I gave in, but I gave in out of fear,
so as not to cause conflict.
It was a bullet wound to the face,
here on the left side, below the eye.
They followed us and shot us from behind.
I believe that Christ is the example.
Since 1993, the year Cardinal Posadas Ocampo was murdered,
nearly 80 priests have been killed.
More importantly, many are murdered and then slandered after their death.
Mexico is the second most dangerous country in the world for civilians. Only in Palestine is the threat greater.
Almost 50,000 people are murdered or go missing every year.
Mexico is also the most dangerous country in America for priests.
The Sumidero Canyon is one of the natural wonders of Chiapas, in southern Mexico.
The state is rich in water and natural resources.
Yet, it is also the poorest in the country.
Many of its inhabitants are indigenous.
In Chiapas, the Catholic Church is often under attack for defending indigenous people
and opposing the abuses of organized crime groups.
Chiapas borders Guatemala.
It is part of a strategic route for trafficking drugs, arms, and people,
as well as illegal mining.
The Church, the Diocese of San Cristóbal,
has maintained a commitment to the poor,
a commitment to life, and a commitment to the defense of human rights.
That is why the Church has been attacked.
What we are seeing
is that our pastoral workers, our brother priests, nuns, and catechists,
are being harassed in relation to the defense of land and territory,
and the care of Mother Earth.
Some of the indigenous people of Chiapas live in communities such as Zinacantán.
Its center is the church of San Lorenzo Mártir.
The church blends Spanish Baroque with the worldview or artistic style of the Tzotzil people,
one of the first groups the Spanish encountered.
History is repeating itself.
The defense of human rights
is what distinguished the first Bishop of Chiapas in the 16th century,
the Spaniard Bartolomé de las Casas.
The first evangelization dates back to 1545,
when the friars, the Spaniards, arrived and evangelization began here in Chiapas.
They brought… they established the indigenous villages.
Here, within the diocese, there are five indigenous groups.
These are the Tzotzil, the Tzeltal, the Chole, the Tojolabal, and the Zoque
Two of the country’s most powerful cartels
are vying for control of many of the territories where the indigenous people live.
There are two powerful cartels in Mexico,
the Jalisco New Generation Cartel and the Sinaloa Cartel,
which have gradually taken over many territories.
We can say that there are territories where alliances
form between criminal groups, political power, and economic power,
and these become systems
that end up controlling both the territory and the relationships
between citizens and institutions.
The Indigenous population also holds significant influence in San Cristóbal de las Casas,
one of the most important cities in Chiapas,
founded by the Spanish in the 16th century.
In San Cristóbal de las Casas, on the rainy morning of Sunday, 20 October 2024,
Father Marcelo Pérez was murdered by organized crime.
He had just celebrated Mass in the church in this neighborhood.
A security camera recorded the moment when the hitman walked past the church.
He then approached a car, shot him, and people rushed to help him.
On Sunday, after the Mass that Father Marcelo celebrated in a church called "The Sweet Name of Jesus",
in theCuxtitali neighborhood of this parish,
after the Mass, as he was leaving the church and walking a block away,
he got into his car and was murdered.
Well, we believe that perhaps he was still able to drive the car,
and about 100 meters...
150 meters on, he pulled over and died there.
Because it was in Cuxtitalithat they killed him.
When I arrived—because I was the first to arrive—
I just sent a message to my family
saying I was on my way.
Father Marcelo was a Tzotzil indigenous and always defended the indigenous people.
Our mother tongue is Tzotzil.
We are indigenous people from here in Chiapas.
Father Marcelo’s last parish
was the shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in San Cristóbal de las Casas.
Before arriving at the sanctuary, for 20 years,
Father Marcelo was a parish priest in two poor,
predominantly indigenous villages in Chiapas,
Chenalhó and Simojovel.
His contact with the victims of organized crime
changed his life and shaped his vocation.
When he sees his parishioners suffering, he is transformed.
When one experiences the suffering of others
Truly experiences it, one changes.
One changes one’s outlook on life.
