Crossfire Confessions: The Mayiza-Chapiza Civil War

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Culiacán, Sinaloa—The video opens in a stark and silent setting. Two men sit against wooden planks, their faces pixelated, their surroundings dimly lit and claustrophobic. A bold, red logo—Mayiza—crossed out with defiance dominates the frame, a silent declaration by those behind the camera. One figure wears a white cowboy hat, the brim casting a faint shadow over his face, while the other sits shirtless, his posture resigned. The air feels thick with tension. This is more than an interrogation; it’s theater, a performance for the war’s audience.

This video underscores the brutality of the civil war tearing the Sinaloa Cartel apart. Chapiza and Mayiza are locked in a bloody contest for dominance, with publicized interrogations serving as intelligence-gathering tools and psychological warfare. The message is clear: no one is untouchable, and loyalty only goes so far.

Inside the Crossfire Video

The captives, identified as members of the Mayiza faction, recount their stories in voices tinged with fear and exhaustion. One details a firefight and his abandonment by his comrades; the other speaks of empty promises and threats against his family. Plastered across the frame, the “No Mayiza” logo underscores the captors’ narrative: Mayiza’s grip on this territory is crumbling. Each detail—the dim lighting, pixelated faces, and muted staging—adds to the video’s grim tone, presenting a quiet but brutal reality.

Testimonies of the Captives

Special thanks to Sol Prendido of Cartel Insider for providing the translation and transcription.

Sicario: What’s your name?

Captive #1: My name is Jose Julian.

Sicario: Which faction do you work for?

Captive #1: I work for Mayito Flaco and the Cabreras mob.

Sicario: Where were you working and what vehicle were you traveling in?

Captive #1: I was caught by the Pancho Villa Avenue while in a grey Nissan.

Sicario: Why do we have you guys here today?

Captive #1: We went to bomb the Gran Plaza Mazatlán. But since we were unable to we ended up torching the place. The next day we bombed a two story white house. We were about to leave when the Chapiza mob suddenly showed up. A firefight began between us. Two of my companions ended up getting hurt. One was shot and the other died. The other guys from my cell jettisoned their weapons and ran away. I was left to fend for myself. No one came to help or give me any sort of support.

Sicario: Where did you get recruited and for what reason?

Sicario #2: I was recruited from the Puerto Madero in Tapachula, Chiapas. The guy who recruited me is known as El Greñas.

Sicario: How exactly did you arrive to the city of Mazatlán?

Captive #2: We got to Mazatlán in a privately chartered bus. The bus driver had everything prearranged beforehand with El Greñas, Mayito Flaco, and the Cabreras mob.

Sicario: What would you like to say to the Mayiza mob?

Captive #2: Don’t allow yourselves to be deceived or brainwashed guys. They’ll promise you so many things and give you nothing in return. I was told that they’d give me some money for my family and two months have gone by with no pay. Don’t bother getting involved with this mob. We’ve been personally threatened with death and so have our family members if we refuse to cooperate with them. Don’t allow yourselves to be deceived guys. The Chapiza mob is in charge here and they’ll continue to govern in this area.

Mica’s Analysis

Do you know how long riding a bus from Tapachula, Chiapas, to Mazatlán takes? Twenty-nine hours. Captive #2 made that trek, like so many before him, clutching a dream sold to him by the cartel: quick money, respect, and the chance to escape the grinding poverty back home. Instead, he finds himself here—pixelated and powerless. He thought he was steering his future. Instead, he’s another cog in a machine that devours the hopeful and spits out the broken.

This is cartel warfare in 2025, where an interrogation is never just an interrogation. It’s a weapon wielded by factions in a conflict that’s as much about controlling the story as it is about controlling the territory. Videos like this are tit-for-tat maneuvers designed to humiliate, intimidate, and dismantle the enemy’s narrative piece by piece. One faction releases their captives’ confessions, and it’s only a matter of time before their rivals pass the hot potato back, airing their victories in the endless cycle of revenge and propaganda. Chapiza, in this case, isn’t just breaking Mayiza’s recruits—they’re showcasing Mayiza’s failure to the world. It’s a strategy as brutal as it is calculated.

And yet, the cycle continues. For every captive left behind, another young man is boarding a bus north, eyes set on a future built on illusions. The cartel war doesn’t need to recruit new soldiers—it simply recycles the past’s broken promises into the next generation’s desperate dreams.

As the video fades, the captives’ words hang in the air: “Don’t allow yourselves to be deceived.” For these men, loyalty was a scam—a false currency traded for pain and betrayal. Their stories aren’t unique; they’re echoes of a war that grinds on, consuming lives and spitting out the broken pieces.