MEXICO'S DRUG WAR SHOWS A VIRULENT FEMININE SIDE

Women Join Ranks of Smugglers, Bosses, Assassins and Fatalities

CIUDAD JUAREZ, Mexico - She remembers the moment her ambitions and
fortunes as a smuggler grew. It was on a routine job, sneaking in
booze, cigarettes and Argentinian wine. But as she ran across the
shallow Rio Grande, she tripped on a rock and discovered, spilling
along with the wine, bags of cocaine.

Thus began Maria Guadalupe's entry into the world of drug smuggling.
Soon she was traveling to Colombia, where she represented her new
employer: the Juarez cartel. Over a 20-year period, she said, she
smuggled loads of coke to Dallas, Chicago and points beyond,
including New York City.

"I've never killed anyone," said Maria Guadalupe (a pseudonym). "But
that doesn't mean I'm afraid to use my .45. Don't underestimate me
just because I'm a woman."

Maria Guadalupe isn't alone. In a sign that powerful drug cartels are
extending their reach further into Mexican society, an increasing
number of women are becoming involved in Mexico's drug trade, even as
violence grows, authorities say.

"The numbers continue to grow, in spite of the violence we're
witnessing," said Howard Campbell, an anthropologist at the
University of Texas at El Paso whose study on women in drug cartels
was published in the winter edition of Anthropological Quarterly.

Some women get involved because of family ties or through a spouse;
others, such as Maria Guadalupe, out of pure ambition. And their role
isn't limited to smuggling. Some run their own organizations. Others
broker deals between Mexican and Colombian traffickers. A growing
number are trained as assassins, authorities say, including a
21-year-old Laredo woman trained at paramilitary camps in the Mexican
states of Tamaulipas and Hidalgo.

The reasons for their increased participation include the expansion
of the drug trade, which requires more workers of all kinds;
increasing freedom for women in Mexican society; and economic
necessity or the lure of easy money, Mr. Campbell said.

He based his findings on the rising number of women in U.S. and
Mexican prisons for drug offenses, the rising number killed in drug
violence, and on the information from dozens of interviews with women.

"Certainly, few women have the chance to become 'queen-kingpins,' "
Mr. Campbell added, "yet their mere existence may serve as a role
model and symbols of female power for common women in the drug trade,
or those considering such a career."

A leader of the Tijuana cartel is alleged to be Enedina Arrellano
Felix, whose brothers had managed the cartel, once the most powerful
in Mexico. Another prominent woman is Sandra Avila Beltran, dubbed
"La Reina del Pacifico," the Queen of the Pacific, for her alleged
role in shipping cocaine from Colombia to Mexico for the Sinaloa
cartel. She was arrested last year and faces charges of organized
crime, money laundering and conspiracy to traffic drugs.

"We're definitely seeing more women, and we're seeing them playing a
more important role," said Jack Riley, special agent in charge of the
El Paso office of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration. "They
have other skills to influence rivals. They're more persuasive and
more organized about their activities, whether money laundering or
running their own operations."

An earlier crime figure known as "La Nacha" remains a legend in
Ciudad Juarez. Ignacia Jasso arguably created the first Juarez cartel
in the 1920s when she ran a heroin business from her middle-class
neighborhood near the international bridge to El Paso, according to
author Francisco Cruz, whose book, The Juarez Cartel, documents her
exploits. Her main clients were U.S. soldiers addicted to heroin, the
book and Mr. Campbell say, and her competition was virtually
nonexistent after she ordered the killing of 11 rival Chinese traffickers.

"Her legend remains very much alive," Mr. Campbell said, "as many of
the current female smugglers look to her as a successful role model."

From the time she arrived in Ciudad Juarez in the early 1980s, Maria
Guadalupe knew of La Nacha. A native of Durango state, Maria
Guadalupe said she was attracted to AK-47s, getaway cars and
"anything that represented the macho world of smugglers." In Juarez,
she found shelter with her aunt, a hard-drinking prostitute.

"Everyone talked about La Nacha, and so, in a way, La Nacha and my
aunt became my role models into a different, more adventurous life," she said.

Maria Guadalupe "engrossed" herself with her new profession. She
practiced target shooting and began carrying a gun. And she learned
to separate business from personal matters.

"The key is not to let any male dominate you, either in bed or in the
heart. It's all business," said Maria Guadalupe. "At least that's my
philosophy, and one that I believe has kept me alive all these years."

For others, the life is anything but glamorous.

In Laredo, Texas, a 21-year-old woman identified as "Josefina"
recounts in a police video how she got involved with the paramilitary
group known as the Zetas at the age of 17. She was trained in their
camps. Fearing for her family if she tried to get out, she says, she
continued her association with the Zetas, doing "whatever task was
asked of me."

"It was a very difficult life, not as pretty as was described to me," she said.

And U.S. and Mexican law enforcement officials tell the story of a
female police officer in Nuevo Laredo who was moonlighting for the
Zetas and sharing intelligence with U.S. and Mexican authorities.
When the Zetas killed her husband, she plotted revenge. But the
adventure ended when she was gunned down in a car in downtown Nuevo Laredo.