Criminal investigation against Los Alegres del Barranco suspended after band releases anti-narcocorrido
The Council of the Judiciary of the State of Jalisco agreed on Monday to lift the criminal proceedings that began after the Mexican corrido band behind songs like 'La Gente del Chapo' and 'La Muerte del Comandante' displayed a photograph of Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes (also known as 'El Mencho'), the reputed leader of the Cártel Jalisco Nueva Generación, during their March 29 concert at the Telmex Auditorium in Zapopan, a suburb of Guadalajara.
The decision was made after the members of Los Alegres del Barranco agreed to several conditions, including releasing an anti-narcocorrido track and agreeing to a probationary period of six months, Billboard reported.
On June 15, the band released a song called 'El Consejo,' about the consequences youth can face if they get involved with drug lords and cartels.
'It's worth noting that after accepting [Jalisco] Gov. Pablo Lemus's invitation to record an anti-corrido, the song 'El Consejo has more than 2 million cumulative plays on all of the band's platforms,' Los Alegres del Barranco said in a statement to The Times.
The agreement requires that the band members maintain residency in Guadalajara, that they periodically check in with state authorities and that they hold conversations with incarcerated youth, encouraging them to stay away from organized crime. The case will be dropped after a six-month period if the musicians meet the conditions, the band said.
Days after the group's controversial concert, the U.S. State Department revoked the band's work and tourist visas, which resulted in the cancellation of its scheduled U.S. show dates, including a stop on May 25 at Pico Rivera Sports Arena.
'I'm a firm believer in freedom of expression, but that doesn't mean that expression should be free of consequences,' Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau wrote in an April 1 post to X announcing the visa revocations.
'In the Trump Administration, we take seriously our responsibility over foreigners' access to our country. The last thing we need is a welcome mat for people who extol criminals and terrorists,' he added.
Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum also criticized Los Alegres del Barranco during a May 31 press conference.
'No apology can be made for violence or criminal groups,' she said.
Roughly a third of Mexico's states and many cities have banned the performance of narcocorridos in recent years.
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Miami Herald
4 hours ago
- Miami Herald
Heed the siren call of Crockett, the Bay Area small town that time forgot
Crockett is a small town with an oversized pull. Its intriguing history threads through the cross-Pacific sugar trade, perilous smelting of precious metals and strange crimes involving an "Ocean's Eleven"-style gold heist and intricate networks of underground tunnels. With charming restaurants and a bustling music scene, it's also a great place to have a day trip. But where to begin? Filling up the caffeine reserves will be Priority No. 1 for many folks. In town, the new Calaca Coffee pours strong java with a Mexican twist. Try a cafe de olla cold brew with cinnamon and piloncillo (raw sugar) or a Xoco latte with cacao and espresso - and if you're feeling naughty, top it off with banana or tres-leches cream. Glommed onto an old church like a retro barnacle, Revival Coffee is a trailer-based operation sporting a bohemian open-air porch with comfy furniture and board games. "Liquid pie" is a good way to describe the coffee. There's a Cherry Jubilee with white chocolate, a Coconut Cream Pie Latte and a Huckleberry Mocha, giving customers the chance to slyly comment to their significant other: "No, you're my huckleberry." The fruit-forward drinks seem cast down from the berry-rich fields of Oregon, and for a breakfast snack there's biscuits and gravy. The sweet offerings around town seem appropriate given its raison d'etre for a long while was sugar. The California and Hawaiian (C&H) Sugar Refining Company celebrates its 120th year in Crockett – whose nickname is "Sugar City" – in 2026. While C&H recently stopped importing from Hawaii, it's still a major player in the market, producing 14% of the cane sugar in the United States. In local vintage shops you'll find its logo emblazoned on Hawaiian shirts, also in timeworn cookbooks with recipes like Hawaiian coconut pudding and frosted grapes on pine boughs. Hungry for more history? Head down to the Crockett Historical Museum, squeezed into a former railroad station by the sugar factory. (Note: it's closed for repairs until July 7.) Inside you'll find treasures like California's last telephone switchboard and a 468-pound taxidermied sturgeon, the largest ever caught in San Pablo Bay. There are informative news