Shortly after his ordination, he began to denounce the activities of organized crime.
He began to accompany the displaced and the victims of violence.
He went to live amongst the displaced and the survivors of Acteal.
All he did was accompany them, accompany the survivors.
There were many disputes,
and people would come to my brother.
Father, what are we going to do?
We have this problem.
My daughter won’t obey, my daughter does this and that.
And my husband drinks too much. My husband takes drugs.
My daughter won’t obey, my daughter does this and that. And my husband drinks too much. My husband takes drugs.
And he began to talk to them.
And he began, through the Gospel, to evangelize.
From very early on, Father Marcelo suffered attacks and threats.
Ever since he was ordained a priest,
his life has been in danger.
Because they also
connected a car detonator to the fuel tank.
Father Marcelo began organizing pilgrimages in 2014
to defend the indigenous people.
I lived with Father Marcelo for a year.
And so, yes, we went through some very tense moments there.
Sometimes we would weep with Father Marcelo.
For example, we had to weep for a while
when the catechist Simón Pedro was killed.
And it caused us great sadness.
And so, we prayed, above all asking God for peace.
We asked for God’s protection.
Because we know we are not alone wherever we are.
Knowing that what we do is for life, for the Gospel.
And I believe that is what gives us the most strength.
On 13 September 2024,
Marcelo led his final pilgrimage.
Well, there were so many people.
They carried the cross, the banner of Our Lady of Guadalupe,
and the Mexican flag.
So, I believe martyrs like Father Marcelo, Simón Pedro,
catechist Ignacio, and others are what inspire us to keep fighting and offer our lives for this cause.
The investigation into the murder of Father Marcelo in San Cristóbal de las Casas is still officially ongoing.
The person who actually took the shots has been arrested and sentenced,
but nothing is known about those who masterminded his death
and no one has any confidence that justice will be done.
You need to be a politician to get justice here in Chiapas.
You need to have a lot of money here to get justice.
There is justice, but only for a few.
And the majority here in Chiapas, what can I say?
70%, 80% of us don’t have that.
It is not because —not precisely because— we are indigenous.
In San Cristóbal de las Casas, as in much of Mexico,
organized crime has a major influence on the authorities.
It has dealings with those in charge of the institutions.
Impunity is guaranteed.
In Mexico City, the Church is also harassed.
There are nuns who work with sex workers who suffer pressure from drug trafficking.
They prefer not to speak out.
Often, for this very reason, it is very difficult to document this type of violence
because the nuns are not willing to explicitly and openly
document what is happening,
not out of fear for their lives
but out of fear for the organizations
in which they work.
The country has become a narco-state.
In 2000, the Mexican Episcopal Conference
published a document entitled ‘From the Encounter with Jesus Christ to Solidarity with All’.
In it, the bishops of that time warned
that we had to be very careful
because Mexico could become a narco-state.
Nothing in Mexico can be fully understood without visiting
the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
To the place where she appeared to the indigenous man, Juan Diego.
The devotees of the Virgin are the ones being murdered, kidnapped, attacked:
yet they often share a devotion with their tormentors.
In recent months, we have witnessed
many attacks, violent assaults
and entire families murdered
around the time of religious festivals.
What’s more, members of these groups pressure priests
to give them prominent roles in religious festivities.
It's deeply contradictory,
çacting as both a sign of devotion
and an attack on the ecclesial community.
The vast Zócalo square in Mexico City was the heart of the Mexica Empire.
It was here that Hernán Cortés established
the seat of government for the Spanish Viceroyalty.
In Mexico’s recent history,
drug trafficking and organized crime have emerged as a new power,
often allied with the state authorities.
Twenty-five years ago, the major cartels that profited from selling drugs to the United States became firmly established.
The situation worsened with the so-called war on drug trafficking launched in 2006 by President Felipe Calderón.
The cartels fractured,
and the number of priests murdered increased.
Yes, these attacks began to occur with increasing frequency during Felipe Calderón’s government,
as he effectively confronted organized crime head-on.
