Latest news with #MexicanAuschwitz
Miami Herald
6 days ago
- Politics
- Miami Herald
So what really happened at the cartel training site dubbed ‘Mexican Auschwitz'?
MEXICO CITY - It has become a kind of rallying cry: Teuchitlán, the township in the western state of Jalisco where searchers made a macabre discovery - a ranch of horrors featuring makeshift crematoria and hundreds of abandoned shoes, backpacks, T-shirts and other personal effects. News reports proclaimed it the 'Mexican Auschwitz,' an apparent cartel killing ground. Now 'Teuchitlán' blares from protest banners, headlines and street graffiti, shorthand for a pervasive sense of deception and unease. Police have arrested an alleged cartel recruiter named as the ringleader of the site and also jailed the mayor of Teuchitlán. Even so, activists for the missing accuse the government of President Claudia Sheinbaum - who vowed to uncover 'the truth' - of a cover-up. 'We all feel betrayed,' said Raúl Servín, one of the first searchers at the scene. Authorities now insist the ranch was never a place of extermination or the large-scale disposal of bodies, but rather served as a cartel training grounds - apparently one of many such clandestine sites scattered across Mexico, providing recruits for an industry that is among the nation's most prolific employers. But much is still unexplained: What about the charred bones found on the ranch grounds? And what are the fates of the hundreds of cartel trainees who apparently passed through the facility? Are they still alive? And how did state and federal authorities fail to follow up on a raid on the site last year, leaving the ranch little known until civilian searchers happened upon it? In a country where the ranks of the 'disappeared' have soared past 120,000 - most believed to be victims of organized crime - the mystery has raised deep suspicions and sparked conspiracy theories, sentiments all captured in one word: Teuchitlán. :::: Jalisco is emblematic of a kind of essential mexicanidad, home to cultural markers such as tequila, mariachi and ranchera music, along with signature gastronomic dishes. The state capital, Guadalajara, is Mexico's second city, and Puerto Vallarta is among the nation's landmark coastal resorts. But the state is also the stomping grounds of one of Mexico's most notorious organized crime syndicates, the Jalisco New Generation cartel, which runs narcotics trafficking, migrant-smuggling, extortion and other rackets - even a sophisticated, time-share fraud that targeted foreign investors looking for beach properties. In March, a series of tips and rumors led activists to the isolated site known as Rancho Izaguirre, on the outskirts of Teuchitlán, an agricultural town of some 10,000 residents less than 35 miles outside Guadalajara. Such search groups, or collectives - typically founded by mothers and other relatives of the disappeared - have proliferated throughout Mexico as people despair of official inaction. The searchers have become key actors in civil society, seeking out clandestine graves and putting pressure on the government to find the missing. Mexican organized crime and confederates in local governments and police forces aren't happy about bothersome civilians shedding light on their activities. More than two dozen searchers have been slain in recent years, according to Mexican human rights groups. Activists from a group known as the Warrior Searchers of Jalisco were out seeking remains when they arrived at Rancho Izaguirre. They found what they described as crude crematoria and charred bones - the basis for the 'Mexican Auschwitz' narrative that went viral once the searchers posted photos of their grisly finds, including what appeared to be crude cremation pits. But what really struck a collective chord were the images of abandoned shoes, backpacks, T-shirts, jeans and other personal effects. There were L.A. Dodgers caps, basketball jerseys featuring logos of the Chicago Bulls and other teams, a Stars-and-Stripes blanket and various items emblazoned with Disney characters. The Jalisco prosecutor's office, which was accused of botching an investigation into the ranch last year after state and federal authorities raided the site and shut it down, took the extraordinary step of photographing the discarded possessions and posting the individual images on its website. As of Friday, prosecutors had uploaded photos of 1,844 items. What stood out most, however, were the scores of shoes, which came to symbolize the fate of Mexico's vanished multitudes. People from throughout Mexico scoured - and continue to scour - the prosecutor's site in desperate efforts to find any clues. Individuals inundated social media with comments saying they recognized a missing loved one's sneakers, T-shirt, backpack or some other item - even as officials counseled against high expectations, noting that many of the items were commonplace. 'With all the pain in my heart, I hope that my son was there and we can rest after this torment of five years,' a woman told Imagen Televisión, explaining that relatives recognized pants, a shirt and a backpack that resembled those belonging to her son, a pharmacy worker who disappeared five years earlier. 