After Chaos Rips Across Mexico, the Remnants of Cartel Violence Haunt Residents

The morning after a storm of violence that ravaged parts of Mexico, the sprawling city of Guadalajara woke to an eerie quiet.

People emerged cautiously from their homes here in western Mexico where they had spent hours sheltering. They began piecing together news of the mayhem that the Jalisco New Generation Cartel had unleashed across their state and beyond, in the wake of the killing of its leader, Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes, by Mexican forces.

The violence appears to have subsided, at least for now. But its traces were visible everywhere across the city of roughly four million, one of the nation’s largest and richest hubs. As the capital city of Jalisco state, a cartel stronghold, it was among the cities that suffered widespread retaliatory attacks after Mr. Oseguera’s killing.

Most gas stations remained shuttered. Avenues that were normally choked with traffic stretched into long, empty ribbons of asphalt. Schools were closed, and markets, usually bustling with shoppers and vendors, were deserted. Convenience stores kept their metal curtains drawn, while the few restaurants that did open stood largely empty, with chairs stacked or unoccupied. Many stayed open for only a few hours.

At the city zoo, more than 1,000 visitors from across Mexico were stranded as burning vehicles blocked main roads. Twenty-one buses carrying families were forced to park overnight in the lot, guarded by police officers and soldiers with passengers inside, unsure whether it was safe to leave. On Monday morning, families gathered their belongings and waited for an escort out of the city.

Roughly 100 zoo employees were also unable to return home, attempting to sleep in offices and improvised spaces, including the infirmary used for sick animals. The director general, Luis Soto, said many could not travel because public transportation had halted; others were simply too afraid to drive after dark.

“None of us imagined being in such a situation,” he said. “The city was completely paralyzed, it was a ghost.”

Along the highway near the airport, a bus lay on its side, blackened and still smelling of smoke, a reminder of the blockades that had paralyzed the city just hours earlier.

Downtown, outside a branch of a popular retail chain that had been set on fire, the charred shell of a vehicle remained parked at the curb.

Edgar Martínez, 57, stood nearby recalling how, just the day before, he had watched men torch the car while being chased by police officers. He and his wife, both street vendors, threw themselves to the ground as gunfire rang out.

“We just lay there and waited for it to pass,” he said, adding that he then ran home and stayed indoors until Monday morning.

In the early hours of Sunday, dozens of vehicles were set ablaze and left in the middle of streets to block traffic. Residents described scenes of confusion and panic: people running for cover, businesses slamming down iron shutters, rumors spreading that cartel gunmen “were coming.” Videos circulating on social media showed masked men dousing cars and gas stations with gasoline before setting them on fire.

News of the operation that led to Mr. Oseguera’s death ricocheted across social media and made international headlines as cartel gunmen responded by paralyzing more than two dozen states with blockades and arson attacks. At the same time, the government hailed the killing of one of the world’s most wanted fugitives, a cartel boss who had eluded capture for more than a decade.

While Guadalajara is seen as one of the wealthiest and most vibrant cities in the country, violence in Jalisco has surged over the past decade alongside the rise of the Jalisco cartel. Although reported homicides in the state have declined in the past year, by the end of 2025, the state recorded more than 16,000 disappeared people, the highest total in the country.

Much of that volatility is linked to the rapid expansion of Jalisco New Generation Cartel. In little more than a decade, the group evolved from a regional splinter faction into one of Mexico’s two dominant criminal organizations, establishing a presence in most states and in dozens of countries abroad. Its aggressive territorial push, militarized tactics and a central role in methamphetamine and fentanyl trafficking to the United States have made it one of the most powerful and consequential cartels in Mexico.

On the ground on Sunday, the violence unfolded in bursts. In another part of the city, María Emilia López, 54, a street vendor, said she was near an intersection when she saw a group of men firing into the air before setting cars ablaze.

“I didn’t know what to do. I froze,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. She ran to hide in a nearby market with dozens of others, women and children crying and screaming. “I just kept thinking, why is this happening? Why are they doing this if we are all fellow Mexicans?” she said while crying.

Many residents acknowledged that killing Mr. Oseguera was a stunning feat, but few here believe it will dismantle a criminal organization with deep resources and an entrenched presence across the state.

“As long as there are American addicts, this problem will never go away,” said Sandra Aguilar, a nurse. “This is not only our problem. Their demand and consumption are part of it.”

Guadalupe Rodríguez, 69, a retired teacher, described the operation that led to the death of Mr. Oseguera, known as El Mencho, a positive step, but one that was too little too late.

“The government let the group and its power grow like weeds, and now it’s everywhere,” he said, likening the reach of organized crime and drug trafficking to a “social cancer that has spread everywhere.”

He spoke of the fragile order that prevailed before El Mencho was killed, which he said was sustained by corruption and arrangements between local authorities and the cartel that resulted in a tacit truce.

“It’s a kind of peace and order, but one they impose,” Mr. Rodríguez said. “With pressure and coercion. No one is allowed to step out of line or break their rules. And if you do, you are dead.”

The relative calm had not reached all places.

About two hours south of Guadalajara, in the mountain town of Tapalpa, a popular weekend retreat known for its forest cabins and small-town charm, residents remain gripped by fear. It was in that idyllic community, the authorities said, that Mr. Oseguera was captured and killed on Sunday.

Now, the once tranquil town seems to be cut off. Access roads remain blocked by the cartel, and movement in and out is restricted.

“They basically have us trapped,” said Rocio, a schoolteacher in Tapalpa who asked to be identified by only her first name because she feared for her safety. “We’re afraid they may be planning something against the civilian population.”

Doctors and medical staff were unable to enter the town because of active blockades and damage to the roads, forcing her father to miss a scheduled medical appointment, she said.

In recent years, parts of the Sierra peaks encircling Tapalpa have served as ideal hide-outs for for cartel members, where ranches and remote properties are surrounded by winding mountain roads and limited access points. They offered the isolation and protection that sheltered El Mencho and his close operatives for years.

By late afternoon, life in Guadalajara began slowly resuming but fear and nervousness lingered.

“This calm we feel in some ways is scarier to me because it means they can launch another offensive in any moment,” said Ms. Aguilar, the nurse. “But life must go on.”

Alejandra Valenciano Ortega contributed reporting.

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