The killing of Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes, widely known as “El Mencho,” was celebrated in both Mexico and the United States as a decisive blow against organized crime. Political leaders, including Donald Trump, framed the operation as a major victory in the long-running war on drugs. Yet beneath the rhetoric lies a stubborn and uncomfortable reality: removing cartel leaders rarely dismantles criminal networks. Instead, it often fragments them, intensifies violence, and leaves drug supply chains largely intact.

This contradiction sits at the heart of what analysts call the “kingpin fallacy” – the mistaken belief that criminal organizations function like rigid hierarchies, where eliminating the leader causes the entire structure to collapse. In practice, modern cartels operate less like pyramids and more like decentralized networks. When one node is removed, the system adapts, reconfigures, and often becomes more volatile.

The kingpin strategy emerged prominently in the late 20th century, particularly during efforts to dismantle Colombian cartels. The logic was straightforward: target high-value individuals, disrupt command structures, and trigger organizational collapse. The death of Pablo Escobar in 1993 was seen as proof of concept.

However, history tells a different story. While Escobar’s fall weakened the Medellín Cartel, it did not eliminate drug trafficking. Instead, it paved the way for other groups, such as the Cali Cartel, and later more decentralized criminal networks. Cocaine production not only continued but expanded dramatically in the decades that followed.

This pattern has repeated itself in Mexico since the government intensified its anti-cartel campaign in 2006. High-profile arrests and killings have removed dozens of cartel leaders, yet drug flows into the United States have remained stable. Prices and purity levels of narcotics such as cocaine and methamphetamine have shown little long-term disruption, indicating resilient supply chains.

Researchers often describe the unintended consequences of the kingpin strategy as the “hydra effect,” referencing the mythological creature that grows two heads for every one cut off. When a cartel leader is removed, internal power struggles erupt. Rival factions compete for control, alliances collapse, and new groups emerge.

The death of El Mencho is likely to follow this pattern. As the leader of the powerful Jalisco Nueva Generación Cartel (CJNG), he maintained a degree of centralized authority that kept internal conflicts in check. Without him, the organization risks splintering into smaller factions, each vying for dominance.

These splinter groups tend to be more aggressive and less disciplined. Unlike established cartels that may prioritize profit stability, newer factions often rely on extreme violence to assert control. This includes public displays of brutality designed to intimidate rivals and civilians alike.

Empirical research strongly supports the link between leadership decapitation and rising violence. A widely cited study found that the capture or killing of cartel leaders leads to a significant increase in homicide rates – in some cases by as much as 80 percent within affected regions.

Mexico’s recent history provides numerous examples. The arrest of Alfredo Beltrán Leyva in 2008 fractured alliances between major criminal groups, triggering violent conflicts that contributed to a nationwide surge in homicides. Similarly, the death of Ignacio Coronel Villarreal in 2010 led to internal restructuring and a wave of violence in Jalisco.

These incidents illustrate a broader trend: removing a central authority destabilizes existing power balances. Instead of reducing crime, it creates a competitive vacuum where multiple actors engage in violent struggles over territory, trafficking routes, and local markets.

One of the most significant consequences of the kingpin strategy is the proliferation of criminal groups. Over the past decade, the number of organized crime factions in Mexico has increased dramatically. What were once large, consolidated cartels have fragmented into dozens – even hundreds – of smaller entities.

This transformation has reshaped the nature of organized crime. Rather than a few dominant players controlling vast territories, the landscape now resembles a patchwork of competing groups. Each operates semi-independently, forming temporary alliances and shifting loyalties as conditions change.

This fragmentation complicates law enforcement efforts. Instead of targeting a single leadership structure, authorities must contend with a fluid and decentralized network. Intelligence gathering becomes more difficult, and coordinated operations yield diminishing returns.

Paradoxically, large cartels can sometimes impose a form of order known as “pax mafiosa” – a relative stability maintained through centralized control. While far from peaceful, this arrangement can limit open conflict by deterring rival groups from challenging a dominant power.

When a kingpin is removed, this fragile equilibrium often collapses. The resulting fragmentation leads to increased violence, not only between criminal groups but also against civilians. Extortion, kidnappings, and forced disappearances tend to rise as smaller factions seek to establish authority and generate revenue.

In regions like Jalisco and Sinaloa, the aftermath of cartel fragmentation has included mass displacement, abandoned communities, and a surge in non-lethal but deeply traumatic forms of violence. These include disappearances, which are often underreported or misclassified, creating a misleading picture of improved security.

Despite the disruption caused by leadership removals, drug trafficking networks have proven remarkably resilient. This resilience stems from their decentralized nature and the economic incentives driving them.

Cartels are not isolated entities; they are embedded within broader systems involving suppliers, transporters, distributors, and financial networks. Even when a leader is eliminated, these components continue to function. New leaders emerge, routes are adjusted, and operations resume with minimal interruption.

Data from international organizations shows that global cocaine production has increased significantly over the past three decades. This growth underscores the limited impact of strategies focused solely on targeting individuals rather than addressing systemic factors.

If the kingpin strategy is so ineffective, why does it persist? One answer lies in its political appeal. High-profile arrests and killings are tangible achievements that governments can showcase. They provide clear narratives of success and demonstrate a tough stance on crime.

For leaders like Claudia Sheinbaum, cooperation with international partners and visible enforcement actions can yield both domestic and diplomatic benefits. Similarly, US administrations have long emphasized kingpin removals as evidence of progress in the war on drugs.

However, these short-term gains often come at the expense of long-term stability. By focusing on symbolic victories, policymakers may overlook more effective but less visible strategies, such as strengthening institutions, addressing corruption, and reducing demand for illicit drugs.

Another consequence of the kingpin strategy is the evolution of violence itself. As criminal groups fragment, they often adopt less visible but equally harmful tactics. Forced disappearances, for example, have become increasingly common in parts of Mexico.

These acts are harder to track and prosecute, allowing authorities to report lower homicide rates while underlying insecurity persists. In some regions, disappearances now outnumber recorded murders, reflecting a shift in how violence is both perpetrated and measured.

The discovery of clandestine graves and makeshift crematoriums highlights the scale of this hidden crisis. These findings reveal not only the brutality of criminal groups but also the limitations of current enforcement approaches.

The failure of the kingpin strategy does not mean that targeting criminal leaders is entirely without value. Removing key figures can disrupt operations and create opportunities for intervention. However, it should not be the central pillar of anti-cartel policy.

A more effective approach would focus on dismantling the underlying structures that sustain organized crime. This includes financial networks, political corruption, and the social conditions that enable recruitment. It also requires international cooperation that goes beyond intelligence sharing to address issues such as arms trafficking and money laundering.

Equally important is the need to shift from reactive to preventive strategies. Investing in community development, education, and economic opportunities can reduce the appeal of criminal organizations and weaken their influence over time.

The death of El Mencho may be remembered as a significant moment in the fight against organized crime. But if history is any guide, it will not mark the end of the CJNG or the broader drug trade. Instead, it is likely to trigger a new phase of fragmentation, competition, and violence.

The kingpin fallacy persists because it offers a simple solution to a complex problem. It aligns with public expectations and political incentives, even as evidence continues to challenge its effectiveness. To move forward, policymakers must confront this disconnect and adopt strategies that address the realities of modern organized crime.

Ultimately, the question is not whether cartel leaders can be removed, but whether doing so brings societies closer to lasting security. So far, the answer appears to be no.

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