‘Sacrifice wasn’t worth it’: Cartels target migrants for kidnapping in northern Mexico 

Editor’s note: Some migrants quoted are not being named for fear of retaliation by cartels while they remain in Mexico awaiting CBP One appointments. 

REYNOSA, Mexico – D, her 13-year-old daughter and her husband boarded a bus in June from Monterrey to Reynosa, the last leg of their 1,400-mile journey from San Pedro Sula, Honduras to the U.S.-Mexico border. 

Two years ago, gang members killed two mechanics at the motorcycle shop that D owned and threatened to kill her next if she didn’t pay an extortion fee. She fled to Dallas, where she lived for two years. But D returned to Honduras to get her youngest daughter who begged her mom to save her from her abusive father. 

They traveled through Guatemala and Mexico on buses, hoping this would be the last one before making it to Houston to live with D’s relatives there. 

The bus driver instructed the family to keep their bags with them, even though all the Mexican passengers stored their luggage in the compartment under the bus. That was the first bad omen. Then, the bus driver wouldn’t let them off at their stop shortly before the terminal. When they reached the terminal, all the passengers got off, except for D and her family, who were instructed to wait. 

Armed men then boarded the bus. One dragged D out by her arm. 

“Are you police or what?” D asked. 

“We’re the Gulf Clan,” the man responded. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you have to pay us to enter Reynosa?”

They shoved the family into a car and sped off, yet their case is not unique.

During a November 2024 visit to a shelter in Reynosa, Houston Landing identified at least 15 migrants who had been kidnapped in northern Mexico. Migrants were held between one week and three months. Most were kidnapped from the bus stop or trains as they arrived in Reynosa or nearby city Monterrey. The migrants suspected that Mexican authorities helped cartels identify migrants by taking pictures of them and sending them to criminal groups. Those kidnapped paid between $1,500 and $5,000 USD per person for their release. All were heading to Houston.

“I thought maybe they’ll release me when they see I don’t have help from anyone,” said D, who is remaining anonymous because she is still in Mexico. “But no.”

While the dangers in Mexico for migrants have been well-known for years, immigrants and advocates interviewed by the Landing reported an uptick in these kidnappings in the past year. 

The tactics of cartels dominating northern Mexico had shifted alongside U.S. immigration policy to target migrants waiting for an appointment through government smartphone app CBP One, they say. These dynamics will likely shift again in response to changes in border policy implemented under President-elect Donald Trump.

“It’s been estimated that at least one out of every 10 victims of kidnapping in Mexico is a migrant and the ransom payments can range from 1,500 to 10,000 US dollars,” said Kassandra Gonzalez, staff attorney for the Beyond Borders program of the Texas Civil Rights Project. “Generally they demand more if they have family in the US.”

No safe transport

It’s nearly impossible for migrants to arrive safely in Reynosa without paying the cartel, explained Pastor Hector Silva, who runs the Senda de Vida shelter that currently houses about 2,000 migrants in Reynosa. 

The cartel has threatened taxi drivers who transport migrants without paying a fee, he said. So migrants either have to pay a fee to drivers, which is then passed on to the cartel, or risk being kidnapped. A Venezuelan family interviewed by the Landing recently told of paying a $250 protection fee per person for safe transport in Reynosa. 

Silva wishes he could do more to protect migrants, but the shelter does not coordinate transport to its location for the safety of its staff.

Honduran migrant Carlos Duarte decided to buy a motorcycle in Mexico to travel to Reynosa to avoid taking the bus, because he knew friends who were kidnapped off buses there. A few blocks from the shelter, he realized he was being chased by armed men. A police car happened to be patrolling outside the shelter, which scared the men off. This gave Duarte just enough time to get inside. 

“I knew that arriving here was extremely risky, and that I didn’t have a way to escape or to pay if they kidnapped me,” said Duarte, who now lives in Houston.

Silva maintains strict rules for migrants who stay at the shelter most of the day. Migrants said they saw these rules restricting their movement as necessary for their safety. 

Mexico has recently taken actions to address the violence migrants face there. The Mexican National Migration Institute announced in August a program to bus migrants from southern Mexico to the U.S. border for their CBP One appointment. The program is part of a “interinstitutional strategy to protect the security of foreign individuals who decide to travel by land to the port of entry of their appointment.” The agency did not respond to a request for additional comment about kidnappings in northern Mexico. 

Yet advocates said Mexico’s own policies have contributed to the dangers. The Mexican government more than doubled its immigration enforcement efforts earlier this year after reaching an agreement with the Biden administration, making it more difficult for migrants to reach the U.S. border by deporting them or sending them back to southern Mexico. 

Trump spoke to Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum about immigration cooperation in November and later said she agreed to close the border. Sheinbaum denied the claim and said she spoke to Trump about Mexico’s “comprehensive strategy” to address migration, including “respecting human rights.” Sheinbaum’s office did not respond to a request for further comment.

