Safety in Mazatlán, Mexico - My personal experience

We’ve only been back in the states for a little over six months, and already our time in Mexico seems so distant. So “foreign”, for lack of a better word. 

When I think back on our decision to spend two winters abroad, in one of the most dangerous states in Mexico, I don’t have any regrets. But now that I’m safe at home in my own country, I can understand why many of our friends and family thought we were a little crazy for moving our family to Sinaloa.

Nine months ago, after returning to Mazatlán from a quick weekend trip to Oregon for a friends wedding, I was mugged at a popular tourist viewpoint in downtown, or what is commonly referred to as Centro to the local folks. 

It wasn’t the mugging necessarily that shattered the sense of safety that I had felt up until that point. I understand that muggings happen in lots of cities around the world, and in hindsight I definitely could have done more to protect myself. But really, it was what happened after my phone was stolen that caused me the most concern. 

And the fact that when I expressed my intent to share about it on social media, it was met with threats and bullying from the local community.

I made the decision for my own safety, and the safety of my family, to not share the details of the incident until I was back in the United States. But even then, it has taken me this long to truly feel comfortable sharing about what happened. 

When my phone was ripped out of my hands by a Mexican teenager back in January, it felt like part of my life was being torn away from me. I know that sounds dramatic, but we are all overly attached to our phones these days. The cell phone addiction was even more prominent for me in a foreign country… I used my phone every day to translate, order Uber, look up where I needed to go on Google maps, and just stay in touch with my friends and family. 

Just that day, I had attached one of those new pop socket gadgets to the back my phone to help me hold onto it better, so when he tried to snatch it from me, a brief struggle ensued before he could get it out of my hands. We both lost our glasses in the process, although I would later learn that his were the fake kind with no lenses, used only to disguise his appearance. 

After bending down to grab the glasses that had fallen off during the scuffle, I proceeded to chase after the boy and the two friends that were with him.

In hindsight, I don’t think I would have actually chased them in a direction other than the way I needed to go to get home, but since I needed to go that way anyway to get back to my apartment and a phone that I could use to call the police, I ran after them at full speed. In flip-flops nonetheless. And I’m actually kind of impressed at my ability to keep up with those youngins. 

I was able to keep them in sight the whole way down the hill and as I chased after them I yelled help me (“ayúdame” in Spanish) at the top of my lungs over and over. It was a residential street. There were locals outside sitting on the steps enjoying the evening. None of them made any attempt to help me or stop the boys I was chasing. 

When I got home, I used Rob‘s phone to call 911. When the operator answered I asked (in Spanish) if they spoke English, and instead of answering me they simply hung up the phone. This happened twice. 

We contacted some friends of ours, an American man married to a Mexican woman and they came to help us right away. They picked me up at our apartment building and drove around town until we could find a police officer and tell them what happened. 

We could see using the find my iPhone app that the phone was within a quarter of a mile from our apartment building and hadn’t moved since I had arrived home and logged into the app. The only thing the police would do though was shine their flashlight in some bushes and eventually tell us that they would come back tomorrow when it was light out and look for it. 

But we all knew that by that point it would definitely be gone. It was apparent the kids had either tossed it in the bushes or hid it somewhere with intentions of coming back later, once there wasn’t a crazy lady chasing after them screaming. 

I asked for help from our Spanish speaking friend in filing a police report, since I knew I would need that information in order to file a claim with my insurance. 

She made the phone call, and jotted a report number down on a piece of paper, but later when I tried to get a copy of that police report, there was no record of any report being made.

So my main concern at this point was the lack of ability to get help in the case of an emergency. Thankfully this was just my telephone. What if it had been one of my children that was ripped out of my hands and stolen away for me? 

I would hope in a situation like that, the authorities would be more helpful. But the fact is, the police in Mexico are just as corrupt and often times feared even more than the drug cartel itself. And their desire to help what they perceive as rich Americans, seems almost nonexistent, unless of course there’s a financial gain in it for them.

After it became obvious that the police were going to be of no help to us, I returned home, and when Rob realized that we still hadn’t located the phone, (that had also still not moved on the find my iPhone app,) he set out on his own mission to find it. 

He did what I thought the police would do. He knocked on the doors closest to where the phone was showing, and ask the residents if they had seen anything suspicious. One of them had. He had witnessed a few boys in the brush near his house, and upon further investigation, along with the help of the alarm noise you can activate from the find my iPhone app, he was able to locate it buried about 6 inches under a pile of leaves and marked with a twig so they could come back later and recover it.

I was so beyond grateful, to not only have my $800 cell phone back, but to discover that my Mexican ID, my credit card and about 500 pesos in cash were also still intact in the wallet case that I had recently put on my cell phone. I’m glad the story had a happy ending, but it’s what happened next that caused me the greatest concern.

Suddenly everyone I had become friends with in Mazatlán had a story about something being stolen, or their house being broken into. My sense of safety and security came crashing down as I realized that much of the crime in Mazatlán is kept hidden, for fear of losing the tourism industry. 

I wanted to go on Facebook and tell our friends and family about our miraculous story. I wanted to tell them how God had restored what was stolen from me. But when I made mention of sharing about it on social media, I was strongly advised against it. 

The reasons given were that the people who stole my phone may see the video, and target me even more. That seems far-fetched to me, since I was only planning to share it among my friends, and I was certain that the boy who stole my phone was not a Facebook friend. 

This warning, coupled with a couple of other Facebook messages I received, caused me to have concern for the safety of myself and especially the safety of my children. Kidnapping in Mexico does happen. I don’t have any accurate statistics about how often, but I couldn’t imagine the guilt I would feel if one of my children was stolen from me, and I couldn’t get the help and assistance needed to try to find them.

Here’s one Facebook message I received from a woman: 

Rob and I continued to pray about things, and seek the Lord. We didn’t want to let fear rule our decision making, or steal the joy away from this incredible experience abroad. But we both came to the conclusion that it was in our best interest to leave the country as soon as possible. 

Obviously we had loose ends to wrap up, and at the time we didn’t have an actual home to come back to in the United States, but the Lord worked out all those details and allowed us to gracefully exit the country basically unharmed.

I understand the city of Mazatlán’s desire to keep the cruise port open, to keep the tourism dollars flowing, but I don’t think it’s right to cover up crime and give people a false sense of security. If I would have been aware that muggings and burglaries were a regular occurrence in that neighborhood, I wouldn’t have visited that viewpoint alone. 

In fact, we may have never moved out of our gated Coto into that neighborhood, because I would not have wanted to live somewhere that I couldn’t feel safe going for a walk alone to watch the sunset.

I was ridiculed, and basically accused of being incompetent for being out alone that evening, when I had been doing similar things for the last few months that we had lived in that neighborhood.

Even now, 9 months later, and safely back on US soil, I’m still afraid of the repercussions that may come as the result of sharing my experiences, but I feel it’s the right thing to do; To at least share my experience with others so they can make their own informed decisions about safety and security in Mexico. 

Am I specifically saying that Mexico is unsafe? No. Would I go back? Of course. I’m actually heading to Cancun in a few weeks for a vacation with a girlfriend.

I’m not sure if I could or would want to move back with my family, knowing what I know now. But that decision is for each person to make on their own... with accurate and honest information.

If you have any questions for me personally after reading this post, please feel free to reach out to me. Again, this is my own personal experience and opinion so I would ask you to please be respectful in your comments if you disagree.