Source: Houston Chronicle Contact: Sun, 10 Aug 1997 Lawyers in drug cases are risking death in Mexico By ANDREW DOWNIE Copyright 1997 Special to the Chronicle MAZATLAN, Mexico She cannot remember much, but she does recall the shots. "One, two, three, four ... " Clara Lizarraga de Osuna said, calmly counting the rounds that killed her husband, a former prosecutor in Sinaloa state. "There were eight. I don't remember much else." She can recollect that the killers were young, but she cannot picture their faces. She can remember the two men looked ordinary, but she cannot recall what they were wearing. She can describe them standing over her husband's bulletridden body, but she cannot imagine why anyone would want to kill him. The truth is that more and more people want to kill lawyers like Raul Osuna, who was gunned down as he and his wife took their morning walk along the Pacific Ocean. Attorneys have been slain at an astonishing rate in Mexico during the past few years, and if the last few weeks are a guide, the trend is accelerating. In the past six weeks, three lawyers in Sinaloa, including Osuna, have been killed or have disappeared. Most of the slayings are drugrelated, and many of them were ordered by clients unhappy that the lawyers failed to free them from jail or deliver on other promises, experts said. "Being a lawyer here is a highly dangerous (profession) due to the drug trafficking," said Ramiro Flores, president of the Mazatlan College of Lawyers. "There are no threats. There are executions." Across Mexico, "the legal profession is on the verge of becoming extinct," said Fernando Cervantes, the secretarygeneral of the Mexican Federation of Lawyers Organization. The body of one Sinaloa lawyer, Amando Moreno Camacho, was found floating in a pool of sewage last week. His hands were tied behind his back and he had been shot, according to local news reports. Moreno and a colleague, Jose Antonio Guerrero, were kidnapped at the state capital of Culiacan in June. Guerrero has not been seen since and is presumed dead. It is a similar story in other parts of the country. Two lawyers were kidnapped last month in the northern city of Torreon, while just last week two law students were gunned down in Guadalajara, apparently because of their role in a wideranging narcotics scandal. While nationwide figures are hard to come by no one organization in Mexico monitors attacks on lawyers the statistics in Sinaloa tell a grim story. At least 40 attorneys have been killed in the state in the last 10 years, according to independent lawyers associations and the state's human rights commission. In this small tourist resort in the southern part of the state, seven lawyers have been slain in the last three years. Although police have not formally said so, it seems Osuna was also targeted for drugrelated reasons. One former colleague said the 49yearold attorney had taken drug cases since leaving the state prosecutor's office in 1986. People close to law enforcement said other crimes committed in the city lead them to believe that Osuna ran afoul of a drug gang leader while he served as an assistant attorney general. The attacks on lawyers occurred as members of Mexico's legal profession come under increasing scrutiny over their performance, particularly in cases connected with the drug world. At least one of the two lawyers kidnapped in Culiacan was believed to have dealt with drug cases, while the two taken in Torreon were both from Ciudad Juarez, the home of the drug smuggling gang led by the late Amado Carrillo Fuentes. Of the seven gunned down in Mazatlan, all but one were trial lawyers who specialized in criminal law, said Cervantes of the national lawyers organization. The judges and lawyers under attack in Sinaloa were invariably targeted because of their involvement in drugrelated cases, experts said. The state is where almost all of Mexico's most ruthless drug lords grew up and learned their trade. A former policeman in the pay of one drug gang leader has been imprisoned for killing a young Culiacan human rights attorney who gained fame in the early 1990s with her criticism of corrupt police who were linked to drug gangs. The young lawyer, Norma Corona, received a box of black roses and scrawled letters describing the homicide, apparently sent by men working for Hector Luis Palma, one of the state's leading drug gangsters. A state judicial police officer working as an enforcer for Palma is now in prison for the 1991 murder of Corona. Palma, the former head of the Sinaloa drug cartel, has been at the center of many of the judicial controversies in recent months. The controversies have further sullied Mexico's legal profession, specifically the nation's federal judges, many of whom have been accused of improperly helping Palma beat charges ranging from murder to drug trafficking. The Sinaloa native was jailed in 1995 after his private jet crashed and soldiers traced his battered body to the home of a senior judicial official who was shielding him and his contingent of bodyguards while he recuperated. But even from jail, the heavyset man known as El Guero, or Blondie, because of his light skin and fair hair, has managed to exert a staggering influence over the judicial process. In July 1995, a Jalisco state judge dismissed charges that Palma was involved in the murder of six people at a Puerto Vallarta disco, citing a lack of evidence. Later that year, another Jalisco judge cleared Palma of involvement in the 1993 Guadalajara airport shootout in which the city's Roman Catholic cardinal and six others were killed. Palma has also been cleared of a number of drug trafficking charges and of involvement in the murder of nine friends and lawyers of a rival drug leader in Guerrero state in 1992. In one controversial case earlier this year, a judge in Guadalajara cleared Palma of criminal association charges on the grounds that the prosecution did not prove his bodyguards were paid for protecting their boss. The same judge cleared Palma of drug charges because, he said, prosecutors did not prove that the cocaine and marijuana found near him at the time of his arrest belonged to him. Three more charges of murder, drug trafficking and criminal association against Palma are still pending, a spokeswoman for the Federal Attorney General's Office said. The spokeswoman said she did not know where Palma faced the charges or when the trials would take place. Federal officials have been unable to prove Palma, or any other major drug trafficker, threatened or bought off judges, but rulings like those in his favor have become common enough for critics to accuse the judicial system of widespread corruption. The Attorney General's Office is investigating six judges suspected of improper rulings, one senior judicial official recently said, although none for supposed links to drug traffickers. "The procuration of justice in Mexico today is going through a critical stage," Federal Attorney General Jorge Madrazo acknowledged recently. "The dearth of credibility, the lack of depth in investigations, corruption and the lack of human, technical and economic resources are just some of the most significant problems facing our judicial and law enforcement institutions." U.S. officials said last year that the crisis in Mexico's judiciary was so bad that the Mexican government was considering the use of "faceless" judges in drug cases, an idea used with some success in Colombia where judges were frequently targeted by narcoterrorists. But the proposal to include the measure in an organized crime bill passed earlier this year was shelved, the senior judicial official said. Threats against judges were not so serious as to warrant such a move, he added. Nobody from the Federal Attorney General's Office, the office charged with implementing the bill, would agree to be interviewed on the subject. That attitude of indifference angers lawyers and judges in Mazatlan, where authorities have solved only one of the decade's more than 40 killings of attorneys. Few lawyers in the resort hold out hope that anything will change, and black humor has become the norm in legal circles. "Shakespeare said we have to first kill all the lawyers," said Flores, the head of the Mazatlan legal association. "But that was for a different reason." Andrew Downie is a freelance journalist based in Mexico City.