Claudia was 35 years old. He was born in a village near the mountains, in a small valley in the municipality of San Ignacio, Sinaloa, just over fifty kilometers from the port of Mazatlan. He emigrated very young to the city to study high school and then Communication Sciences.
His last position in the journalistic tasks had it in a news radio, morning broadcast, a measured 90.
"She told me insistently 'if I hear that you want to kill, I notice. If I hear and I heard the news I call. But you have to go at that time, to the bus station, airport.
Outside the city, state, country ... if I hear that you want to kill 'and see what happened , "said the reporter, a friend of the victim. The identity of the reporter is kept anonymous for fear of reprisals.
Claudia was worried about this friend of his, who had published reports on drug trafficking in Culiacan: the tangle that extends to public servants operating as accomplices of organized crime, the police who do the dirty work, as showdowns and 'sicarios loose 'that young and self - satisfied, kill on a whim or trifles, on any street or mall, opposite the family, with children and pregnant women, owners of lives, only dealers of death.
"Ever , " added the journalist, "she said everything was rotten, and lamented the high risks to a reporter, especially since the government and police enforcement law are paid by the narco" .
Attacks on journalists are frequent. A case of reporter Alfredo Jimenez, who worked in the newspaper El Imperial, Hermosillo, Sonora and had worked in the Northwest and rotating El Debate in Culiacán. Jimenez has been missing since the first days of April 2005.
The journalist had published reports about narcos and their complicity with the local government.
"Claudia spoke and seemed to tremble , " said journalist interviewed, "each who remembered cases like Jiménez but did not cry, the way they mourn was to love your friends, take care of their own, in solidarity with their quarrels, guarecerlos, hug, give shade and shelter, words of encouragement, money, give breakfast, baguette, a meal, coffee, movie ticket.
"And he insisted: 'There are many people on the street, desmadrosa. You see that they are killing many guys. They are morros shit, some 15, 16 years. Plebillos who do not know life is. They want wool, much wool. Bring those camionetonas. Nine millimeter pistol tucked. Horn aside. The music at the height of the decibel. Morras glued over the verija sobandoles.
Bejeweled, with a hanging part gold everywhere. Drunkards, coconuts, marijuana smokers, you enter the glass and heroin. They tell their bosses always yes. Who walk readied. They are guys who are crazy. Plebes, boys always flow accelerated, breaking, getting in the way, that fire no matter if there is any innocent aside, if someone who has nothing to do can be reached by projectiles. They shoot and now. "
Claudia was of medium height, clear, shapely brunette: corvos hips like mausoleums, firm and shapely legs and waist that nobody would stop touring.
Those who knew her say that the greatest virtue of Claudia was her intelligence that look that seemed to languish when his mouth opened to express what he felt, caught the eyes of others, pulled their brains, gave electric shocks to the senses of their partners . Claudia was safe.
He was sure he had given her knowledge, her readings, that shelf of books and squeezed this critical perspective, stubborn, question everything, doubt and suspicion. When he talked throwing darts: poisoned darts, they are like viruses that arrive and contaminate other, stagger and fall ill. Words and knowledge that raise doubts. His partners, have family and friends were leaving her as wounded, stumbled, lopsided, thinking, fumbling and finally questioning. Questioning everything.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Jose Saramago were his favorites. But just as they reached their hands enjoyed and recommended books, like that of Arturo Perez Reverte, its history of narco that, Teresa Mendoza, Eduardo Galeano, Mario Vargas Llosa and Ruben Fonseca.
Also it had a social concern. Rage against the opulence and frivolity, was generous and caring to misfortune, poverty and pain.
"She thought that all this could change, that things could improve, but I was sure that people must do something, take responsibility, act, move, manifest, criticize and not settle , " said one of his brothers.
Claudia in his capacity as a journalist, patrolled the streets with your recorder culichis, that bag he was carrying in his life and notepad to write everything down. So he met the local political scene, truculence among actors-journalists, leaders, officials, police chiefs, buscachambas, basamanos, culopronto and other specimens hedientos--, and I place well, each in his place, to detest and include in the gallery of horror, his very personal collection of curses, convictions and convicted.
But do not be daunted. He walked chile ball, arroba down, assuming all the miserable dynamics reporter, whether good or bad: eat at odd times, quick breakfast, drink lots of coffee, read steamed gazettes. Then they came sleepless nights, bad pay, stomach pains colitis, gastritis frown.
"No way, this is the chamba" he said resignedly.
