Hunting El Chapo

by Andrew Hogan

  “Today marks a milestone in our pursuit of Chapo Guzmán,” said Robert Capers, the US attorney for the Eastern District. “Guzmán’s story is not one of a do-gooder or a Robin Hood or even one of a famous escape artist. [His] destructive and murderous rise as an international narcotics trafficker is akin to a small cancerous tumor that metastasized and grew into a full-blown scourge that for decades littered the streets of Mexico with the casualties of violent drug wars over turf.”

  The US prosecutors claimed that Chapo had continued to run his narco empire even during his incarceration in Mexico’s prison system. “He’s a man known for a life of crime, violence, death, and destruction, and now he’ll have to answer for that,” Capers said.

  IT DIDN’T TAKE CHAPO LONG to begin complaining about the harsh conditions in Little Gitmo. On February 3, 2017, a heavy police presence escorted Guzmán from the MCC to the Brooklyn federal courthouse. The scene was unprecedented in New York history, even by the standards of the city’s biggest criminal trials. Not even notorious mobsters like Gotti or any high-profile terrorists had been transported under such heavy security.

  A twelve-car caravan, with Guzmán hidden behind the heavy tint of an armored van, shut down the outbound Brooklyn Bridge for fifteen minutes during the height of New York’s morning rush hour. Authorities said they were concerned that Chapo had the resources to launch a possible “military-scale” rescue.

  Guzmán appeared before the judge wearing a navy prison uniform, turning at one point to smile at his wife, Emma, who was seated in the first row of the courtroom. It was the first time they’d seen each other since the extradition.

  Chapo’s defense attorneys sought to lighten some of the strict security measures at the MCC. They complained that Guzmán was on a twenty-three-hour lockdown in jail, allowed to leave his cell only to speak to limited members of the defense team and granted one hour of exercise a day. One of his court-appointed attorneys, Michelle Gelernt, called the security measures “extremely restrictive” and said that Chapo should at least be allowed to make phone calls to his attorneys and have face-to-face visits with his wife.

  Chapo’s lawyer argued that he had caused no security problems since he had come to the United States, and that the current restrictions were excessive.

  But Judge Brian Cogan—without mentioning Chapo’s two prior prison escapes—was clearly unimpressed. Regarding the extra security measures, the judge deadpanned, “We know the reason for that.”

  IT WAS A BREEZY midsummer Saturday evening. I was back in Arizona for a friend’s wedding, and Diego picked me up at Sky Harbor International Airport in his Chevrolet Silverado.

  It wasn’t the old Black Bomber, but the booming stereo system quickly brought back memories of our time together—ten years earlier—on the Phoenix Task Force.

  “Paraíso personal de la dinastia Guzmán entre bungalows y alberca,” Diego was singing as he hit the gas onto the freeway. “Lo querían asegurar al más grande de los grandes—Señor Chapo Guzmán.”

  A personal paradise for the Guzmán dynasty

  Among the palapas and the pool

  They wanted to capture the biggest of them all

  Señor Chapo Guzmán

  It sure felt like old times as we shot west to the Maryvale neighborhood once again for mariscos and a few beers.

  We drove into a nearly blinding sunset, the Phoenix Mountains and the towering saguaro cactuses welcoming me like old friends. Over his iPhone’s Bluetooth connection, through the Bose speakers, Diego was blasting the narcocorrido “La Captura del Chapo Guzmán,” by Jorge Santa Cruz. He sang the lyrics loudly—syllable for syllable—as he drove the Silverado west on Interstate 10.

  I no longer needed help with the Spanish translation. And I remembered what Diego had told me in my early years at DEA.

  You’re no one in the narco world until you’ve got your own corrido.