'I'm not looking for whoever was guilty. ... I just want to find out if my son was really there.' Some even made pilgrimages to the isolated ranch, hovering outside yellow and red police tape cordoning off the site. 'I feel that my son was here,' María Luz Ruiz said. Her son, a tequila industry worker, was kidnapped 12 years ago and never heard from again. Another visitor, Paula Avila, said she experienced 'a sense of foreboding' when visiting. 'I felt a pain in my chest,' said Avila, whose son, an Uber driver, disappeared three years ago. :::: Among the most provocative elements of the Teuchitlán narrative are the conflicting reports about human remains. After word of the ranch hit the news in March, Jalisco state prosecutors said investigators had discovered six groups of charred human bones, some hidden beneath earth and bricks. But federal authorities were quick to deny the most sensational report: that the ranch had been the site of mass executions and the cremation of remains. Recruits may have been killed or tortured there, especially those who attempted to escape, Omar García Harfuch, Mexico's security chief, told reporters. But there was no evidence or mass murder or large-scale disposal of remains, he said. 'It's a totally distinct thing to say it's a place where some kind of homicide or torture took place - and to say it's an extermination camp,' García Harfuch said. 'An extermination camp is a place where hundreds or thousands of people are killed in a systematic manner.' There was 'not a shred of proof' that corpses were burned at the site, Mexico's attorney general, Alejandro Gertz Manero, told reporters. Contradicting Gertz Manero was the Warrior Searchers of Jalisco group, which said it had found 'irrefutable evidence' of human remains, including skull, femur, hip and dental fragments. 'We found those crematoria, we found those bones,' Servín said. 'One feels a great sense of impotence.' :::: The site, authorities said, had operated as a training and operations hub for the Jalisco cartel, possibly since 2021, until it was shut down last year when state authorities and federal National Guard troops raided the ranch. Many recruits had apparently been tricked into coming to the site, authorities said, fooled by social media advertisements offering well-paying work in the security field. Others, though, may have enlisted willingly and completed their one-month training- including physical drills and instruction in firearms - and went on to become cartel operatives. The ranch discoveries prompted authorities to shut down dozens of online cartel recruitment sites, García Harfuch said. And the mounds of clothing, shoes and other effects? García Harfuch responded that, once at the ranch, recruits were issued uniforms and tactical boots and forced to relinquish their garb and cellphones. They remained incommunicado. Authorities say the investigation continues. This month federal troops arrested José Asunción Murguía, the mayor of Teuchitlán, and accused him of being on the payroll of the Jalisco cartel and being involved in the Rancho Izaguirre operation. The mayor was seen at the ranch on various occasions and was an accomplice of several cartel lieutenants, authorities allege. The lieutenants include José Gregorio Hermida, alias 'Comandante Lastra,' whom authorities have called a regional recruiter for the Jalisco cartel and a boss of the ranch operation. According to Mexican authorities, Hermida is also the 'mastermind' behind the July disappearance of a pair of 18-year-old cousins - students at the University of Guadalajara - who were victims of a recruitment scheme. Prosecutors say Comandante Lastra - who was arrested March 20 outside Mexico City - reported to Gonzalo Mendoza Gaytán, known as 'The Toad,' a high-level cartel capo. :::: The uploaded images from the ranch certainly raised the hopes of many people desperate to learn what happened to their missing loved ones. But the identification process has dragged on, dashing expectations. For Gerardo Díaz, a farmer in Jalisco, the entire drama of Teuchitlán has evoked a soul-crushing whirlwind of emotions. The published images of clothing presented a promising possibility: That the family could finally clarify the fate of his brother, José Díaz, who disappeared in 2021 in the city of Tonalá, outside Guadalajara. A white-and-gray Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt on the prosecutor's website appeared to match one that his brother, then 23, was wearing when he vanished. The family went to the prosecutor's office, Díaz said, and offered to give DNA samples to match against any DNA found on the T-shirt. They were told to be patient; this was going to be 'a long process.' More than two months later, the family has heard nothing. 'For me, this whole process has been a joke,' Díaz said. 'They are laughing at people's pain. They have no empathy for families like ours living with so much anguish. It's a true hell. We are tired of authorities who don't do anything - while the agony of the disappearance of my brother continues to consume our lives.' ____ McDonnell is a Times staff writer and Sánchez Vidal a special correspondent. Special correspondent Liliana Nieto del Río contributed to this report. Copyright (C) 2025, Tribune Content Agency, LLC. Portions copyrighted by the respective providers.