articles like one whose headline reads, "UFOs Buzz Crockett Six Say Soberly." That's probably not true – the "soberly" part, as Crockett is a historical hotbed of drinking. Among the 45-plus bars that hung their flag in this tiny community during the last century were Chuck & Henry, Dick & Johnny, Toots and Gully and the by-comparison lonely-sounding Ray's Corner, which poured booze for 103 years until closing in 2004. A train car transporting wine parked in Crockett in 1920, the year Prohibition started. The result was like something out of "28 Days Later" with locals scenting blood in the air. "When the car was discovered on a recent Sunday many of the populace dashed madly to the railroad yards equipped with spigots, garden hose and hand axes," the Los Angeles Herald reported. "The car was entered and some 3000 gallons siphoned into buckets, bottles, kegs, demijohns and all manner of containers." There's fun history to be gleaned here about the old Selby smelting works, once the largest refining company in the West for gold, silver and lead. It was bulldozed in the 1970s, but locals keep it alive sharing memories on the public Crockett-history Facebook page. "When you woke up there was always a layer of gray dust on the porches," recalls one person. Laments another: "(M)y great grandfather fell into a smelting pot I believe never made it home soo sad." Selby was the scene of one of the biggest gold heists in contemporary U.S. history. In 1901, a former worker named Jack Winters spent 6 weeks tunneling through dirt and brick to reach the company's vault and he absconded with half a ton of bullion. He lowered the treasure into the muck of the Carquinez Strait, planning to retrieve it bit by bit. Instead, he was quickly caught and divers recovered the haul, though that doesn't stop fortune-hunters from seeking the gold to this day. A nice way to burn off some calories is to explore Crockett Hills Regional Park. From the staging area, the Crockett Ranch Trail trail leads up a beautifully forested path to a long tunnel under the Cummings Skyway. Pass through this dark orifice and you'll emerge on the other side of the hill with blazing sun and a panoramic visage of the San Francisco Bay that can only be called stunning. The random cow that sometimes grazes here might agree with an appreciative bellow. Cocktail hour approaches, and beckoning hard is surf-and-turf institution The Dead Fish. Named after the owner's nonna - she couldn't always recall the species of sea creatures she cooked, so she called everything "dead fish" - the restaurant offers roasted Dungeness crab and Omaha prime rib in a kitsch-filled compound on the cliff. The views of huge ships passing through the Strait are unbeatable, as are the "Drink-Like-a-Fish" cocktails for only $10. A Crabby Mood Martini or Bloody Shark served in a chilled wine glass? Delightful! Many of Crockett's hidden charms reveal themselves to those wandering with no real purpose. The Epperson Gallery is a spacious showcase for California landscapes and quirky animal sculptures. The Cat Vintage offers antiques and clothing and plans to open a Cat Museum this summer, full of priceless artifacts - to cat lovers, anyway - like feline dolls, trinkets, shirts, staplers and more Garfields than you can shake a pan of lasagna at. Ask nicely and the owner might pull back the curtain on the in-progress museum. Club Tac is a sleepy dive bar with drink specials and a wall of certificates that, upon closer inspection, turn out to be from E Clampus Vitus, a men's-only organization devoted to the history of the Western Gold Rush. Among its purported members were Gene Autry, Ronald Reagan and the famous San Francisco eccentric Emperor Norton. For dinner, The Sicilian serves up traditional Italian plates like penne amatriciana or antipasti with burrata-stracciatella and marinated artichokes. The restaurant may or may not be named in tribute to the eponymous 1987 movie starring local tough-guy actor Aldo Ray. Lucia's Craft Sandwich closes in the afternoon, but if you were fortunate enough to pick something up, they're sizable enough for dinner. It's no exaggeration to say Lucia's is one of the best sandwich shops in the Bay, focused on local produce and top-quality meats. The mortadella with artichokes and fresh ricotta dances between delicate and decadent, and the specials are always worth consideration: a porchetta with orange and fennel-pollen salad, say, or a croque madame with Mornay sauce, squash blossoms and runny egg. Crockett may have had dozens of bars in its history but today is down to a handful, a great one being Toot's Tavern. Said to be the longest continuously operating bar in Contra Costa County, the wood-shrouded watering hole switches from sleepy neighborhood hangout in the afternoon to high-energy music joint at night. Patrons might stumble upon a thrash-metal band, a Van Halen tribute, an electro DJ or a 17-piece jazz ensemble - here, anything's possible. There's also rumored to be a tunnel in Toot's basement that smugglers used during Prohibition to get resupplies from the waterfront. Some locals say it's a myth, but the resident bartender swears it's true. "All of Crockett has tunnels under it," he said on a recent visit. "There were tons of bars during Prohibition and you can see the holes open up by the water. Most are bricked over, and I wouldn't recommend seeking them out. Yeah, it's kind of a weird old town." If you go ... Calaca Coffee: Open 7 a.m.