Narcoland: The Mexican Drug Lords and Their Godfathers (20 page)

“Oh dear!” exclaimed El Chapo at this curt response. “On the next shift we’re going to have a little get-together, the other girls and us, and you’re invited. What do you drink, whisky or tequila? I’d really like it if you could come. We’ll pick you up here.”

Moreno already knew from Silvestre de la Cruz, the kitchen manager, what the drug trafficker’s intentions were. When the time for the party came, feeling under pressure from her boss and her colleagues, Moreno went back to the kitchenette in Block 3. El Chapo was waiting for her.

“Are you ready to come up?”

“I’m not coming up. I have kids, I live alone and I don’t want gossip. Even if I come up just for a chat, people will say I’ve been with you.”

“That’s okay, in any case I offer you my friendship,” he replied pleasantly.

The next day, when she arrived back at her modest home in Guadalajara, Moreno found a bunch of roses with no card. In the evening, El Chapo called her on her mobile—of course she’d never
given him the number: “Did you like the roses I sent?” Yves couldn’t mistake El Chapo’s voice, with its strong Sinaloa accent. Thanks to the good offices of Francisco Camberos, El Chito (who also liaised between Guzmán and his wife Alejandrina), the bouquets continued to arrive.

By the end of July 2000, the conversations between the gangster and the cook were so easy and frequent that “the fortress fell,” as traffickers say. Yves Eréndira agreed to have sexual relations with El Chapo in the same cubicle that the psychologists, doctors, and priests used to attend to the prisoners.

The drug trafficker liked to give a special touch to each of their encounters. He got his employees to fix the place up, perfuming the pillows and sheets, and converting the blankets into rugs. When the session ended, the drug baron would write amorous notes that Moreno would tear up and throw away, for fear that the guards would find them as she was searched on her way out of the prison.

On September 19, 2000, Moreno gave in her notice. But El Chapo wasn’t going to let her go that easily. He offered to buy her a house and a car, and set her up with a business. She refused. Nonetheless, she couldn’t resist his advances for long. On October 19 she went back to Puente Grande, to begin “conjugal” visits to Guzmán. Sometimes she was paid for it. On occasions she’d run into the warden, Leonardo Beltrán, who would greet her as if nothing had happened. She was never searched, or registered as a visitor. One day she said to El Chapo:

“I feel embarrassed about the warden. Today he saw me.”

“Don’t worry,” said Guzmán, “Mr. Beltrán knows about everything. I give him forty or fifty thousand pesos a month, or sometimes I pay him in dollars. It’s all right, I’ve got everything under control.”

After sex, El Chapo could become very talkative. He told Moreno about the houses he owned in Las Lomas de Chapultepec, one of the most expensive parts of Mexico City. He went into some detail about his properties in luxury neighborhoods of Guadalajara. He said he had a fleet of aircraft and an island in the Caribbean, like an international jet setter. “When I get out, I’ll take you for rides in my planes,
I’ve already got them ready,” the drug trafficker promised. He told her that her enchiladas, which she’d send via El Chito, were just like those his mother made.

As time went by, El Chapo Guzmán came to trust Moreno. He told his lover how he had built a house and a chapel for his mother in his hometown of La Tuna. At the beginning of December 2000, he mentioned that El Güero Palma was his partner, and that he’d had problems with the Arellano Félix brothers for defending him: “They’ve already sent me a message here in the prison,” said the drug baron. He didn’t say how it had come or what it contained, but it obviously wasn’t a message of peace and love. That same day El Chapo told her that all the prison guards “were already with him,” which was hardly news to the cook. Later he calmly announced: “I’m very nearly out of here, it’ll go just fine.”

After a while, Yves Eréndira refused to go back to see him or to talk on the phone. On the morning of January 20, she learned that her lover had escaped from Puente Grande.