During those years, the Zetas cartel
introduced a new modus operandi for organized crime.
What the Zetas did was arrive in the territory,
gather smaller criminal groups,
and tell them, ‘Look, we’re going to organize ourselves here.
You’ll specialize in piracy,
you in extorting bars,
you in selling marijuana, you in selling cocaine.
And part of the deal with the priest, with the family, is:
‘Fine, we’ll let you live
as long as you leave our area of control.
So, that’s forced displacement
The Sierra Madre del Sur runs through much of the state of Guerrero in central Mexico.
In these parts, many have until recently made a living from drugs.
This is where the poppy is grown, from which opium gum and heroin are extracted.
Guerrero is one of the most violent states in Mexico.
Let’s say that 90% of Guerrero’s territory
is controlled by organized crime groups.
These images are from an area of the Sierra Madre where there is neither army nor police.
It is an area controlled by one of the Guerrero cartels.
You cannot enter it without permission from the drug traffickers who have replaced the state.
Filiberto Velázquez, known as Father Fili.
He lives under the protection of bodyguards armed with automatic rifles.
He travels in an armored van.
He has been the victim of two assassination attempts and a kidnapping.
In 2023 he had bullets very close.
Yes, indeed, the bullet came through the windscreen.
But fortunately, I wasn’t hurt.
Fili is in the crosshairs of organized crime for denouncing violence,
defending those who suffer it—especially the poorest— and for standing by the victims.
The work I have done as an advocate since 2017
has been with mothers of missing children.
Most of these disappearances are linked to
territorial control, recruitment, and settling of scores.
The former state prosecutor,
when I told her I’d gone to see the leader of a group to save a young man’s life
—whom his group had abducted—she told me,
‘It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it.’
For me, it is worth it. Because he is a person
Tlacotepec is a village in the Sierra de Guerrero that has lived off the opium poppy.
Now it has sunk into poverty due to competition from fentanyl,
a drug that is cheaper and much stronger than heroin.
Carlos Triana has been one of the last parish priests Tlacotepec has had.
The village is a sad example of how drug trafficking gains social support.
They look after the village.
They don’t tax them, they don’t demand protection money from shopkeepers,
they don’t put any pressure on them.
They leave them be; they look after them.
And the village feels at ease.
They even admire them and are grateful to them.
Organized crime first takes control of the territory
through guns or vans,
or by leaving a body in a public space.
It also co-opts relationships.
It solves problems for the community.
With money, they have drinking water,
with money, they can hold their festival,
with gifts for the children, with gifts for the mothers.
Triana has experienced the power of organized crime first-hand.
He has suffered its threats. She has been afraid.
Here, they dismember people and bury them in mass graves.
Here, people disappear.
So, when we hear people telling us this, confiding in us, sharing their pain, it frightens us.
A hitman forced him to marry his second wife while he was still married to his first.
We know deep down that marriage was invalid.
But I’m not going to tell them that, nor am I going to tell him I won’t marry them. I gave in.
But I gave in out of fear, so as not to cause conflict.
I lived there; it’s the mountain.
The National Guard doesn’t go there, the Army doesn’t go there, the Police don’t go there.
So there, as I say, I feel unprotected.
Many force us to baptize their children without papers, without meeting the requirements.
And there I am, defenseless, with no one to turn to
In Guerrero, in Michoacán, there have been many cases of threats against priests
who refused to perform baptisms
or first communions outside the church.
Look, protection money generally operates in parishes.
After Mass, after the collection,
certain groups come and levy a tax on the parish priest.
Father Carlos Triana celebrated a funeral for a dismembered hitman.
His remains had been distributed among the coffins of four other hitmen.
I went and asked him,
‘Sir, you told me there were five, but there are only four coffins.’
‘The thing is, one was dismembered.
and we put his bits and pieces into different boxes
so there would be four.’
That really shocked me.
I am a man of faith.
All morning, I placed myself in God’s hands.
Lord, you sent me here. I neither chose nor ever thought of coming here.
I am from Colombia.
If you brought me here, it is for a reason.
