A Crime That Tastes Like Bitter Coffee and Recycled Impunity
It seems that in Mexico, having a family member in the Attorney General’s Office (FGR) is as effective in guaranteeing personal safety as an umbrella in a category five hurricane. The news comes to us from the picturesque municipality of Pichucalco, Chiapas, where the menu of the restaurant “The Italian Coffee” included, in a frighteningly improvised way, a main course of lead and violence.
The victim, lawyer Rafael Arturo Vila ChávezAlejandro Vila Chávez, the FGR delegate in Guanajuato. Because in the fascinating world of organized crime, guilt by family association is as valid as any legal argument.
A Survival Saga That Ended in Tragedy
And here is the detail that turns this sad event into a tragicomedy of errors: this was not the first chapter of the series. Oh no. Lawyer Vila Chávez was an expert in surviving attacks. He was like the Kenny from South Park of the Chiapas legal profession, but with a suit and briefcase.
The first attempt was in November 2022, where they only managed to wound him. A dress rehearsal, let’s say. The second failed act came just a year later, in November 2023, from which he emerged unscathed because, apparently, he was traveling in an armored van. Because what is life without a little bulletproof protection to go shopping for bread?
But the third time, unfortunately, was the charm. The scriptwriter of this macabre soap opera decided that the ending could not be happy. A subject, with the determination of someone arriving late to the cinema, shot him and fled the scene with an efficiency that any application delivery man would envy. All this, in an establishment called “The Italian Coffee”. Because nothing says “high-impact crime” like the aroma of a freshly brewed espresso.
The State Machinery Starts Up (Or So They Say)
Faced with this unpleasant incident, the Attorney General of Chiapas, Jorge Luis Llaven Abarca, came on stage to pronounce the words that we were all waiting for: an investigation file has been opened for the crime of qualified homicide. Surprise! And he has proven that the aggressor was a single person, from Tabasco. A geographical fact that, without a doubt, will reassure the residents of Chiapas and alarm those of Tabasco.
The best of all is the mobilization of resources: more than 250 agents in investigation and intelligence tasks. Two hundred and fifty. For a single murderer. Either they are extremely meticulous, or they have a touching faith in the suspect’s ability to evaporate. We work together with the Tabasco Prosecutor’s Office and, the jewel in the crown, the solemn promise that there will be no impunity. Because in Mexico, that phrase has never, ever, become an empty cliché.
One can almost visualize the crisis meeting: “They murdered the brother of an FGR delegate? Immediately send 250 agents! Who? The one who killed the unknown lawyer last week? Oh, no, for that one with five to spare.”
The real rhetorical question here is: do we really need 250 people to deduce that shooting someone inside a cafe is wrong? Or is it that the prosecutor’s budget is spent on spectacularly deployed units?
It is the mystical Mexico where justice is proportional to the rank of the victim’s family member. Where your value as a citizen is measured in agents mobilized post-mortem. And where, ironically, having connections in the prosecutor’s office does not save you from being killed, but it does guarantee that your death is an operational-logistical event.
So let’s toast with an Italian coffee to the lawyer Vila Chávez. For his enviable resistance and his tragic bad luck. And let’s also toast the 250 souls looking for a guy who, statistically, is probably in Tabasco. Because efficiency, like justice, sometimes prefers to travel slowly and in large groups.
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