Yahoo
27-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
So what really happened at the cartel training site dubbed 'Mexican Auschwitz'?
It has become a kind of rallying cry: Teuchitlán, the township in the western state of Jalisco where searchers made a macabre discovery — a ranch of horrors featuring makeshift crematoria and hundreds of abandoned shoes, backpacks, T-shirts and other personal effects. News reports proclaimed it the 'Mexican Auschwitz,' an apparent cartel killing ground. Now "Teuchitlán" blares from protest banners, headlines and street graffiti, shorthand for a pervasive sense of deception and unease. Police have arrested an alleged cartel recruiter named as the ringleader of the site and also jailed the mayor of Teuchitlán. Even so, activists for the missing accuse the government of President Claudia Sheinbaum — who vowed to uncover "the truth" — of a cover-up. 'We all feel betrayed,' said Raúl Servín, one of the first searchers at the scene. Authorities now insist the ranch was never a place of extermination or the large-scale disposal of bodies, but rather served as a cartel training grounds — apparently one of many such clandestine sites scattered across Mexico, providing recruits for an industry that is among the nation's most prolific employers. But much is still unexplained: What about the charred bones found on the ranch grounds? And what are the fates of the hundreds of cartel trainees who apparently passed through the facility? Are they still alive? And how did state and federal authorities fail to follow up on a raid on the site last year, leaving the ranch little known until civilian searchers happened upon it? In a country where the ranks of the "disappeared" have soared past 120,000 — most believed to be victims of organized crime — the mystery has raised deep suspicions and sparked conspiracy theories, sentiments all captured in one word: Teuchitlán. Jalisco is emblematic of a kind of essential mexicanidad, home to cultural markers such as tequila, mariachi and ranchera music, along with signature gastronomic dishes. The state capital, Guadalajara, is Mexico's second city, and Puerto Vallarta is among the nation's landmark coastal resorts. But the state is also the stomping grounds of one of Mexico's most notorious organized crime syndicates, the Jalisco New Generation cartel, which runs narcotics trafficking, migrant-smuggling, extortion and other rackets — even a sophisticated, time-share fraud that targeted foreign investors looking for beach properties. In March, a series of tips and rumors led activists to the isolated site known as Rancho Izaguirre, on the outskirts of Teuchitlán, an agricultural town of some 10,000 residents less than 35 miles outside Guadalajara. Such search groups, or collectives — typically founded by mothers and other relatives of the disappeared — have proliferated throughout Mexico as people despair of official inaction. The searchers have become key actors in civil society, seeking out clandestine graves and putting pressure on the government to find the missing. Mexican organized crime and confederates in local governments and police forces aren't happy about bothersome civilians shedding light on their activities. More than two dozen searchers have been slain in recent years, according to Mexican human rights groups. Activists from a group known as the Warrior Searchers of Jalisco were out seeking remains when they arrived at Rancho Izaguirre. They found what they described as crude crematoria and charred bones — the basis for the "Mexican Auschwitz" narrative that went viral once the searchers posted photos of their grisly finds, including what appeared to be crude cremation pits. But what really struck a collective chord were the images of abandoned shoes, backpacks, T-shirts, jeans and other personal effects. There were L.A. Dodgers caps, basketball jerseys featuring logos of the Chicago Bulls and other teams, a Stars-and-Stripes blanket and various items emblazoned with Disney characters. The Jalisco prosecutor's office, which was accused of botching an investigation into the ranch last year after state and federal authorities raided the site and shut it down, took the extraordinary step of photographing the discarded possessions and posting the individual images on its website. As of Friday, prosecutors had uploaded photos of 1,844 items. What stood out most, however, were the scores of shoes, which came to symbolize the fate of Mexico's vanished multitudes. People from throughout Mexico scoured — and continue to scour — the prosecutor's site in desperate efforts to find any clues. Individuals inundated social media with comments saying they recognized a missing loved one's sneakers, T-shirt, backpack or some other item — even as officials counseled against high expectations, noting that many of the items were commonplace. "With all the pain in my heart, I hope that my son was there and we can rest after this torment of five years," a woman told Imagen Televisión, explaining that relatives recognized pants, a shirt and a backpack that resembled those belonging to her son, a pharmacy worker who disappeared five years earlier. "I'm not looking for whoever was guilty. ... I just want to find out if my son was really there." Some even