“Sol Prendido” for Borderland Beat
Which organization do you belong to? The "Zetas." How long have you been with this group? About two and a half years. Tell me how you joined...
There was a time when the *Zetas* were untouchable. Hardly anyone dared to confront them, but then a group emerged that wasn't afraid of them. The *MataZetas* ("Zeta-killers") claim to be ordinary people who had simply grown tired—but the truth is something else. Today, I’ll tell you how they hunted them down, how they marked them, and how that group eventually became something even more powerful.
Stay tuned, because this is going to shock you. It all began around 2011. Back then, the *Zetas* were expanding unchecked; having broken away from the Gulf Cartel, they were seizing territory across the country—Tamaulipas, Veracruz, San Luis Potosí, Coahuila, Nuevo León—and even reaching states like Quintana Roo and Zacatecas.
Their *modus operandi* was unlike anything seen before. They didn't just traffic drugs; they involved themselves in all sorts of illegal activities—extortion, kidnapping, fuel theft, human trafficking—imposing their own brutal law wherever they went. Faced with such immense power, something new appeared. In the very areas where the *Zetas* operated, messages began to circulate, signed by a group calling themselves the *MataZetas*.
At first, they claimed to be ordinary townspeople—neighbors fed up with the relentless violence who had banded together for self-defense. But soon, questions arose: how could regular people possibly take on one of the best-armed and best-trained criminal groups in Mexico? Where were they getting the money, the weapons, and the intelligence needed to track them down—in places where no one else could?
Strong rumors began to spread that the Sinaloa Cartel was behind them. The reason was clear: the *Zetas* had become their greatest obstacle to moving freely throughout the country. It is said that the Sinaloa Cartel supported local groups—longtime enemies of the Zetas—to fight against them. But what many don’t realize is that, over time, these groups became independent.
They no longer answered to anyone but themselves. From that independence—and from an alliance originally forged to destroy a common enemy—emerged what we know today as the Jalisco New Generation Cartel, the formidable CJNG. What began as a response to the Zetas eventually transformed into one of the largest criminal organizations in the country.
In a sense, then, something was born out of that dark war that completely altered Mexico’s criminal landscape. Capturing a Zeta was no easy task; knowing they had many enemies, they lived with extreme caution. They frequently changed residences, avoided using the same phone for long, steered clear of predictable routes, and kept their destinations secret—often, even their own family members didn’t know their whereabouts.
So, how did the *MataZetas* ("Zeta-killers") manage to track them down? The key wasn’t weaponry, but intelligence. They built an extensive, discreet network of informants. People within the neighborhoods, at local markets, and along transport routes would tip them off—reporting, for instance, "I just saw that vehicle they always use," or "They’re gathering at that house at a certain time," or "They head out to the corner store in the morning." They also received information from victims of the Zetas—people who had been extorted, relatives of kidnapping victims, or simply those who wanted to see the Zetas fall. All this information was gathered and cross-referenced, gradually piecing together the puzzle: who lived where, whom they met with, when they left the house, and how many guards were protecting them. Once they knew a target’s location, they didn’t strike immediately.
They would study their movements for days. They knew when their targets were alone, when they were accompanied, and when they were most off-guard; and when they decided to act, they did so with great speed. They would strike at night or at times when they knew fewer people would be around—sometimes arriving in disguise, or simply relying on the element of surprise. Often, the capture took place without a single shot being fired, as the element of surprise was their greatest weapon; once they had their targets under control, they would take them to a remote location.
This is where the darkest part of it all began. Once they had their prisoners, the *MataZetas*—the "Zeta-killers"—would do something that became their signature: they would either dress them in a white or light-colored shirt with the letter "Z" printed on the chest, or use a sharp, pointed object—like a pocketknife or a blade—to carve the letter directly into the victim’s skin. The letter "Z" was no coincidence; it was a way of saying, "We know who you are, we know where you come from, and now you are in our hands."
It served as both a mark of humiliation and a warning. In videos that circulated online, one could see the types of tools they had at their disposal. They didn’t just carry firearms; they were seen with large axes, double-edged machetes, knives of various sizes, and—in some cases—chainsaws. These were heavy, conspicuous tools that, in themselves, gave a clear idea of what they were capable of doing.
They made no effort to hide them; rather, they displayed them intentionally to instill fear. What struck those who watched these videos most was the presence of large, dark-colored drums in the background. Based on their appearance—and the rumors circulating at the time—these containers held some form of acid or corrosive substance, used to dissolve bodies and make them vanish without a trace. Simply seeing them there was enough to sow terror.
