RIDING IN THE COMBAT ZONE

Jittery Police, Military Unite to Cope With Chaos

JUAREZ -- Tension and uneasiness stifle the city.

Clubs, corner food stands and the streets are nearly empty when the
sun sets. The few people roaming about after dark keep to themselves.

Not many vehicles travel the roads. Those that do seem to be in a
hurry.

Most roadways run along shopping centers that are shuttered, the
targets of vandals. Their facades are covered with graffiti.

These hollow shells used to be businesses with pulses that pounded at
any time of day or night.

Now Juarez -- a city of 1.5 million -- is paralyzed.

The unrelenting violence caused by rival drug cartels has robbed it of
vitality and more than 3,800 lives. That is the murder toll since
January 2008. Many others were wounded or maimed.

Along with a nervous citizenry, Mexican police officers and soldiers
responsible for keeping the peace are jittery, too. They know 20 or
more murders can occur in one shift. It has happened.

One moment the city is calm. The next it is chaotic. Shooting sprees
erupt. Bullet-riddled bodies fall in streets and night spots. There
seems to be no law.

Or is there? I rode with a Juarez police officer one recent night to
try to get an understanding of life in a combat zone.

Officer Francisco Avila Guevara has worked for the Juarez Municipal
Police Department for five years and is well aware that he can get
caught in a deadly situation at any moment.

"We know this is a dispute between them (the cartels) because of
drugs. We try to only prevent" crimes from happening, he said while
driving his patrol vehicle. "If we happen to fall into those
situations when we arrive, well, we coordinate. There have been
confrontations."

Avila said a key for him is to be aware of his surroundings. He said
he has prepared himself emotionally, mentally and physically for anything.

His wife of six years knows the dangers all too well. But his
children, ages 4 and 2, are too young to understand his job.

My wife "doesn't worry because we are both convinced of what I'm
doing. She doesn't worry more or less now (because of the rise in
violence). I just tell her to be alert. We know what the job entails,
the responsibility and what can happen during my shift. Right now,
homicides are what is happening."

Before leaving for work, Avila said, his wife kisses him, recites a
prayer and tells him she will see him after work. Then he gives his
children a little talk.

It goes like this: "I'm going to work, little ones. I'll see you. If
God permits, we'll see each other at night when I get out. Behave."

During this shift, the streets are relatively calm. Still, within an
hour, Avila is called to a neighborhood dispute, a church robbery and
a warehouse fire.

Earlier, gunmen had shot two men and two teenage boys execution-style.
Their bodies were left at an intersection in the Del Real colonia.
Police collected 26 bullet casings near the bodies.

Less than 10 minutes later, a woman seven months preg nant and a man
were shot many times while they drove in a vehicle. They landed in a
hospital.

Dispatchers sent officers to two clinics. Two men, 18 and 28, had been
shot in different cases. Both died.

In Casas Grandes, which is out of Avila's patrol sector, a 75-year-old
man was shot several times at close range. His body was found along a
street.

No neighborhood is untouched by killings, Avila said. Ambush- and
execution-style murders occur any time of the day.

"When I started, there weren't many homicides," Avila
said.

In recent times, he has responded to his share of murders. As a
municipal police officer, his job is to secure the scene along with
soldiers while state police investigate.

Officer Denise Espinoza has worked for the municipal police department
for 11 months, but she already has a veteran's viewpoint -- nothing
surprises her.

"I have seen everything. ... It doesn't get any worse," she
said.

Espinoza said one of her colleagues was recently shot dead. That case
showed how uncompromising and dangerous her job is.

"It's sad when you lose someone who you knew and shared so much with.
It hurts when something like that happens because we're doing our
jobs. We're not doing anything wrong. We are just doing our job."

The day after Espinoza's interview, four Chihuahua state police
officers were shot and killed in separate cases. Two others were wounded.

Two of the fallen officers were ambushed by a group of men while on
their way to work. The other officers, who were on duty, were attacked
by two groups of armed men in vehicles at a gas station.

Espinoza begins each workday with a goal of making it home alive. She
said her religious faith helps her. She prays for her safe return to
her parents and two children.

"More than anything, I put my life in God's hands. I just do my job
and serve the people."