made pilgrimages to the isolated ranch, hovering outside yellow and red police tape cordoning off the site. "I feel that my son was here," María Luz Ruiz said. Her son, a tequila industry worker, was kidnapped 12 years ago and never heard from again. Another visitor, Paula Avila, said she experienced "a sense of foreboding" when visiting. "I felt a pain in my chest," said Avila, whose son, an Uber driver, disappeared three years ago. Among the most provocative elements of the Teuchitlán narrative are the conflicting reports about human remains. After word of the ranch hit the news in March, Jalisco state prosecutors said investigators had discovered six groups of charred human bones, some hidden beneath earth and bricks. But federal authorities were quick to deny the most sensational report: that the ranch had been the site of mass executions and the cremation of remains. Recruits may have been killed or tortured there, especially those who attempted to escape, Omar García Harfuch, Mexico's security chief, told reporters. But there was no evidence or mass murder or large-scale disposal of remains, he said. "It's a totally distinct thing to say it's a place where some kind of homicide or torture took place — and to say it's an extermination camp," García Harfuch said. "An extermination camp is a place where hundreds or thousands of people are killed in a systematic manner." There was "not a shred of proof" that corpses were burned at the site, Mexico's attorney general, Alejandro Gertz Manero, told reporters. Contradicting Gertz Manero was the Warrior Searchers of Jalisco group, which said it had found "irrefutable evidence" of human remains, including skull, femur, hip and dental fragments. "We found those crematoria, we found those bones," Servín said. "One feels a great sense of impotence." The site, authorities said, had operated as a training and operations hub for the Jalisco cartel, possibly since 2021, until it was shut down last year when state authorities and federal National Guard troops raided the ranch. Many recruits had apparently been tricked into coming to the site, authorities said, fooled by social media advertisements offering well-paying work in the security field. Others, though, may have enlisted willingly and completed their one-month training — including physical drills and instruction in firearms — and went on to become cartel operatives. The ranch discoveries prompted authorities to shut down dozens of online cartel recruitment sites, García Harfuch said. And the mounds of clothing, shoes and other effects? García Harfuch responded that, once at the ranch, recruits were issued uniforms and tactical boots and forced to relinquish their garb and cellphones. They remained incommunicado. Authorities say the investigation continues. This month federal troops arrested José Asunción Murguía, the mayor of Teuchitlán, and accused him of being on the payroll of the Jalisco cartel and being involved in the Rancho Izaguirre operation. The mayor was seen at the ranch on various occasions and was an accomplice of several cartel lieutenants, authorities allege. The lieutenants include José Gregorio Hermida, alias "Comandante Lastra," whom authorities have called a regional recruiter for the Jalisco cartel and a boss of the ranch operation. According to Mexican authorities, Hermida is also the "mastermind" behind the July disappearance of a pair of 18-year-old cousins — students at the University of Guadalajara — who were victims of a recruitment scheme. Prosecutors say Comandante Lastra — who was arrested March 20 outside Mexico City — reported to Gonzalo Mendoza Gaytán, known as "The Toad," a high-level cartel capo. The uploaded images from the ranch certainly raised the hopes of many people desperate to learn what happened to their missing loved ones. But the identification process has dragged on, dashing expectations. For Gerardo Díaz, a farmer in Jalisco, the entire drama of Teuchitlán has evoked a soul-crushing whirlwind of emotions. The published images of clothing presented a promising possibility: That the family could finally clarify the fate of his brother, José Díaz, who disappeared in 2021 in the city of Tonalá, outside Guadalajara. A white-and-gray Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt on the prosecutor's website appeared to match one that his brother, then 23, was wearing when he vanished. The family went to the prosecutor's office, Díaz said, and offered to give DNA samples to match against any DNA found on the T-shirt. They were told to be patient; this was going to be "a long process." More than two months later, the family has heard nothing. "For me, this whole process has been a joke," Díaz said. "They are laughing at people's pain. They have no empathy for families like ours living with so much anguish. It's a true hell. We are tired of authorities who don't do anything — while the agony of the disappearance of my brother continues to consume our lives." McDonnell is a Times staff writer and Sánchez Vidal a special correspondent. Special correspondent Liliana Nieto del Río contributed to this report. Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
27-05-2025
- Los Angeles Times
So what really happened at the cartel training site dubbed ‘Mexican Auschwitz'?
