
By Nelly Segura

I bought the book "Periodismo para la historia", about the work of Julio Scherer García, at Porrúa on Reforma a few days ago. After protecting it from the rain of Tlaloc himself, located right in front of the entrance to the Anthropology Museum -once on the Metrobus- the first thing I did was to look for Scherer's mythical interview with El Mayo. This interview, a historical document, takes on incunabula tints now that "El Mayo", founder of the Sinaloa Cartel, has been captured by US authorities.
Journalism has always been a risky job, especially when covering such dangerous and controversial topics as drug trafficking in Mexico. For Scherer, risk was nothing more than a word, one that, by the way, he did not write in the interview. The conversation between Scherer and El Mayo not only marked a milestone in Mexican journalism, but also left an indelible mark on the way drug trafficking is perceived and documented. In fact, this interview has become a recurring example in journalism classes in Mexico, standing out for its rigor, courage and depth.
Recently, in a journalistic chronicle workshop, I felt a bucket of cold water, as when someone dear to me dies, when the renowned chronicler Juan Pablo Meneses said: "traditional journalism is going to die before artificial intelligence", the blow was lethal when he retreated: "if it has not already died". Meneses proposes that "author's" journalism, as Scherer used to do, is the only one that can save our precious profession.
Julio Scherer, founder of Proceso, received a message in February 2010 that would change the perspective of the drug war. Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada wanted to talk to him. From that moment on, Scherer faced constant anxiety, not for fear of an attack, but because of the journalistic challenge of maintaining the confidentiality of the meeting while telling the essential truth of the event without endangering his source.
Scherer's account of his encounter with Zambada is almost cinematic: a journey full of vehicle changes and hikes until he arrived at a refuge in the middle of the mountains. There, in a rustic environment guarded by armed men, Scherer came face to face with one of Mexico's most wanted men. The interview touched on personal and professional issues, revealing aspects of Zambada's life and his views on drug trafficking, government and society.
One of the peculiarities of this interview is that the few photographs circulating on the internet of 'El Mayo' Zambada come from this encounter: El Mayo unarmed, or at least that's how he looks, with jeans, cap, T-shirt and mustache. These images have become iconic, not only because of their rarity, but also because of the context in which they were taken: a drug lord exposing himself to the lens of a renowned journalist, in a kind of defiance of power and a statement of his own narrative.
As part of this interview, Scherer described the tension and uncertainty he experienced during the process. His account is an example of the commitment and courage that characterize good journalism. It is not only the story of an encounter with a drug lord, but also a lesson on the importance of journalistic integrity and the constant search for the truth.
Scherer's interview with Zambada not only provided an intimate and direct view of one of the most influential drug trafficking leaders, but also underscored the importance of freedom of the press and the value of journalists who, despite the risks, continue to fight to inform the public.
"One day in February I received a message in Proceso that offered clear information about its veracity. It announced that Ismael Zambada wanted to talk to me. The note gave the place, time and day when a person would take me to the capo's hideout. It did not add a word. From that day on, I did not let go of my uneasiness. However, at no time did I ever think of an attempt on my life. I know I am vulnerable and that is how I have lived. I have no driver, I refuse protection and I generally travel alone, luck is always on my side. The persistent concern had to do with journalistic work. Inevitably I would have to recount the circumstances and details of the trip, but I could not leave any clues that would lead the capo's pursuers to his lair. I would recreate as much as possible the atmosphere of the event and its essential truth, but I would avoid data that could turn me into a whistleblower. It did me good to remember Octavio Paz, whom I once heard say, emphatic as he was: 'Until the last heartbeat, a life can roll on forever.'"
Although he was chosen by the "God" of the narco, he could have refused the offer, but he got in the cab and then arrived at the sierra. Scherer's chronicle, 14 years before the irruption of the AI, used what no machine will ever be able to do: the cojones, and that silver lining remains.
*Journalist and writer.
The opinions expressed are the responsibility of the authors and are absolutely independent of the position and editorial line of the company. Opinion 51.
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