Policing from the Sky, Crime on the Ground, and a Pole That Just Won’t Fall
Quintana Roo's week: drone-equipped police, sargassum as a regulated resource, a teetering Telmex pole, and CFE workers detained over "suspicious vibes" amid digital crime reporting and looming storms.
If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to live in a telenovela directed by Michael Bay and scored by a mariachi band on Red Bull, welcome to Quintana Roo, 2025. This week, the state’s law enforcement isn’t just fighting crime—they’re fighting gravity, corruption, and an overachieving seaweed that’s now officially part of the national fishing fleet.
Yes. Sargassum is now a regulated fishery resource.
Not a joke. Not a metaphor. The stuff that washes up on your beach, smells like a dead fish’s gym sock, and ruins your Instagram sunset pic? It’s now pesca legal. So technically, if you’re scooping sargazo into a bucket on Playa Delfines, you might need a permit. Or a union rep. Either way, congrats: you’re in the aquaculture game, abuela.
But let’s talk about the drone squad.
🛸 The Sky Police of Quintana Roo
Meet the Itzamná Unit—not a new boy band from Chetumal, but the state’s elite drone surveillance team under the Secretaría de Seguridad Ciudadana. Last week, they flew 89 tactical missions, covering 169 kilometers, because apparently, crime in Quintana Roo now requires aerial reconnaissance.
And it paid off. In Cancún and Isla Mujeres, these sky cops helped bust 10 people, who were then handed over to the juez cívico—a.k.a. the municipal version of “time-out.” We don’t know what they did. Maybe they jaywalked. Maybe they sold coconuts without a permit. Or maybe they were just looking at a tourist too long. In Quintana Roo, intent is 90% of the law.
Imagine this: you’re a petty delinquent, thinking you’ve outsmarted the system by stealing a palapa umbrella at 3 a.m. You hear nothing. See nothing. Then—BZZZZT—a drone with a flashlight and a judgmental attitude appears above you like a vengeful firefly.
“Drop the sombrero, señor. La policía está viendo.”
Game over.
⚡ The Case of the Leaning Telmex Post
Meanwhile, in Playa del Carmen, the real crisis isn’t crime. It’s infrastructure with commitment issues.
Residents of Colonia Gonzalo Guerrero reported a wooden Telmex pole that’s “a punto de desplomarse.” That’s Spanish for “this thing is hanging on by a prayer and two rusty nails.”
Now, let’s be real: this isn’t just a pole. This is a character. A symbol. A silent witness to 20 years of bad decisions—abandoned scooter rentals, unpaid water bills, and that one time someone tried to sell a “genuine” Rolex for 300 pesos.
Will it fall? When? Will it take down a power line, a taco stand, and a French tourist’s emotional stability with it?
We don’t know. But we do know this: the pole has become a local celebrity. It’s the Titanic of telecommunications—doomed, dramatic, and somehow still standing.
We suggest the city declare it a historical monument. “Monumento al Poste que Nunca Cae.” Add a plaque. Charge five pesos for photos.
🔧 The Great CFE Worker Detainment
In a nearby village called X-Pichil, local residents detained workers from the CFE—Mexico’s national electricity company.
Why?
Because they looked suspicious.
No tools. No uniforms. No CFE trucks. Just… guys. Standing near electrical infrastructure. In rural Mexico, that’s basically a felony.
Authorities later confirmed: no stolen materials were found. No sabotage. No evil master plan to plunge Quintana Roo into darkness.
Just a case of “wrong place, wrong time, wrong vibes.”
Still, the message is clear: if you work for a government utility in this state, wear your ID. Wear your helmet. And maybe don’t stand near a transformer at dusk looking like you’re plotting something. Because the people will stop you. They will hold you. And they will wait for the real police to arrive—possibly while offering you a tamarindo soda to calm your nerves.
🕵️ The Anti-Crime Strategy
Beyond the flying robots, the state is pushing digital denuncias—online crime reporting—because who needs to leave the house when you can report a thief while lying in bed eating chilaquiles?
The Fiscalía says it’s working “de manera muy eficiente.” Which in government-speak means: “We finally fixed the website after three years of ‘under maintenance.’”
But credit where it’s due: making crime reporting as easy as ordering a Uber is smart. Especially when your main competition for public attention is sargazo policy and a leaning telephone pole.
🌪️ Weather Report
The governor, Mara Lezama, reminded everyone to stay informed through official channels during hurricane season. Which is good advice—unless you’re like most locals, who get their weather updates from WhatsApp chains titled “URGENTE: HURACÁN CARLOTA VIENE A COZUMEL (VIDEO REAL).”
One of the low-pressure systems is 5,405 km east of Quintana Roo and moving west-northwest. Probability of cyclone formation? 60% in seven days.
Translation: pack your bags, cancel your flights, and stock up on cerveza and canned beans.
Or just wait. Because if the state can regulate sargassum and fly drones like Top Gun, surely they can handle a little rain.
Quintana Roo isn’t just fighting crime. It’s redefining it. You can get arrested by a drone. You can be reported for looking at a pole wrong. And you can make a living harvesting seaweed—if you’ve got the permit. This is no longer just a beach destination. It’s a bureaucratic action-adventure game, where the final boss is a half-dead Telmex post that refuses to fall.
So next time you visit, remember:
- Don’t steal anything. The sky is watching.
- Don’t touch the sargassum. It’s regulated.
- And if you see a wobbly pole? Take a photo. It might be famous tomorrow.
Until next week, stay legal, stay skeptical, and for the love of tacos, stay away from suspicious infrastructure.
— The Mexicanist Team
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