- 2 p.m. at 605 Second Ave., Crockett; Revival Coffee: Open 5 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Friday, 6 a.m.-5 p.m. Saturday and 7 a.m.-4 p.m. Sunday at 1 Rolph Park Drive, Crockett; Crockett Historical Museum: Closed until July 7, then open 10 a.m.-3 p.m. Wednesday and Saturday at 900 Loring Ave., Crockett; Crockett Hills Regional Park: Summer hours through August are 8 a.m.-8 p.m. daily at 1300 Crockett Blvd., Crockett; The Dead Fish: Open noon-9:30 daily (last seating 8 p.m.) at 20050 San Pablo Ave., Crockett; Epperson Gallery: Open 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Friday-Sunday at 1400 Pomona St., Crockett; The Cat Vintage: Open noon-6 p.m. Friday, 11 a.m.-6 p.m. Saturday and 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Sunday at 720 2nd Ave., Crockett; The Sicilian: Open 6 p.m.-9 p.m. Thursday-Sunday at 601 2nd Ave., Crockett; Lucia's Craft Sandwich: Open 8 a.m.-3 p.m. Monday-Thursday and 8 a.m.-4 p.m. Friday-Sunday at 611 2nd Ave., Crockett; Toot's Tavern: Open noon-1:30 a.m. daily at 627 2nd Ave., Crockett; ______ Copyright (C) 2025, Tribune Content Agency, LLC. Portions copyrighted by the respective providers.
New York Post
6 hours ago
- New York Post
Founder of Las Palapas restaurant chain Edward ‘Ron' Acosta allegedly killed in his mansion by nephew suffering from hallucinations: ‘He just completely snapped'
The founder of the popular Mexican restaurant chain Las Palapas was allegedly killed by his nephew, who was suffering from paranoid hallucinations and traveled from California to Texas to commit the gruesome murder. Edward 'Ron' Acosta, 78, was found stabbed to death inside his mansion in a gated community in San Antonio on Tuesday after he was allegedly killed by his nephew, David Ruiz, the San Antonio Express-News reported. Ruiz, 39, had left his home in southern California on Sunday, telling his family that he was heading to San Antonio to visit his cousin and the Tex-Mex restaurant chain's founder's son, Aaron Acosta, and to see his brother in Austin. Advertisement 4 Founder of the popular Mexican restaurant chain Las Palapas, Edward Ronald Acosta, was killed in his Texas home on Tuesday. Las Palapas Restaurants / Facebook However, he was armed with a pistol and amid a severe mental breakdown when he left for the Lone Star State, his father, James Ruiz, told the outlet. 'I thought I was going to lose him to suicide,' his father said. 'I never thought he'd hurt someone else — especially not Ronnie. He just completely snapped.' Advertisement Before heading to Texas, James said his son had been showing signs of every 'mental disorder that you could imagine,' hadn't slept for four days, was suffering from hallucinations, and was extremely paranoid — making bizarre claims that his father was dead and others were out to kill him. When the accused killer left for San Antonio, James said he called Aaron Acosta to warn him that he thinks his son was 'capable of something pretty serious,' due to his mental state and being armed. 'I was fearful that, based on my son's behavior, he was going to take his own life. And how he ended up going to my brother-in-law, whom he had no contact with, and took it out on him is beyond me,' he said. 4 The restaurant founder was allegedly killed by his nephew, David Ruiz. Advertisement Ruiz called Aaron Acosta on Monday while en route to his home, but he planned to stop for the night before reaching San Antonio. The following morning, the Las Palapas founder called his nephew and invited him to stay at his home instead of heading to his son's house. Ruiz agreed, but when he arrived, Acosta wrote in a family group chat that Ruiz was at his home and called for a family gathering to discuss what to do with his nephew. However, at around 11 a.m., the San Antonio Police Department was called to Acosta's home, where they found the businessman unresponsive and bleeding from multiple stab wounds. Advertisement 4 Before heading to Texas, Ruiz had been showing signs of every 'mental disorder that you could imagine,' hadn't slept for four days, was suffering from hallucinations, and was highly paranoid. Kens5 He was declared dead at the scene, according to an arrest affidavit obtained by the outlet. Police said a housekeeper witnessed Ruiz stabbing Acosta, pleading with him to stop before calling 911. Ruiz fled the scene and was still on the run when his father heard about the murder and texted him to turn himself over to the police. The alleged killer was arrested hours later after being pulled over by police in Kimble County, about 100 miles northwest of San Antonio. 