Ismael "El Mayo" Zambada, the elusive and legendary leader of the Sinaloa Cartel, has finally broken his silence on the dramatic events that led to his arrest and extradition to the United States—a saga that has sent shockwaves through both Mexican and U.S. political circles. In a series of public statements issued from his prison cell, Zambada painted a picture of betrayal, violence, and political intrigue, challenging the official version of his capture and tying his ordeal to the unsolved killing of a prominent political figure.
According to Latin Times, Zambada was lured on July 25, 2024, to a ranch near Culiacán under the guise of mediating a political dispute. The meeting, he explained, was supposedly to resolve tensions involving Sinaloa Governor Rubén Rocha Moya and Héctor Melesio Cuén Ojeda, a well-known political operator and former rector of the Autonomous University of Sinaloa. Instead, Zambada claims, it was a trap orchestrated by familiar faces. "As I walked toward the meeting area... I saw Joaquín Guzmán López, whom I've known since he was a child, and he gestured for me to follow him. Trusting the nature of the meeting and the people involved, I followed without hesitation," Zambada recounted in his written statement.
What happened next, according to Zambada, was a violent ambush. "They took me to another dark room, and as soon as I set foot in it, they ambushed me. A group of men assaulted me, threw me to the ground, and put a dark hood over my head. They tied me up and handcuffed me, then forced me into the back of a pickup truck." He described the physical toll of the attack, pointing to lasting injuries in his back, knee, and wrists. The ordeal did not end there. Zambada was loaded onto a private plane, flown for three hours, and ultimately delivered to El Paso, Texas, where he was taken into custody by U.S. federal agents.
But the story grows even more tangled. Zambada directly linked his kidnapping and arrest to the murder of Héctor Cuén, which authorities had initially described as a robbery gone wrong. Forensic evidence later cast doubt on that narrative, with blood traces and witness testimony pointing to the same Culiacán ranch as the real crime scene. In his statement, Zambada insisted, "I am aware that the official version of the Sinaloa state authorities is that Héctor Cuen was shot on the night of July 25 at a gas station by two men on a motorcycle who wanted to steal his truck, but that is not what happened. He was murdered at the same time and in the same place where I was kidnapped."
This revelation has reignited suspicions of collusion between local officials, prosecutors, and police in covering up the true circumstances of Cuén's death. Zambada's account suggests a coordinated effort to eliminate both a political rival and a cartel boss in a single, covert operation. As he put it, "The story that I surrendered or cooperated voluntarily is completely and absolutely false. I was brought to this country under duress and against my will." His words appear aimed at shaping the narrative of his downfall, rejecting any implication that he capitulated to authorities.
Meanwhile, Zambada's arrest and the murky details surrounding it have become a flashpoint in U.S.-Mexico relations. During the week of September 1–5, 2025, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio paid his first official visit to Mexico, meeting with President Claudia Sheinbaum and other top officials. According to Latin Times, the visit focused on cross-border security, drug trafficking, economic development, and the contentious issue of extraditions—including Zambada's.
At a press conference on September 4, 2025, President Sheinbaum addressed the matter head-on. "We spoke about the issue of El Mayo Zambada," she told reporters. "Why it was raised by the secretary of security, the increase in violence in Sinaloa, the rising crime, and details surrounding his capture. Rubio listened but the topic wasn't discussed further." Her remarks underscored the sensitivity of Zambada's case, which has become emblematic of the broader struggle to contain cartel violence and enforce the rule of law on both sides of the border.
Since Zambada's arrest in July 2024, the Mexican government has filed multiple formal extradition requests, seeking to bring him back to face justice at home. Yet, as Sheinbaum explained, such decisions are far from straightforward. She emphasized that extradition of Zambada or other high-profile cartel figures would only proceed after careful legal review and a risk assessment by Mexico's National Security Council. "This is part of our collaboration," Sheinbaum said, "but the decision is made by the National Security Council based on a risk assessment for our country. There are other cases where an extradition order is already in place, without any legal protection, and it is carried out immediately."
Sheinbaum also took the opportunity to reiterate Mexico's expectations of reciprocal cooperation from the United States. "We are particularly interested in cases that are highly relevant to Mexico, where we are requesting deportation or extradition—just as they do with us," she said. Sheinbaum highlighted the potential dangers of transferring figures like Zambada, Joaquín "El Chapo" Guzmán, or Rafael Caro Quintero without a full analysis of the risks involved, warning that such moves could provoke violent retaliation and destabilize security in Sinaloa and beyond.
For his part, Secretary Rubio affirmed the U.S. commitment to working with Mexico on security, border management, and criminal justice. In a public statement shared on social media, Rubio wrote, "Through our joint collaboration with President @Claudiashein, the U.S. and Mexico have strengthened border security, taken action to dismantle the cartels, made progress towards sharing water resources, and promoted new economic opportunities. Today we discussed these issues and…"—leaving the rest of the sentence trailing off, perhaps a sign of just how delicate and unresolved some of these matters remain.
As for Zambada, he now awaits sentencing in New York after pleading guilty to racketeering and drug trafficking charges earlier in the summer of 2025. The man once considered untouchable—rumored to have evaded capture for decades thanks to his low profile and political connections—finds himself at the center of a legal and diplomatic storm. His allegations of torture, betrayal, and government cover-ups have only added fuel to the fire, raising difficult questions about the integrity of both the Mexican and U.S. justice systems.
In the end, the fate of El Mayo Zambada remains uncertain. His story, as told in his own words and refracted through the lens of international politics, is a stark reminder of the complex, often murky intersection of crime, power, and justice along the U.S.-Mexico border.
