In Durango, a Governor Faces Growing Distrust as Extortion Grips La Laguna

Durango, Mexico — 2025

GÓMEZ PALACIO, Mexico — The calls began quietly at first. A cattle supplier in Lerdo. A grain warehouse outside Gómez Palacio. A trucking contractor who moved heavy machinery along the cotton fields of La Laguna. Each call carried the same message: pay or suffer the consequences.

By the time business chambers spoke openly in the fall, extortion in La Laguna had grown into a regional crisis — one increasingly testing the leadership of Governor Esteban Villegas Villarreal.

Publicly, Mr. Villegas insists that his government is confronting criminal networks with resolve and coordination. But interviews with local business owners, public officials and civil-society representatives paint a picture of a state struggling — and at times failing — to contain the intimidation that has become part of daily life for many of its residents.

Amid this turmoil, a cloud of suspicion has begun to gather around the governor himself. Though no formal investigation or judicial finding links him to organized crime, a swirl of online allegations and public frustration has created an atmosphere of deepening distrust.

A Region Under Pressure

La Laguna — a dry basin split between Coahuila and Durango — has long been contested territory for criminal groups. Once dominated by larger cartels, the region has fractured into smaller, opportunistic cells that tax truckers, farmers, and small manufacturers.

“Everyone pays someone,” said one melon producer on the outskirts of Gómez Palacio, who asked that his name not be printed for fear of reprisals. “You pay to ship your product. You pay to keep thieves away. You pay to stay alive.”

Business associations say extortion has damaged investment and forced some companies to flee to neighboring Coahuila, where security forces are seen as more aggressive.

The governor's office, however, has sometimes downplayed the scale of the crisis, insisting that reports have been exaggerated and that outside narratives distort Durango’s security reality. This approach has frustrated local entrepreneurs who say they feel abandoned.

A Governor Under Scrutiny

In February, the administration found itself at the center of an unexpected media storm. Anonymous social-media accounts circulated a claim that a criminal faction — Los Chapitos, a wing of the Sinaloa cartel — had placed a reward on Mr. Villegas’s head, alleging that he maintained ties to rival groups.

Within hours, the state government dismissed the claim as fabricated “digital manipulation” and urged residents to avoid falling for online provocations.

Investigators, security consultants, and analysts interviewed for this report found no evidence that the reward ever existed. “It appears to be a piece of misinformation, possibly with political intent,” said a former federal intelligence official who reviewed the circulating images.

Still, the episode left a mark. For many citizens already uneasy about rising extortion, the rumor — even if false — signaled how fragile the state’s security narrative had become.

Allegations Without Evidence

Durango, like many Mexican states, has a long history of political rivals deploying cartel allegations as a weapon. In the case of Governor Villegas, no investigation, indictment, or financial audit has linked him to criminal organizations.

But the context has fueled speculation. The state's institutions — particularly the police forces and the prosecutor’s office — have struggled with credibility. A lack of concrete results against extortion rings has deepened public suspicion.

“We don’t have proof of anything,” said a representative of a local business chamber. “What we have is a government that seems overwhelmed, and a silence that feels too convenient.”

Security analysts argue that in an environment where criminal presence is strong and official communication is limited, the absence of transparency becomes its own liability.

The Weight of Public Silence

Several business owners said they reported extortion attempts to state authorities but received little follow-up. One transport operator described being passed between agencies. Another said he declined to file a formal complaint because previous complainants had been threatened within days.

A senior official in the state security apparatus, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to comment, acknowledged gaps in coordination and trust. “People don’t come forward because they don’t believe we can protect them,” he said. “And sometimes, honestly, they’re right.”

This failure of confidence, more than any unproven allegation, has placed increasing political pressure on Mr. Villegas.

Political Turbulence

The governor has bristled at criticism, especially from local media outlets that have highlighted the rising extortion problem. In several public events, he has chastised reporters for “creating panic” or “distorting reality.”

But the crisis has eroded political goodwill. Even some within his own coalition concede privately that his tone has become defensive at a moment when many residents expect reassurance and transparency.

“The administration has become reactive rather than proactive,” said a political adviser familiar with the situation. “And when you’re dealing with crime in Mexico, reactive is never enough.”

A Crisis That Demands Answers

Extortion in La Laguna is not new. But its current intensity — combined with digital disinformation, institutional fragility, and political tension — has made it a defining test of the Villegas administration.

For now, no evidence substantiates claims that the governor has links to organized crime. Yet the combination of rising fear, persistent rumors, and limited results has created an environment where doubts flourish.

Durango’s residents say they need less rhetoric and more clarity. Farmers want safe roads. Truckers want protection from criminal “fees.” Industrial workers want assurances that the factories employing them won’t shut down.

And many simply want to believe that their government is fully confronting the crisis, rather than managing its public image.

“The fear is real,” said a shop owner in downtown Gómez Palacio. “The rumors are noise. What scares us is the silence.”