  I was impressed by the accuracy of “La Captura del Chapo Guzmán.” Virtually every detail of the operation was covered in the verses of the song: the arrival of the marines to storm Chapo’s personal paradise at Duck Dynasty; our plan B to catch Chapo unaware in his house on Río Humaya in Culiacán; Chapo’s Houdini-like disappearance into a secret passage beneath the bathtub and into the city’s drainage system; Picudo’s confession that he’d dropped off “el más grande de los capos”—the biggest of bosses—on the road to Mazatlán, where El Bravo was there to protect him. And, ultimately, how the marines closed in, in the predawn hours of February 22, for the surprise raid on Room 401.

  A Mazatlán, Sinaloa

  Un lugar paradisiaco

  Elementos de Marina

  Uno a uno fue llegando

  Pa no levantar sospechas

  En el Hotel Miramar

  El 22 de Febrero

  Cayó El Chapito Guzmán

  “Man, this is all you,” Diego said. “The fall of Chapito. Your own corrido, Drew. Felicidades!” He let out a loud laugh. “You made it, brother.”

  I nodded as Diego pulled off the 10 at exit 138, turning his Chevy onto 59th Avenue.

  But as faithful as the corrido was to the details of the capture, there was no mention in the lyrics about Americans having boots on the ground, no shout-out to DEA—those three letters most feared by every narcotrafficker.

  “Yeah, man,” I said, “but it’s missing something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s nothing about Las Tres Letras.”

  “True,” Diego said. “They didn’t know about Las Tres Letras.”

  “Como siempre,” I said, smiling. “In the shadows. Like always.”

  Authors’ Note

  This is a work of nonfiction: all the events depicted are true and the characters are real. The names of US law enforcement and prosecutors—as well as members of the Mexican military—have been altered, unless already in the public domain. For security reasons, several locations, makes of vehicles, surnames, and aliases have also changed. All dialogue has been rendered to the best of Andrew Hogan’s recollection.

  Acknowledgments

  THE CAPTURE OF the world’s most-wanted drug kingpin could never have been achieved by one man alone. During my law enforcement career, I had the pleasure to work with hundreds of men and women who deserve my deepest thanks here, but security concerns prevent me from directly naming them.

  First and foremost, I owe immense gratitude to my wife for her unwavering love, support, and patience. The time she sacrificed over the years has been an essential contribution to my success, and I can only hope my continued love for her offers some solace for my constant preoccupations. My sons—the greatest accomplishments of my life—have put the true meaning of this story into focus. They will always be my inspiration.

  Thanks also to my parents, grandparents, in-laws, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and all my other family and friends who followed my journey so closely and were a constant source of love and support through it all. Special thanks go out to two very good friends, one who pushed me toward a career with DEA, back when I first had no intention of pursuing one, and a second who’s been there at all the right times, graciously creating opportunities for my family and me to thrive after my days in law enforcement.

  Without Diego Contreras, my career at DEA would never have evolved as quickly as it did. We grew together, complementing each other’s strengths—becoming a powerful team. I will forever be grateful for our partnership. Diego’s cunning and savvy approach to investigation is remarkable; he was the initial driving force that ultimately led to the capture. His innate ability to infiltrate Mexican drug-trafficking organizations will mark him as one of the greatest undercover investigators in the history of federal law enforcement. Though miles may separate us, I will always consider him a brother and a partner for life.

  The Drug Enforcement Administration is one of the premier law enforcement agencies in the world, and I’m honored and fortunate to have served alongside some of DEA’s finest. Speci
al thanks to former DEA administrator Michele Leonhart and her former staff at DEA Headquarters; Regional Director Tom McAllister and his entire staff, including my assistant regional directors and group supervisor, as well as my fellow special agents, pilots, intelligence analysts, and administrative support personnel. Special thanks to Nico Gutierrez for all his assistance with translating and for his frontline coordination.

  This mission would never have been accomplished without the former SAC of the Special Operations Division and his staff, especially Don Dominguez and his team, my former ASAC and two Group Supervisors at NTF, as well as all my previous colleagues in Team 3. Finally, a very special thank-you to Snake for greasing all the right skids.

