Who Is ‘El Milo’? The Resurgence of the Cuban-American Mafia

Confidential information reached Mexican authorities early this year. Another criminal—one of the United States’ most wanted—was hiding in our country; the FBI’s latest criminal intelligence reports pinpointed his location to a luxury residential development in Cancún, Quintana Roo.

His name: Remigio Valdés Leo; his alias: “El Milo.” A stranger to most of the country, but an old acquaintance to the Cuban community in Mexico. The 68-year-old man stands accused in U.S. courts of human trafficking and organized crime. Specifically, he is alleged to be the principal financial operator for a group known as the Cuban-American Mafia. 

This is a clandestine group operating in Mexico—albeit of foreign origin—joining the ranks of 11 other such groups currently active in our country, according to research by Coahuila-based academic Víctor Manuel Sánchez. These include the Roman Mafia, various Italian crime families, Chinese triads, Central American gangs, Colombian mercenaries, and more. 

Yet this particular group—the Cuban-American Mafia—had gone unnoticed for years, concealed by the falsehood that it had been dismantled decades ago. However, the discovery of “El Milo”—and his operative, Joseline García—proved that it remains very much alive, thriving amidst our paradisiacal Caribbean beaches. 

According to federal investigations accessed by MVS Noticias, the Cuban-American Mafia employs a *modus operandi* that is relatively simple, yet utterly ruthless. It exploits the fact that the shortest distance between Quintana Roo and Cuba lies between Cabo Catoche—near Holbox—and Cabo San Antonio on the western tip of the island; across this 220-kilometer stretch, the group dispatches speedboats carrying Cubans in search of a better life. 

For these undocumented migrants, the journey to Florida—whether by speedboat or makeshift raft—is indeed shorter, but carries a significantly lower probability of success. They are more likely to be detained while en route to Key West, so they prefer to make landfall in Mexico—specifically in Quintana Roo—and pay *coyotes* to clear a path for them overland to the United States, traveling along the Gulf of Mexico coast toward Texas. 

However, the payment the Cubans believed covered the entire journey suddenly turns out to be merely a down payment; once they reach dry land, the very people who brought them from Cuba announce that the price has abruptly changed. Suddenly, they owe an additional $1,000; to ensure payment, they are held captive in shacks near the sea, where they must wait for their relatives in the United States to pay for their release. 

Mexican authorities now know that this inhumane wait takes place amidst suffocating heat and sticky humidity, inside dilapidated houses scattered throughout Holbox—one of the country’s most beautiful tourist destinations. Just a stone’s throw from boutique hotels, bars serving artisanal cocktails, and spas offering holistic massages priced in dollars, the Cuban-American mafia has stormed into uninhabited houses, transforming them into torture dungeons. 

Once the ransom is paid—a process that can take days or weeks—the Cuban migrants must walk a northward route originally established by the *Zetas*, but now dominated by the dictates of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel. 

They continue through Quintana Roo, territory of the *Pura Gente Nueva* cartel; they advance through Tabasco, controlled by *La Barredora*; they proceed through Veracruz—the domain of *Las Piñas*, rivals of the local Veracruz mafia—and finally enter Tamaulipas, territory of *Los Metros* (the old guard of the Gulf Cartel). 

Once in Tamaulipas—exhausted, having already been kidnapped, brutalized, and squeezed of every last coin—the Cubans enter the final phase of their journey. They reach Playa Bagdad in Matamoros, where fishermen working for the “Four-Letter Cartel” load them onto old fishing skiffs—outfitted, however, with powerful engines—and finally ferry them to Florida: their ultimate destination. 

All their friends are waiting for them. Yet few of those who set out actually reach the Sunshine State in the U.S. Some will be intercepted at sea; others will give up on continuing their trek across deadly stretches of wilderness—such as those near Rosera or La Piadosa—and instead seek their fortune in Mexico. 

But there are others who, according to statistics compiled in Mexico, will never even get the chance to begin the journey; for in Quintana Roo, organized crime commands clandestine aquatic forces—the sea, cenotes, lagoons, and underground rivers—at its disposal for the disposal of bodies. 

Today, authorities are investigating whether victims of the Cuban-American mafia have met their end within the safe houses of Holbox; whether our idyllic beaches have become torture zones; and whether transnational organized crime is using our turquoise waters to drown the evidence of its passage through the country. White sands stained with blood.

Source: MVS Noticias