Editing Example for The Atlantic,
In Mexico’s War on Drugs, Battle Lines are Drawn in Chalk
Since Mexico launched its war on drug cartels in late 2006, the human toll has been immense. Between 2007 and 2010, an estimated 29,000–35,000 people were killed in cartel and organized crime related violence, including civilians, journalists, police, and soldiers. Executions, disappearances, and public displays of brutality became routine, particularly along the U.S.–Mexico border, where cartels fought for control of trafficking routes supplying U.S. drug demand. More than a decade later, the violence has not ended—it has evolved. Cartels now profit from human trafficking, extortion, and territorial control, while mass graves, disappearances, and violent attacks continue, underscoring that the drug war is not a closed chapter but an ongoing crisis demanding sustained accountability reporting.
Mexico's Cartel Violence: Developing and Editing a Visual Narrative
I initiated this project as a staff photojournalist at The Washington Post, pitching sustained coverage of Mexico's escalating cartel violence. Over four years, I independently developed, reported, photographed, and edited the project, assuming editorial responsibilities typically shared between a photographer and an assigning photo editor.
My editorial process began well before I picked up a camera. I identified themes that could help readers understand the conflict's complexity, including cartel violence, law enforcement, immigration, poverty, religion, and drug use. Before each reporting trip, I researched emerging stories, assessed visual opportunities, and considered how new photographs could contribute to the larger narrative.
I developed a network of trusted contacts along the U.S.–Mexico border, including local journalists, funeral home workers, and police sources who alerted me to significant events. Monitoring regional news helped me anticipate coverage opportunities while balancing breaking news with the project's long-term editorial goals.
Editing was an ongoing process that shaped subsequent reporting. As the project evolved, I regularly assessed the photographs, identified gaps in coverage, and adjusted my visual priorities. One of my most important editorial realizations was that, despite documenting the brutality of cartel violence and the government's response, the work lacked an emotional center. It did not adequately convey how the conflict affected ordinary Mexican families.
I deliberately redirected my coverage toward the human consequences of the violence: grief, fear, loss, and the experiences of families living amid the conflict. This decision gave the project greater depth and helped connect the broader political and social issues to individual lives.
Safety was another important editorial consideration. During one assignment, I was threatened and chased while photographing a funeral, despite having the family's permission. That experience reinforced the importance of risk assessment, communication protocols, and contingency planning when assigning photographers to dangerous environments.
The final challenge was distilling four years of reporting into a cohesive 12-photograph narrative. I evaluated each image for its journalistic significance, emotional impact, and contribution to the sequence, eliminating photographs that were repetitive even when individually compelling. My goal was to balance the scale of the violence with intimate moments of grief and resilience, ensuring that every image added information or perspective.
The resulting project received several major honors, including the Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Award for International Photography and the Overseas Press Club's John Faber Award.
This project reflects my approach to visual editing: developing a conceptual framework, identifying gaps, adapting coverage, and making disciplined selections that allow individual photographs to work together as a compelling narrative.
As part of a campaign against drug-related violence, the Mexican military assumed control of Ciudad Juárez in 2009. Army troops and police stand outside a popular bar shortly after the owner was executed.
Targeted assassinations, mutilations, and other acts of terror are a daily reality in parts of Mexico. In Tijuana, the body of an executed man was left naked with an intimidation letter attached. Such killings and messages are intended to instill fear in rivals, authorities, and the public.
At the Córdova Bridge, Mexican military personnel inspect cars crossing from the United States, searching for illegal weapons and drugs. U.S. firearms have fueled much of the violence that has killed tens of thousands in Mexico since 2007. The militarization of Ciudad Juárez was part of a broader strategy to confront cartel power amid escalating bloodshed.
In Mexico City, night brings another body, another chalk line—evidence of a war on drugs that grinds on.
Municipal police officer Noeme Martinez, center, comforts Maria Campos outside her home. Campos had flagged down officers during their patrol to report her husband missing; they showed her a newspaper photo of an execution that matched his description.
A Mexican marine moves through a marijuana field in the mountains of Sinaloa, where marijuana cultivation has long been a major source of cartel revenue.
After Mexico decriminalized possession of small amounts of drugs in 2009, drug use remains visible in Tepito, a neighborhood in Mexico City long linked to the drug trade.
In downtown Ciudad Juárez, off-duty federal police officers and other patrons pay to dance with women at Vaquero, a bar whose name translates to “cowboy.” A dance costs 10 pesos—less than a dollar—and, for more, patrons can go to a nearby hotel. Many of the women are economically vulnerable and struggling with drug addiction, conditions that criminal organizations exploit as part of the broader drug economy.
Police investigate another homicide in Ciudad Juárez. Sergio Porras, 32, was shot six times two doors from his home.
Seconds after morgue workers lifted Porras’s body from the sidewalk, his uncle uses a broom and soapy water to clean the blood stains from the sidewalk.
Rosa Palma kisses the glass-covered coffin of her friend Eduardo Gonzalez Ramirez, 40, at his family’s home in Ciudad Juárez. The family says Ramirez was abducted and killed by men wearing military uniforms, though such uniforms are often used by cartel members. He left behind several children.
Daily exposure to violence in the media and on the streets has desensitized many Mexicans. Distrust of corrupt or ineffective police has led some residents to vigilantism. Gregorio Toyar Lopez, 52, was caught stealing. Rather than call police, the owner smashed his face into the sidewalk and left.
