DRUG WAR OVERRUNS PRAISED CITY

Mexico's Monterrey Was Considered The Safest City In Latin America,
But Drug-Related Violence Has Spread Fear In The City

MONTERREY, Mexico -- Biti Rodriguez could have gone anywhere for her
10-year-old's birthday party.

But Incredible Pizza, a mammoth restaurant and fun house tucked into
the corner of a strip mall in Monterrey, offered her something that
suddenly has become a consuming obsession: safety.

She herded her daughter, Alejandra, and a dozen other giggling girls
through two metal detectors one recent afternoon at this pizza parlor
that promises "incredible security for your children," then dumped
bags of presents on a table to be probed by a guard. It took a while
to actually get inside, but Rodriguez didn't care. She thinks all the
extra security is super bien -- super good.

Not so long ago, metal detectors at a pizza place would have been
unimaginable in Monterrey, Mexico's third-largest metropolitan area,
with more than 3.6 million residents. The city once seemed as if it
could do no wrong -- two years ago it was named the safest city in
Latin America by an international consulting group, it boasted the
region's wealthiest residential neighborhood, and it was a strong
competitor for the Major League Baseball franchise that became the
Washington Nationals.

But in the past year, the drug violence raging across Mexico has
landed hard in Monterrey, jarring residents who once felt immune to
the shootouts so common in other big Mexican cities.

In the first six months of 2007, Monterrey registered 162 killings,
almost as many as were recorded in all of last year and about 50 more
than in all of 2004. But it wasn't just the killings that shook up
the Biti Rodriguezes of this city -- it was the brazenness of the killers.

A hit man walked calmly into the landmark Gran San Carlos restaurant,
past rows of Monterrey's signature hanging roasted cabrito, or goat,
and shot dead a man seated at a table beneath. Gunmen launched
volleys of bullets into a popular seafood restaurant at the height of
the lunch rush, and officers were mowed down in daylight.

A Scared City

The killings triggered tremors of fear. Newspapers now run daily
tallies of slayings. A roadside hotel has advertised bulletproof
rooms. Heavily armored cars have become a new status symbol, with
corporate chieftains dishing out as much as $400,000 for
Mercedes-Benz sedans that ward off not only bullets but also
grenades. In the San Pedro Garza Garcia suburb, where hillside
palaces rival the mansions of Beverly Hills, a new saying was born:
"There are no Tuesdays without killings."

"I can't say Monterrey is the safest city in Mexico anymore -- that
would be a lie," said Jesus Marcos Giacoman, president of the
122-year-old Monterrey Chamber of Commerce and Tourism. "I can say
we're going to make it the safest again."

Monterrey wraps around the stunning, rocky peaks of the Sierra Madre,
130 miles southwest of McAllen, Texas. Gleaming towers form its
skyline, and U.S.-style malls and upscale restaurants line its wide boulevards.

For the past five years, Monterrey stayed mostly peaceful while the
rival Sinaloa and Gulf drug cartels fought over territory in other
cities near the border, such as Nuevo Laredo. But something more
complicated has happened in the past year, Aldo Fasci Zuazua, deputy
attorney general of Nuevo Leon state, said in an interview at his
Monterrey office.

For unknown reasons, the local drug lords who warehouse cocaine,
methamphetamines and marijuana for the big cartels began fighting
each other, Fasci said. Their bloody battles unnerved the national
and transnational cartels that counted on Monterrey's small-time
operators to funnel tons of drugs into the United States.

A business that had run smoothly was suddenly a mess, and the
national cartels felt compelled to sweep into Monterrey to "restore
order," Fasci said. In the vernacular of organized crime, that meant
killing people.

By April, assassinations were so rampant that the U.S. Embassy issued
a travel warning for Monterrey. The next month, the business magazine
America Economia dropped Monterrey from the top of its list of best
places to do business in Latin America.

Within days of America Economia's piece, Mexican President Felipe
Calderon dispatched federal troops to patrol Monterrey's streets, one
in a series of military assaults against cartel strongholds across the country.

Monterrey's wealthy -- the city is said to be home to more than a
dozen of Mexico's most powerful families -- were well prepared to
withstand the violence in their streets. Top corporations began
hiring armed security forces. Executives and their families now
travel in protective bubbles ringed by bodyguards and live behind
high walls fitted with motion sensors and cameras.

But Monterrey's middle class, the pride of a state that boasts that
its annual per-capita income of $14,000 is twice the national
average, became frantic. Biti Rodriguez cringed each night when she
watched the news. In her neighborhood, parents stopped letting their
kids walk to school. School administrators tightened rules about who
could pick up children.

With hundreds of millions of dollars flowing into the pockets of drug
traffickers, authorities in Monterrey suspect that organized crime
has diversified, investing in criminal enterprises such as kidnapping
and the smuggling of illegal immigrants, as well as legitimate
businesses such as real estate.

Corruption Concerns

The underworld has infiltrated state and municipal governments and
police forces, damaging confidence in public institutions even though
about 400 law enforcement officers suspected of corruption have been
taken off the streets. Local politicians, especially in the many
municipalities that abut Monterrey, say they feel like targets. One
recent afternoon, a municipal councilman, speaking on condition of
anonymity, said that he "feels threatened all the time" and that even
the most minor decisions become complicating labyrinths that can
paralyze local governments afraid of unknowingly angering drug lords.

Anna Calderon Garcia, 15, said that after never hearing a gunshot in
her life, she has twice been startled by gunfire.

One night while leaving a Wal-Mart, she and friends saw the bodies of
two slain policemen lying in the parking lot.

"It changed my life forever." she said.

She lives three blocks from a funeral home and cups her ears when she
hears sirens. Each time, she said, she whispers to herself: "Another dead one."