MEXICO CITY — It has become a kind of rallying cry: Teuchitlán, the township in the western state of Jalisco where searchers made a macabre discovery — a ranch of horrors featuring makeshift crematoria and hundreds of abandoned shoes, backpacks, T-shirts and other personal effects. News reports proclaimed it the 'Mexican Auschwitz,' an apparent cartel killing ground. Now 'Teuchitlán' blares from protest banners, headlines and street graffiti, shorthand for a pervasive sense of deception and unease. Police have arrested an alleged cartel recruiter named as the ringleader of the site and also jailed the mayor of Teuchitlán. Even so, activists for the missing accuse the government of President Claudia Sheinbaum — who vowed to uncover 'the truth' — of a cover-up. 'We all feel betrayed,' said Raúl Servín, one of the first searchers at the scene. Authorities now insist the ranch was never a place of extermination or the large-scale disposal of bodies, but rather served as a cartel training grounds — apparently one of many such clandestine sites scattered across Mexico, providing recruits for an industry that is among the nation's most prolific employers. But much is still unexplained: What about the charred bones found on the ranch grounds? And what are the fates of the hundreds of cartel trainees who apparently passed through the facility? Are they still alive? And how did state and federal authorities fail to follow up on a raid on the site last year, leaving the ranch little known until civilian searchers happened upon it? In a country where the ranks of the 'disappeared' have soared past 120,000 — most believed to be victims of organized crime — the mystery has raised deep suspicions and sparked conspiracy theories, sentiments all captured in one word: Teuchitlán. Jalisco is emblematic of a kind of essential mexicanidad, home to cultural markers such as tequila, mariachi and ranchera music, along with signature gastronomic dishes. The state capital, Guadalajara, is Mexico's second city, and Puerto Vallarta is among the nation's landmark coastal resorts. But the state is also the stomping grounds of one of Mexico's most notorious organized crime syndicates, the Jalisco New Generation cartel, which runs narcotics trafficking, migrant-smuggling, extortion and other rackets — even a sophisticated, time-share fraud that targeted foreign investors looking for beach properties. In March, a series of tips and rumors led activists to the isolated site known as Rancho Izaguirre, on the outskirts of Teuchitlán, an agricultural town of some 10,000 residents less than 35 miles outside Guadalajara. Such search groups, or collectives — typically founded by mothers and other relatives of the disappeared — have proliferated throughout Mexico as people despair of official inaction. The searchers have become key actors in civil society, seeking out clandestine graves and putting pressure on the government to find the missing. Mexican organized crime and confederates in local governments and police forces aren't happy about bothersome civilians shedding light on their activities. More than two dozen searchers have been slain in recent years, according to Mexican human rights groups. Activists from a group known as the Warrior Searchers of Jalisco were out seeking remains when they arrived at Rancho Izaguirre. They found what they described as crude crematoria and charred bones — the basis for the 'Mexican Auschwitz' narrative that went viral once the searchers posted photos of their grisly finds, including what appeared to be crude cremation pits. But what really struck a collective chord were the images of abandoned shoes, backpacks, T-shirts, jeans and other personal effects. There were L.A. Dodgers caps, basketball jerseys featuring logos of the Chicago Bulls and other teams, a Stars-and-Stripes blanket and various items emblazoned with Disney characters. The Jalisco prosecutor's office, which was accused of botching an investigation into the ranch last year after state and federal authorities raided the site and shut it down, took the extraordinary step of photographing the discarded possessions and posting the individual images on its website. As of Friday, prosecutors had uploaded photos of 1,844 items. What stood out most, however, were the scores of shoes, which came to symbolize the fate of Mexico's vanished multitudes. People from throughout Mexico scoured — and continue to scour — the prosecutor's site in desperate efforts to find any clues. Individuals inundated social media with comments saying they recognized a missing loved one's sneakers, T-shirt, backpack or some other item — even as officials counseled against high expectations, noting that many of the items were commonplace. 