Soldiers Record Themselves Gunning Down “Cabreras” in Chihuahua

Today, technology and armed conflict have merged into a single narrative in Mexico—one in which uniformed personnel not only open fire but also document the exact moment when the rule of law reclaims ground against impunity.

Today, I present to you a day of violent contrasts: from the depths of the Tarahumara mountains—where state forces recorded, in real time, the neutralization of hitmen—to the historic stronghold of the Zambada family in El Salado, Sinaloa, which woke up this morning surrounded by helicopters and armored vehicles.

Pay close attention, for what I am about to show you today—Tuesday, March 17, 2026—is the chronicle of a nation torn between the deployment of federal force and the ceaseless trickle of bloodshed in states like Veracruz.

We will analyze the takedown of members of the *Cabreras* cartel in Chihuahua, the offensive against the *Mayiza* structure in Culiacán, and the tragedy that has once again struck the capital of Veracruz. Take a look at what unfolded in Chihuahua over the last few hours.

In a response rarely documented with such a level of detail, officers from the State Public Security Secretariat—in a coordinated operation with the National Guard and the Mexican Army—confronted one of the most violent groups operating in the mountainous region.

The scene of the clash was the municipality of Guadalupe y Calvo, specifically along a dirt road connecting the communities of El Ocote and Atascaderos. There, the inter-agency patrol came face-to-face with reality: a group of approximately 15 armed men who, upon spotting the uniformed officers, didn’t hesitate to open fire indiscriminately.

What sets this incident apart is that the state forces recorded the entire confrontation. The footage reveals the tactical discipline and superior firepower that forced the aggressors to break ranks. The outcome of this skirmish was decisive.

Two gunmen were neutralized at the scene, and three others were captured. Among those detained, he identified Luis Antonio H.D., César Guadalupe G.G., and David C.E. The latter—wounded during the shootout—had to be airlifted as an emergency measure aboard a state police helicopter to a hospital, under a security detail that serves as a stark reminder of the dangerous nature of these individuals.

You see, in the Sierra de Chihuahua, this is no longer merely a matter of routine patrols; it is a full-blown war, recorded in real time to demonstrate who holds control of the territory.

Intelligence reports suggest that these individuals allegedly belong to the Los Cabrera organization—a cell historically linked to the structure of the Sinaloa Cartel, specifically to the “Mayo” faction, which has kept the “Golden Triangle” region under siege.

At the scene of the conflict, authorities seized an arsenal that speaks for itself: seven long guns, hundreds of rounds of ammunition, and tactical gear, including ballistic vests.

Despite the intensity of the attack, law enforcement forces managed to emerge nearly unscathed; only one officer was reported injured—struck by shrapnel—and is now in stable condition.

It is the portrait of a tactical victory unfolding within a territory that the State simply cannot afford to abandon. And while in Chihuahua, state forces were succeeding in subduing the Cabrera cell, in Sinaloa, attention shifted to a high-impact operation striking at the very heart of the organization led by Ismael “El Mayito Flaco” Zambada.

Pay close attention to this. El Salado—a district located south of Culiacán and already known worldwide as the historic hideout of the Zambada clan—became, on Monday, March 16, the epicenter of an unprecedented federal mobilization.

From the very first hours of the day, local residents began flooding social media with videos that look as if they were taken straight out of a war zone.

Armed Forces helicopters could be seen flying at low altitudes—nearly grazing the treetops—while the roar of the engines of specialized ground units, known as “Black Mambas,” echoed as they advanced along the dirt tracks and trails of the district.

El Salado is no ordinary place; it’s a site whose ties to the cartel have been immortalized even in popular culture and *narcocorridos*—ballads that describe the population’s absolute loyalty to the Zambada family.

Consequently, witnessing the incursion by the Secretariat of Security and Citizen Protection—deploying heavily armored vehicles backed by air support from the National Defense Secretariat—signals that the operation’s target is a high-value one. As of now, official silence on the matter remains absolute; however, on the ground, the facts speak for themselves.

