Category Archives: Safety and Security

Events related to safety and security of central México

On life and liberty

My mother-in-law and father-in-law and 7 of their 11 children. From left to right, B, P, C, father-in-law, mother-in-law, L, Mr, Ma and my husband

My mother-in-law and father-in-law and 7 of their 11 children. From left to right, B, P, C, father-in-law, mother-in-law, L, Mr, Ma and my husband

This weekend marks the 8th month anniversary of the death of my mother-in-law.  Her death has been a devastating blow to this family and there is no closure yet, no peace.  She died as a result of injuries suffered when a police vehicle plowed into the moto that she and my father-in-law were driving through an intersection.  Her body was caught in the front grill of the truck and carried another 200 meters, then it fell to the ground and was run over.  The police vehicle has been estimated as traveling more than 200 mps.  As the police hit the back of the moto, it spun around and hit the side of the truck.  My father-in-law flew into the air and landed on his back, fortunately out of the path of the truck.

Both were taken to the hospital.  My father-in-law was released the next day and arrested by police waiting at the hospital door.  The law here is that all parties involved in an accident are detained and the vehicles impounded while an official investigation takes place.  The officer had already posted bail and was out on the streets on active duty by this time.  It took us 24 hours to come up with the 8000 pesos for my father-in-law’s bail.  During his incarceration, he was not even given a glass a water, nor his pain medications.

Immediately upon his release, he returned to the hospital.  My mother-in-law meanwhile had been transferred to the regional hospital.  The small hospital she had first been admitted to said she would be fine in a few days, however, they didn’t have the staff to operate on her shattered leg.  Thus, the transfer.  She was conscious and in extreme pain, however, the small hospital did not take x-rays of her bruised sides and therefore missed the fact that her 2 broken ribs had punctured her pancreas and she was bleeding internally.

When she arrived at the regional hospital, she was rushed into surgery.  She had been 24 hours without any sort of treatment besides a seeping bandage on her leg. Her condition was upgraded to grave, life-threatening.  She had severe head injuries and her arterial vein of her leg was severed. Not only was her pancreas in pieces but a large section of her liver was damaged.  She lapsed into a coma. We contacted her children in the States and told them to come if they could.

We waited three days at the hospital.  She was now on artificial respiration.  She was authorized to be transferred to Léon, however, her doctors did not think she would survive the trip, so she was not moved.

Her best friend Doña T came to visit and stayed with her for over an hour, talking with her and encouraging her to open her eyes.  Her eyes fluttered.  Within an hour, she had returned to consciousness.

Meanwhile, unexpectedly, her son J, who she hadn’t seen in 18 years, contacted me through the miracle of Facebook.  My husband and I hadn’t heard from J since we left Virginia, in nearly 5 years.  J was living in Tamaulipas, near the Texas border and wanted to talk with my husband.  We immediately called him and made arrangements that he come to see his mother.  He was on the bus that night. He arrived the day my mother-in-law was released from ICU and he was able to visit her.

Now that she was no longer in ICU, but still needed around-the-clock attention, and the family was required to provide someone to care for her.  Her daughters, L and P, were the primary caregivers, however, the daughters-in-law, G and myself were also pressed into service.  My shift was that Saturday, 8 pm until 8 am.

It was exhausting, both physically and emotionally.  When I arrived, she was conscious and alert, however, wasn’t able to speak.  I jabbered for several hours about the PAN meeting I had gone to in her stead and various bits of gossip she had missed out on during her hospital stay.  However, she became weaker and I noticed she had an extremely high fever.  When she drifted off, I went to the nurses’ station and asked that someone please come and look at her.  They took her temperature and said she needed a specific medicine immediately.

I texted her son B who was staying in the albergue (beds provided for family members of patients).  He had to go to an all-night pharmacy several miles away for this medicine as the pharmacy at the hospital was closed for the night.  While we waited for him to return, the nurse gave me a bowl of water and a cloth and told me to try and get her temperature down using wet compresses.   The elderly woman in the next bed also had an extremely high temperature and her husband and I took turns at the sink in our battle against the raging infections.

The medicine arrived and was administered, however, the relief was temporary.  In the wee hours of the morning, she was again feverish.  Meanwhile, our elderly neighbor died and her body removed to make room for a new patient, whose was in agony and extremely vocal about it.

My mother-in-law lingered another day and all her family that was present in town were able to make their last farewells.  She was conscious briefly at the end, made her confession and received the last rites.  Then she was gone.

We weren’t given any time to grieve.  Now that she had died, the charges against my father-in-law were upgraded to homicide and his bail revoked.  The police had begun their cover-up while we were still at the hospital.  They claimed that my father-in-law was racing the police car across the intersection, that my mother-in-law did not have her helmet on, that there was some urgent police business that necessitated the excessive speed of the police vehicle, that the moto hit the police car first, that my father-in-law was to blame for his wife’s death.

It was a race against time.  My mother-in-law’s body was taken to Yuriria for autopsy and would be released that afternoon.  All of her children needed to make statements with a lawyer immediately or my father-in-law would be rearrested.  We needed to make arrangements with the funeral director and inform the family in Cerano. And to top it all off, Jesus had sent another lawsuit that needed immediate answer, or I too would be in jail.

Now, 8 months later, this court case is still in limbo.  The police are still denying fault even though we have submitted a video taken seconds after the accident that refute the officer’s version of events.  Witnesses that at first were willing to testify have been ‘convinced’ otherwise.  Anonymous threats have been made against the family as well should we continue with the lawsuit.  And the thing is, at no time were we asking for monetary damages, even though my mother-in-law was the sole income provider for her household.  Nor were hospital or funeral expenses present in the demands.  There is not even a demand for a new moto as it was completely destroyed in the accident.  All that we are asking for is justice.  That my father-in-law does not go to jail on charges of involuntary manslaughter for the death of his wife.  That these charges brought against him by the police officer that drove over my mother-in-law are dropped.  Seems like we are whistling in the wind for all that we are heard.