The city of Culiacan burned. Forty-five degrees Celsius in the shade. The tar seemed to melt. Those who expected the green light pedestrian traffic lights seemed to fade. The car, seen in the distance almost evaporate: melted, amorphous ghosts of metal and plastic and iron engine, smoke worms, wheels and brakes, glass and stereo music.
Philippe was an officer of the army officer was. They belonged to an elite corps trained especially in the United States, named Airmobile Special Forces Group, acronyms GAFE. His specialty: Sniper. But she was not as military, but as part of the Specialized Anti - Kidnapping Group, the Attorney General of Sinaloa.
His father had been a policeman but had to be military. And it was and came away. Claudia came up: reading, critical, rebellious.
They married and formed a contrasting couple: he, military; accustomed to arms, discipline, order; she, a former journalist, who was noted for his hives against frivolity and the subject, which had been characterized by rebelling against the government, rich and full wallets.
He closed, silent, cold but affable and right. She open, full and diaphanous, dedicated and romantic.
Concerned about the city, the country and the world. Hunger and pollution. He put on his weapons, charger, cartridges, badges and uniforms.
Philip had his target in the center of the telescopic sight: he was a big guy, cowboy hat, boots, well dressed, in the middle of a cornfield with plants in stature. A heavy capo. Boss of Bosses.
Radioed. "What I have, I hope orders. Order. I hope. "Silence.
He again said by the apparatus intercom: "I have it in sight". Again silence, but not so long. And then the order. "Abort. Abort ". He asked to confirm. The order was ratified.
He brought stripes wrinkles under tension in your forehead. Still sweaty fingers. Le brincoteaban eyelids. But still with firm fingers, wrist, forearm and shoulder.
It was his specialty: Sniper. It was not explained why they had given reverse the operation, if it was in the middle of the peephole, just to pull the trigger. But it was military. Orders are orders.
He had prepared everything for weeks, months. At last they had located. He was puzzled by the order issued to the contrary. "They will know, we did what we played. They will have their reasons. "
He disarmed all. He put the gun in his briefcase. The other soldiers who were with him kept the team. They cleared the area. He did as he wondered why. Why the army does nothing: if you have so much information, if you have located the narcos. Why.
He had an earlier operating: impeccable. They atoraron one of the leaders on the road. They were in convoy. He could not see anything, it was a surprise. Suddenly, without realizing it, and had the soldiers surrounding him.
He was hooded and taken away. Clean. One detainee, zero casualties, zero shots, and again these huge, large doses of adrenaline.
"He, how I missed that , " said one of his relatives. "Feel the steel rifle fingers. Feel the silence, the moment the order. It not for nothing was the best snipers. "
Trimmings, decorations strung on that uniform. The squad hanging, striped face, camouflage, the boiling steps, running, chasing, knocking down hill in every footstep.
Pure nostalgia. What married life was getting bored. Married and outside the military. Now he was a police officer specialist, was a lovely woman, stuck in the kitchen busy with children, he waited. She was a bitch. And he spoke: "Hey, bitch." And I wanted to order. But she was insubordinate and mouthy.
" 'Why', 'Why should I do, why I listen to you," asked Claudia and as he hesitated, did not know what to say , "he said , smiling his friend the journalist.
Felipe had stopped embracing the cold steel of a gun to hug her two young children. Outside the military, weapons, was not it. Another, animal and monster inhabited. That other claimed him out there, that moved to be risked.
Another woman pierced. Woman wings. Women and scorpion. Oblivious prohibited. Was to take up arms, she was accustomed to command, to reach out and ask. His father, the boss that a mid - level boss, he fulfilled all the smallest details had to be satisfied. The vagaries were like his breathing, spoiling her happiness was to give his queen, his goddess, his princess, her young, her sweetheart, the owner of his life, which had the whole, alive and happy.
Fulfilling your requests, even the most capricious, she accumulated in his career a vehicle of the year, luxurious and sporty, several trips abroad, including Paris and Las Vegas and a Hummer that was waiting in the driveway of his home when She is angry the new car and a closet full of clothes unworn.
He getting everything he wanted. When he chose to walk with a married man and his father learned. He did not give the contras. She was in love, even though it was a former military man , a former agent of the local police, with family and children. He did his mistress. His property.
Felipe bewitched. Accelerated again embrace felt the rifle, I look at the peephole. Again emotion. They filed a stormy relationship where the main element was jealousy. In a fit she pulled out a knife and Sarto once, twice in the back, a few centimeters from the lung. "Close, very close , " said the doctor. "You saved."
Philip felt redeeming factor, but routine. Again felt the adrenaline.
