The Victims of Culiacán

Light in the Capital

A small story of order inside a war zone.

Cartel Insider has been covering the Sinaloa civil war from day one. We’ve published interrogation footage, last statements, and intelligence breakdowns — but those men were never the real victims of the war now consuming Culiacán.

The real victims are the families who live there.

During my most recent trip, I spent time seeing the damage across the city. In northern Culiacán, I sat with mothers whose sons disappeared or were shot simply because they were young men — automatically labeled as Chapiza by their enemies. These were not criminals. These were kids caught in a conflict they never chose.

And while their grief is unbearable, the broader damage to the city is equally devastating. Street‑level crime has surged. Vehicle theft has become routine. Businesses are being burned. Neighborhoods feel tense, unstable, and watched.

The Strategy of Chaos

This collapse didn’t happen on its own. It began when Mayito Flaco declared war on the capital — a plaza that remains firmly under Chapitos control. His approach was simple and brutal: if he couldn’t take Culiacán, then nobody should be able to use it.

He authorized his faction, Mayiza, to “light up the plaza” — a strategy built on sabotage. Vehicle theft. Arsons. Attacks designed to draw in federal forces, disrupt Chapitos logistics, and pressure the civilian population.

The results have been catastrophic:

• IHOP shut down its Culiacán location
• Domino’s Pizza, which had multiple franchises, pulled two out of northern Culiacán
• Cinépolis Plaza Sendero scaled back operations due to security risks
• Local branches of Santander and BBVA reduced hours after repeated extortion attempts
• Farmacias Guadalajara and Oxxo stores have been targeted with firebombs and looting

The city is being suffocated by a criminal strategy designed to break it from the inside.

Why destroy what you hope to inherit?

Because for some leaders, if they can’t control the capital, then the capital shouldn’t function at all.

And yet, after fourteen months of this pressure, military interference, and online disinformation campaigns, Culiacán still belongs to Iván Archivaldo Guzmán.

A Direct Message From the Top

I met with several of Iván’s top lieutenants. They shared a message he wanted delivered to me — a rare move, considering the moment.

“We’re not white doves, Mica. But we’re the better of two evils.”

At the time, I understood the words. But only recently did I understand the weight behind them.

A Motorcycle in Mazatlán

A man from Mazatlán contacted me a few weeks ago. His motorcycle had been stolen — not a hobby bike, but the one thing that allowed him to work and support his family. He asked for help.

I told him he should have realistic expectations.

Mazatlán is a Chapitos stronghold, so that night I reached out to someone inside the organization. Someone who has helped before.

“Of course, Mica,” he replied.

I sent photos, details, and the victim’s WhatsApp number.

Two days later, I received a message:

“It’s done.”

Before I could relay the news, the man wrote to me. His motorcycle had been returned.

The Network You Don’t See

That’s when I learned something important.

The Chapitos operate dozens of “offices” across Sinaloa — quiet intelligence hubs that monitor their plazas, track threats, share information, and, in many cases, respond to crimes affecting residents.

I asked for an inside look. They gave me access.

For several days, I observed one of their internal channels. I saw everyday people report stolen vehicles. I watched the organization cross‑check photos, movement, and tips in real time. They identified suspects, recovered property, and handled the consequences internally.

“Mica,” one of the office leads told me,

“Yes, we run a business. But that doesn’t mean we don’t help the people.”

A Holiday in War

This isn’t my usual kind of story. But with Thanksgiving here, it felt important to share.

In a state ripped apart by a civil war, sometimes the only functioning order comes from those who still believe in protecting what they’ve built — even if their hands are far from clean.

And sometimes, that small bit of order is the only light left.

I’m just living the dream and grateful for more things than I can count — but above all, I’m thankful for Sol Prendido and for every one of you who has helped build the popularity of Cartel Insider.

Happy Thanksgiving 🦃

— Mica Treviño