El Narco: Inside Mexico’s Criminal Insurgency

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Prosecutor Dan Satterberg King County Washington State

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Tax collectors, prostitutes and drug smugglers are getting into heaven way ahead of King County Prosecutors of Seattle, Washington. Way ahead!

Of course, the author refers to them as a “sect,” yet he demonstrates significant respect for those who discuss Jesus with him. It’s interesting to note that the author seems to show more respect for serial killers than the King County Prosecutors do towards even the least of alleged criminals!

As I said, way ahead of the Washington State Supreme Court who daily commits right rape and King County Prosecutors, Prosecutor Mark Larson, Prosecutor Lisa Johnson, Prosecutor Nicole Weston, Prosecutor Rich Anderson and Prosecutor Jason Simmons. Judge Beth M. Andrus, Judge Lori K. Smith and Prosecutor Leesa Manion.

Matthew 21:32 Jesus said to them, “I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him.

This book was referenced on the podcast Odds and Ends, part 1. (coming soon)

Luke 18:11 The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: God, I thank you that I am not like other men–robbers, evildoers, adulterers–or even like this tax collector.

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Grillo, Ioan. El Narco: Inside Mexico’s Criminal Insurgency (pp. 1-3).

It all seemed like a bad dream. It may have been vivid and raw. But it felt somehow surreal, as if Gonzalo were watching these terrible acts from above. As if it were someone else who had firefights with ski-masked federal police in broad daylight. Someone else who stormed into homes and dragged away men from crying wives and mothers. Someone else who duct-taped victims to chairs and starved and beat them for days. Someone else who clasped a machete and began to hack off their craniums while they were still living. But it was all real. He was a different man when he did those things, Gonzalo tells me. He had smoked crack cocaine and drunk whiskey every day, had enjoyed power in a country where the poor are so powerless, had a latest-model truck and could pay for houses in cash, had four wives and children scattered all over … had no God. “In those days, I had no fear. I felt nothing. I had no compassion for anybody,” he says, speaking slowly, swallowing some words. His voice is high and nasal after police smashed his teeth out until he confessed. His face betrays little emotion. I can’t take in the gravity of what he is saying—until I play back a video of the interview later and transcribe his words. Then as I wallow over the things he told me, I pause and shudder inside.

I talk to Gonzalo in a prison cell he shares with eight others on a sunny Tuesday morning in Ciudad Juárez, the most murderous city on the planet.

We are less than seven miles from the United States and the Rio Grande, which slices through North America like a line dividing a palm. Gonzalo sits on his bed in the corner clasping his hands together on his lap. He wears a simple white T-shirt that reveals a protruding belly under broad shoulders and bulging muscles that he built as a teenage American football star and are still in shape at his age thirty-eight. Standing six feet two, he cuts an imposing figure and exhibits an air of authority over his cellmates. But as he talks to me, he is modest and forthcoming. He wears a goatee, gray hairs on his chin below a curved, black mustache. His eyes are focused and intense, looking ruthless and intimidating but also revealing an inner pain. Gonzalo spent seventeen years working as a soldier, kidnapper, and murderer for Mexican drug gangs. In that time he took the lives of many, many more people than he can count.

In most countries, he would be viewed as a dangerous serial killer and locked up in a top-security prison. But Mexico today has thousands of serial murderers. Overwhelmed jails have themselves become scenes of bloody massacres: twenty slain in one riot; twenty-one murdered in another; twenty-three in yet another—all in penitentiaries close to this same cursed border.

[su_highlight]Within these sanguine pens, we are in a kind of sanctuary—an entire wing of born-again Christians.[/su_highlight] This is the realm of Jesus, they tell me, a place where they abide by laws of their own “ecclesiastical government.” Other wings in this jail are segregated between gangs: one controlled by the Barrio Azteca, which works for the Juárez Cartel; another controlled by their sworn enemies, the Artist Assassins, who murder for the Sinaloa Cartel.

The three hundred Christians try to live outside this war. Baptized Libres en Cristo, or Free Through Christ, the sect founded in the prison borrows some of the radical and rowdy elements of Southern American evangelicalism to save these souls.

I visit a jail block mass before I sit down with Gonzalo. The pastor, a convicted drug trafficker, mixes stories of ancient Jerusalem with his hard-core street experiences, using slang and addressing the flock as the “homeys from the barrio.” A live band blends rock, rap, and norteño music into their hymns. The sinners let it all out, slam-dancing wildly to the chorus, praying with eyes closed tight, teeth gritted, sweat pouring from foreheads, hands raised to the heavens—using all their spiritual power to exorcise their heinous demons. Gonzalo has more demons than most. He was incarcerated in the prison a year before I met him and bought his way into the Christian wing hoping it would be a quiet place where he could escape the war.