  When I first ran into Homeland Security Investigations Special Agent Brady Fallon, it felt as if we’d known each other for years. His humility, good humor, and drive served as a catalyst for creating and sustaining HSI and DEA’s relationship, which ultimately led to our success. No one will ever quite understand what it took to lead an investigation and operation of this complexity and magnitude—but Brady certainly knows, because we did virtually every step of it together. I owe Brady, Neil Miller, and Joe Dawson a world of gratitude; they were the workhorses behind the operation—and truly its unsung heroes. And I’m indebted to the tenacious team of HSI senior executive staff, supervisors, special agents, intelligence analysts, and translators; without their diligent work and coordination, the capture would never have happened.

  United States Marshal Leroy Johnson and his team deserve far more credit than the space constraints of the story allow, and are rarely afforded the accolades they deserve for their bravery. Once we had boots on the ground in Sinaloa, it was the marshals’ technical and operational expertise that proved essential. I give my sincere thanks to each and every one of them.

  There are so many people within the US Department of Justice and US Attorney’s Offices throughout the nation who deserve my gratitude—but none has been as instrumental to this operation as then–deputy chief Camila Defusio and her team of assistant US attorneys. Their relentless efforts provided us the perfect tools to track down and capture the most elusive drug lord of our age. I also owe many thanks to several former AUSAs from San Diego and Chicago with whom I had the pleasure to work closely over the years; their support had a defining impact on the investigation leading to the capture. We couldn’t have done it without all of them.

  At the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Office, I’d like to thank all those—past and present—for opening the door to my law enforcement career and offering continued support in the years after I left.

  Having the privilege to live and work in a country I’ve come to love almost as much as my own can be attributed to only one factor: the people of Mexico. Men and women who exude great pride in their land, who open their homes, share their culture, and believe in the common good. SEMAR admiral Furia and his marines are these types of Mexican patriots. Todo por la patria. All for the homeland. These Mexican marines live—and many good men have died—for those words. Admiral Furia and his brigade understood the importance of trust and embraced our partnership wholeheartedly.

  Bonds between nations—even those as vast as the United States and Mexico—often boil down to just a handful of personal relationships. And I know of no better example of how both countries operated together as one team and achieved what most thought was impossible. It’s been an incredible honor to work so closely with SEMAR; I’ll never be able to pay back the debt of gratitude I owe to Admiral Furia and every single marine involved in this operation. They protected our lives—ensuring we returned home safely to our families without once having to fire a shot. They are warriors in the truest sense of the word, and I’ll forever cherish their brotherhood.

  A great deal of thanks go to the Mexican Federal Police, the Mexico Attorney General’s Office (PGR), and all the specialized narcotics units throughout Latin America with whom Diego and I worked so closely in the early years. These men and women must fight against systemic institutional corruption every day—yet somehow manage to succeed and improve the quality of life for their citizens by disrupting some of most violent international drug-trafficking organizations. I’m honored to call many of them friends.

  Thanks also to the members of Canadian law enforcement—specifically, the Vancouver Police Department and the Quebec Provincial Police—for their efforts and support of DEA’s mission.

  I owe Douglas Century, my coauthor, an immense amount of gratitude. His complete submersion and selfless dedication were critical in capturing every detail, fact, and feeling of my journey. It has taken us several grueling years to fine-tune every line, paragraph, and page. Quite simply, I could never have written this book without him.

  My agency, 3Arts Entertainment, was instrumental in bringing us together and helping us conceptualize how best to render this story; I owe everyone at 3Arts and the entire team at HarperCollins my deepest gratitude.

  When I was in the DEA Academy, just before we graduated, we created a class T-shirt which read:

  Woe to the wicked! Disaster is upon them!

  —Isaiah 3:11

  It wasn’t that we were so religious, but we all felt that sentiment deeply: No matter how big or small the criminals, how distant or secretive the lair, there will always be lawmen and lawwomen dedicated to bringing them to justice. No criminal can operate with impunity forever.

