The city of Zapopan, nestled within the bustling Guadalajara metropolitan area in Mexico’s western state of Jalisco, was rocked by a brazen and deadly attack on December 29, 2025. The target: Alberto "El Prieto" Prieto Valencia, a prominent businessman known for his role at the heart of Guadalajara’s sprawling Market of Abastos. The violence, which unfolded in broad daylight, left three people dead—including Prieto Valencia and his 16-year-old daughter—and four others wounded, sending shock waves through the region’s business and security communities.
According to BNO News, the ambush occurred around 1 p.m. local time, when a convoy carrying Prieto Valencia was intercepted at the intersection of Avenida Topacio and Calle Brillante—a border zone between Zapopan and Guadalajara. The attackers, armed with high-powered rifles, unleashed a sustained barrage of gunfire on Prieto Valencia’s orange Lamborghini Urus SUV and a trailing GMC Yukon carrying his security detail. The firefight, which witnesses say lasted up to fifteen minutes, was captured on video by the assailants themselves and quickly spread across social media, amplifying the sense of public alarm.
El Universal reports that the attack was meticulously planned and executed with military-like precision. The assailants employed a classic "blocking" tactic, using multiple high-cylinder vehicles to box in their target. Forensic teams later documented at least 200 spent shell casings at the scene, a testament to the sheer volume of firepower deployed. At least seven—possibly as many as ten—gunmen participated in the assault, firing from several angles before fleeing in two vehicles. Despite a rapid response from local and state police, the National Guard, and the Mexican Army—including aerial patrols—no arrests had been made as of December 30, 2025.
Prieto Valencia, who died inside his vehicle, was not alone in his final moments. His teenage daughter, pulled from the wreckage and rushed to a nearby emergency post, succumbed to her injuries shortly thereafter. One of his bodyguards was also killed while trying to repel the attack, and four other members of his security team—some reportedly retired military personnel—were wounded, one critically. The security detail’s training and resistance likely prolonged the firefight, but it was not enough to prevent the tragedy.
But what lay beneath this public display of violence? As detailed by El Universal and corroborated by investigative reporting, the roots of the ambush trace far deeper than a simple act of personal vendetta. Prieto Valencia was not just a wealthy entrepreneur with a taste for luxury cars and private security; he was a linchpin in the logistics of the Market of Abastos, overseeing the trade of grains, cereals, and groceries—a sector awash with cash and, increasingly, criminal interest. His business, Transportes Odal, founded in 2002, boasted a fleet of refrigerated and dry cargo trucks and carried the prestigious C-TPAT security certification from U.S. Customs and Border Protection, underscoring his commitment to secure supply chains.
However, Prieto Valencia’s prominence also made him a target. Authorities and journalists alike have pointed to his active role in exposing the operations of illegal "Colombian raffles"—a sophisticated extortion racket that has migrated from South America to Mexico. In Colombia, raffles are regulated and contribute to public health funding. In Mexico, they have morphed into a predatory tool for organized crime, especially in places like the Market of Abastos. Here, criminal cells—often comprising both locals and foreigners—coerce merchants into buying raffle tickets under the threat of violence. The promised prizes are largely fictitious; the real purpose is to extract protection payments and launder illicit earnings.
These raffles are intimately linked to the "gota a gota" loan sharking system, where merchants are offered high-interest, short-term loans and, upon falling behind, are forced to buy raffle tickets as a form of disguised repayment. The scheme creates a dual mechanism: it justifies the flow of cash while simultaneously reinforcing criminal control over the marketplace. According to investigative sources cited by El Universal, Prieto Valencia’s resistance to these schemes—whether by barring criminal operators from his sphere of influence, serving as a source for journalistic exposés, or simply refusing to pay protection on a large scale—marked him as a high-value target for retribution.
Jalisco, and particularly the Guadalajara metropolitan area, has long been a battleground for organized crime. The Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG), designated a foreign terrorist organization by the Trump administration, is notorious for its violent enforcement of territorial control and its willingness to target high-profile figures who threaten its interests. The attack on Prieto Valencia, with its paramilitary overtones and public spectacle, was a chilling demonstration of the cartel’s reach and the limitations of state authority.
As reported by El Universal, the response from law enforcement was swift but ultimately ineffective in apprehending the perpetrators. The incident has laid bare the fragility of the rule of law in Jalisco, where even the best-connected and most security-conscious business leaders are vulnerable. The message to the business community could not be clearer: wealth and private protection offer little insulation against the machinery of organized crime. If someone of Prieto Valencia’s stature—backed by military-trained bodyguards and a reputation for resilience—can be eliminated in such a public and brutal fashion, what hope is there for smaller merchants and entrepreneurs?
Salvador Zamora Zamora, Jalisco’s Secretary General of Government, acknowledged the connection between Prieto Valencia’s murder and his efforts to expose the Colombian raffles. He noted that prior media reports, particularly from Grupo Reforma, had linked the businessman to public denunciations of these illicit activities. "Exposing the Colombian raffles," Zamora Zamora said, was a direct challenge to the criminal organizations that thrive on silence and complicity. The state’s inability to protect such a figure, he implied, is an admission that regulatory control over strategic sectors of the informal economy is slipping away.
The assassination of Alberto Prieto Valencia, then, is more than a tragic footnote in Mexico’s ongoing struggle with cartel violence. It is a stark illustration of the deep entanglement between the formal economy and transnational criminal networks. The brazenness of the attack—and the impunity with which it was carried out—raises urgent questions about the cost of doing business in Mexico’s commercial heartlands. For now, the Market of Abastos and the wider business community are left to grapple with the chilling reality that silence and fear may be the price of survival.
