Mexico's Lamborghini-Loving Deputy Takes on Digital Hitmen

Politics and luxury cars – two things that seem as incompatible as a vegan in a steakhouse, and yet, here we are. The Labour Party (PT) deputy Antonio Flores Guerra, or “Tony” to his pals, has just driven a Lamborghini through the pothole-ridden streets of Múzquiz, a town in northern Coahuila where the sight of such opulence must have turned more heads than a Formula 1 parade. Now, Tony is no stranger to attention. He’s a coal baron-turned-politician, with a history more complicated than one of those spy thrillers where no one knows who’s on whose side.

But let’s start with the less glamorous, more sobering part of the story – Tony’s recent proposal to reform the Penal Code in Coahuila. In the hallowed halls of the State Congress, Flores Guerra made a stirring case for cracking down on the latest digital scourges: cyberbullying, hacking, and the charmingly named “digital contract killing.” Yes, we’ve arrived at a time when hiring a “hitman” to smear someone’s reputation online is not just a dirty trick, but a criminal offence that could land you behind bars for three to six years. The fines, if you’re curious, are somewhere between one and two thousand UMA units, which sounds like Monopoly money until you realize that in real life, UMA units cost you an arm and a leg.

Tony cites the staggering statistic that nearly 36% of internet users between June and August 2023 fell victim to some kind of cyberbullying. That’s a lot of people being called ugly on Instagram or worse, having their private lives plastered across Twitter for all to mock. His point is solid: as we become more reliant on our gadgets, cybercrime evolves, like those monsters in sci-fi movies that grow a new tentacle every time you think you’ve defeated them. And these crimes don’t just hurt faceless names in the ether – they often target the very public figures we spend so much time watching, whether they’re politicians like Tony, or actors, singers, and even your favorite TikTok stars.

Flores Guerra himself claims he’s a victim of this kind of digital assault. The opposition has apparently thrown a fair amount of mud his way, accusing him of everything from tarnishing his family’s name to being Coahuila’s number one coal profiteer. “Not even the strongest wind will defeat me,” he boldly declared, no doubt invoking the spirit of a superhero whose backstory involves a tragic loss, a lot of training montages, and finally, a resolve to fight evil wherever it lurks. Only in this case, the evil takes the form of anonymous Twitter bots and Facebook trolls.

And he’s not wrong to feel embattled. The man is an opposition politician in a country where opposition figures often find themselves on the receiving end of, well, unpleasantness. But Tony’s got more than just his words to protect him – he’s got the backing of the people. Or at least, so he says. And that, he implies, is enough to keep him going as he fights against the shadowy forces of digital villainy.

However, what makes Tony’s situation more intriguing (and some might say ironic) is that while he’s fighting the good fight against digital hitmen, he’s also causing a bit of a stir himself. His little jaunt in the aforementioned Lamborghini didn’t exactly scream “man of the people.” And here lies the conundrum: how does one present oneself as a humble servant of the people while cruising around in a car that costs more than most houses in Coahuila? That’s a bit like showing up to a charity event for the homeless in a tuxedo made of gold.

It’s this sort of thing that gets eyebrows raising. Even the country’s president, Claudia Sheinbaum, had to take a step back and make a not-so-subtle suggestion that politicians, especially those from the ruling party or its allies, should perhaps lead by example. Not the kind of example that involves flashing wads of cash or fancy cars, but the kind that keeps them from looking like they’re living the life of a tech billionaire while claiming to represent the downtrodden. Tony’s social media, of course, doesn’t help. With posts showing off luxury cars, high-end horses, and yes, cattle – because nothing says “man of the people” like flaunting your prize-winning livestock.

And then, there’s the coal. Tony, you see, has a bit of history in that industry. In fact, his company, Minerales Don Chilo, has done rather well for itself. A couple of contracts here, a few million tons of coal there, and soon enough, your bank account looks a lot healthier than most people’s annual salaries. Not that Tony’s coal connections have gone unnoticed. The CFE (Federal Electricity Commission) handed him several contracts, no bidding required – just a quick, behind-the-scenes deal worth millions of pesos. And naturally, this raised some suspicions. When coal mines collapse, fingers start pointing. In this case, one of those fingers belonged to the former governor of Coahuila, who accused Tony and his family of benefiting from some questionable CFE contracts.

But wait, it gets even better – or worse, depending on how you look at it. It turns out Tony’s sister, Tania Flores, was the mayor of Múzquiz at the time all these contracts were flying around. Now, we’re not saying there’s a conflict of interest here, but if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, well, you get the picture.

As Tony continues to push for tougher laws on cyberbullying and digital hitmen, and as he stands strong against those who attack his reputation, he does so under a cloud of his own making. A cloud shaped by coal, luxury cars, and family ties to the highest echelons of business and politics. Whether his proposed reforms are enough to curb the digital chaos or simply add another layer of complexity to an already messy political landscape, one thing is clear: Tony Flores Guerra is not a man to be ignored. Whether he’s fighting against cybercrime or racing his Lamborghini through Múzquiz, the world – or at least Coahuila – will be watching.