'With all the pain in my heart, I hope that my son was there and we can rest after this torment of five years,' a woman told Imagen Televisión, explaining that relatives recognized pants, a shirt and a backpack that resembled those belonging to her son, a pharmacy worker who disappeared five years earlier. 'I'm not looking for whoever was guilty. ... I just want to find out if my son was really there.' Some even made pilgrimages to the isolated ranch, hovering outside yellow and red police tape cordoning off the site. 'I feel that my son was here,' María Luz Ruiz said. Her son, a tequila industry worker, was kidnapped 12 years ago and never heard from again. Another visitor, Paula Avila, said she experienced 'a sense of foreboding' when visiting. 'I felt a pain in my chest,' said Avila, whose son, an Uber driver, disappeared three years ago. Among the most provocative elements of the Teuchitlán narrative are the conflicting reports about human remains. After word of the ranch hit the news in March, Jalisco state prosecutors said investigators had discovered six groups of charred human bones, some hidden beneath earth and bricks. But federal authorities were quick to deny the most sensational report: that the ranch had been the site of mass executions and the cremation of remains. Recruits may have been killed or tortured there, especially those who attempted to escape, Omar García Harfuch, Mexico's security chief, told reporters. But there was no evidence or mass murder or large-scale disposal of remains, he said. 'It's a totally distinct thing to say it's a place where some kind of homicide or torture took place — and to say it's an extermination camp,' García Harfuch said. 'An extermination camp is a place where hundreds or thousands of people are killed in a systematic manner.' There was 'not a shred of proof' that corpses were burned at the site, Mexico's attorney general, Alejandro Gertz Manero, told reporters. Contradicting Gertz Manero was the Warrior Searchers of Jalisco group, which said it had found 'irrefutable evidence' of human remains, including skull, femur, hip and dental fragments. 'We found those crematoria, we found those bones,' Servín said. 'One feels a great sense of impotence.' The site, authorities said, had operated as a training and operations hub for the Jalisco cartel, possibly since 2021, until it was shut down last year when state authorities and federal National Guard troops raided the ranch. Many recruits had apparently been tricked into coming to the site, authorities said, fooled by social media advertisements offering well-paying work in the security field. Others, though, may have enlisted willingly and completed their one-month training — including physical drills and instruction in firearms — and went on to become cartel operatives. The ranch discoveries prompted authorities to shut down dozens of online cartel recruitment sites, García Harfuch said. And the mounds of clothing, shoes and other effects? García Harfuch responded that, once at the ranch, recruits were issued uniforms and tactical boots and forced to relinquish their garb and cellphones. They remained incommunicado. Authorities say the investigation continues. This month federal troops arrested José Asunción Murguía, the mayor of Teuchitlán, and accused him of being on the payroll of the Jalisco cartel and being involved in the Rancho Izaguirre operation. The mayor was seen at the ranch on various occasions and was an accomplice of several cartel lieutenants, authorities allege. The lieutenants include José Gregorio Hermida, alias 'Comandante Lastra,' whom authorities have called a regional recruiter for the Jalisco cartel and a boss of the ranch operation. According to Mexican authorities, Hermida is also the 'mastermind' behind the July disappearance of a pair of 18-year-old cousins — students at the University of Guadalajara — who were victims of a recruitment scheme. Prosecutors say Comandante Lastra — who was arrested March 20 outside Mexico City — reported to Gonzalo Mendoza Gaytán, known as 'The Toad,' a high-level cartel capo. The uploaded images from the ranch certainly raised the hopes of many people desperate to learn what happened to their missing loved ones. But the identification process has dragged on, dashing expectations. For Gerardo Díaz, a farmer in Jalisco, the entire drama of Teuchitlán has evoked a soul-crushing whirlwind of emotions. The published images of clothing presented a promising possibility: That the family could finally clarify the fate of his brother, José Díaz, who disappeared in 2021 in the city of Tonalá, outside Guadalajara. A white-and-gray Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt on the prosecutor's website appeared to match one that his brother, then 23, was wearing when he vanished. The family went to the prosecutor's office, Díaz said, and offered to give DNA samples to match against any DNA found on the T-shirt. They were told to be patient; this was going to be 'a long process.' More than two months later, the family has heard nothing. 