Did murder occur in a Mexican border town if no one reports it?

The bodies are piling up, but journalists are too afraid to mention the news.

March 14, 2010 at 2:35AM

REYNOSA, MEXICO - The big philosophical question in this gritty border town does not concern trees falling in the forest but bodies falling on the concrete: Does a shootout actually happen if the newspapers print nothing about it, the radio and television stations broadcast nothing and the authorities never confirm that it occurred?

As two powerful groups of drug traffickers engaged in fierce urban combat in Reynosa in recent weeks, the reality that many residents were living and the one that the increasingly timid news media and the image-conscious politicians portrayed were difficult to reconcile.

"You begin to wonder what the truth is," said one of Reynosa's frustrated and fearful residents, Eunice Pena, a professor of communications. "Is it what you saw, or what the media and the officials say? You even wonder if you were imagining it."

Angry residents who witnessed the carnage began to fill the void, posting raw videos and photographs taken with their cell phones.

More and more violence

"The pictures do not lie," said a journalist in McAllen, Texas, who monitors what is happening south of the border online but has stopped venturing there himself. "You can hear the gunshots. You can see the bodies. You know it's bad."

The Mexican government's drug offensive, employing tens of thousands of soldiers and federal police officers, has unleashed ever increasing levels of violence over the past three years as traffickers have fought to protect their lucrative smuggling routes. Journalists have long been among the victims, but the attacks on members of the media now under way in Reynosa and elsewhere along a long stretch of border from Nuevo Laredo to Matamoros are at their worst.

Traffickers have gone after the media with a vengeance in these strategic border towns where drugs are smuggled across by the ton. They have shot up newsrooms, kidnapped and killed staff members and called up the media regularly with threats that were not the least bit veiled.

"They mean what they say," said one of the many terrified journalists who used to cover the police beat in Reynosa. "I'm censoring myself. There's no other way to put it. But so is everybody else."

When they are not issuing threats, journalists say, the drug runners are buying off reporters with everything from cash to romps with prostitutes. The traffickers are not always so press shy. When they post banners on bridges expounding on their twisted view of the world or commit some particularly gory crime, they often seek out media coverage.

But not now. And the current news blackout along the border has only amplified fears, as false rumors of impending shootouts circulate unchecked, prompting many parents to pull their children from school and businesses to close.

Not a word

It means that a mother can huddle on the floor of a closet with her daughter for what seems like an eternity as fierce gunfire is exchanged outside their home, as occurred in Reynosa recently, and then find not a word of it in the next day's paper.

And it means that helicopters can swoop overhead, military vehicles can roar through the streets and the entire neighborhood can sound like a war movie, and television can lead off the next day's broadcast talking about something else. Even some authorities, including Mayor Oscar Lubbert, acknowledge that without news reports it is harder for them to get a full picture of how much blood is spilled overnight, partly because the traffickers sometimes haul their dead comrades away before the sun comes up.

The violence was so fearsome last month that the U.S. Embassy in Mexico City temporarily closed the consular agency in Reynosa, which offers assistance to Americans, many of whom manage the hundreds of manufacturing plants based there.

"Before, if there was a shootout, the scene would be full of journalists," said one of the many reporters who has given up covering the drug war out of fear and who insisted on anonymity for the same reason. "Now, sometimes there will not be a single journalist. Everyone stays away."

about the writer

about the writer

MARC LACEY, N ew York Times