The police officer, who is identifiable from the video, has been transferred to another place.  In my opinion, for our family, that is for the best.  The anger and grief his careless actions have caused have left this family with bitterness and rage.  Should this police officer be seen by any of us, there is no telling what might be attempted and with what result.

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Filed under Death and all its trappings, Health, Safety and Security

Safety and security (or lack of) in these parts

 

Masked persons may or may not be members of the official police force here in Mexico. Numerous crimes are committed daily by those dressed much like those pictured here.

Masked persons may or may not be members of the official police force here in Mexico. Numerous crimes are committed daily by those dressed much like those pictured here.

Last weekend, my husband and one of his friends A, went to Cerano for the weekly tianguis (flea market). On the way home, they were stopped by los cappuchis (masked ‘policemen’) who examined their papers, searched the vehicle and ended up demanding a mordida (bribe) which was all the cash the two had on them.

This is just another case in point in a long line of problems with the police or supposed police, it’s hard to say which is which these days. So why is it that those paid to serve and defend are in the midst of this sort of activity?

Perhaps because we live less than an hour from the Michoacan-Guanajuato border. The ‘police’ arrive in town, accept these not-so voluntary contributions, make off with parked vehicles, even as far as targeting wealthy-looking persons for kidnapping and head back to Michoacan, outside the Guanajuato jurisdiction.

I can’t even begin to list all the times my husband has been charged a mordida, which translates a “little bite” as in little bite of the apple. On the moto, in the truck, and even while on horseback, police have stopped, searched, and relieved him of cash or other easily transportable items like tools or cds.

We once made the mistake of reporting a particularly big mordida to the chief of state police several years ago. We filled out the report and had it sent to Guanajuato. The police involved were suspended 2 weeks, but had their revenge. My husband was out and about and had a flat tire one day. While waiting for the tow truck, the same police that we had reported stopped and arrested him on a pretext of obstructing traffic or something or other. Two years later, he gets a summons and we make the trip to Guanajuato where his license was suspended for 180 days. In the scheme of things doesn’t seem like much, however there were the expenses of the trip there and back and the nuisance of 6 months without a license, then having to pay to have it reissued. So it seems there isn’t anything else to do but pay up.

Things can be much worse than a mordida. Kidnapping happens on a regular basis. Typically the kidnapped victim is an adult male whose family has money. I suppose women are not kidnapped because there is some doubt whether a ransom would be paid once her reputation is compromised by being in unchaperoned, unknown parts with unknown (probably male) kidnappers. Male victims on the other hand, have a plethora of female relatives that will pull out all stops and get the money for the ransom together.

My husband was kidnapped our first year in Mexico. We had gone to Cerano to visit his relatives (seems a dangerous corridor to drive) and were stopped by the ‘military’ on the way back. They searched our vehicle and asked some questions and saw that we had cash on hand. My husband had some 2000 pesos in his wallet to buy a door for the house. From me they gleaned that we had some land (although its only 2 measly lots) and our vehicle was luxurious for these parts as we were still driving our 2000 GMC Sierra. After all that, we went on our merry way back to La Yacata.

Someone on the ‘military’ team alerted the kidnappers that we were potential victims and they followed us to La Yacata. Otherwise, remote as it is, no one would think to look for us there. Additionally the address that was on my husband’s license and registration was that of his brother’s house since La Yacata had no street names yet. Unsuspecting, my son and I got out at the house and my husband took the truck up the hill to cut some inquierta (a vine plant that grows in trees and has orange flowers and black berries) for the goats to eat.

About 30 minutes later, his parents and I were outside talking and saw the truck attempting to come down a road that was not finished. We wondered aloud what on earth my husband was doing since he knew that road was closed and went back to the conversation. A little while later, a green van came down the road, again with little comment from us.

But my husband didn’t come back. I sat at the door all night and waited for him. His brother thought he might have gone drinking and stayed in town, but I knew him. He would not leave us alone all night.

Around 5 a.m. he pulled up and practically fell out of the truck. He had awoken in Uriangato, a neighboring town, dazed and disoriented.

He doesn’t remember much, but says that when he had jumped down from the tree, there were about 5 or 6 young guys. There must have been one behind him with something on a cloth to make him pass out, because he said the next thing he knew, he was lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. Gathering his wits, he broke the window and jumped out. Someone entered when he was jumping and tried to restrain him, but he shook him off. Then he spotted the truck parked down the road, took out the spare key which was hidden under the front bumper, opened the door and revved off, relieved of his wallet and, of course ,the money, and various little things that had been in the truck. It took him some time to orient himself and find the road back to Moroleón, but find it he did.

For a time he was shaken up, but then he was angry and wanted to go and try to find the guys. That phase passed too. We were fortunate. Several other persons of my acquaintance have been kidnapped. Its quite an ordeal, no water, no bathroom, physical and emotional abuse, calls and messages to family members to pay up. The physically and emotional trauma is intense and causes life-long problems, both in terms of health and psychological issues. And emotionally, if it happens in your own home, how does one recover the sense of security lost? Not to mention the monetary aspect. The current going rate is $500,000 U.S. dollars, not exactly chump change.

For our part, we sold our nice truck and bought a 1980 model with a few bangs in it already. Looking as poor as we are, perhaps trying to blend in, has relieved some of our anxiety. However, the random stops and searches, valid pretext or not, the mordidas, kidnappings, robberies have not been halted and makes a daily trek to the store a voyage frought with unexpected dangers.

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