All of this was part of a calculated strategy. They didn’t just want to eliminate their enemies; they wanted everyone to know what awaited them if they remained on the wrong side. They rarely killed their captives immediately; they needed information, and that information was just as valuable as the capture itself. Each person who fell into their hands could potentially lead them to two, three, or even more key figures within the *Zetas* organization.
The interrogations were never improvised. They knew exactly what they wanted to find out. First, names and positions: "Who was your direct boss? Who gave you your orders?" To whom did you report? Who were the people working with you? Did you know leaders from other areas? Sometimes, a single name could open the door to an entire cell. Second, locations and hideouts: Where did the leaders live? Which safe houses did they use? Where did they store heavy weapons? Where did they hide money or drugs? Where did they gather for important meetings?
With this information, they could raid locations and seize assets without anyone noticing. Third, routes and movements: What paths did they use to enter or leave the area? What vehicles did they use, and when? How often did the leaders travel to other territories? What phones did they use, and with whom did they communicate most frequently? This allowed them to set up ambushes or identify when an area was left unprotected. It is known that some prisoners talked quickly out of fear, while others spoke in the hope that cooperating would spare their lives.
Some managed to remain silent for hours or days before saying anything. But the saddest part is that, in most cases, the information they provided bought them only a temporary reprieve—it almost never saved their lives. Once they had nothing left to say, their fate—already determined beforehand—would be sealed. After gathering all the information, a decision was made. It was not a random process; each person was evaluated based on several specific criteria.
If you were a recent recruit—someone who didn’t issue orders but merely followed basic instructions—you were more likely to be spared. If, however, you were a squad leader, a regional commander, or someone who understood the entire organizational structure, there was virtually no mercy. The extent of the harm you had caused was the deciding factor: if you had ordered executions, kidnappings, or acts of extortion, your fate was almost certainly the worst possible outcome. If you had merely been involved, without having issued serious orders, your situation might be viewed differently.
There was also the question of whether you might prove useful—or dangerous—in the future. If they let you go, would you return to the *Zetas* to seek revenge? Did you know too much about them—or about your captors—to be allowed to walk free? If the answer was yes, it was highly unlikely they would let you go. In some cases, individuals deemed low-level were released with a very clear warning: leave this area and do not return. If we see you again, there will be no second chance. This wasn’t an act of kindness; it was a strategy.
Those who were released—or sent away—carried with them both fear and a message: "They know who we are, they know where we are, and they are coming for all of us." In this way, terror spread without a single shot being fired. But for those who held high-ranking positions, the decision was final. They knew too much and had caused too much harm; letting them go would have put the entire organization at risk.
There was no negotiation, no forgiveness—they knew their time had come. While these events usually took place in remote locations, that wasn’t always the case. Often, the *MataZetas*—the "Zeta-killers"—chose to make a far more striking statement. They would leave bodies in plain sight: on major highways, at the entrances to cities, on pedestrian bridges, or even in public squares. This was not done out of gratuitous cruelty.
It was a warning directed at everyone—but, above all, at the other members of the *Zetas*. They were essentially saying, "This is what awaits all of you." One of the most horrific and memorable incidents took place in Boca del Río, in the state of Veracruz. In that area, 35 bodies were left in plain sight, in a busy, high-traffic location. The news spread across the entire country, as no one could believe what they were seeing.
It was one of the most extreme displays of its kind at the time, marking a very dark chapter for the state of Veracruz. The image remained etched in the memories of many Mexicans, illustrating the extreme lengths to which the war between criminal groups had escalated. What was most unsettling was not just the act itself, but the cold-blooded, calculated manner in which it was carried out.
This was not a spontaneous outburst of rage; it was a premeditated act, designed to send a message. When a group saw their own associates left in such a state, fear took hold of everyone. Trust vanished, no one felt safe, and the organization began to weaken from within—which was precisely the intended outcome. Over the years, the situation evolved; what began as a reactionary group formed to counter "Los Zetas" did not disappear—instead, it grew and transformed.
"Los MataZetas" (the "Zeta-Killers") evolved, became better organized, and eventually transformed into what we now know as the Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG). From a group that emerged to fight a common enemy, they developed into an independent organization that now operates across multiple Mexican states and several other countries. Thus, from this conflict between criminal factions, something even larger and more powerful emerged.
And therein lies the most important lesson: responding to violence with more violence solves nothing. It merely shifts the power dynamic—changing who is on top and who is at the bottom. The group that was originally formed to put an end to the terror inflicted by "Los Zetas" eventually became an organization in its own right, wielding its own power and controlling its own territory. There was no happy ending, no winner who brought peace; there was only a shift in power and many broken families on both sides.
Source: MrCreppBoyy