[su_highlight]But when I listen carefully to his interview, he sounds as if he has really given his heart to Christ, does really pray for redemption[/su_highlight]. And when he talks to me—a nosy British journalist prying into his past—he is really confessing to Jesus. “You meet Christ and it is a totally different thing. You feel horror and start thinking about the things you have done. Because it was bad. You think about the people. It could have been a brother of mine I was doing these things to. I did bad things to a lot of people. A lot of parents suffered.

“When you belong to organized crime, you have to change. You could be the best person in the world, but the people you live with change you completely. You become somebody else. And then the drugs and liquor change you.” I have watched too many videos of the pain caused by killers like Gonzalo. I have seen a sobbing teenager tortured on a tape sent to his family; a bloodied old man confessing that he had talked to a rival cartel; a line of kneeling victims with bags over their heads being shot in the brain one by one.

[su_highlight]Does someone who has committed such crimes deserve redemption? Do they deserve a place in heaven?[/su_highlight]

Grillo, Ioan. El Narco: Inside Mexico’s Criminal Insurgency

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To answer this question: Does someone who has committed such crimes deserve redemption? Do they deserve a place in heaven? the answer is found in heavenly hallelujahs. You see, the trouble with the author and King County Courts of Washington State they do not see themselves as they truly are …just as worthless.

In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents. Luke 15:10

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Book Report

Book Report: El Narco: Inside Mexico’s Criminal Insurgency by Ioan Grillo Introduction El Narco: Inside Mexico’s Criminal Insurgency (2011) by Ioan Grillo is a gripping, meticulously researched non-fiction work that delves into the complex and violent world of Mexico’s drug cartels. Grillo, an English journalist based in Mexico City, draws on his decade-long experience reporting on the Latin American drug trade to provide a comprehensive account of the Mexican drug war. The book explores the origins, evolution, and societal impact of the cartels, framing them not as mere gangs but as a powerful criminal insurgency threatening Mexico’s democracy and stability. This report summarizes the book’s key themes, arguments, and contributions, evaluates its strengths and weaknesses, and reflects on its broader implications. Summary El Narco is structured in three parts—History, Anatomy, and Destiny—which trace the drug trade’s roots, its operational mechanics, and potential solutions, respectively. Grillo begins by contextualizing the drug trade’s historical development, from the cultivation of opium poppies in the Sierra Madre during the early 20th century to the rise of marijuana and cocaine trafficking in the 1960s and 1970s. He highlights how the decline of Colombia’s cartels in the 1990s shifted power to Mexican organizations, which grew increasingly sophisticated and violent. The book’s second part examines the cartels’ inner workings, including their business models, cultural influence, and paramilitary tactics. Grillo describes “El Narco” as a faceless, sprawling industry that employs hundreds of thousands, from impoverished farmers to ruthless sicarios (hitmen). He details the cartels’ diversification into human trafficking, extortion, and kidnapping, as well as their use of extreme violence—massacres, beheadings, and car bombs—to maintain control. Grillo also explores narco-culture, including the veneration of figures like Jesús Malverde and Santa Muerte, and the role of narcocorridos (drug ballads) in glorifying the lifestyle. In the final part, Grillo critiques the failed strategies of the Mexican government and the United States in combating the cartels. He argues that militarized approaches, such as former President Felipe Calderón’s 2006 war on drugs, have escalated violence without addressing root causes like corruption and poverty. Grillo suggests that weak local institutions—municipal governments, police, and courts—are a core issue, and he advocates for reforms to strengthen these systems. He also challenges the simplistic narrative that American drug consumption alone drives the crisis, pointing to a global shadow economy and systemic failures in Mexico. Key Themes and Arguments

Criminal Insurgency: Grillo’s central thesis is that Mexico’s cartels are not traditional gangs but a “criminal insurgency” with paramilitary capabilities and territorial ambitions. They challenge the state’s authority, control vast regions, and operate like shadow governments, with tens of thousands of armed fighters.

Systemic Corruption: The book underscores how corruption at all levels—police, military, and politicians—enables the cartels’ power. Grillo illustrates this with examples of officials who join the cartels for profit, undermining efforts to curb the violence.

