Culiacán faces a humanitarian crisis as cartel violence escalates, leaving many dead and families searching for answers amid chaos
Culiacán: Recently, the city was buzzing with life. Chefs were whipping up delicious aguachile, and musicians filled the air with lively tunes. It felt like a celebration.
“It used to be like this every weekend,” Alexis, a young chef, reminisced while taking a breather in the cathedral’s calm.
But just outside this festive scene, the harsh reality of violence loomed. Bodies were found in rivers and fields, a grim reminder of the ongoing chaos.
For three months, rival factions of the Sinaloa cartel have been at war, resulting in over a thousand deaths and a city grappling with a unique humanitarian crisis. The locals, known as culichis, are trying to find a sense of normalcy, but the shadow of organized crime hangs over them.
The conflict erupted on September 9, following the arrest of two major crime bosses in Texas. It was like a bomb going off, shaking the very foundation of the cartel.
Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada García, a key figure in the cartel, was captured along with one of El Chapo’s sons. El Mayo later accused El Chapo’s son of betrayal, fueling the ongoing violence.
Despite the government deploying 11,000 soldiers to the city, the bloodshed shows no signs of stopping.
Óscar Loza, a human rights advocate, pointed out three main issues: homicides, forced disappearances, and displacements. He added that uncertainty has now become a new factor in this crisis.
Since the fighting began, over 500 people have been killed, a staggering increase in the homicide rate. Most of the deceased are believed to be cartel members, but little information is shared publicly.
Many families remain silent out of fear, while others, like the Sánchez family, are desperately seeking answers. Juan Carlos, an entrepreneur, was killed in a shootout, and his family is left in the dark about what really happened.
“We still don’t know what went down,” Rafael, Juan Carlos’s brother, said, as he sat in the food park his brother built, now struggling to keep it alive.
Juan Carlos’s wife witnessed the chaos when gunmen stormed their apartment. In the confusion, he went out for help and never returned. An autopsy later revealed he died from a severe wound.
Rafael wants justice and support for his brother’s family, hoping the government will acknowledge the tragedy and clear Juan Carlos’s name.
For the 504 people who have gone missing since the war started, closure seems far away. Micaela González, a mother searching for her sons, has been looking for them for 12 years.
“The investigations have been a mess,” she lamented, as she and other mothers combed through fields, hoping to find answers.
They’ve found remains, but the police are slow to identify them due to a backlog. The mothers can’t search outside the city anymore because it’s too dangerous.
Initially, the violence was in the streets, but now it’s spreading to rural areas, forcing people to flee. Many have moved to Culiacán or nearby Mazatlán, seeking safety with relatives.
One man, who wished to stay anonymous, shared how his family had to leave their home five years ago. “Going to the store was a risk,” he explained. “You either worked for them or ended up dead.”
Now, they live by the train tracks, feeling a bit safer, even though gunfire is a nightly occurrence. But the economic situation is dire. He’s a bricklayer, but there’s no work.
As the war drags on, the number of dead, missing, and displaced continues to rise. No one knows when it will end.
“We have no idea what they’re capable of,” said Calderón, a public security coordinator. “This is the mother of all battles.”
Meanwhile, the culichis are trying to reclaim their lives, driven by the need to survive and the desire for their rights back.
“It’s going to take time,” Josue, a musician, said, still catching his breath from playing. “This isn’t like a storm that passes. It’s deeper than that.”