American Marconi Wireless News - After mayor's murder, Mexico battles to bring peace

But even after a deployment totalling thousands troops and the killing of a top cartel capo, she has struggled to impose peace in restive Pacific coast states.

Residents of the state of Michoacan's second city Uruapan, have resigned themselves to live with violence.

"You can't be out on the streets too late anymore," 24-year-old student Natalia Miranda told AFP. "If you're assaulted, you don't make it out alive."

Uruapan, a city of more than 300,000 people, is the center of Mexico's multi-billion-dollar avocado industry. It's also a stronghold of several of the world's largest cocaine and fentanyl trafficking cartels.

In the town square, people chat amiably in the shadow of a memorial to slain cowboy-hat-wearing mayor Carlos Manzo.

The 40-year-old was shot multiple times during November's Day of the Dead festival, allegedly by a 17-year-old drug addict working for the Jalisco New Generation Cartel.

After his death, protesters set fire to public buildings and clashed with police, resulting in over 100 injuries.

- 'We can't forget' -

Uruapan has a long history of violence. In 2006, armed groups tossed five human heads onto a nightclub dance floor in the city.

In the 20 years since, there has been a cycle of intensifying violence.

"Michoacan was on the brink of becoming a failed state," governor Alfredo Ramirez Bedolla told AFP, recounting how farmers created self-defense militias just to survive.

But the situation reached a point of inflection with Manzo's murder, as much for residents as for Sheinbaum's government.

Around 20 people were arrested for Manzo's killing, including seven of his bodyguards.

The young gunman was killed by the mayor's security team at the scene.

"We can't forget what happened," said Manzo's widow, Grecia Quiroz, who has been the mayor of Uruapan since her husband's death.

She has no political experience but took office as a symbol of resistance and to demand that Sheinbaum tackle the cartels.

"This awoke not just Michoacan, but all of Mexico," she told AFP while surrounded by bodyguards to keep would-be assassins at bay.

"We cannot ignore or turn a blind eye to the issue of security," she said.

"It is time for society to come together, for us to demand from the government what must be demanded, for us to raise our voices, for us not to remain silent, and for fear to no longer paralyze us."

- 'Narco politicians' -

Following Manzo's death, President Sheinbaum vowed "zero impunity" and sent additional troops to Michoacan.

She also moved against Nemesio Oseguera, a Michoacan native and notorious leader of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel.

"El Mencho", as he was better known, was captured in February in Jalisco state in a military sweep and died of his injuries on route to the hospital.

The cartel responded nationwide by setting up highway blockades and burning buildings in 20 of Mexico's 32 states.

Over 60 people died, the majority in neighboring Jalisco.

The authorities escalated further, arresting Audias Flores, El Mencho's presumed successor, as well as his top accountant and other lieutenants.

Since Sheinbaum came to office in late 2024, more than 52,000 people have been detained for suspected cartel ties.

She has shifted away from the "hugs not bullets" strategy of her predecessor and leftist political mentor, Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador.

There has been a renewed focus on strengthening the National Guard, boosting intelligence, and targeted troop deployments.

But still, polls show 60 percent of Mexicans feel unsafe, and Mexico's first female president is under intense pressure from Washington.

President Donald Trump has threatened to strike targets south of the border if Mexican authorities do not act.

The US government has also trained its sights on another target: "narco politicians."

US federal prosecutors indicted the governor of neighboring Sinaloa state, who is a member of Sheinbaum's ruling Morena party. So far, Mexican authorities have refused to arrest him, claiming there is a lack of evidence.

Today, camouflaged National Guard troops patrol Uruapan with rifles nestled, or cruise the streets in pickup trucks mounted with machine guns.

"You might say to yourself, 'it's better to stay in my house to stay safe,'" said 50-year-old resident Teresa Silva.

Silva, a housewife, rests on a bench in the plaza, a few meters from a military checkpoint.

"It's a little bit quieter," she says.

The violence means she leaves her house less, but she does not have any other option than living with fear.

"The only thing we can do is keep living," she said.

P.M.Smith--AMWN