Human Cost and Societal Impact: Grillo humanizes the drug war’s toll, recounting stories of victims, gang members, and grieving families. He reports over 40,000 murders between 2006 and 2011, with mass graves and public executions becoming commonplace, creating a climate of fear.

U.S. Complicity and Failed Policies: While acknowledging U.S. drug demand, Grillo argues that American policies—such as supplying military aid and focusing on interdiction—have been ineffective. He also debunks myths, like the idea that U.S. guns are the primary driver of cartel violence, emphasizing Mexico’s internal factors.

Narco-Culture and Ideology: The book examines how cartels have embedded themselves in Mexican society through religious cults, music, and media. This cultural influence complicates efforts to dismantle their power, as some communities view traffickers as folk heroes.

Strengths

Immersive Reporting: Grillo’s firsthand accounts, drawn from interviews with cartel members, police, and victims in hotspots like Sinaloa and Ciudad Juárez, lend authenticity and depth. His visits to narco-cemeteries and Santa Muerte shrines provide vivid, ground-level insights. Historical Context: The book excels in tracing the drug trade’s evolution, offering a clear timeline from the 1960s to the 2000s. This context helps readers understand how cartels became so entrenched. Balanced Perspective: Grillo avoids sensationalism, critiquing both Mexican and U.S. policies while acknowledging the complexity of the issue. He neither vilifies nor romanticizes the cartels, presenting them as a product of systemic failures. Engaging Prose: Described as “propulsive” and “high-octane” by Publishers Weekly, Grillo’s writing is accessible yet authoritative, blending anecdotes with analysis to maintain reader engagement.

Weaknesses

Gruesome Content: Some readers find the graphic descriptions of violence—torture, decapitations, and massacres—overwhelming, potentially alienating those sensitive to such material. Tabloid Style: Critics note that Grillo’s occasional use of slang or sensational terms (e.g., “wastoid”) and minor factual errors (e.g., misplacing Mérida geographically) detract from the book’s credibility. Limited Solutions: While Grillo critiques existing strategies, his proposed solutions—strengthening local institutions and addressing poverty—are broad and lack detailed implementation plans, leaving readers wanting more specificity.

Critical Reception El Narco has been widely praised for its depth and urgency. The New Yorker called it “essential reading,” and Publishers Weekly lauded its “perceptive, high-octane reportage.” Kirkus Reviews described it as a “valuable contribution” to drug war literature, emphasizing its chilling account of cartel growth. However, some Goodreads reviewers criticized its tabloid-like style and felt the violence overshadowed analytical depth. The book was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize and has been translated into five languages, reflecting its global impact. Personal Reflection El Narco is a sobering and eye-opening read that challenges simplistic narratives about the drug war. Grillo’s ability to weave personal stories with macroeconomic analysis makes the book both emotionally resonant and intellectually stimulating. As someone interested in global issues, I found his argument about the cartels as an insurgency particularly compelling, as it reframes the crisis as a threat to governance, not just crime. However, the graphic violence was unsettling, and I wished for more concrete policy recommendations. The book underscores the need for international cooperation and systemic reform, leaving me with a deeper appreciation for the complexity of Mexico’s struggle. Conclusion El Narco: Inside Mexico’s Criminal Insurgency is a powerful and authoritative exploration of the Mexican drug war, offering a nuanced portrait of a crisis that transcends borders. Ioan Grillo’s fearless reporting and historical insight make it a vital resource for understanding the cartels’ rise and the failures of current countermeasures. Despite its intense content and occasional stylistic flaws, the book is a must-read for those seeking to grasp the human and political dimensions of this ongoing conflict. It serves as both a warning and a call to rethink approaches to one of the 21st century’s most pressing challenges. Bibliography

Grillo, Ioan. El Narco: Inside Mexico’s Criminal Insurgency. Bloomsbury Press, 2011. Additional references drawn from web sources, including Publishers Weekly, Kirkus Reviews, Goodreads, and Bookforum.

Recap Court Corrupts

The prosecution of Malcolm Fraser, Defendant, Case No. 12-1-01886-0 KNT, was never about justice—it was about executing a premeditated attack on a religious community through abusive legal manipulations. Enumclaw Detective Grant McCall, King County Prosecutors, Judge Lori K Smith and Judge Beth M. Andrus used an impossible-to-commit crime by Malcolm Fraser to frame-up and destroy Sound Doctrine Church or Timothy Williams. The organized hate crime allowed Washington State’s anti-Christian mindset to demolish the rule of law as criminal activities went into full power-play mode.

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