4 Acosta founded the Tex-Mex chain Las Palapas in 1981. Las Palapas Restaurants / Facebook He is awaiting extradition to Bexar County to face a first-degree murder charge. Acosta founded the Tex-Mex chain Las Palapas in 1981, expanding it to multiple locations throughout South and Central Texas before selling his majority stake in the company in 2020. Advertisement He is remembered as a beloved member of the San Antonio community, with a huge charitable heart and a strong sense of faith, his friend, Gilbert Hernandez, told News4SA. Las Palapas Restaurant issued a statement saying it was 'heartbroken' over Acosta's murder. 'Ron was a man of deep faith, a generous spirit, and a true community leader. His warmth, vision, and work ethic left an undeniable mark on San Antonio,' the company said. 'Ron's impact reached far beyond the restaurants he helped build. He brought people together, created jobs and opportunities, and shared his love of culture and community in everything he did. He will be missed more than words can express.'
Indianapolis Star
6 hours ago
- Indianapolis Star
Immigrants helped build Indianapolis, leaving their unique marks on the fabric of the city
When Kanwal Prakash "KP" Singh moved to Indianapolis in 1967 he was one of only two Sikhs in the city. Singh had arrived in the United States from India two years earlier to pursue a master's degree in city planning at the University of Michigan. A job opportunity brought him to Indianapolis, which had a reputation as uncultured and unwelcoming — even as leaders worked to overcome a legacy of intolerance and ties to the Ku Klux Klan. Nearly 60 years later, Indianapolis continues to attract new residents from around the globe. Those new citizens include more than 15,000 other Sikh families in the metro area. 'That's one small ethnic group. You have to then multiply the same kind of increase and progress of the entire Indian community, the Mexican community — people from all over the world," Singh said. "I have had the pleasure to be not just a distant witness but to be a part of it." A recent Indiana University report shows international immigration has driven population growth in Indiana since 2008. U.S. Census Bureau data reveals Marion County was home to 128,590 foreign-born (naturalized and those classified as not a U.S. citizen) residents in 2023. More than half — 74,180 — came in the last 15 years. Most of the new arrivals hail from Latin American countries (52.7%), followed by Asia (22.7%) and Africa (18.6%). Since the city's establishment in the 1820s, Indianapolis has been a magnet for immigrants seeking opportunity and refuge. But many faced bigotry based on their ethnicity and religion. Those hostilities often were driven by residents who feared changes their new neighbors brought with them. 'Indianapolis was a majority White, Protestant city and you had the prejudices that went along with that," said Marion County historian Steven Barnett. "If you weren't part of that, essentially, the majority group, you might not be allowed to participate. They may not be hired. You may not be allowed in social organizations. You might not be allowed even in restaurants or other businesses. There was no overt violence. They just weren't accepted.' Still, with time and familiarity, immigrant families — and their customs, businesses and contributions — slowly blended into the fabric of the city. Some left indelible marks on Indianapolis, helping shape the city as it is today. The imprint of immigrants is found in architecture, such as the Scottish link to Mile Square and the German Athenaeum; street names; houses of worship; the ethnic cuisine of the International Marketplace; and celebrations highlighting the many heritages co-existing in the city. But a new wave of anti-immigrant sentiments is erupting in Indianapolis and across the U.S., which once celebrated its role as a cultural melting pot, in a surge of nativism. Under the direction of President Donald Trump, federal agencies are enacting policies to restrict immigration under an "America first" banner, while also targeting immigrants already in the country — including families, laborers and students. The long-simmering political push-and-pull over diversity and inclusion has spilled into the streets, giving way to volatility in some places. Recent high-profile immigration crackdowns are capturing the world's attention as masked federal agents are recorded detaining people on city streets, at courthouses and workplaces. The situation boiled over in Los Angeles in June after the