself as a dozen children watched morning cartoons.

Yet even this place offers limited sanctuary. During a visit by a 
reporter, automatic-rifle shots broke out as drug gunmen and army 
troops confronted each other a short distance from the shelter. The 
refugees screamed and took cover on the floor.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen to us," a mother said to her crying son.

A short time later, the mayor's sister arrived. "Everything is all 
right," she told the anxious crowd. "They wouldn't have sent me if I 
were going to get killed here."

Outside experts and residents say the state is unable to defend 
itself now partly because it failed to confront the cartels earlier. 
Indeed, they say the Tamaulipas government kept close ties to the 
Gulf Cartel, an arrangement that worked well until the Zetas 
violently took on both the cartel and the state.

"The Gulf Cartel managed to co-exist with the state government for 
decades," says George W. Grayson, a Mexico expert at the College of 
William & Mary. "But the presence of the Zetas has thrown an electric 
eel in a barrel of fish."

The governor says there has never been collusion between the 
Tamaulipas government and drug traffickers. But like many other 
Tamaulipas residents, he seems nostalgic for past days when drug 
dealers in Mexico stuck to ferrying drugs to the U.S. and didn't 
kidnap, extort and kill fellow Mexicans.

"There was no agreement, but they [the Gulf Cartel] stuck to their 
business," he says. "They behaved differently. They didn't interfere 
with normal citizens. There were no extortions or kidnappings."

Some local residents blame the federal government for provoking the 
drug traffickers. "This is a war that was declared by the federal 
government," says Oscar Luebbert, the outgoing mayor of Reynosa, the 
state's biggest city and busiest border crossing. Mr. Luebbert 
objected to military deployments by President Calderon, who belongs 
to the rival National Action Party. "I don't want to live in a country in war."

While Ciudad Mier remains the only city to have emptied out so far, 
the rule of law is breaking down elsewhere. In Reynosa, a taco stand 
a short walk from the main plaza offers a typical encounter with 
criminals who have no fear of authorities. Days ago, the owners say, 
a group of men descended from sport-utility vehicles, AK-47 machine 
guns slung to their belts. "They came for lunch. They didn't pay," 
says an employee at the stand.

To fend off the Zetas, the Gulf Cartel is tightening its grip on the 
city's institutions-particularly news outlets. Reporters interviewed 
said that many colleagues receive checks from the cartel for 
favorable coverage. One referred to a "spokesman" for a drug cartel 
who went to crime scenes after shootouts to dictate angles for news.

The Gulf Cartel even appears to be getting involved in 
quasi-legitimate activities, such as the sale of alcohol. In a 
cantina off one of the city's main thoroughfares, a restaurant 
employee showed a reporter a whiskey bottle with a three-letter stamp 
that he said is the mark of the Gulf Cartel, which has been selling 
imports. "There's no choice but to buy from them now," he said. The 
Zetas, meanwhile, have their own merchandise brands such as bootleg 
CDs in areas they control.

In Tampico, a port city that bears a passing resemblance to a faded 
New Orleans, the most important society dance was cancelled this year 
for the first time in 70 years, says a cattle rancher. Kidnappings 
have surged. Among the victims: two of the city's former mayors. 
"Most owners of businesses have left and run their companies by 
telephone from Texas," says a local resident.

The outgoing mayor, Oscar Perez, is rarely seen in town. Residents 
believe he lives in Garland, Texas. The incoming mayor, former 
schoolteacher Magdalena Peraza, says she plans to mobilize the 
citizenry, awaken civic pride and create jobs when she takes office 
in December.

Ms. Peraza's sister urged her not to take the high profile job. Ms. 
Peraza replied that God would protect her, but her sister urged her 
again to reconsider, saying that God was very busy.

"I'm worried," says the mayor elect. "But I have faith." 
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MAP posted-by: Richard Lake