[. . .]
Such a void, taken to extremes, has found its resolution in violence.
“There is a crisis in terms of the growth of violence and crime and a parallel erosion of authority and the rule of law,” Mr. Guillén said. “These lynchings acquire a double meaning. People lynch both the suspect and the symbol of authority.”
Interviews with dozens of residents about the lynching of the brothers — David and José Abraham Copado Molina — revealed little remorse. In the end, the fear that two suspects might be escaping with the help of the police outweighed concerns over spilling innocent blood.
“If they were innocent, and I’m not saying they were, then this is a case of one group paying for the crimes of another,” said Emanuel Petla, 33, near the site of the lynchings in October. “What happened the day of the lynchings is a situation that has been unraveling for some time now.”
“One thing led to the other,” he added. “Insecurity, frustration, confusion and weariness.”
The police are not exempt from mob action. Last year, five officers were badly beaten after they killed a villager during an operation. Two died from their injuries.
In the borough of Iztapalapa, residents have raised banners warning thieves that they will not be turned over to the police. Instead, vengeance will be taken on their mothers. In September, two men were set on fire in Chiapas State, having been accused of stealing a car.
Such frustration has long been an issue, along with the tendency for people to take the law into their own hands. In the last few years, self-defense groups have popped up to fight organized crime, filling the void left by government forces either incapable of combating criminal gangs, unwilling to do so or actively working alongside them.
But for all the government’s flaws, vigilantism rarely seems to do much better.
The initial gains of some self-defense groups give way to predatory behavior, creating a new order of bandit. Lynchings, too, seldom generate much more than public disgust and a fleeting sense of agency for the community.
And sometimes the community gets it wrong,
Though the job was standard enough, the context was not. The town was swirling in a tempest of fear. In the days before the pair arrived, social media brimmed with warnings about child abductions and admonitions to be on the lookout for strangers.
Just a few hours after the Copado brothers arrived, word began to spread about the two, dressed in slacks and collared shirts, carrying shoulder bags. By evening, a group of townspeople approached the pair outside a store.
The crowd demanded to know why they were asking about children. The brothers explained and produced identification. But the residents grew more aggressive, witnesses said, until the police arrived and took the brothers away.
The police are not a source of confidence here. Nearly every resident interviewed recalled an episode a year earlier, when a man had been caught stealing money from a church collection plate and the police had released him. Villagers tried then to lynch the man, but he escaped.
“We have such culture and tradition here, our food, our crafts,” Juan Guzmán, the deputy mayor, said. “But now we are known for this.”
For others, the reputation was not such a bad thing. Some residents reckoned it would be a long time before another thief or would-be kidnapper turned up in town.
“It has an effect,” Donardo Andrade, 27, said.
In the Copado home in Mexico City, the effect has been devastation. David’s children cry often for their father, though they are too young to know what happened to him.
“They can feel his absence,” said the lynched brothers’ mother, Dulce María Montero. She has erected her own altar for her boys. For the Day of the Dead celebration here, she placed a pot of honey and guava on its mantel.
She prays that the sweet scent will guide her sons’ spirits home.
A version of this article appears in print on January 24, 2016, on page A1 of the New York edition with the headline: As Mexican Frustrations Rise, So Does Number of Lynchings.
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