![]() ![]() They might call los malosos-the bad guys-to tell them I was there asking questions. I wanted to ask the police some questions, but I was advised not to let the police know I was in town. I didn’t see a sign, but the message-terror-was clear enough, and everybody knew who left it: La Familia Michoacana, a crime syndicate whose depredations pervade the life of the region. ![]() “Talked too much.” “So that they learn to respect.” “You get what you deserve.” In the photograph in the Zitácuaro paper, the victim’s arms and legs and torso all lay separately, impossibly, in the street. Usually it involves a mutilated body-or a pile of bodies, or just a head-and a handwritten sign. ![]() It was what people call corpse messaging. On the morning before I arrived in Zitácuaro, a beautiful hill town in the western Mexican state of Michoacán, the dismembered body of a young man was left in the middle of the main intersection. ![]()
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