  Woe to the wicked! It’s a phrase that has resonated with me since that academy graduation. So, my final note of gratitude goes out to all the heroes of our nation’s law enforcement and military who, every day and night, commit their lives to delivering “disaster to the wicked” so that we can all sleep in peace.

  —A.H.

  Glossary

  abra las cartas: Literally “open the letters” or “open the books.” In the context of a cross-national narcotics investigation, it means “to share all the intelligence.”

  ARD: Assistant regional director. DEA GS-15 rank in a foreign post.

  ASAC (pronounced “EH-sak”): Assistant special agent in charge. DEA GS-15 rank in the United States.

  ATF: Abbreviation for United States Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. (Now officially known as the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives.)

  AUSA: Assistant United States Attorney.

  BDU: Battle-dress uniform. Camouflage fatigues worn by SEMAR.

  Beltrán-Leyvas: A Mexican drug cartel run led by five Beltrán-Leyva brothers now based in the northern Mexican state of Sinaloa. Founded as a branch of the Sinaloa Cartel, the Beltrán-Leyvas became their own cartel after the arrest of Alfredo Beltrán-Leyva, a.k.a. “El Mochomo,” in 2008, blaming Chapo Guzmán for the arrest.

  birria: A spicy Mexican stew dish traditionally made from goat meat.

  Caballeros Templarios, Los: A Mexican drug cartel known in English as the Knights Templar, composed of the remnants of the defunct La Familia Michoacana drug cartel based in the Mexican state of Michoacán.

  cajeta: Literally “caramel”—DTO slang for high-grade marijuana.

  carnal: Often abbreviated in text messages as “cnl,” literally meaning “related by blood,” it is a term of affection similar to “brother” or “bro.”

  chanclas: Sandals.

  chilango: Mexican slang for residents of Mexico City or people native to the capital city.

  cholo: Originally meaning a mestizo, or a Latin American with Indian blood, “Cholo” can now denote a lower-class Mexican, especially in an urban area; a gangster; or in the cartel underworld a particularly tough individual (such as “Cholo Iván” Gastélum, the plaza boss for the coastal city of Los Mochis).

  CI: Confidential informant.

  Cisne Negro: Spanish for “black swan.” The name of the top-secret SEMAR operation to recapture Chapo Guzmán in January 2016.

  confidential source: DEA’s term for a confidential informant.

  cuete (pronounced kweh-TAY): Literally “rocket” in Spanish, is common sl
ang for a pistol or other handgun.

  deconfliction: A common law enforcement check to reduce the risk of targeting the same criminals causing a potential “blue on blue” (law enforcement targeting law enforcement) incident.

  desmadre: Literally, from “your mother,” roughly translated as “mess-up” or “chaos.”

  DTO: Drug-trafficking organization.

  el generente: The manager and a codename for Chapo Guzmán.

  El Señor: A term of respect meaning “sir” or “the man,” and a code name for Chapo Guzmán.

  Gárgola: Spanish for “Gargoyle.” The name of the top secret SEMAR operation to capture Chapo Guzmán in February 2014.

  G-ride: Short for “government ride.” Used by federal agents to refer to their official government vehicle, or OGV.

  GS: Group supervisor, DEA GS-14 rank in the United States and in foreign posts.

  Guadalajara Cartel: See Breakout.

  güey (pronounced “whey”): The equivalent of “dude.”

  halcón (los halcones): Literally “hawks” in Spanish, they are lookouts and street cartel associates who report activities, warning the drug cartels about movements from other DTOs, the police, or the military.

  Inge: Short for ingeniero, literally “engineer” in Spanish and a code name for Chapo Guzmán.

  jefe de jefes: Literally Spanish for “boss of bosses.” The name applied to the highest leader of a drug cartel in Mexico and is most frequently associated with Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo.

  JGL: Initials for Joaquín Guzmán Loera.

  La Paz: Literally “the peace,” a Mexican city located on the southeastern edge of Baja California peninsula.

  Las Tres Letras: Literally Spanish for “the three letters.” Drug cartel slang for the DEA.