A wake with an escort and a message that no one heard
It seems that in Guerrero the protocol for saying goodbye to a murdered senior official includes, of course, a funeral caravan with a police escort. Because nothing says “we are in control of the situation” like having to guard your colleague’s corpse with rifles. Hossein Nabor Guillén, Undersecretary of Social Policy, was buried in Tixtla after a ceremony that, I imagine, mixed pain with that uncomfortable question that everyone asked themselves but no one dared to vocalize: who will be next?
The wake, in an act of solidarity that borders on the surreal, was attended by companions in government, Morena deputies and several party leaders. What a nice gesture, it’s a shame that solidarity doesn’t include, I don’t know, maybe effective protection in life. But hey, that’s what bouquets and empty speeches are for, right?
Security: a promise as dead as the official
In a statement that competes strongly for the euphemism of the year award, the Undersecretary of Political Development, Francisco Rodríguez Cisneros, described the murder as “a blow for the cabinet.” Wow, how insightful. What he didn’t say, because it’s obviously an unimportant detail, is that no one else will receive additional security. Because, apparently, the protocol is to wait until you are shot and then consider whether maybe, maybe, possibly, you were in danger.
The jewel in the crown in this macabre candle came with the pearl of the commander of the 35 Military Zone, Jorge Nieto Sánchez, who refused to give his opinion but still said that these crimes happen because organized crime takes advantage of the territories where ‘sometimes’ there is no surveillance. ‘Sometimes’. What a charming way to describe the chronic absence of the State in vast expanses of territory. Could it be that crime has a calendar of days off and work days?
A history that smells of gunpowder and complicity
Nabor Guillén was no newbie to swimming among sharks. He was the second undersecretary murdered of the current government, because in Guerrero there seems to be an unwritten quota of officials executed by administration. The first was Benjamín Adame Pereyra, from Educational Planning, killed in April 2024 in a territory controlled, according to the authorities, by Los Ardillos. Curiously, the authorities always know who controls where… after the murders occur.
But this is where the script surpasses any narco-novel. Our late official was not only mayor of Tixtla just when Los Ardillos began their sweet domination of the municipality, but he also appeared in a video, smiling and fraternal, hugging Celso Ortega Jiménez The most admirable thing about this tragicomedy is that, after appearing in said video of dubious associative taste, Nabor was not investigated. At all. On the contrary, he was reintegrated into the government in February of this year. Because what better resume for a public office than a filmed hug with an alleged drug trafficker? This demonstrates “capacity for dialogue” and “solid community relations.” His political career was a constant dance between parties and alliances: from the PRD to Morena, trying to be a local deputy in a district that, oh surprise, he finally won Jorge Iván Ortega Jiménez, son of Bernardo Ortega Jiménez and nephew of… guess… yes, Celso Ortega, the same one in the video. The world is a handkerchief, and in Guerrero that handkerchief is stained with blood and nepotism. He was attacked with bullets on the federal highway, meters from a Municipal Police module. Because the supreme irony is that death overtakes you literally steps away from those who are supposed to prevent it. The message is clear, brutal and ruthless: no one is safe. Not even with uniforms around. So while the undersecretary was buried in tears and speeches, the machinery of power continues to turn, indifferent. They promise to investigate, of course. How they investigated the first murder. How they investigated the videos. How will they investigate the next one? Because in Guerrero, the only thing more abundant than bullets are broken promises. What does all this leave us? The clear image of a failed state, where the lines between government and organized crime are so blurred that you would need a map and a tour guide to avoid crossing them by mistake. Where a hug can cost you a job, or your life. Where the only guaranteed security is that provided by bodyguards at your own funeral. Share this story if you believe that public light is the best weapon against impunity. Explore more content about the complex reality of security in Mexico on our site.Reintegration: when the uncomfortable past gets you a better position