'For me, this whole process has been a joke,' Díaz said. 'They are laughing at people's pain. They have no empathy for families like ours living with so much anguish. It's a true hell. We are tired of authorities who don't do anything — while the agony of the disappearance of my brother continues to consume our lives.' McDonnell is a Times staff writer and Sánchez Vidal a special correspondent. Special correspondent Liliana Nieto del Río contributed to this report.
Los Angeles Times
11-04-2025
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
LA Times Today: Families flock to Mexican murder ranch, hoping for signs of loved ones
Protesters take to the streets throughout Mexico, demanding justice for the 120,000 people who've disappeared. Most of the missing are victims of Mexico's ruthless drug cartels. Many may have died at a recently discovered cartel death camp. L.A. Times Mexico City bureau chief Patrick McDonnell joined Lisa McRee with the story of the ranch that Mexican newspapers have called the 'Mexican Auschwitz.'
Yahoo
13-03-2025
- Yahoo
Mexican cartel mystery: Abandoned shoes, cryptic writings, charred bones
Even in Mexico, where stories of massacres, kidnappings and clandestine graves provide daily news fodder, the recent revelations in western Jalisco state have caused a commotion. Gruesome online images from a ranch apparently once used as a drug cartel training camp show hundreds of discarded shoes, backpacks, pants, shirts and other items, along with pictures of charred bones, bullet casings and clips from high-powered rifles. Among the handwritten entries found in a notebook were numbered columns of nicknames — purportedly a coded ledger of ex-captives — and a farewell letter from someone that read: 'My Love if Some day I don't Return I only ask you to remember how much I Love you.' Inside one cinder-block building at the ranch was a candle-bedecked shrine to Santa Muerte (Holy Death), a female folk saint whose cult is often associated with Mexican organized crime. Disseminating the disturbing images on social media this month were members of a search group that entered the ranch seeking missing loved ones among Mexico's more than 120,000 'disappeared.' Even the veteran searchers — accustomed to violence, threats and secret graves — were aghast. 'It was a tremendous shock,' recalled Raúl Servín García of Warrior Searchers of Jalisco, one of many volunteer collectives nationwide dedicated to finding vanished loved ones, mostly victims of organized crime. 'The first thought that occurs to you is to hope that no relative — a son, a husband — had ever been in this place, had ever been tortured or murdered there.' Headlines called the ranch an 'extermination camp,' home to underground 'crematoria and, even, the 'Mexican Auschwitz.' The abandoned shoes have emerged on social media as a symbol of outrage about the discovery. Memorials for the victims and protests against forced recruitment by cartels were planned this weekend in Guadalajara, Mexico City and elsewhere. Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum said that federal and state authorities were investigating. "We have isolated photos, but we don't know exactly what was found, how it was found," Sheinbaum told reporters Thursday at her daily news conference. "We have to determine responsibilities based on the information and the investigation." Mexican Atty. Gen. Alejandro Gertz Manero hinted at collusion between organized crime and officials in Jalisco state. It was 'not credible,' Gertz told reporters, that 'a situation of this nature wasn't known by local authorities." The troubling images were captured at Rancho Izaguirre — an arid, two-acre rectangular patch with sheds and other structures situated amid irrigated farmland just 37 miles from downtown Guadalajara, Mexico's second-largest city. The fate of those whose clothing was found at the ranch — and how many are dead or alive — remains publicly unknown. Media accounts have alternately labeled the ranch a training facility, a torture center, a killing field and a body-disposal site for the Jalisco New Generation Cartel, one of Mexico's major, and most violent, organized crime syndicates. Mexican officials have not confirmed any of