Predators on the loose
Migrants crossing Mexico turn to a network of fixers, lawyers, officials
TAPACHULA, Mexico — When migrants arrive to the main crossing point into southern Mexico — a steamy city with no job opportunities, a place packed with foreigners eager to keep moving north — they soon learn the only way to cut through the red tape and expedite what can be a monthslong process is to pay someone.
With soaring numbers of people entering Mexico, a sprawling network of lawyers, fixers and middlemen has exploded in the country. Opportunists are ready to provide documents to migrants who can afford to speed up the system — and who don’t want to risk their lives packed in a truck for a dangerous border crossing.
In nearly two dozen interviews, migrants, officials and those in the business described a network operating at the limit of legality, cooperating with — and sometimes bribing — bureaucrats in Mexico’s immigration sector, where corruption is deeply ingrained, and at times working directly with smugglers.
The result is a booming business that often preys on a population of migrants who are largely poor and desperate.
Broken system
Crossing through Mexico has long been a risk.
Free government channels that can mitigate danger are available, but the record number of migrant arrivals has wreaked havoc on the system.
In the fiscal year that ended Sept. 30, U.S. authorities apprehended people crossing the southwest border 2.38 million times. That’s up 37% from the prior fiscal year.
In response, the Mexican government loosened criteria for some temporary and transit permits, especially for migrants from countries where it would be difficult for Mexico to return them.
Now, it takes months just to get an appointment to begin the process. Amid waits and tension, it’s tempting to pay fixers and lawyers.
And with the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision last month allowing pandemic-era asylum restrictions to remain in place until it hears arguments in February, it was unclear what kind of effects might be felt by the thousands of migrants already making their way through Mexico to the U.S. border.
In the south, migrants can
choose from different packages — transit permits, temporary visas — promoted on social media and adapted to various scenarios and budgets. Farther north, options are scarce.
Migrants rarely report questionable practices. Most assume payments and time are part of the price of getting to the U.S. Authorities seldom take action, citing lack of evidence.
Corrupt agency
President Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador has declared the National Immigration Institute one of Mexico’s most corrupt institutions. Yet in the past four years, only about one in every 1,000 internal investigations opened by the agency made it to the prosecutor’s office, data show.
The National Immigration Institute didn’t reply to requests for comment about efforts to combat corruption. Officials there refused to be interviewed.
In December, the agency said it had followed up on every recommendation issued by the internal control office.
Lack of accountability has made it easy for fixers to operate and exchange payments and information with officials.
The Federal Institute of Public Defenders has denounced arrangements between immigration agents and private lawyers. In response, some of its officials have been harassed and intimidated, according to the agency.
For one Dominican man, getting papers took three days and $1,700 to get a permit to travel through Mexico, he said.
He said a lawyer brought the government-issued transit document to a house where a smuggler took him after he crossed into Mexico.
While waiting for the lawyer, he said he feared he’d been kidnapped — nobody told him how long the documents would take.
But once payment was transferred by a friend, papers
arrived and he took a bus to Mexico City, he said.
The man spoke on condition of anonymity to remain safe as he traveled.
He and others who cross the country use “safe-passage” permits — common language for some temporary documents issued by Mexico. Most allow exiting the country through any border.
Lawyers and brokers advertise prices for various papers largely via WhatsApp messages.
In one, options ranged from $250 paid in Mexican currency for a simple document allowing transit, to more sophisticated humanitarian visas for $1,100 in U.S. funds.
The broker guarantees real government-issued documents, not forgeries. He showed the AP the message on condition of anonymity because of the illegal nature of some of the work and fears for his safety and livelihood.
Much of the money goes toward paying officials at the National Immigration Institute, according to the broker.
Revolving door
A lawyer who independently spoke with the AP confirmed details about bribes. He also spoke on condition of anonymity to protect his business and avoid legal issues.
The immigration agency didn’t answer requests for comment.
In previous statements, it has said officials try to avoid bribery and corruption by installing surveillance cameras in offices and encouraging people to report problems.
The broker who spoke with the AP said his contact at the National Immigration Institute is a senior official who always comes through with documents, except when transactions freeze temporarily — often when the agency is in the spotlight.
The broker didn’t identify his contact.
Generally, when corruption
is alleged, officials demand that employee’s resignation or simply don’t renew the contract, since most are temporary workers, according to a federal official who insisted upon anonymity before speaking about the matter.
Tonatiuh Guillen, who led the immigration agency at the beginning of Lopez Obrador’s term, said he requested the resignation of some 400 officials suspected of wrongdoing.
After he left in 2019, some were rehired, he said.
Andres Ramirez, chief of the Mexican Commission for Refugee Aid, the government agency responsible for asylum-seekers and refugees, said corrupt practices such as selling documents have been on the rise since last year.
At that time, he said, his office was “on the verge of collapse” after receiving 130,000 asylum applications in 2021, four times that of 2018.
Last April, the sale of documents inside the COMAR office in Tapachula became the subject of an investigation when two complaints were filed. Four officials left; the investigation is ongoing.
Even when migrants buy travel documents or visas, they aren’t guaranteed safe transit. Papers may be disregarded or destroyed by the agency that issued them.
A 37-year-old Cuban man who spoke on condition of anonymity described buying documents in 2021 in Tapachula for $1,800, including transportation to the U.S. border.
Days later, he was arrested, he said, as immigration agents boarded his bus and tore up safe-passage documents.
When he reached the detention center, he said, an official told him how things work: He could pay $1,500 to get out and be put on a bus to the border.
The man said he refused and went on a hunger strike with others.
Through the intervention of U.N. officials who visited, he contacted a public defender who helped get him released.
Migrant surge
Back at Mexico’s border with Guatemala, more migrants arrive daily.
Most cross the country crammed into semitrailers. Others take selfies with the “Welcome to Mexico” sign visible just after stepping onto Mexican territory. Then they turn themselves over to authorities, with hopes of obtaining safe-passage documents.
One October day south of Tapachula, on the bank of the Suchiate River separating Mexico and Guatemala, immigration agents registered some 200 migrants, mostly Venezuelans, at one entry point. They were all given expulsion orders, but also told they could exchange those documents for transit permits if they made it to San Pedro Tapanatepec — a small town about 185 miles north,.
It’s not clear why authorities chose an out-of-the-way place for what became a massive migrant camp. The immigration agency did not answer a request for comment about the decision.
Thousands of migrants waited there, in a constant churn of arrivals and departures.
More than 190,000 people passed through from the end of July through November, federal data show.
By mid-December, the immigration agency announced the closing of the camp with no explanation. Migrants vanished from the town in a matter of days.
While the camp was open, some people said they spent days in detention in Tapachula before getting there; others said they were released immediately. Some were released for free, others after paying up to $500 to a lawyer.
For Luilly Ismael Batista, it was the latter.
The Dominican man said a friend recommended the lawyer who got him freed after nine days.
“A friend went out with my credential; the lawyer called me on the loudspeaker,” he said. The agents “let me go, but I had to give my passport and credentials to the lawyer as a guarantee to pay him when I was free.”
Later, he paid $300 for transportation and a guide to bypass about 10 immigration checkpoints on the way from Tapachula to San Pedro Tapanatepec.
“They moved us in all kinds of vehicles, vans, cabs, motorcycles,” Batista said.
He said he got on a bus heading north with his transit permit and no money left. He didn’t know how he would reach the U.S. border.
“I will sell my phone, I will sell my watch, I will sell whatever,” he said.
His cellphone number no longer works.