![\"Military](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/1768739469_670_.jpeg\")
<\/p>\nMEXICO CITY\u00a0\u2014\u00a0Adri\u00e1n Ram\u00edrez hadn\u2019t been to his hometown in western Mexico for more than two decades. When he finally returned there early last year after being deported from the United States, he found the place transformed. <\/p>\n
Ram\u00edrez remembered the town as vibrant. But the discotheque where he used to dance through the night in his 20s was gone. The bustling evening market, where locals gather for tacos, now empties out early. After 10 p.m., cartel members wielding military-grade weapons take control of the streets.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is no longer the same Mexico of my childhood,\u201d said Ram\u00edrez, 45, who asked to be identified by his middle and last name for security reasons. \u201cThere was more joy, more freedom. But that\u2019s not the case anymore.\u201d <\/p>\n
Anyone returning to their hometown after decades away will note changes \u2014 old businesses close and new ones open, some people move away and others die. Adjusting to such shifts has long been part of the Mexican migrant experience. <\/p>\n
But many of the tens of thousands of people who have been deported to Mexico by the Trump administration have spent decades in the U.S. and are discovering that their country has also changed in more profound ways. <\/p>\n
Criminal groups, better armed and better organized than in the past, now control about a third of Mexican territory, according to an analysis by the U.S. military. Gangs have branched out beyond drug trafficking to extort money from small businesses and dominate entire industries, such as the avocado and lime trade. In some regions, criminals charge taxes on just about anything \u2014 tortillas and chicken, cigarettes and beer. <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Military forces provide security during a meeting about the Michoacan Plan for Peace and Justice, at the facilities of the Morelos barracks in the XXI Military Zone in Morelia, Micoacan, Mexico, in November.<\/p>\n
(Enrique Castro \/ AFP via Getty Images)<\/p>\n
Parts of Michoac\u00e1n, the state where Ram\u00edrez is from, now resemble an actual battlefield, with criminal groups fighting each other with grenade launchers, drones rigged with explosives and improvised land mines. <\/p>\n
Returning migrants are vulnerable to violence because they stand out. Many speak Spanglish. Their stylish haircuts, often with fades on the sides, set them apart in rural communities. So does their gringo-style attire, like baggy pants and T-shirts touting their favorite sports teams \u2014 Dodgers, Raiders, Dallas Cowboys. Ram\u00edrez said that even his mannerisms, which had changed from years up north, quickly identified him as an outsider.<\/p>\n
Cartels single out returning migrants for kidnapping or extortion because they are perceived to have money, said Israel Concha, who runs Nuevo Comienzos, or New Beginnings, a nonprofit with offices in Las Vegas and Mexico City that supports deportees. Returnees often don\u2019t know how to navigate cartel-run checkpoints or local rules set by criminal groups.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re an easy target,\u201d Concha said.<\/p>\n
Concha said he was abducted and tortured by cartel members in 2014 after he was deported to Mexico. He said 16 migrants from his organization\u2019s support group have been assassinated or disappeared since he founded his organization.<\/p>\n
Ten of those cases happened in the last year.<\/p>\n
In May, a recently returned man vanished after leaving his job at a hotel in the central state of Quer\u00e9taro, Concha said. His parents, giving up hope of finding him alive, held a funeral and a Mass for him in October.<\/p>\n
Ram\u00edrez left his town in Michoac\u00e1n state for the United States when he was 21, hoping to save money so he could come back home and build a house of his own.<\/p>\n
But life happened \u2014 Ram\u00edrez got married and had three children \u2014 and he stayed. He was washing cars and driving for Uber in Nashville before he was deported.<\/p>\n
Returning to Michoac\u00e1n was bittersweet. He cried with happiness as he hugged his mother and siblings for the first time in years. But shortly after, he was interrogated by a cartel member on the street who wanted to know his name and what he did for a living. Another cartel member photographed him while he strolled the town plaza. <\/p>\n
His town had once been famous for its cheese production. Now its most dominant industry is fuel theft, a booming multimillion-dollar enterprise in Mexico. Criminals with the Jalisco New Generation cartel recently burned down the town\u2019s two gas stations and killed the owner to assert their control over the pueblo, Ram\u00edrez said. They then set up their own illegal stations, leaving locals no choice but to buy from them. <\/p>\n
The authorities were no help. <\/p>\n
Ram\u00edrez learned from his family that the mayor had been handpicked by the cartel. The police are also in cahoots with criminals. After a relative suffered an accident, the cops who responded ended up extorting money from him, Ram\u00edrez said. <\/p>\n
Ram\u00edrez began to fear for his life. He wondered whether it might be time to leave, and if so, where he would go. <\/p>\n
A growing number of Mexicans are being forced to flee their communities because of violence, data show. The conflict-ridden states of Michoac\u00e1n, Chiapas and Zacatecas have seen particularly high levels of displacement. <\/p>\n
Israel Ibarra, a migration expert at the College of the Northern Border, said migrants returning to war-torn communities often end up having to leave again.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey are not only becoming deported people,\u201d he said. \u201cThey will experience double-forced displacement.\u201d<\/p>\n
That is what happened to a man who returned to a town few hours away from where Ram\u00edrez grew up, in the mountains of Michoac\u00e1n. A local rancher hired the migrant to manage his herd of cattle. <\/p>\n
Contracting outsiders requires vetting and approval by the regional faction of the cartel, which the rancher had not done. No locals had dared help the rancher repair his fence and care for his herd because of the cartel requisites, leaving the rancher with a limited employment pool. <\/p>\n
The migrant, who declined to provide his name because he feared for his life, didn\u2019t fully recognize the power wielded by cartels and took the job. The rancher also paid better than others, to the consternation of the Jalisco cartel, which controls wages in the area.<\/p>\n
One morning, sicarios arrived at the migrant\u2019s home and fired round after round of bullets into the building. The worker fled out the back door as gunmen stormed in. <\/p>\n
\u201cThey left me in ruin,\u201d he said. \u201cThey took everything.\u201d He went into hiding in Michoac\u00e1n\u2019s capital.<\/p>\n