According to research and versions people close to the case, Claudia knew of that incident but not for him. It came via headset version: herself, she scorpion, I told him. He told her who was going to kill her, his sons had been. As the daughter of a drug dealer, whimsical, believed he deserved and should have everything, including Philip was his property, and was not willing to share.
Apparently, Claudia proceeded calmly, but the threats continued, first in that tone and then grew louder. The identity of that person is being withheld because part of the record held by the Public Ministry, although still in the dusty shelves and unpunished.
The next step was the daughter of narco was destroying the garage of the house of Claudia and Philip, one morning, she crashed her truck against the gate of the facade, damaging fully and reaching garden and guardrails.
Claudia filed a complaint for damage to property before the public prosecutor, whose staff had warned him many similar cases in the city. "The agent said , 'Let's see, we will investigate, you do not worry , '" she recalled a family of Claudia, who described the listless and with little official interest in the matter.
The official was perfectly comfortable in the chair across the desk. With a cynical smile and a grim expression: "There are many cases of these, you know, it Culiacan, many heavy people, but we will investigate." And nothing happened.
Claudia followed in his: his luxurious house, on top of the city, his books, children, food, school.
He wanted to work. He started buying jewelry and watches to sell. He sold them to rich highborn city. Its sales reached a narco another. And he kept handing out money from their parents and friends, Vivian ranch needy acquaintances, he appreciated fucked up. And I remain as always: nothing in it was frivolity, it was all heart, bloodstreams and passion. Books, great films, readings, travel, family and friends.
And Philip even had its dark side. He continued to have contacts with the army, drug traffickers and police. Ceased to be part of the Anti - Kidnapping Unit and entering the body guards of then governor Juan Millan Lizarraga. In 2004, because of a federal investigation in which his name appeared, she was arrested by agents of the deputy attorney specializing in organized crime (SEIDO), attorney general of the Republic (PGR) investigation.
Claudia put everything in its defense. Lawyers and family did a lot for free. " It is an abuse, injustice , " she shouted. The investigation for illicit enrichment failure and federal authorities released him two months later. After I have gotten rooted in Mexico City. "His goods , " they said, "were the product of a family heirloom."
Drug lord's daughter kept calling. Claudia and did not want to answer the phone. I knew it was the same litany: death threats against her and the children, warnings, almost laughing, that he was staying with Felipe, because he was his and no one else.
Philip was between two fires, two bodies. Claudia did not claim him but if he said, seething and safe, I had to take action on the matter, as they told some relatives. "She demanded to Philip that forced her to stop bothering them and not get into the subject children, not to mess with them, to do something."
The other was angry and bossy, drugs, demented and cavernous. Claudia, intelligent, quiet, defensive, firm, far from the jungle war that it wanted to start, but armoring your home, your children.
Claudia and Felipe continued their normal life marriage. One day went by children home.
It was October. October is always red.
Claudia's friend, reporter, said that in early October, amid the daily storm of violence, projectile and bloody holes, again said to be careful, to be set at what was published. And he repeated: "If I hear anything, if you know you want to kill, I'll warn, to let you go at that time ... far away from the city, another city, another country."
Claudia and Philippe were together in white Pilot. That she wanted to buy, but with his money, not his. It was the day 16. A vehicle began to follow. It was another black SUV. Witnesses say it was Cherokee Trail Blazer and others. Three, four subjects. They are paired, they beckoned.
Have they talked, they talked or discussed. Neighbors told agents of the Ministerial Police who thought they heard screams. Felipe was out of government, no radio or weapons. She said something, shouted, muttered. "We're going to kill"
The pursuers pulled out guns out the windows. 20 shots, maybe more. Officers found .38 caliber and 9 mm caps. Most impacts were in the back, head and chest.
The bodies were there in the cab of the truck. Reclined, inert, cold.
On December 5 of that year, the father of former military officer, a brother and stepmother were gunned down inside a house, a few meters from where the couple was executed.
Several lines of research were included in the investigations of the Coordination of Intentional Homicide and the Public Ministry specialized in this type of case, in Sinaloa. One of them stands out : the death threats received by the now deceased.
And several days after he gave the news to the young daughter of narco left. His father sent him to where she wanted, put home, gave him money. Unofficial reports indicate that lives in another city, but within the country, although other sources claim that emigrated abroad.
Claudia's friend, the reporter writes for himself, not for publication: "You said you were going to tell and always thought you'd go to my funeral, but now that you 're dead, you can not bury. I'm a zombie: no salvation. We are like predeceased, as precadaveres. And we are almost dead. "
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