Police, soldiers swarm Mexico’s Acapulco, killings continue
A girl stares out a bus window during a routine police checkpoint on the “costera,” the seaside boulevard that runs through the hotel zone in Acapulco, Mexico. Today it’s almost easier to find a truck full of soldiers, a federal policeman or a gaggle of local tourist cops than it is to find a taxi along the seaside boulevard. (Associated Press)
In this May 9, 2016 photo, a cross propped against a bullet-riddled building column marks the area where a policeman and taxi driver were gunned down in 2011, in Acapulco, Mexico. According to the date on the cross, one victim was 74-years-old. An upsurge in killings has made Acapulco one of Mexico’s most violent places, scaring away what international tourism remained. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
In this May 11, 2016 photo, the fence separating the street from the Las Cruces neighborhood cemetery has been ripped open, in Acapulco, Mexico. Violence gripping this once-glamorous resort and its neighborhoods has seen an upsurge in the last months. According to estimates of local press more than 300 murders by gunfire have occurred in the city since the beginning of the year up to date. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
In this May 9, 2016 photo, the body of a man that could not be identified, lies in a pool of his own blood after he was shot dead at the entrance of a supermarket at the Las Cruces neighborhood in Acapulco, Mexico. Death can strike anywhere in Acapulco these days: A sarong vendor was slain on the beach in January by a gunman who escaped on a Jet Ski. Another man was gunned down while enjoying a beer at a seaside restaurant. In the hillside slums that ring the city, a 15-year-old girlís body was found chopped into pieces and wrapped in a blanket, her severed head in a bucket nearby with a hand-lettered sign from a drug gang. (AP Photo/Enric MartÌ)
In May 10, 2016 photo, the gate of the once popular restaurant "Los Braseros" is emblazoned with a graffiti drawing of a gun, situated on the seaside boulevard, known as " La Costera", that runs through the hotel zone in Acapulco, Mexico. Mexico has lined the cityís coastal boulevard with heavily armed police and soldiers, turning Acapulco into a high-profile test case for a security strategy that the government has used elsewhere: When homicides spike, flood the area with troops. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
In this May 13, 2016 photo, a fisherman tries to sell his fresh catch to beach goers on Caletilla beach in Acapulco, Mexico. Violence gripping this once-glamorous resort has upsurged in the last months scaring away what international tourism remained. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
In this May 12, 2016 photo, shards of glass set into mortar serve as a crime prevention device on a wall displaying a directional sign on where to buy tickets at the Plaza de Toros Caletilla bull fighting ring in Acapulco, Mexico. Once the stage for renowned bullfighters the ring has been closed since 2014 due to the violence that has driven international tourism away in last years. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
In this April 23, 2016 photo, members of the Lucha Libre wrestling group who call themselves, "Guerreros del Cuadrilatero-Club Soley"or Club Soley Wing Warriors, train for a show on the back patio of a barbershop in the Las Cruces neighborhood of Acapulco, Mexico. Residents of Acapulco’s slums suffer the worst of the violence despite the high-profile tourist-quarter killings. New police chief Max Saldana said he thinks the gangs “have retreated up into the ‘colonias,’” or slums, where few tourist dollars ever arrive. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
This May 11, 2016 photo shows the backside of a bus decorated with a provocative mural, in Acapulco, Mexico. Today itís almost easier to find a truck full of soldiers, a federal policeman or a gaggle of local tourist cops than it is to find a taxi along the ìcostera,î the seaside boulevard that runs through the hotel zone. Marines patrol the beach, while federal police watch over the breakwaters. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
This May 12, 2016 photo shows a sign advertising a boxing school with a message that reads in Spanish; "Come on up and learn to defend yourself," alongside a road leading to the marginal neighborhoods of Acapulco, Mexico. The upsurge in killings has made Acapulco one of Mexicoís most violent places, scaring away what international tourism remained and recently prompting the U.S. government to bar its employees from traveling here for any reason. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
In this May 13, 2016 photo, a woman talks on a phone over a wounded Edgar Osvaldo Vega, as Pedro Gracias sits in a car bleeding, waiting for assistance after being shot by unknown gunmen while driving near Caleta beach in Acapulco, Mexico. Police showed up, but when no ambulance arrived, relatives or friends simply bundled the men into private vehicles to take them to the hospital. Police marked spent shell casings with cut-off plastic soda bottles, but there was no sign of any in-depth investigation. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
In this May 11, 2016 photo, two burnt out Volkswagen Beatle shells, colloquially referred to as "Vochos", sit near an overpass on a road leading to the neighborhoods overlooking Acapulco, Mexico. According to neighbors the cars were set on fire about two years ago, during a shootout. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
In this May 9, 2016 photo, a Bible quote spray-painted on a bullet-riddled wall reads in Spanish; "And Jesus said; I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies," at a former police outpost where police officers were shot in 2011 on a hill overlooking Acapulco, Mexico. Acapulcoís latest wave of killings began April 24, when bursts of gunfire broke out along the coastal boulevard. It was the first time such sustained shooting had been seen there since the darkest days of 2012, when the murder rate in this city of 800,000 hit 146 per 100,000 inhabitants. (AP Photo/Enric Marti)
ACAPULCO, Mexico — Along with beach towels or sandals, there’s a new popular beach accessory that says a lot about the violence gripping this once-glamorous resort: a small black leather tote hanging from the neck or shoulders of some men. It holds a small pistol.