those characterizations. The clothing belonged to young men and women lured to the camp by cartel operatives via bogus job offerings, according to the searchers, who say they have spoken to several survivors and their relatives. Many captives were recruited at a bus station in Tlaquepaque, a Guadalajara suburb, said Servín of the Warrior Searchers of Jalisco. "They met these young people at the bus terminal with phony promises of work," he said. "Many had no idea what they were getting into." Captives who tried to escape, or who didn't measure up to the physical training, faced death, according to Indira Navarro, head of the searchers' collective. In a radio interview, Navarro quoted one anonymous survivor saying that prisoners were forced to kill fellow captives. Cartel operatives have been known to recruit young people with supposedly legitimate opportunities advertised in social media and via word of mouth. On occasion, officials throughout Mexico have busted clandestine cartel training facilities. In January, Jalisco's governor touted the liberation of 36 captives at an organized crime camp in Teuchitlán — the same township where Rancho Izaguirre is situated. Read more: Bitter feud among Sinaloa cartel families brings grim new tactic: Grave desecration Despite the searchers' detailed accounts, officials have provided little insight about what went on at Rancho Izaguirre. Prosecutors say the site included a 'tactical' training area and a physical conditioning zone, along with burial lots. Photos of one area show a kind of obstacle course, crafted of wires lashed onto logs, and another site with tires spaced along the ground — both presumably used for training exercises. According to the Jalisco state prosecutor's office, investigators now combing over the ranch have discovered six groups of charred human bones, some hidden beneath earth and bricks. But officials have provided no estimate on how many people were buried there. Nor have forensic teams identified any of the dead — a task likely to take a long time. In a bid to match items found at the ranch with missing people, prosecutors released photos of almost 500 personal effects, including jeans, T-shirts, blouses, skirts, backpacks and bags. Even before the mass photo dump, relatives of the missing throughout Mexico had been pouring through the images posted online. 'We've received various calls from families saying: 'I think that T-shirt was my son's,'' Servín said. 'But we have to tell them: 'Remain calm. Don't jump to conclusions.' Because it's very hard to think your loved one was murdered in this way, or passed through such profound pain.' A major question in the case is why state authorities didn't follow up aggressively when the National Guard entered Rancho Izaguirre last September. On that occasion, according to Jalisco prosecutors, authorities arrested 10 suspects, who remain in custody—though authorities have not clarified what charges they face. Investigators also found a body, wrapped in plastic, and liberated two captives. Among those apparently freed was the author of the love letter-last testament found in the notebook at the ranch. Prosecutors say the individual — who was not identified — is back home. Read more: Trump administration labels 8 Latin American crime cartels as terrorist organizations In September, forensic teams immediately began to search for bodies at the ranch, Jalisco prosecutors said in a news release this week. But state authorities — now under extreme pressure from the federal government— conceded that that earlier efforts were 'insufficient' and suffered from 'possible omissions," which are now under investigation. There has been no criminal activity at Rancho Izaguirre since September, prosecutors said. According to unconfirmed media reports, the cartel ranch had been in operation since at least 2018. It was an anonymous tip that led the searchers to Rancho Izaguirre on March 5. 'The sensation that runs through your body when you see hundreds and hundreds of shoes piled up like that is indescribable,' said Servín. 'And of course you imagine the worst.' A restaurant waiter by profession, Servín still seeks the remains of his son, who disappeared in 2018, at the age of 20. 'You see the clothing, the shoes, and you can't control yourself,' said Servín. 'The tears come running down your eyes just thinking of the suffering that those poor people endured. One can only pray to God that your loved one was not in that place.' McDonnell is a Times staff writer and Sánchez Vidal is a special correspondent. Special correspondent Liliana Nieto del Río contributed to this report. Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
