The recent killing of Nemesio “El Mencho” Oseguera Cervantes, the head of Mexico’s most formidable drug trafficking organization, was quickly claimed as a victory by leaders in both Washington and Mexico City. Yet a deep look at decades of similar takedowns reveals a sobering reality: the strategy of eliminating kingpins rarely cripples the drug trade and often makes things far worse.
This approach, known as the kingpin strategy, relies on a flawed assumption that criminal empires are rigid pyramids controlled by a single all-powerful figure. In truth, modern cartels function more like sprawling networks. When one leader is removed, the organization doesn’t collapse. Instead, it fragments.
Security experts describe this as the “hydra effect.” For every head cut off, more emerge. The relative stability that a dominant cartel can impose over a territory—a state sometimes called “pax mafiosa”—shatters. The resulting splinter groups fight viciously for control of smuggling routes and local rackets.
The evidence is stark. A study from 2015 found that capturing a cartel leader in a given municipality leads to an 80% spike in homicides, an effect that lasts for at least a year. Data from the International Crisis Group shows that as more leaders have been taken out in Mexico, the number of criminal groups has exploded from 76 to 205 over a decade. This fragmentation directly correlates with rising murder rates.
The pattern is not new. It was seen in Colombia after the deaths of Pablo Escobar and the leaders of the Cali Cartel, which led to the rise of smaller, more corporate criminal structures. In Mexico, the arrest of a senior figure in the Beltrán-Leyva Cartel in 2008 destroyed an alliance and triggered a bloody war that drove national homicide rates 150% higher. Similarly, the death of a Sinaloa Cartel founder in 2010 led to a period of intense, performative violence in Jalisco state, including an explosion of kidnappings and forced disappearances.
This type of violence often goes unseen. In Jalisco, the number of missing persons has skyrocketed. While official homicide figures may show a decline, disappearances have surged by over 230%, leading many to accuse authorities of “massaging” crime statistics for political gain. In the neighboring state of Sinaloa, reports of missing people have now surpassed the number of homicides, and entire rural communities have been abandoned as warring factions displace residents.
The kingpin strategy fails to tackle the root of the problem. It does little to disrupt the deep links between criminal groups and political or economic elites. Furthermore, it can backfire spectacularly. Until his death, El Mencho himself benefited from the strategy, as security forces eliminated his rivals, allowing him to consolidate power.
Ultimately, the hunt for the kingpin offers a simple political win for governments facing public pressure to act tough on crime. But the result is a more chaotic, more violent, and more entrenched criminal landscape. The real question for Mexico is not who will replace El Mencho, but why the state remains unable to dismantle the entire web of corruption and support that allows these networks to survive.