“When I saw you guys standing outside my office, I almost went for my bag,” said one businessman who lives in terror after getting death threats and extortion demands by criminal gangs at his office four blocks from the water. “I’m in fear for my life.”
Death can strike anywhere in Acapulco these days: A sarong vendor was slain on the beach in January by a gunman who escaped on a Jet Ski. Another man was gunned down while enjoying a beer at a seaside restaurant. In the hillside slums that ring the city, a 15-year-old girl’s body was found chopped into pieces and wrapped in a blanket, her severed head in a bucket nearby with a hand-lettered sign from a drug gang.
The upsurge in killings has made Acapulco one of Mexico’s most violent places, scaring away what international tourism remained and recently prompting the U.S. government to bar its employees from traveling here for any reason.
In response, Mexico has lined the city’s coastal boulevard with heavily armed police and soldiers, turning Acapulco into a high-profile test case for a security strategy that the government has used elsewhere: When homicides spike, flood the area with troops.
Today it’s almost easier to find a truck full of soldiers, a federal policeman or a gaggle of local tourist cops than it is to find a taxi along the “costera,” the seaside boulevard that runs through the hotel zone. Marines patrol the beach, while federal police watch over the breakwaters.
“This area has been made bulletproof,” Guerrero state prosecutor Xavier Olea said.
Except it hasn’t. A week after AP reporters visited, gunmen shot to death three young men in broad daylight two blocks away from a restaurant where they met with an underworld figure. Two of their bullet-ridden bodies lay on the concrete just off the beach, and one bled out on the sand. Two were waiters, and the third a roving coconut oil vendor.
On a recent day, farther down the beach, another black bag hung around the neck of a man nicknamed “the lieutenant.” He works as a bodyguard for a man with underworld connections who agreed to meet near an open-air restaurant to discuss the security situation. He spoke on condition of anonymity to avoid being targeted by rivals or authorities.
“There are 300 paid killers on the costera,” the underworld figure said, gesturing expansively over plates of fried fish and shrimp. At least one other bodyguard was nearby. “A decent killer makes about 5,000 pesos ($275) a week.”
Experts say Acapulco shows the limitations of the government’s security strategy. Federal police, almost none of whom are from the city, quickly get lost once they leave the coastal boulevard and ascend into twisting, hillside neighborhoods. Their heavy weapons are ill-suited to urban policing, and they’re hampered as well by Mexico’s unwieldy judicial system and a lack of investigative training.
Last week two men were shot and wounded on the street a block from the popular Caleta beach. Police showed up, but when no ambulance arrived, relatives or friends simply bundled the men into private vehicles to take them to the hospital. Police marked spent shell casings with cut-off plastic soda bottles, but there was no sign of any in-depth investigation.
“It’s the same problem in Guerrero, the same problem in Tamaulipas, in Michoacan,” security analyst Alejandro Hope said, referring to three states where homicides have spiked. “Suddenly there’s an emergency, they send troops to where the problem is and in the short term crime drops. But then there is an emergency somewhere else, and then the troops have to leave, and they have not developed local law-enforcement capacity.”
