Working as a police officer in Mexico

After visiting the school, Victor finally visited the militia and self-defense unit in the village of San Miguel.

They are all in their prime, between 19 and 25 years old.

There were about 40 people.

In their hands are AK47s issued by the government. This thing does not require much skill at all. Just pull the trigger. There are no grenades, landmines, or body armor.

One word: do it!

The drug dealers who come to this kind of village cannot be large-scale. A dozen or twenty people are not allowed to be held down and beaten?

Never underestimate the bloody nature of Mexican villagers.

In 2012, a small leader of the "Knights Templar" took 30 drug dealers to collect "plantation fees" and then clashed with local villagers.

The villagers took out RPGs and blew up the pickup trucks they brought with them. They also used machine guns to suppress the drug dealers. This video became very popular on the Internet.

Most importantly, they executed the "Knights Templar" drug dealers, beheading them one by one!

Of course, the drug dealers would not give up, so they attacked the village. However, the village chief had already invited other surrounding villages, and an intense "war" broke out.

The fight lasted for three days, but the police didn't even come to stop the fight.

About 70 drug dealers and more than 20 villagers died.

This is also a result of the "Mexican Militia Self-Defense" system. In this country, even hunting dogs have become as brave as lions.

Being timid will only bring death closer to you.

The Mexicali City Hall sent people over three weeks in advance to train them, so they still had the basic tactics, at least they knew the crossfire.

If these militiamen are trained in the future, they will become excellent soldiers.

It’s considered an early investment.

However, in order to prevent some vicious cases or reduce accidents, guns are not allowed to be carried by private persons. They are all responsible for the village chief, who is the first person in charge of the village. He is equipped with 2,000 rounds of ammunition a month, and 3,500 rounds in remote areas, but there must be one every month. Have someone review it.

If one is missing, you have to tell where it went.

Victor's current policy is: "We do not control the circulation of guns, but we must control the bullets."

Any illegal possession of firearms and ammunition will result in jail time.

It is precisely because of this high-pressure situation that the society in Baja California can gradually become peaceful and stable.

"Yes, it's great to have this technique and tactics in a short time, but you still need to train well. After a while, Baja California will recruit police on a large scale, and you will be selected first. Don't embarrass the village then." Victor He clapped his hands and said with a smile.

The eyes of these "militiamen" lit up when they heard this.

Joining the police force now means a high salary, and at least you don't have to go hungry every day.

After Carlos Salinas adopted the IMF's low-pay civil servant system, welfare subsidies, housing and education subsidies for Mexican police officers were all gone. They had to buy bullets, weapons, and body armor by themselves.

This is one of the reasons why police weapon models vary from state to state.

But Baja California was completely different under the governance of Victor and Alejandro. The police became highly paid, and the families of the deceased military police received a monthly pension of 1,800 pesos, equivalent to 800 US dollars.

During Calderon's anti-drug campaign in 2006, he gave 10,000 pesos per month to the families of the deceased military police officers, equivalent to 483 US dollars.

One is from 1990, the other is from 2006, the exchange rates are different.

Peso is still very durable at this time.

One of the reasons why Victor wanted to kill Carlos was that this guy directly signed the North American Free Trade Agreement, which was humiliating and humiliating to the country, leaving Mexico with no chance of turning around.

The people have been completely reduced to tools of production, and similarly, compradors are prevalent, and the ugliness of the economic boom is that the people at the bottom are short of food and clothing.

Many people believe that it was the signing of the North American Free Trade Agreement that led to the increasing number of drug traffickers after 1990.

Of course, this is something…

Two years to go…

Victor won’t agree to this bullshit then!

"When I go back, I will discuss with Mr. Alejandro to provide certain support to rural schools across the state and provide scholarships to outstanding students to prevent them from going to school because their families are poor."

"We also need to let all children understand that knowledge can change their destiny!"

"Reading is useful!"

The village chief's eyes flashed upon hearing this, and he grabbed Victor's hand, "Sir, we are suffering so much!"

Victor patted his shoulder lightly and said softly, "Don't worry, times will be different when I come."

Click!

The reporter who was carrying him was busy taking pictures of this scene.

The sun behind him shines on Mr. Victor. The elderly village chief has a hunched back. The mud house behind him tells how barren this place is.

I've already thought of the name.

"Mr. Victor—the hope of the Mexicans!"

Victor also glanced at the camera.

No lens…

I can’t lift my spirits by talking.

Uncle Victor has a natural sense of camera.

…

Quintero had a long dream.

He dreamed...

He was arrested.

Hahaha, how is that possible?

Who in Mexico dares to arrest themselves now!

I am following Carlos, even the DEA is looking for me all over the world, but besides crying, what else can I do?

Boom~

Suddenly, he heard a little sound in his ear, like tapping something. The sound gradually became louder and louder, as if a hand grabbed his neck and pulled him up.

"Ouch, ha..."

Quintero opened his eyes suddenly, panting heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead, his pupils were a little panicked, he subconsciously moved his hands, and the pain from above spread to his brain instantly.

He turned his head and saw that his left hand was... nailed to the wooden board.

And he was suddenly nailed to the cross.

"Ahhhh!!!"

The heartbreaking pain made him cry out loudly.

