Working as a police officer in Mexico

Victor sat in the car, looking at the bustling construction site outside and the emerging infrastructure.

He felt a hint of pride in his heart.

On Guadalupe Island, he had implemented an eight-hour workday, but with three shifts. The islanders were getting paid, and his machines never stopped.

It was truly a win-win situation.

Moreover, to reduce the burden on families affected by "work-related injuries" and "fatalities," Victor planned to open an insurance company on the island, compelling everyone to purchase a policy. It would only cost 200 pesos a year, and since 1990 the exchange rate had fluctuated.

1 US dollar ≈ 2.2 pesos.

The insurance company could also cover the police officers for accidental insurance. The money for this would come out of the police department's budget yearly, which in turn would come from the island's finances. In this way, wasn't this money going into Victor's pocket?

Even if an officer were injured or killed, the claim would be paid by the company under Victor's name, which could also boost his reputation.

There were now close to ninety thousand people on the island, with many immigrants arriving.

If it weren't for the lack of funds right now, opening a supermarket on the island, like the Yanks' Walmart—here it could be called Wonima—would monopolize the local commodity market and definitely make money.

The motorcade entered the residential area.

A yellow Humvee police car was parked on the side of the road, and four or five older kids were frolicking around two police officers, chattering away.

There was none of the common fleeing at the sight of the police that occurred elsewhere.

When the police officers noticed the motorcade, they stood upright and saluted.

The kids did the same, looking quite adorable in the process.

Victor rolled down the window and waved at them with a smile.

This was the power that drove him!

When he returned to the police station and had just set his foot into the lobby, he heard a broadcast from the TV, "The up-and-coming drug trafficking organization, Jalisco New Generation, emphasizes that the Gulf Group's war in Baja California is meaningless!"

"It only harms ordinary people. When men who must support their families fall in pools of blood, who will take care of their homes?"

"They call for the Gulf Group, Juarez Cartel, Sinaloa Group, and the Mexican Government to cease hostilities and end this disaster."

Victor turned to look and caught a flash of the camera focused on a man in a dark green military uniform, beret cap on his head, mask covering his face, with a muscular build. Behind him on the wall hung a banner that read: CJNG!

His voice was altered, "We ask both sides to show restraint and ensure the safety of civilians. We are also willing to take in civilians coming from Baja California. We will use our power to protect Jalisco!"

Victor laughed.

But he couldn't laugh wholeheartedly.

The drug traffickers knew to use media and public opinion to cloak themselves now?

Drug traffickers protecting civilians?

It was incredibly far-fetched. Then what were the police for? What was Victor here for—to be a gigolo?

However, the person in charge of this organization did have brains.

Jalisco New Generation?

The name felt familiar!

Victor had a feeling this new group would become his rival.

Indeed, after 2005, the drug trafficking scene changed, and on more than one occasion, traffickers recruited newcomers under banners of "defending our homeland, eradicating evil!"

And they did follow through with some real actions.

For instance, in 2015, two criminals from outside Guadalajara killed a police officer and raped seven women. The Jalisco New Generation caught them, stripped them naked, surrounded by seven or eight weapon-wielding men as they bled profusely in front of the camera.

Finally, after admitting to their crimes, the traffickers executed them.

This video went viral at the time.

And their closing statement was, "We are Jalisco New Generation, and our main aim is to protect civilians!"

"Gather their information, I want to know their moves," Victor said, pointing at the Jalisco New Generation on the TV.

With a pained expression, Casare realized he'd have to find informants and spend more money again.

...

Although Jalisco New Generation seemed to be acting as a mediator, in reality, they were only adding fuel to the fire.

The drug traffickers take a break? The big bosses don't agree. They've been battling it out, nearing victory, and now a government force wants to intervene? What are they up to?

The Mexican Government cease hostilities? Would they not care about losing face?

The combat around Mexicali intensified, becoming a three-way battle!

Gulf Group on one side, Juarez + Sinaloa on another, and the Government Forces on yet another—the whole of Baja California was in complete disarray.

They would start shooting on sight.

Victor's new underling, the head of the Trat Police Department, Guillermo, did have some ability. With the weapons supplied by his boss, he could basically maintain order in the city.

Victor had supported him with two BTR-80 armored personnel carriers, 15 Browning M2HB 0.50 inch machine guns, and 40 AK47s, not to mention 300,000 rounds of ammunition!

He really had invested heavily, but after all, when recruiting underlings, you've got to give them some sweeteners.

Victor had stayed on Guadalupe Island for another half month, during which Alejandro called him to say that Mexico City would not accept his demands and loudly berated him as an illegal armed force!

"Then let them solve it themselves."

And then he quietly waited to see the joke unfold.

Indeed, in the following month, the Mexican side dispatched a Major General from the Navy to command the battle.

Hmm... then he was kidnapped.

By Juarez's Armando. Experience exclusive tales on мѵʟ

On the way to take up his post, the convoy was attacked, the bodyguards were killed, and the Major General was kidnapped, leaving the Mexican Government completely disgraced!

In the end, they could only spend 5 million US dollars to ransom this "useless" man.

Armando became the real "General Killer."

Now, with others supposed to take the post, no one was willing to do it.

They were all scared to death.

Find someone else, you say.

After going around in circles, they ended up coming back to Victor.

April 1, 1990.

Ensenada City. City Hall.

Víctor's laughter filled the office as he waved his hand dismissively at a helpless-looking Alejandro and Special Envoy Stephen Moyer, "Sorry, I can't help it—the General got captured by a drug trafficker."

"If it were me, I'd have already killed myself."

"Please show some respect, Officer Victor," Special Envoy Stephen Moyer said, his face very grim.

"Do the weak deserve respect?" Victor scoffed, "You should have come to me earlier, and by now, I would have already taken down that Abrego."

"Enough nonsense, you didn't call me here just to have a tea party."

Stephen Moyer took a deep breath, "We agree to your terms; we'll permit you to establish an anti-drug unit after quelling the drug traffickers' revolt in Baja California, but it cannot exceed 1500 men, and the government will not fund it."

"200 million US dollars!"

Victor extended his hand, "And another 200 million US dollars!"

Stephen Moyer sprang to his feet, "You didn't say you wanted money!"

"That was last month's price. You're hiring me, so what's wrong with raising my price?"

"You're welcome to look elsewhere, pick from the Army, the Navy, or even the Air Force, and see if anyone else will go."

"Apart from me, who else is there in Mexico?"

A tough guy is all it takes!

"This..." Stephen Moyer's face darkened, "I need to report this."

"Twenty minutes should be enough, right? I don't have that much time to play house with you."

The envoy nodded and went out to make a call.

"Victor, there's no need to make things so tense," Alejandro said, spreading his hands.

"I just want to tell you something—they are dogs! To get a bone out of their mouths, you have to make them submissive; they'll learn their lesson once they've suffered," Victor said.

No money?

No way I'm moving!

He was most certainly unyielding.

...