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The state’s residents have suffered the fallout: Some 500 have been murdered since the feud erupted in September, and at least 600 more are missing. The state is said to have lost close to a billion U.S. dollars since the conflict began. Human rights defenders say the current crisis is the most severe they’ve ever seen, even in a state all-too-familiar with organized crime — especially since it comes on the heels of a lull in violence that reduced state homicide rates to below the national average.
OCCRP’s Mexican partner El Universal traveled to Sinaloa’s capital city, Culiacán, to look at the chokehold this violence has placed on the capital city:
Culiacán’s once vibrant nightlife has been silenced. Streets empty out by 7 p.m. and residents stay indoors for safety. Major cultural events have been called off. Convoys of armed men patrol streets. Security cameras have been destroyed, and those that remain are often controlled by one faction and resented by the other. Schools have been closed — and one was recently taken over as a military barracks as Mexican government troops try to impose order. A state policeman was among those kidnapped. Bodies have been dumped around the outskirts of the capital, at times with messages like “Welcome to Culiacán.”
Silber Meza, an investigative editor at El Universal and native of Culiacán, went back to his hometown to report on the crisis for us. In planning his trip, he worked closely with OCCRP’s Latin America team, including Mexican investigative journalist Lilia Saúl Rodriguez. (The two previously contributed to the OCCRP NarcoFiles investigations.)
“The moment we started this collaboration, asking for this coverage in a state where there is a lot of risk for journalists, we began connecting practically day to day, almost minute to minute to know where he was, what he was doing, where he was doing coverage,” said Saúl Rodriguez. Meza also underwent an OCCRP safety training, she said.
Last month, after following the situation from his base in Mexico City, Meza and photographer Diego Prado traveled to Culiacán to talk to residents about their experiences. Meza said his familiarity with Sinaloa gave him confidence, but the team proceeded with caution.
“[T]he more familiar you are [with a place], the more trust you have in the situation,” he said. The duo avoided more dangerous areas altogether. “The moment we’re living in today in Culiacán is very complicated. It’s very difficult. Never in my life have I seen a moment as critical, as complex, as problematic, or as dangerous.”
But Meza’s goal was to capture the image of an entire city, rather than a single anecdote or view from it. And from the ground, he found it wasn’t all despair.
Local business leaders are plotting ways to reinvigorate the economy, adding new street lights and dreaming up new events that might draw people out of hiding. Groups of women have begun to demonstrate in front of the Sinaloa Government Palace, calling for the return of their disappeared loved ones and punishment for their captors. Some have marched for peace. Others have taken to hunger strikes.
“There are always problems, but there is also always hope,” said Meza.
To Saúl Rodriguez, the dispatch from Culiacán is a crucial reflection of the toll organized crime takes on communities throughout Mexico — and the collaborating team served as the “eyes in Latin America.”
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