"Sir, stop shouting. No one will answer you even if you scream until your throat is broken." A figure emerged from the darkness, wearing a mask and a white coat, "Welcome to the Mexican International News Department, oh no, Welcome to Mr. Victor’s hell, you can call me B2, my nickname.”

After he finished speaking, the surrounding lights turned on. This was a seemingly ordinary factory building.

"I'm sorry, time is too tight and we can't restore it one to one. Do you think the environment here is familiar?"

Quintero's mouth was trembling, it was painful. When he saw the photo hanging directly opposite, he suddenly screamed crazily and struggled.

"It seems you know each other, but I still have to introduce you." B2 smiled and pointed at the photo, "Mr. Enrique Camarena, a famous anti-drug hero and our idol, you are in a similar farm He and his colleagues were tortured for nearly an hour."

"The forensic doctor found a total of 179 wounds on his body. Don't worry, we will add one more to you."

B2 pointed to a box stacked next to him, "There are a total of 78 tubes of epinephrine and 2000mm of type A blood in it. It's the same blood type as yours. If it's not enough, I'll have to bite the bullet."

"Now let's take the first step..."

B2 smiled and picked up the scalpel, "Cut off your ears."

The picture of Enrique Camarena on the wall was staring at Quintero. He couldn't help but scream as he looked at B2 getting closer and closer.

"Don't come here...don't come here!"

How can a drug dealer's psychological defense be so strong?

Their bones…

It has long been rotten by drugs!

Quintero himself smoked it, and for him, it was a sign of "enjoying life."

B2 cut off his ear with one knife.

Quintero screamed, his whole body shaking with pain.

…

At this time, in the darkroom nearby, you can clearly see everything happening inside, but the people inside can't see them.

Seeing this scene, Casare subconsciously touched his ears, which felt a little chilly, and glanced at the boss from the corner of his eye.

Victor was very calm, still holding a cigarette in his hand.

I've been under a lot of pressure recently and my addiction to smoking has become quite intense.

"Boss, will you kill him?" Casare hesitated and said, "If the DEA receives the body, its value will be greatly reduced."

"Death is not easy. A person can withstand 18 atmospheric pressure and a high temperature of 104°C for 26 minutes. The minimum body temperature limit is about 14.2°C. If you add some adrenaline, you just need to ensure that he does not lose too much blood. Do you want to die? Hahaha. "Victor smiled.

He looked around and threw the cigarette butt into the trash can.

There is also written on the wall: littering, fine of five yuan.

You see how much Uncle Victor follows the rules.

"Fewer parts, it won't be a problem. Let's get some secrets out of him first."

The CIA's methods are even more "rude" than these.

Let’s put it this way…

When some of the CIA's actions were taken into account in their country, many people believed that they should be shot. It was simply unconscionable.

No one doing intelligence work has clean hands.

"Let Lyanna come and see his lover later and let them have a private chat." Victor said suddenly.

Casare knows so much about the boss.

When the two men meet, Quintero is not allowed to fuck him to death. If he does it physically, will he be exempted from the reward?

Leanna's crimes are countless. She used her identity as a reporter to cover for Quintero several times, and even used a reporter's vehicle to help the Guadalajara cartel transport drugs.

Victor only talks to two kinds of people, those who have never sold drugs, and those who are pleasing to the eye.

I'm sorry Lyanna was so unpleasant to him.

Informant?

This bitch is only worth a Quintero, and has no use value anymore.

Casare nodded, looked at Quintero inside, and suddenly felt a little pity for him. You said it would be better if you died early. What kind of prison did you escape from? If you are extradited by the Yankees, you will spend decades in prison at most.

it's good now…

My body is all broken.

Professional matters are left to the professional "Mexico International News Department". He is now very good-tempered and cultivates his character.

When he walked out of the interrogation room, he saw the secretary trotting over in a hurry, "Boss, Mr. Cuaucomote and the others have arrived in Mexicali."

"Let's go meet him."

Victor has already known Cuauquemot's father, the president "LS Ronaldo Cardenas" remembered by the Mexicans, from a lot of information.

That's how you evaluate him.

"The macho man in the Latin American world, the brightest eagle in Mexico, and a world asset!"

If he got involved with him, Victor wouldn't have to worry about Mexican political problems, and he wouldn't have to worry about the villain behind him at all.

…

Quaukmot looked at the lively streets outside, a little lost in thought.

He was an activist, so he took a leave of absence and came to Baja California with his family under the protection of several agents. The other party handed them over to police officers waiting at the border and left.

Accompanying him was a police sergeant named Giancarlos.

This guy captured Zambada alive and was brave in combat, so he was directly promoted as an exception, which is equivalent to being a "model".

"What is that?" Suddenly, Kwaukemot's wife pointed to a platform not far away and asked.

"That's the gallows, ma'am."

Giancarlos glanced at Bare Teeth.

“A drug dealer is hanged every day!”

As soon as he finished speaking, he heard the sound of a gong, and then people around him gathered around to watch the fun.

A drug dealer wearing a hood was pulled to the gallows by the police.

"Hang him! Hang him!"

The people below shouted.

The drug dealer was trembling.

Let the police put a cap on his head and pull the pole.

The lower board was opened, and the whole person was hanging directly on it. The drug dealer struggled hard, but he was like a fish on a chopping board...

Seems funny.

All the people cheered and shouted, kill the drug dealers!

“Welcome to the anti-drug city: Mexicali!”

…