An escape foretold

On January 4, 2000, Guadalupe Morfín heard first-hand about the control exerted in Puente Grande by El Chapo. The information came from a prison official called Felipe Leaños, who came to her offices at the Jalisco Human Rights Commission to complain of harassment at work, after refusing to bow to pressures to go along with the corruption. She passed it on to the national human rights commissioner, José Luis Soberanes, and to the person ultimately responsible for the prison, Jorge Tello Peón.
²⁸

Antonio Aguilar, for his part, had not given up, even though his inspection had come to nothing. He continued to inform Enrique Pérez Rodríguez of the corruption in the prison. In mid 2000, Commander Dámaso López, the leader of The Sinaloas, resigned as assistant warden of Puente Grande; after all, it would be easier for him to control the prison staff from outside the jail. As director general of the prison service, Pérez came up with a perverse plan. He proposed the post to Aguilar, and Aguilar accepted the challenge.
²⁹

“I need a team to work with me. I’ll also need your department’s full support, because I know very well the irregularities at the prison and we have to put a stop to them,” said Aguilar enthusiastically.

“Make your proposals and we’ll consider them, but in the meantime, go there on your own,” Pérez instructed him.

When Aguilar started at Puente Grande, his first step was to appoint Felipe Leaños, a man of proven honesty, as head of a company of prison guards, to give himself more control. Over the next three days, the new assistant warden brought the staff together in the prison auditorium to explain how he intended to work: “I know many colleagues in this room have things to hide. I invite them to leave the institution immediately. If irregularities continue, I will act strictly in accordance with the law,” stated the commander. Aguilar made it clear that he was ready to do battle to take back the power the The Three exercised over the prison.

At the beginning of October, Commander Aguilar put his words into practice and began to apply sanctions to El Chapo Guzmán and El Güero Palma, if they were caught in infraction. One day he took away from Palma his television and his phone privileges—something unthinkable for drug traffickers who are used to having everything their own way.

After ordering the punishment, Aguilar called Beltrán to put him in the picture. “I see,” was the warden’s reserved reaction. Next Aguilar called Pérez, and left a voice mail recommending the dispersal of Joaquín Guzmán Loera, Héctor Palma Salazar, and Arturo Martínez Herrera to different high-security jails, without delay.

“How did Mr. Palma react?” asked Beltrán, when Aguilar phoned again to update him.

“He’s pretty upset that we took his TV and suspended his phone calls.”

“It’s not a good idea to punish these people. It could create problems in the prison,” cautioned Beltrán.

“We’re just following the rules,” said Aguilar.

“Well, I advise you to lift the punishment,” insisted the warden.

“If you like, we can talk about it tomorrow, in your office.”

Next day, Beltrán again asked Aguilar to rescind the penalty against El Chapo’s partner.

“Tell me why I should do that,” said the assistant warden angrily.

“Look, to avoid trouble in here, it would have been better not even to make a report,” replied Beltrán flatly.

Thirty-six hours after ordering the sanctions against El Güero Palma, which were supposed to last five days, Antonio Aguilar revoked them. The following day, Warden Beltrán informed him, without further explanation, that they had to go to Mexico City for a meeting with Pérez.

In his office, the director general of prevention and rehabilitation, cynic that he was, congratulated the new assistant warden. Pérez told him to keep up the good work, but that for the time being they weren’t going to make any changes to the staff. It was a contradictory message. How was Aguilar to keep up the good work, if the majority of the prison staff were in league with The Three and their group of drug traffickers? He reminded Pérez that several of the guards were the main organizers of the corruption, and he listed them by name. They were all members of The Sinaloas.

“Sir, Commanders Carlos Ochoa, Jesús Vizcaíno, Pablo Rodríguez, Francisco Herrera, and Héctor Guerra must urgently be dismissed.”

“The federal police are already onto them. Any moment now they’ll be arrested, don’t worry about that,” said Pérez.

“I have a list of another twenty-five prison staff who are also involved in irregularities,” persisted Aguilar.

“We’ll see about that later,” answered Pérez, whose evasions revealed his complicity. “Ernesto Zedillo’s government is coming to an end, and until it does we should keep things calm and problem-free at the prison. We’ll make the changes after the new government comes in.”

Antonio Aguilar was out of arguments. It was becoming obvious what role the head of the prison service was playing. Commander Aguilar decided to request a vacation, which was gladly granted.