Weeks to months in captivity 

Migrants who were kidnapped described staying in stash houses where adults and children were separated.

D’s captors beat her and her husband with a wooden plank and forced her husband to place his hands in wet cement until his skin peeled off. D was repeatedly raped and recently found out she was pregnant.

Her teenage daughter was kept in a separate room. D would only see her on her way to shower in a communal bathroom.

“Did they do anything to you?” D asked her daughter one day.

She stared at her mom in silence and started to cry. She is now seeing a psychologist at the shelter but has barely spoken to her mother about what happened.

D and her family were held captive for three months until they sold the motorcycle shop they ran in Honduras along with all the equipment to be able to pay nearly $5,500 in ransom money.

Another migrant, E, said he and his wife H were released after a week at a stash house in Reynosa where the windows were blacked out. A friend in Houston wired $9,500, but he rescinded his offer to let them stay with him in Houston, feeling he had helped enough. E still had hip pain from sitting crosslegged for days, forced to sleep sitting up. By the time the couple was released, they had missed their CBP One appointment and needed to wait months to request another.

“Our mistake was that we didn’t know about the situation in Reynosa,” H said. 

CBP accommodates migrants who missed their appointment if they arrive at the port of entry within 24 hours. After that, migrants need to request a new appointment.

B, a woman from Honduras, took the train route north, hopping on with her partner and 5-year-old daughter while she was four months pregnant. Armed men boarded near Monterrey and dragged them off.

They took the family to a stash house where they were held for 15 days while B’s mother scrounged up the money for their ransom by renting out their plot of land in rural Honduras and asking relatives in the U.S. for money.

Their captors repeatedly beat them, striking B across the face and arms to avoid her belly. 

“I only thought about my baby, and that God keeps me safe so that I didn’t lose her,” B said in Spanish. 

The family was released in the “middle of nowhere” and started walking. They came across Mexican immigration officials, who then sent them back to southern Mexico as part of an effort by Mexican authorities to prevent migrants from reaching the U.S. border. Her daughter was born in September. 

B considers herself lucky. She saw some people shot dead because they were held for months without paying. She hoped her daughter hadn’t seen. 

“We’re receiving psychological help now because we were traumatized,” B said.

Silva receives hundreds of calls a day from relatives desperate for news of their loved ones. He searches for the migrants in the shelter’s database, but usually they don’t appear.

“Unfortunately, we can’t give hope to these families and tell them not to worry,” Silva said. “Because we are concerned.” 

History of kidnappings

The Biden administration promised to create “safe, orderly” pathways for migration, but advocates say that any policy that requires migrants to wait in Mexico turns them into sitting ducks for cartels and criminal groups. CBP One is no exception.

Dating back to at least the Obama administration, kidnappings at the U.S.-Mexico border have been rampant. During theTrump administration, violence against migrants surged under the “Remain in Mexico” policy that forced asylum seekers to await their court dates in dangerous Mexican border cities. 

Kidnappings continued during Title 42, the pandemic-era rule to immediately expel migrants who crossed the border on public health grounds. After Biden ended Title 42 in May 2023, a government smartphone app known as CBP One became the primary way to request asylum at the border. 

Adam Isacson, who monitors Latin American security for the human rights and advocacy organization Washington Office for Latin America, began seeing a trend of migrants with CBP One appointments being kidnapped off buses in Reynosa and nearby Matamoros about a year ago.

With less drugs pouring through this region of the border, cartels need to find other sources of income, Isacson explained. Migrants who are desperate to reach the U.S. have more to lose, and so they are easier to extort. 

“If they look at your phone and see a CBP One appointment, then they’re going to charge more,” Isacson said. 

In June, the U.S. State Department issued a “Level 4 – Do Not Travel” warning for Reynosa because of kidnappings for ransom on buses. People with U.S. connections – as is the case for many migrants with family in the U.S. – were targeted, according to the advisory. 

As of August, kidnappings were common in four northern Mexican border cities where migrants request CBP One appointments, – Reynosa, Matamoros, Nuevo Laredo, and Ciudad Juárez – according to the Strauss Center for International Security and Law, which publishes monthly reports on CBP One. Three of these cities lie across from the Rio Grande Valley.

Once Trump takes office on Jan. 20, border policy will likely change drastically, including a potential return of the Remain in Mexico policy. Just how Trump would do that is unclear, since the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals declared the program illegal in 2020. 

“We don’t know quite yet what specific things he will write, but I do think that it will force people again to wait in Mexico longer and subject them to additional violence, kidnapping, and cartel activity,” said Kassandra Gonzalez, staff attorney for the Beyond Borders program of the Texas Civil Rights Project.

As of mid-December, with a month until Trump takes office, D still hadn’t gotten an appointment through the CBP One app.

“Sometimes I feel like my sacrifice wasn’t worth it if I don’t get my appointment,” said D. 

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