Reports have confirmed the seizure of a late-model Ram pickup truck—featuring black rims and a distinct impact mark on the windshield—clear evidence that, at some point during the operation, armed resistance was encountered. El Salado—the historic sanctuary of the Zambadas—woke up today to the thunderous roar of rotors and the advance of the “Black Mambas,” sending a direct message to the cartel’s organizational structure. What further complicates this scenario in Sinaloa is the prevailing political-military context.

This operation took place on the very same day that, in the state capital, Brigadier General Sinué Télez López was sworn in as the new head of Sinaloa’s Secretariat of Public Security.

Télez López steps in to replace Óscar Rentería Shazarino amidst a security crisis that has offered no respite for months. The new commander—personally proposed by the Secretary of National Defense, General Ricardo Trevilla—assumes his post with a commitment to bolster security strategies in a state where Governor Rubén Rocha Moya appears increasingly hemmed in by the reality of ongoing clashes.

Is this operation in El Salado the new general’s calling card, or is it a move coordinated from the nation’s capital that simply coincided with the change of command?

The fact remains that the federal presence in Sinaloa is no longer merely one of containment, but rather one of direct incursion into the security perimeters of the factions within the Sinaloa Cartel.

Yet, while in the north of the country we see helicopters and state-of-the-art armored vehicles, in the southeast, the tragedy remains one of citizen defenselessness. In Veracruz, this Monday began with the discovery of three individuals who had been killed in the locality of El Castillo, within the municipality of Xalapa.

The bodies—two men and one woman—were abandoned on the highway leading toward Alto Lucero, bearing mortal wounds that attest to the brutality of their attackers.

Residents of the area, awakened by the sound of multiple gunshots, alerted the authorities. However—as is often the case in such attacks perpetrated by hit squads—those responsible managed to flee before the first patrol car arrived on the scene.

The Xalapa–Alto Lucero highway was cordoned off, spent shell casings were collected, and forensic experts carried out the recovery of the remains. Nevertheless, no arrests have been made.

There is no video footage recorded by authorities showing who the attackers were or how the assault unfolded. This is the other side of the coin: violence doesn’t merely strike from the shadows of Xalapa’s outskirts.

Furthermore, while surveillance has been intensified in rhetoric, in practice it has failed to curb direct attacks against the population. What good is a reshuffling of names behind a desk if, out on the streets, spent shell casings continue to tell the same old story of impunity? Veracruz remains that state where security operations seem to always arrive after the damage has already been done, leaving the State Attorney General’s Office with case files that pile up—devoid of the faces of those responsible.

Today, I present to you a map of Mexico where justice operates at two speeds. One is the speed of Chihuahua and Sinaloa, where the State deploys its full technological and tactical might to confront—or corner—major criminal organizations such as the Cabreras or La Mayiza.

It is a brand of justice defined by bursts of gunfire captured on video, and by “Black Mamba” armored vehicles patrolling historic rural districts. The other is the speed of Veracruz, where a life is extinguished on a highway outside Xalapa, and the only thing left behind is the police tape cordoning off a crime scene—a crime that no one witnessed and no one prevented.

You see, the very fact that we now have soldiers and state police officers filming themselves as they take down hitmen tells us that the narrative of this confrontation has shifted. The State wants to demonstrate that it can win the battle on the ground—that it can subdue groups of 15 gunmen and penetrate drug strongholds like El Salado.

But true victory will not be found in a video of a shootout or in the flyover of a helicopter. True victory will arrive on the day when, in Xalapa—or in any other state capital across the country—a woman and two men don’t wake up dead on the side of a highway, with no one knowing who pulled the trigger.

We will continue to report on the official results of the operation in El Salado, as well as the legal status of those detained in Guadalupe y Calvo. We will also be keeping a close watch on the first strategy to be implemented—or spearheaded—by General Téllez López in Sinaloa.

For while the names on the organizational charts may change, bullets continue to dictate the reality on the ground throughout the national territory.