The light is falling, the heat is letting up and gunmen have arrived at the modest house with the concrete front yard where there is a birthday party going on. With quiet efficiency, they approach the painted wrought iron gates and begin spraying the adults with bullets. Three men crumple to the ground, dead. Two others succumb later in the hospital. The evening has begun with a massacre, but it’s still early.
A couple of hours later, a man will be lying in a semi-fetal position, dumped at the side of the road opposite a used car lot, his blank eyes still open, his head in a pool of blood. Just down the road, another man will be shot dead inside a convenience store.
By the end of the night, there will be 10 killings in Juárez. The next day, 13. The day after that, 22.