president deployed the California National Guard and U.S. Marines to quell protests calling for abolishment of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. The policy decision is one of many factors that drove millions of Americans opposed to the Trump administration's tactics into the streets in June for nationwide counter protests. The story of Indianapolis and immigration begins more than two centuries ago in a remote, swampy woods near where Fall Creek meets White River. Commissioners appointed by the Indiana General Assembly picked the site. An immigrant platted the new town. Born in Scotland, Alexander Ralston arrived in Indiana in the early 1820s. He'd assisted Major Pierre Charles L'Enfant with the surveying for Washington, D.C. Ralston was hired, along with Englishman Elias Fordham, to do the same work for the new city that would be called Indianapolis. Chronicles of the city's origin credit Ralston with designing the map of the Mile Square, which consisted of a center square and four intersecting streets. He stayed to make Indianapolis his home until his death in 1827. Over time, Indianapolis attracted pioneers from other states, including African Americans migrating from the South. Also coming to the city were Germans, Irish, Italians, Syrians, Africans, Asian and Latino immigrants. The first major wave of immigration in the 1830s and 1840s included the Germans and Irish, said historian Barnett. Many came for work. Others sought to escape economic hardships or oppression in their homelands. German-speaking people sought new opportunities, refuge from crop failure and liberty from oppression stemming from militarism to stamp out revolutions in the 1840s. In Indianapolis, they became influential in business and art. German architects designed many monuments and buildings throughout the city. Before the potato famine swept through Ireland, Irish immigrants began arriving in the 1830s to help construct the Central Canal, said Barnett. They also helped build railroads making the city a transportation hub with an identity as the 'Crossroads of America.' More Irish immigrants followed to escape the potato famine. After the Civil War, Indianapolis saw the arrival of Italians and other Eastern European ethnic groups through the end of the 19th Century, according to Barnett. Jewish settlers also found a home in the city, as did a large Arab community, mostly consisting of people with Syrian ancestry. They came in search of a better life, he said. Some of the immigrants made money and returned home. Others stayed, settling into various parts of the growing city. They carried with them their language, cuisine, art, cultural traditions and religious practices. Some even recruited other relatives and families to join them in Indiana. From a cultural standpoint, the German community maintained a strong thread in the fabric of the city's identity. "The Soldiers and Sailors Monument in Monument Circle — that's probably the most outstanding expression of German art and monumental monumental sculptures. It's just a very strong expression of a German-style monuments," Barnett said. "A lot of architecture in the city was evocative of German culture." World War I, however, created new challenges for German-speaking people and gave rise to anti-German sentiments, Barnett said. In response, families and individuals changed their last names to distance themselves from Germany, so did heritage organizations. "The German population," Barnett said, "tried to show that 'we're more American' than the Americans." Das Deutsche Haus — which translates to The German House in English — became the Athenaeum. The historic landmark, which opened in 1898 and is known for its German Renaissance Revival architecture, remains a prominent landmark. By the early 1900s, several charitable organizations were working in Indianapolis to assist immigrants. During this time, Eastern Europeans from Slovenia, Croatia and Germany began settling on the west side between White River and Speedway, Barnett said. In the neighborhood of Haughville, an ironworks attracted immigrants in search of work. New churches and religious institutions, such as the former Holy Trinity Catholic Church, opened to serve immigrant communities planting roots in Indianapolis. A Romanian Orthodox church opened on West 16th Street. Additionally, the Slovenian National Home opened in 1918 as a social club where dances, concerts, sports and card games took place for East European immigrants. It remains active today. The area south of downtown — near Kosher-inspired deli Shapiro's Delicatessen — became home to a mix of people of Jewish descent, Protestants, Catholics and African Americans. The current wave of nativism — a political policy that prioritizes native-born citizens over immigrants and typically involves restricting immigration — resembles prior anti-immigrant episodes, Barnett said. Nativism rose in the 1850s and continued in various ways including a resurgence of the Klan after World War I. Much like today, immigrants were accused of taking American jobs and criticized for speaking their native languages. Historian Jill Weiss Simins wrote in an 2024 blog that the Klan wrapped its anti-immigrant, anti-Catholic, and anti-semitic rhetoric in so-called America First patriotism and Christian righteousness. As many as one in four Hoosiers were members. Klan members, Simins wrote, saw white supremacy in the U.S. as under attack and believed it was their sacred duty to protect white domination. 