On November 1, 2025, the city of Uruapan in Mexico’s western Michoacan state was rocked by a brazen assassination that sent shockwaves far beyond its borders. Carlos Manzo, the popular 40-year-old mayor and outspoken critic of organized crime, was gunned down in broad daylight during a Day of the Dead celebration—an event meant to honor the departed, but which instead became the scene of a tragedy that exposed the deep fissures in Mexico’s ongoing battle with cartel violence.
Manzo’s killing unfolded in front of his family and a crowd of bystanders, as reported by the Associated Press. According to witnesses and authorities, a teenage gunman—just 17 years old—approached the mayor and shot him seven times, sending attendees running for cover. The young assailant was quickly restrained and then shot dead by Manzo’s own security detail, a group of municipal police officers assigned to protect him. But the story did not end there.
In the days that followed, questions swirled around the mayor’s large security team. How could a lone teenager get so close to a public official with a visible police presence? Why had the guards failed to intervene before shots were fired? As outrage mounted, suspicion began to settle on the very people who were supposed to keep Manzo safe.
The public’s anger was palpable. According to Reuters, the assassination ignited mass protests across the country, with Mexico City seeing particularly intense demonstrations. Many of the protesters were young—part of a Gen Z movement fed up with both cartel violence and government inaction. The clashes between demonstrators and police left more than 100 people injured and led to 19 arrests. Candles, flowers, and handwritten notes demanding justice soon filled Uruapan’s central plaza, a somber tribute to a mayor who had made enemies by standing up to criminal groups.
Manzo’s brief tenure as mayor—just over a year—was marked by his vocal opposition to the cartels’ grip on Michoacan. As reported by the BBC, he had spoken out about the extortion and threats faced by local avocado growers, and he repeatedly called on federal authorities to do more to rein in the region’s powerful criminal organizations. His stance had made him a target. The Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG), Mexico’s most notorious criminal syndicate, was quickly identified by the country’s security minister as being behind the assassination. The CJNG, infamous for its ruthless tactics and willingness to kill officials who refuse to cooperate, has long fought for control of Michoacan’s lucrative smuggling routes.
Just days after the killing, the investigation took a dramatic turn. On November 19, federal authorities announced the arrest of Jorge Armando “El Licenciado,” described as one of the masterminds behind Manzo’s murder. According to local media cited by Reuters, El Licenciado is believed to be a leader within the CJNG, though officials have not publicly confirmed his cartel affiliation. His capture was hailed as a breakthrough, but it also highlighted the complexity of the criminal networks operating in the region.
Then, on November 21, in a midday raid that drew attention from across the city, seven members of Manzo’s security detail were arrested by a combined force of state prosecutors, military personnel, and federal guards. The Associated Press reported that the arrests took place just steps away from the site of the assassination, near Uruapan’s central plaza. The suspects, all active municipal police officers, were led out of a city building as their colleagues—and now, in some cases, their accusers—looked on, some in tears.
The Michoacan state prosecutor’s office released a brief statement, saying the seven public officials had been detained for their “likely participation in aggravated homicide.” The office specified that the arrests were for “probable involvement in the crime of qualified homicide” and “commission by omission”—a legal term suggesting the guards may have allowed the killing to happen through inaction or complicity.
Until their arrests, the accused officers had continued to serve as bodyguards, this time protecting Manzo’s widow, Grecia Quiroz, who was swiftly appointed by the state Congress to replace her late husband as mayor. The emotional toll of the arrests was evident; members of Manzo’s and Quiroz’s team recorded the moment, some openly weeping as they watched trusted colleagues taken away in handcuffs. Two people, speaking anonymously to the Associated Press out of fear for their safety, confirmed that some of those arrested were part of Manzo’s inner circle.
The fallout from the assassination has been swift and far-reaching. President Claudia Sheinbaum, facing mounting pressure to act, announced a sweeping new security initiative known as Plan Michoacan. As outlined by Reuters and the Associated Press, the plan involves the deployment of 10,000 soldiers across the state, aiming to wrest control from the criminal organizations that have long held sway in the region. The initiative also includes increased spending on social programs, a dual approach that reflects the government’s recognition that force alone cannot solve the deep-seated problems fueling the violence.
Still, many in Uruapan and beyond remain skeptical. The arrests of the security detail have raised uncomfortable questions about the reliability of local law enforcement and the extent to which criminal groups have infiltrated public institutions. The fact that the main suspect in Manzo’s killing was a teenager only adds to the sense of unease, suggesting a willingness by cartels to exploit even the youngest members of society for their deadly purposes.
As the investigation continues, the city of Uruapan is left to mourn a mayor who, for all his flaws, dared to challenge the status quo. Candles and notes expressing sadness and demands for justice still fill the central plaza, a stark reminder of the cost of standing up to organized crime in modern Mexico.
The story of Carlos Manzo’s assassination, the subsequent arrests, and the national reckoning it has triggered is far from over. But for now, Uruapan—and the nation—grapples with grief, anger, and the hope that justice, however elusive, might finally be within reach.