How the Sons of Mexican Leaders Built an Empire of Corruption

In a country as accustomed to political scandals as Mexico, few things truly shock the public anymore. But the drama currently unfolding in the corridors of power in Sinaloa and the surrounding political sphere may prove an exception. It is a tale of sons living in the shadows of their fathers, of fortunes amassed with such dizzying speed that whispers of corruption and cartel connections swirl ever louder. Like the pages of a dark thriller, this story weaves together ambition, privilege, and the inevitable fall that comes when the allure of power collides with the chaos of cartel warfare.

It all began with a photograph. A seemingly innocuous image, two sons of Rubén Rocha Moya, the governor of Sinaloa, appear alongside a man whose name is now whispered in hushed tones: Amílcar Olán, alleged close friend of Andrés Manuel López Obrador's sons. This simple image, innocuous at first glance, has become the epicenter of a controversy that threatens to shake the foundations of Mexican politics. For as journalist Carlos Loret de Mola has chronicled, the fortunes of the Rocha sons—Ricardo and José de Jesús—have become the focus of federal investigations that span the offices of the Attorney General and the National Intelligence Center.

Loret de Mola, no stranger to lifting the veil on the darker corners of power, has outlined the lives of Rocha Moya’s sons with the precision of a surgeon peeling away the layers of a complicated and rotten fruit. The facts, as they stand, tell a story not of public service, but of a political dynasty that has flourished amidst questions of shady dealings and cartel connections. Since their father ascended to the governorship, Ricardo and José de Jesús have been described as the real forces behind the throne. Officially, they have no roles, but in reality, they are omnipresent in the government palace. Like ghosts hovering just beyond the periphery, they are always at their father’s side, crafting political alliances and overseeing public contracts.

As with so many political sagas in Mexico, it is money that draws the sharpest scrutiny. The Rocha brothers, whose lives were once humble, now live in the rarefied air of yachts, private planes, and luxurious estates. Their newfound wealth is as ostentatious as it is baffling. How does one amass such fortune in such a short period of time? More pertinently, where did the money come from? The questions have led to murmurings that their fortune might not be entirely legal, and Loret de Mola, ever the provocateur, has pointed to the Sinaloa Cartel as a potential benefactor.

Though no conclusive evidence has surfaced to confirm a direct link between Rocha Moya’s sons and the powerful cartel led by Ismael "El Mayo" Zambada, the very suggestion is enough to raise eyebrows. The recent resignation of Sinaloa’s Secretary of Finance, Enrique Díaz Vega, has only added fuel to the fire. Díaz Vega, long rumored to be a key figure in the financial dealings of the Rocha brothers, stepped down suddenly. His resignation coincided with the kidnapping of Zambada himself, a man whose fate is at the center of the ongoing cartel chaos that has enveloped Sinaloa.

There are those who say Díaz Vega’s resignation is no coincidence. Zambada’s kidnapping, after all, destabilized the fragile peace that has long existed in the region—a peace built on whispered agreements between the government and the cartel. With Zambada gone, all bets are off. Culiacán, the heart of the Sinaloa Cartel’s operations, is in a state of violent upheaval, and the Rocha brothers, whose influence over the governor’s office has become a matter of public concern, have found themselves in the middle of a storm.

But if the scandal of the Rocha sons weren’t enough, another narrative is emerging, one that stretches far beyond Sinaloa. It too involves the sons of powerful men—this time, the sons of former President Andrés Manuel López Obrador. In a series of exposés published by LatinUs, the journalistic firebrand Carlos Loret de Mola has delved into a network of shady business deals and government contracts, all tied to two of López Obrador’s sons: Andrés López Beltrán and Gonzalo López Beltrán. The investigative reports are replete with clandestine audio recordings and allegations of corruption so brazen that even seasoned observers are taken aback.

At the center of this scandal is none other than Amílcar Olán, the man who appeared in the now-infamous photograph with the Rocha brothers. Olán’s rapid ascent from relative obscurity to a multi-millionaire businessman has caught the attention of journalists and prosecutors alike. His fortune, Loret de Mola asserts, is tied directly to his friendship with the López Beltrán brothers, who allegedly helped him secure lucrative government contracts. Chief among these deals is the Mayan Train project, a flagship infrastructure initiative of López Obrador’s administration, where, according to Loret de Mola’s reports, Gonzalo López Beltrán acted as a “coyote,” facilitating contracts and kickbacks to friends and allies, including Olán.

The revelations surrounding the López Beltrán brothers are as much a reflection of their father’s complicated legacy as they are a sign of Mexico’s enduring struggle with political corruption. The Mayan Train, once a symbol of López Obrador’s promise to revitalize the country’s southern regions, now stands tainted by accusations that the president’s own children profited off of it. In damning audio recordings, Olán can be heard discussing meetings with government officials and negotiating contracts that were allegedly facilitated by Gonzalo and Andrés López Beltrán.

To add yet another layer of intrigue, there are the allegations surrounding the use of government contracts for the ballast used in the train’s construction—deals that have raised eyebrows for their opacity and the involvement of well-connected individuals. The recordings obtained by Mexicans Against Corruption and Impunity (MCCI) paint a picture of cronyism and backroom deals that extend deep into the corridors of power.

Where this will all lead is anyone’s guess. Mexican politics, after all, is often a labyrinthine web of secrets, half-truths, and denials. The names Rocha and López Beltrán, once symbols of political inheritance, are now irrevocably tainted by allegations of corruption, cartel involvement, and scandal. As investigations by the Attorney General’s Office and the National Intelligence Center deepen, the public will undoubtedly be watching, waiting for the next twist in this dark and complex tale of power, privilege, and moral decay.

It is a tragedy of the highest order—one played out not on the grand stage of democracy, but in the shadowy backrooms where real power is brokered and deals are made, far from the prying eyes of the public. For the Rocha and López Beltrán families, the stakes could not be higher. The fall from grace, should it come, will be as swift as it is inevitable.