The business council in Los Cabos has a message that lands with unusual force: do not look away. In a public statement released Thursday, the Los Cabos Coordinating Council (CCC) urged residents to reject indifference, denounce intimidation, and guard local life against the “silent penetration” of groups acting against the common good. The call came days after the assassination of Uruapan Mayor Carlos Alberto Manzo in Michoacán, a killing that rattled the country.
The council’s warning is more than a slogan. It is a request for civic attention—show up, file reports, organize, vote—and a reminder to politicians that “pacts” with bad actors corrode public trust. The CCC framed its appeal as both solidarity with Uruapan and a local defense of legality, ethics, and peace in Baja California Sur.
Los Cabos violence
Los Cabos violence is not a headline the destination wants, yet 2025 has tested the state’s sense of safety. Official data show this year’s homicide victims in Baja California Sur outpacing last year’s tally, with most intentional killings committed with firearms. While the state is still far from the country’s hardest-hit hotspots, the upward trend is visible enough to unsettle neighborhoods and business corridors that rely on stability.
That is the context in which local business leaders chose blunt language—“silent penetration”—to describe how criminal interests seep into civic life. The phrase points to tactics that rarely make headlines: front companies that win micro-contracts, pressure campaigns targeting mid-level officials, or the normalization of “fees” that start small and grow into extortion. The CCC’s statement, published in Los Cabos media on November 6, reads like a preemptive line in the sand: community first, and no deals that trade short-term calm for long-term capture.
The trigger for this message was not local, but it felt close. In Uruapan, investigators identified a 17-year-old as the gunman who killed Mayor Manzo during Day of the Dead festivities. Authorities say organized crime likely played a role and that more people were involved. The details are grim, yet they help explain why a business council in Baja California Sur is talking about “penetration” and not only about overt violence. The danger, in their view, is an erosion of civic space—slowly, and then all at once.
Los Cabos leaders have been here before. Earlier this year, the CCC’s president argued that the municipality has stronger institutions and a better security posture than it did during past crises. That capacity matters. But the council’s new note adds something else: capacity without citizen engagement can still lose ground to networks that move quietly, test boundaries, and learn who will push back.
The council’s appeal also reflects a national worry about the recruitment of minors and the normalization of fear. Federal officials have warned for years about criminal groups grooming teenagers for violent tasks. Manzo had publicly asked Mexico’s federal government for help; his killing is now a case study in how public life can be targeted, even when protections exist.
What Civic Courage Looks Like
When local leaders ask residents to participate “with head raised and firm voice,” they are not romanticizing risk; they are naming practical steps that keep a city from sliding. Filing a report when extortion is attempted. Calling out “fees” that show up in places they never belonged. Asking candidates precise questions about their backers. And yes, voting—because municipal offices are where capture starts and where it can be stopped. Those habits are unglamorous. They are also how communities puncture the myth that nothing changes.
The numbers help explain the urgency. In 2025, Baja California Sur has recorded a higher pace of homicide victims than in 2024, with August alone logging double-digit cases and a majority involving firearms, according to the national public-security secretariat’s reporting series. Cities that depend on tourism cannot afford a steady drip of fear, even when most incidents occur far from visitors. Residents feel the tension first: the store owner who hesitates to refuse a “collection,” the parent who rethinks a public event, the neighborhood that decides nightlife ends an hour earlier.
None of this is a prediction of doom. It is a vote for vigilance. The CCC’s statement asks the political class to reject any accommodation with groups “contrary to the common good.” That is a high bar, and it will be tested. The public’s part is smaller but decisive: to insist that local life—schools, markets, fiestas, beaches—remains governed by rules that apply to everyone. The alternative is self-censorship, quiet payments, and public spaces that feel a little less public each month.
What happened in Uruapan should not be read as destiny for Los Cabos. It is a warning with names and dates. Communities that refuse indifference tend to keep more of what they love. That is the simple claim behind the council’s wake-up call, and the hard work that follows it.