I will do the work as best I can. Watch over me, help me.
The bishop of Chilpancingo - Guerrero’s capital -
has also suffered an attack, a warning.
They fired at us, yes, we drove past their checkpoint
and saw no sign for us to stop.
And they followed us and shot us from behind.
And they said they were looking for someone.
His predecessor, Bishop Salvador Rangel,
who was very active in denouncing organized crime,
was kidnapped and, when he was released,
they tried to link him to a sex scandal.
Well, that was indeed a warning for him to keep quiet,
to say no more.
He was kidnapped, abducted, and then slandered by being told
he was taking pills for erectile dysfunction,
let alone that he was with a person of the opposite sex, and so on.
He appeared in front of the television cameras
in a hospital, drugged.
And then they took photos of him naked in a motel.
So, they completely destroyed the reputation of a bishop.
The current Bishop of Chilpancingo argues that we must also speak to murderers.
So, the murderer is my brother,
the soldier is my brother,
and this victim is my sister, and the perpetrator is my brother.
Christ would listen to all those who are doing evil and who, at some point, seek help from Christ and the Church;
Christ would listen to them.
That said, he would demand things of them.
Acapulco, the Pearl of the Pacific,
once shone as the premier destination for luxury tourism across the entire continent.
Now, organized crime has the bay, and the city is shrouded in a perpetual storm.
There is widespread extortion,
many people have gone missing,
and there are numerous murders.
There are sudden periods when certain taxi groups are banned from operating,
forcing people to walk, which creates a problem.
On the streets of Acapulco, there are now few tourists and, as in the rest of the country,
too many victims of violence trying to find the bodies of their loved ones and rebuild their lives.
In Father Leonardo Morales’s parish,
the Sacred Heart Parish of Acapulco,
there is a center run by Caritas to support the victims.
When a mother has lost a son who has been murdered,
even the family wonders why.
Perhaps he was on the wrong path,
perhaps he was doing things he shouldn’t have been.
One mother told me,
After some time, I found out who had murdered my son.
“I have to find whoever I can make them pay for what they’ve done to my son.”’
She said, ‘I realize that’s not the answer,
because then I’ll go from being a victim to becoming a perpetrator myself.’
And what will happen?
I thought of his mother,
the mother of that person who had killed my son.
And I don’t want any mother to suffer what I am suffering today.
We often think that what victims want is justice.
And I believe that justice is the justice of imprisoning those perpetrators.
But throughout these processes.
I have discovered that the justice that restores is the one that speaks the truth.
I have met families who say,
‘All I wanted was a space where it would be acknowledged that my son is not guilty.’
And so, when people tell you,
‘I’ve started eating my favorite dessert again,’
or ‘I’ve started talking to that neighbor again,’
or ‘Now I can receive the Eucharist again.’
Father Leonardo heals by weeping with those who weep.
He is like other priests, like other Christians in Mexico,
a free man in a land where monstrous violence
seeks to turn people into fodder for torment.
He is a voice for the silenced;
he is a witness to an impossible love.
Recently, a lady came to have a sheet blessed; we call it the ‘holy sheet’
which is the white sheet that is blessed and placed over the corpse,
over the body of the person who has died.
The lady told me that her son had been murdered on his birthday.
That really struck me, and the lady began to weep.
I embraced her and held her for quite a while;
she was an elderly lady.
And that really gets to you; it makes you cry, too.
What drives these Christians from Chiapas, Guerrero, Acapulco,
and other corners of Mexico to live as they do?
I believe that the blood shed by our martyrs,
inspire us to keep going
I feel this very deeply as a pries I am still young, and I have given my life too.
I am deeply passionate about my service as a priest,
about walking alongside my people,
being with my people, and suffering with them.
My fear is that, as St Augustine says,
Christ might pass by, and I might not even realize it.
For Christ to pass amidst so many people who are suffering,
who are crying out, who… who are crying out for justice,
like the families of the disappeared,
like the migrants we have right now in Mexico City looking for work
and in other cities across Mexico.
If God is life, we have to defend and love life