Ginger Thompson, ProPublica: How the U.S. triggered a massacre in Mexico [Or excerpt of a reality beating fiction]
Ricardo Treviño Guevara
A former mayor of Allende
One night, [the Zetas] beat my son. It was really bad. He had bruises all over his body. His face was swollen. They had put a machine gun to his head and threatened to shoot him. He had been drinking with his friends. They stopped at a gas station. [The Zetas] beat him there, in front of the police.
I went to the police and asked, ‘Why in the hell did you let those assholes beat my son?’ I took the keys to their patrol cars. I told them, ‘What good is it to have officers on the streets who won’t protect people?’
They told me, ‘They’d have killed us if we’d tried to stop them.’
Later I went out and had too much to drink. As I walked to my car, I saw some police officers nearby. I shouted at them, ‘Tell the [Zetas] boss I want to see him.’
The next day, I was running errands in town, and I saw a line of cars heading toward me. The cars pulled in front of me and stopped. ‘The boss wants to speak with you.’ They walked me over to one of the cars. I got in, next to the driver. It was 42.
He said, ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Mayor?’
I told him, ‘Listen, how would you feel if someone beat the shit out of your kid? Wouldn’t that piss you off?’
‘Of course it would,’ he said.
‘Well I’m pissed,’ I said. ‘You guys think that you’re so tough because you’ve got weapons, and that there’s nothing we can do about it. You might be right. But as for my family, if you want to touch anyone, you come to me. If you want to kill someone, kill me.’
He said, ‘I’m not going to kill you. You are not my enemy, as long as you mind your affairs and let us handle ours. But please keep your son home at night. If he wants to drink with his friends, let them do that at home. The night belongs to us.’ [source]
One night, [the Zetas] beat my son. It was really bad. He had bruises all over his body. His face was swollen. They had put a machine gun to his head and threatened to shoot him. He had been drinking with his friends. They stopped at a gas station. [The Zetas] beat him there, in front of the police.
I went to the police and asked, ‘Why in the hell did you let those assholes beat my son?’ I took the keys to their patrol cars. I told them, ‘What good is it to have officers on the streets who won’t protect people?’
They told me, ‘They’d have killed us if we’d tried to stop them.’
Later I went out and had too much to drink. As I walked to my car, I saw some police officers nearby. I shouted at them, ‘Tell the [Zetas] boss I want to see him.’
The next day, I was running errands in town, and I saw a line of cars heading toward me. The cars pulled in front of me and stopped. ‘The boss wants to speak with you.’ They walked me over to one of the cars. I got in, next to the driver. It was 42.
He said, ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Mayor?’
I told him, ‘Listen, how would you feel if someone beat the shit out of your kid? Wouldn’t that piss you off?’
‘Of course it would,’ he said.
‘Well I’m pissed,’ I said. ‘You guys think that you’re so tough because you’ve got weapons, and that there’s nothing we can do about it. You might be right. But as for my family, if you want to touch anyone, you come to me. If you want to kill someone, kill me.’
He said, ‘I’m not going to kill you. You are not my enemy, as long as you mind your affairs and let us handle ours. But please keep your son home at night. If he wants to drink with his friends, let them do that at home. The night belongs to us.’ [source]
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