When Aguilar went back to work, Warden Beltrán told him he could take some more days off if he wanted. He said that wouldn’t be necessary. The following day, the warden told him that Enrique Pérez had received anonymous calls to his cell phone warning him to “back off or all hell will break loose,” because people “are getting very edgy in Puente Grande.”

“I’m getting similar calls myself,” added Beltrán, with feigned concern. “I suggest you ease up a bit on the security measures. There’s a lot of tension among the inmates.”

“What kind of easing up are you suggesting?” asked Aguilar.

“The prisoners need to be able to communicate, to get better food and some sexual relief, and other little things like that which don’t affect prison security.”

“They already have a dietician working to improve the food. What’s more, they have regularly scheduled phone calls and conjugal visits,” answered Aguilar, who was nobody’s fool.

“I’m not talking about those kinds of amenities,” replied Beltrán testily.

“What
are
you talking about, then?”

“They need to communicate more than that,” explained the warden, candidly now. “They need to make frequent calls, so we should allow them to have cell phones.”

“That would be difficult, because the intelligence people at Cisen track all the calls,” said the deputy governor, not realizing that for the last year the use of cell phones had been the norm at Puente Grande—with or without Cisen, and possibly thanks to them.

“The inmates can be given phones that Cisen cannot detect,” said Beltrán with growing irritation, as he failed to get Aguilar to play along.

“And how might their meals be improved?” asked the assistant warden, continuing to challenge his boss.

“They can have restaurant food brought in,” answered Beltrán, falling into the trap.

Antonio Aguilar went on asking questions until the warden gave himself away completely.

“What kind of sexual support do the inmates need?”

“Just the opportunity for a brief romp, that’s all.”

“What sort of a romp?”

“There are people in administration who see to all that.”

“How else can we support them?”

“Well, we could give them a bit more freedom to move around outside their cells.”

“Don’t count on me,” protested Aguilar. “I’m not putting my hand in the fire for you. If I’m in your way, get the Secretariat to transfer me and I’ll clear out today.”

“Commander, there is no point in sacrificing yourself for the institution. We are only here temporarily. If we don’t do it, someone else will.”

“My moral principles and values make it impossible for me to share your point of view,” declared Aguilar, as he made to leave the warden’s office.

“I only ask that this conversation remain between the two of us,” said Beltrán.

“I promise.”

In the corridor, Aguilar bumped into Carlos Arias, an intelligence officer from Cisen attached to the Puente Grande prison. The assistant warden couldn’t resist telling him that Beltrán had just tried to co-opt him. Arias made a note and said he’d inform Mexico City. That night, the intelligence officer told him he’d filed his report.

The head of Cisen at the time was Alejandro Alegre Rabiela. A lawyer trained at the University of Anáhuac, he was a loyal follower of Jorge Carrillo Olea and Jorge Tello. He’d worked for them since 1986, when he was just twenty-two. Since then his career had progressed meteorically In May 1999, Alegre was made director general of Cisen. However, it was Tello, who was then responsible for federal prisons, who really controlled the intelligence agency. Alegre stayed in the job until December 2000, and although El Chapo’s escape was already widely anticipated in the prison he was responsible for watching, he never reported this. He now oversees the government’s monetary affairs as a top official in the Bank of Mexico (as chief cashier, his signature appears on all new banknotes).

From at least 1999, Cisen maintained a permanent presence in Puente Grande. Arias had a team of sixteen officers. Several guards have said that the intelligence operatives were based near the legal affairs area on Level B, and were well aware of the irregularities.
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Their presence in the prison was crucial: the Cisen staff were responsible for the information coming out of the control center. They would analyze the phone calls made by both inmates and staff; they would record conversations in the family and intimate visiting areas, and in other parts of the prison where they put microphones.
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Genaro García Luna, later to be President Calderón’s secretary of
public security, was then general co-ordinator of Cisen and part of Tello’s trusted inner circle. His tasks had to do with national security,
³²
so the reports of what The Three were up to in Puente Grande must have gone through his office.