Working as a police officer in Mexico

Guadalupe Island Village.

The very village Victor had inspected.

Two large trucks drove into the village, bringing quite a stir to the quiet hamlet, with signs on them reading: Mexicali Public Basic Living Services Bureau.

In the center of the village, beneath a large tree, essential living supplies were piled up like a mountain.

The Village Head stood on a millstone, looking at the surrounding villagers, and raised his hand, "Quiet, quiet, let's welcome Miss Harida from Mexicali city, applause, applause!"

The villagers below clapped enthusiastically.

A few children even jumped up, adding to the atmosphere.

Harida was a young girl, slightly embarrassed by all the attention. She was a graduate from Dan Senada University and was assigned to the newly established Mexicali Public Basic Living Services Bureau.

They said the unit had just been established.

Its main purpose was to publicize new policies to the countryside and improve the living standards of the poor.

Wow...

Victor was planning to draw the countryside into his alliance as well.

It was indeed a method. The Mexican government had a weak grip on the grassroots level, basically leaving them alone unless something happened, and by then it was often too late to intervene. It wasn't just the police; the news about drug traffickers "massacring villages" wasn't uncommon either.

By enhancing their basic material needs, and then waiting for "the merging of villages into towns," those days of drug traffickers' arrogance would be gone forever!

Harida timidly stepped onto the millstone, holding the script in her hands and began to read. No nonsense was involved, as the villagers didn't understand anyway, so it was all very direct.

"Mr. Victor will implement 12 years of compulsory education in Baja California, and anyone can attend school for free. It will be illegal for parents to prevent their children from attending!"

Mexico introduced 12 years of compulsory education only in 2002, but now Victor had moved it forward, causing many villagers to look at each other in confusion.

"But we have a lot of fields to tend, and we have three kids. If they all go to school, who will help me?" A man asked, raising his hand.

The Village Head glared at him, and the man awkwardly lowered his hand.

"The city hall will provide a monthly subsidy of 200 pesos to every family with two children, 300 pesos for three children, 400 pesos for four children, and so on," said Harida.

Since the 1960s, Mexicans generally married young and liked having families with many children, usually about three, until the number gradually began to decrease after 2000.

Ironically, the Sinaloa Drug Cartel even widely promoted having more children in 2006 within their territories, offering rewards for it.

Perhaps the drug traffickers also knew, if things continued like this, there would eventually be no one left to traffic drugs.

The gangs in the Brazilian slums did the same, even forbidding sterilization surgeries in hospitals within their controlled territories because they needed more people.

Harida had a very warm smile, characteristic of a freshly graduated student.

"City hall will provide free medical services for all village teachers and doctors, and will improve their welfare benefits."

...

There were a total of 13 policies, all aimed at providing security for the grassroots level.

Victor intended to max out the welfare benefits, if it weren't for the fact that universal free health care was not yet feasible; otherwise, he'd just go ahead and declare it. In that case, if Victor were to ascend to power now...

Many would hold you up.

The main issue was a lack of money...

After Harida had read until she was parched, she pointed to the living supplies, "Everyone can come and receive a living gift bag, and students can receive a pair of shoes and a backpack, all personally donated by Mr. Victor."

"Village Head, come and help me distribute these," she said.

The Village Head hurried over to hand out the backpacks, waving, "Ainival, come over quickly!"

He still felt pity for this orphan whose parents were killed by drug traffickers.

The boy carefully walked over, biting his nails.

"Sit down here, I'll put the shoes on for you," the Village Head said, patting the ground. The boy promptly sat down.

Looking at the clean, white shoes, Ainival suddenly said, "Can I... can I go wash my feet first? Grandpa Village Head."

Harida, upon hearing this, bowed her head to look at the boy's feet, covered in dust and with thick calluses, clearly from walking barefoot on the ground for a long time.

The Village Head called for a villager to bring water, and Ainival hastily scrubbed his feet, quickly turning the water dark.

"Let me help you with that," Harida said, squatting down with a smile, using her clothes to wipe Ainival's feet clean, a scene that left the Village Head and many villagers stunned.

The child looked up, and in his small eyes, he saw a woman squatting in front of him, her face bathed in a holy light by the sunlight behind her.

"Mama?" Ainival muttered.

There was a time when a woman would kneel to tie his shoes, tell him to be safe, and pat his back telling him not to be mischievous.

After Harida put the shoes on him, she smiled and said, "Stand up and give them a try."

Ainival got up and hopped on the ground, but he was obviously very careful and cherished the shoes, a smile on his face.

"When you grow up, you need to study hard, do you hear?" Harida patted his head, and Ainival nodded vigorously.

"I'll study hard and then join Mr. Victor's team. The Village Head said that in Mexico, only Mr. Victor is a good man; he will help us poor people, he will listen to our voices."

"Pinky promise!" Harida extended her hand, and Ainival hooked his little pinky with hers, and she laughed, "Then you have to work hard, you are the new generation of Mexico."