'For the Midwestern Klan, the main obstacle to this goal was not African Americans. Many Indiana towns had small numbers of Black residents, and there were plenty of institutionalized practices and laws in place by the 1920s to suppress African Americans," she wrote. "The Klan helped to keep these as standard practice. However, they saw immigrants, mainly Catholics but also Jews, as the main threat to a White, Protestant America." Spanish-speaking immigrants were among the newest wave of people seeking opportunities in Indianapolis. Primarily from Mexico, they began settling along West Washington Street in the mid-1980s, Barnett said. The corridor, where signs in Spanish are still common, was the first in the city to see economic development through Mexican restaurants and businesses. Weather also played a role in attracting Latino immigrants. After destructive winds struck the city in the 1990s, Barnett said Latino construction workers soon arrived to help rebuild. Some remained. The city's Latino population has diversified as people from other Spanish-speaking countries moved to Indianapolis. Asians also have made the city home as locally based, global companies such as Eli Lilly & Co. provided job opportunities. When city officials tout Indianapolis now, they often point to the International Marketplace. The neighborhood centered along Lafayette Road between 30th and 46th streets is home to more than 75 culturally diverse restaurants and businesses. In a single strip mall on West 38th Street, adventurous diners can find restaurants serving Ethiopian, Peruvian, Mexican, Indian and Chinese cuisine. The area is indicative of Indianapolis's beginnings as a Midwest cultural gateway, said Mary Clark, the International Marketplace Coalition's executive director. "This is who we are. Embrace it. Accept it," Clark said. "We just have to get through the next four years and it'll be all good again." Indiana also has attracted many Burmese Americans. Elaisa Vahnie, president and CEO of the Burmese American Community Institute, said 40,000 Burmese Americans began arriving as political refugees in the early 1990s. About 30,000 settled in Indianapolis. Many call Perry Township home, but some are moving to other neighborhoods, said Vahnie, whose great uncle John Mang Tling was the first Burmese immigrant to settle in Indianapolis. One Sunday in June, Singh and more than 4,000 people of the Sikh faith from across the Midwest gathered at the Gurdwara Sikh Satsang of Indianapolis on Southeastern Avenue to celebrate the 75th Barsi of Baba Prem Singhjee. The Gurdwara, a Sikh place of worship, is home to Indiana's oldest and largest Sikh congregation. To become part of their community immigrants must interact and partner with their neighbors, said Singh, who added he's seen Indianapolis become more receptive to different cultures. Initially, Singh said he was denied restaurant service because of his turban, a sacred garment. He experienced housing and police discrimination, and was treated as a curiosity by a former newspaper. But he saw opportunity in each incident. 'The more such incidents happened the more I felt I needed to be here instead of moving to another town,' he said. 'Maybe I had a role to play.' In the decades since, Singh has become a community leader and advocate for diversity. 'The climate has changed enormously,' he said, 'I have been very dedicated to that — to every citizen counting." As part of the June celebration many Sikhs engaged in the practice of selfless service, a major pillar of their faith. They gathered 30,000 bottles of water for Wheeler Mission and collected food for Gleaners Food Bank of Indiana. They fellowshipped, ate together and hosted a high priest who has visited Indianapolis several times as the city's profile grows in India. Sisters Simran Kaur, 19, and Tamanna Kaur, 18, were born and raised in Indianapolis. They said it wasn't always easy growing up in the city, but they've come to embrace their identity as American Sikhs. With the city's growing diversity, they now see a future here. "It's pretty to look at — you know, all the cultures and then all of them coming together ... I think it's awesome," Tamanna said. "I wouldn't want to leave here. I see myself here."
