Antonio Navalón
I vividly remember the first time Ramón Alberto Garza, director and creator of Código Magenta, told me about the fuel theft mafia. Long before the issue flooded front pages and headlines, he had already sketched out the first lines of what would later be confirmed as one of the most powerful criminal networks nestled within the corridors of power.
In recent months, numerous reports and columns have been written on the subject, making it easy to forget the origin and who first put Sergio Carmona in the spotlight. Not only as a financier and trusted aide to the ruling party during several campaigns, when Mario—the eternal Mario Delgado—presided over Morena, but also as a figure initially singled out in Ramón Alberto Garza’s famous section “¡Que alguien me explique!” (”Let someone explain it to me!”).
It was there that the operations involving ships, which supposedly responded to industrialization and colonization projects, but in reality covered up a large-scale trafficking and corruption scheme, were denounced with uncomfortable clarity. Since then, a disturbing question has remained: either López Obrador never knew anything, or he knew so well that he decided not to distinguish between truth and lies.
Rivers of ink have announced the end of fuel theft. Rivers of ink have proclaimed the end of corruption. Rivers of ink have insinuated that this network will eventually reach not only officials and operators, but the very bowels of the regime, including the family of the creator of the “welfare revolution.”
Today, there is no room for speculation. I hope that, unlike in the last six years, the protagonist of this story—the only one with the legal authority to apply the force of the state without hesitation understands that she is entering a path of no return. Whatever she does, it will be complicated to separate suspicion of complicity from ignorance. And even more so if the shadow of this problem reaches an institution as respected as the Navy and its highest-ranking official.
This will not stop here, and it is worrying that it is beginning to resemble one of those films where, suddenly, key characters die in accidents, “commit suicide,” or are pushed into the abyss by someone else. And all because of the slightest suspicion that they had or continue to have something to do with the epicenter of the construction of the fuel theft mafia.
The regime—in this case identified by the figures of García Harfuch and President Sheinbaum herself—is not only gambling with its credibility in the eyes of its uncomfortable neighbor, but also with its authority and ability to govern in the eyes of its own people. In other words, no one will be able to stop this from reaching its ultimate conclusion and putting an end to this network of corruption once and for all. Whether it exists or not—although the violence, deaths, and deterioration that Tabasco has suffered indicate that the versions are close to the truth—the background cannot be ignored. In the name of the victims, the preservation of national security, and the dignity of the State, it is essential that this case not be reduced to rumors or insinuations.
Evil, corruption, and crime involving government entities have occupied positions of power, even above legitimate rulers. Like it or not, be prepared or not, the fact is that the process has entered a stage of high speed and impact, and there is no turning back. The president must be aware that internal enemies—the most dangerous ones, who seek to preserve their historical lineage and now cover up their crimes—will do everything possible to lighten their responsibilities. In that game—and to put it another way—it is clear that Omar García Harfuch is in danger.
We are less than a month away from knowing who the real owner is of the ships that were used for fuel theft and to traffic weapons and drugs to Mexican cartels. Once that name is revealed, it will be impossible to stop the bleeding. With the finger pointing at the person responsible, the inevitable questions that need to be answered are how much former President Andrés Manuel López Obrador knew or did not know about it.
For political and popular purposes, López Obrador’s name still carries a lot of weight. I hope and truly wish that the former Mexican president does not suffer the same tragedies as King Lear, who, blinded by ego and admiration, and a victim of betrayal, lost power, sanity, and witnessed the total ruin of his kingdom and himself.
There are details and loose ends that still need to be tied up, such as the closeness between the former Secretary of the Interior, Olga Sánchez Cordero—through her daughter—and Ricardo Peralta Saucedo, who was also the director of Customs at the time. In any case, the calculations and analysis that must be made from the National Palace should be based on one certainty: this can no longer be stopped. After the tragedy of January 18, 2019, in Tlahuelilpan, Hidalgo, former President López Obrador proclaimed that huachicol was dead. Today, reality shows the opposite: that the mafia not only survived but became embedded in the heart of power, and the effects of its interference in the highest echelons of Mexican politics remain to be seen.
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