Ainival deeply etched this smiling face into his mind.

So beautiful.

…

June 7, 1990!

In San Luis Potosi, Central Square.

Surrounded by more than 200,000 people!

Today, here, Mr. Little Cardenas will establish a new political party to oppose the corrupt Carlos!

This news had been broadcast on a rotation through all Mexican television stations three days ago.

It was a bolt from the blue!

Many top figures made calls to Cuauhtémoc, asking him to abandon this foolish decision. Even Carlos tried to compromise through intermediaries.

As long as he didn't create a new political party, he could be the next president.

Hypocrites full of empty promises!

He didn't believe them!

Dressed in a standard suit, Cuauhtémoc had his hair cut for 3 pesos especially for today and looked much more spirited.

Gazing at the sea of people below, he took a deep breath and stepped up to the platform.

Below, many people began to clap, more and more joined in, and the sound grew louder and louder.

Cuauhtémoc raised his hand, and everyone quieted down.

He felt a surging passion.

"My friends, for many years, Mexico has been like a blind man, eyes covered, lost without direction. In the face of such a plight, what have I done? I didn't even know how to begin changing it!"

"I became a maggot in a wandering, greedy, and cunning nation!"

"In recent years, this has been our condition – drug traffickers ranking above all else! We don't need to live in darkness. The moment the blindfold was ripped from my eyes, that's when I saw the light!"

"I see my enemy, Mexico's enemy, the world's enemy – drug traffickers, corrupt officials, and all-pervasive evil!"

"I've found that the greed and malice of the drug traffickers are shaking the heart of this great country. We must kill this scourge!"

When Cuauhtémoc reached the point of excitement in his speech, he waved his fists, spittle flying, and the people below cheered him on.

"What I say today may be forgotten, but what we do will be remembered for eternity!"

"Death to the drug traffickers, victory forever!"

"Long live Mexico!"

The crowd below echoed with excitement, and as the camera zoomed in on Cuauhtémoc, he could be seen trembling from exhilaration.

"Kill the drug traffickers! Kill the drug traffickers! Kill the drug traffickers!"

Cuauhtémoc raised his hand and shouted, his voice gradually merging into a force that even seemed to thin the clouds in the sky.

Jonathan Aragon, hiding behind the canvas, watched the scene, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

He was an outstanding politician.

"Here in Mexico, in San Luis Potosi, right here, I announce the establishment of the Mexican Workers' Party. I declare war on all drug traffickers – die, you bastards!"

"Die, you scum!"

"Rise again, Mexico!"

Cuauhtémoc looked at the crowd below and raised his hand, embracing this moment that belonged to him.

Dozens of cameras recorded the scene, broadcasting it to other cities and countries.

"We are not fighting alone! My closest comrade-in-arms, Mexico's greatest warrior, Victor Carlos Vieri, will fight at the forefront of the battle to eliminate drug traffickers."

Cuauhtémoc pointed to a massive screen set up in the square, and as his words ended, an image appeared on it.

It was the square in Mexicali city.

A man in a police uniform stood there, surrounded by police officers also in uniform.

"Gentlemen, we live in a country that is poor, backward, and even filled with danger, but we still love it. Our elders and loved ones have lived here for a long time."

"Hardworking Mexicans deserve to be cherished."

"But drug traffickers, they took everything from us – our wealth, our family bonds, our love, and even our lives. They recklessly storm into our homes and shoot dead your parents."

"They steal our wealth and live in so-called mansions. What is that?"

"That's an insult to us!" exclaimed Victor, waving his arms passionately, "My comrades and friends have fallen on the front lines of the anti-drug battle, and they were great, but their endeavor was not complete, it's now in our hands."

"We must carry on their legacy and charge at the vile drug traffickers. What I fear is not falling, but flinching. In this war on drugs, I, Victor, will always be at the forefront."

"I will always die on the path defending justice!"

"For the greatness of Mexico, for our great land!"

"Gentlemen, are you ready to fight?"

In the footage, row upon row of armed police officers stood at attention, their eyes fervently fixed on the "Director" leading them to victory.

A beam of sunlight shone down.

Victor and Cuauhtémoc looked at each other in the camera, the closest of comrades.

A nearby reporter hastily captured this moment.

"Liberate Baja California!"

"Kill the drug traffickers on our land, let their blood be the fertilizer for our soil!"

"Hey, Victor!"

Thousands of police officers saluted and shouted loudly!

Their voices pierced through time, as if bringing to mind the Germany of decades past, but the anti-drug crusade was just!

The officers climbed into armored vehicles, heading from there to the battlefield!

Victor had called over the police from Guadalupe Island, leaving behind only ten to watch over it. All the armed forces were assembled – it was time to deliver a righteous iron fist to the armed militants of Baja California and other places.

Time to die!

Drug traffickers!