How Ecuador's mining cartels turned murder into a business model, and why mayors keep dying for trying to save their towns

While Ecuador's government declares war on drug gangs, a different kind of organized crime is systematically executing the country's mayors—and the killers keep coordinating new hits from their prison cells.

In the pre-dawn hours of April 19, 2024, Jorge Maldonado walks down 13 de Mayo Street in Portovelo, Ecuador. The 56-year-old mayor stops at a local shop, perhaps for coffee. Security cameras capture two men on a motorcycle approaching. They're wearing helmets, dressed in what looks like military gear. Within seconds, they fire multiple shots. One bullet strikes Maldonado's head. Blood pools on the sidewalk as horrified citizens try to help, but it's too late. By the time they load him into the back of a pickup truck and race to the hospital, Jorge Maldonado is dead.

What makes this murder different from the thousands of others plaguing Ecuador isn't just that Maldonado was a mayor. It's that he was a successful businessman who gave up his comfortable life running legitimate mining companies to become mayor and fight the illegal mining cartels destroying his town. "I've always been linked to mining," he told local media during his campaign. "My companies aren't in Portovelo, but in Santa Isabel and Pasaje. But I invest the resources in my canton."

He knew exactly what he was risking. José Sánchez, mayor of nearby Camilo Ponce Enríquez, had been gunned down just 48 hours earlier while jogging with his security guard. Both were killed at the scene with more than 20 bullets. Before that, Brigitte García, mayor of San Vicente, was found shot dead in her car.

The pattern is clear: mayors who oppose illegal mining die.

Here's the part that should shock everyone: the killers recorded themselves executing Maldonado. Police found the video on the phone of one of the assassins, Andy Yair A. N., 27, when they arrested him in Guayaquil. The footage shows not just the murder, but hours of surveillance footage as they stalked the mayor throughout the morning of April 19. Both killers were sentenced to 34 years in prison—but that's not the real story.

The real story is the system behind these murders, and why it continues to operate.

They charge every miner $1,000 a month—or they die

Deep in Ecuador's Podocarpus National Park, 2,200 illegal miners work in conditions that would shock Charles Dickens. They're Ecuadorians, Colombians, Venezuelans, Peruvians—all drawn by gold deposits that could change their families' lives. But there's a price for digging here, and it's not negotiable.

Every single miner must pay Los Lobos gang up to $1,000 monthly. They call it "vacuna"—vaccination. Miss a payment, and you're dead. It's that simple.

"Los Lobos has come armed to the teeth to this once peaceful place," Oscar Peralta, chief ranger at Podocarpus National Park, told Mongabay and Código Vidrio. "We can't go into those areas without military support; we are unarmed."

The math is staggering. With 2,200 miners each paying $1,000 monthly, that's $2.2 million per month from just one national park. But Los Lobos doesn't stop at extortion. They control the entire supply chain—the explosives smuggled from Peru, the mercury that poisons rivers, the routes to processing plants, even the sales to international buyers.

Intelligence reports seen by Mongabay and Código Vidrio reveal Los Lobos operates in seven of Ecuador's 24 provinces. In Camilo Ponce Enríquez alone, they directly operate 20 mines, extort 30 private mining companies, and control 40 groups of illegal miners.

When miners tried to resist in February 2024, four gang members were killed in clashes. Los Lobos' response was swift and brutal—they murdered two family members of the miners who had fought back. The message was clear: resistance means your loved ones die.

The mayors who said no

This is where Jorge Maldonado enters the story. As a successful mining businessman, he understood the industry better than most politicians. When he won Portovelo's mayoral race in 2023 with 37.49% of the vote, running on the CREO party ticket, he promised to restore his town's reputation as Ecuador's "first mining center."

But Maldonado quickly discovered that legal mining couldn't compete with criminal enterprises backed by Mexican cartels. Los Lobos, affiliated with Mexico's Jalisco New Generation Cartel, had transformed mining from a local industry into a transnational criminal empire.

José Sánchez faced the same reality in Camilo Ponce Enríquez. The 52-year-old mayor had survived two assassination attempts in 2023. He was a vocal critic of Los Lobos and had been coordinating a large-scale military operation to dismantle their strongholds.

Police believe his murder was likely retaliation for the arrest of Vicente Angulo, known as "Comandante Vicente," one of Los Lobos' ringleaders in Camilo Ponce Enríquez. The timing suggests a message: interfere with our operations, face the consequences.

The brutality has transformed these mining towns into war zones. Camilo Ponce Enríquez now has a homicide rate of 258.56 per 100,000 people—making it Ecuador's most violent canton. That's 12 times higher than Latin America's average. In a town of just 22,000 people, 59 were murdered in 2024.

From prison cells to WhatsApp orders

Here's what makes this story even more incredible: many of the gang leaders ordering these assassinations are already in prison. Ecuador's prisons have become command centers where gang bosses run their empires through smuggled phones and corrupt guards.

The January 2024 prison riots that shocked the world—when armed gangs took over TV stations and held over 200 prison guards hostage—weren't random violence. They were a coordinated response to the government's "Metastasis" investigation, which had arrested 30 judges, prosecutors, and police officials for working with drug traffickers.

Intelligence reports confirm gang leaders coordinate operations via WhatsApp from their cells. They order murders, arrange drug shipments, and manage mining operations—all while supposedly serving sentences. The prison system meant to punish them has become their headquarters.

"Criminal groups have been narcotized and only one part is being talked about," Pedro Manosalvas, director of Ecuador's National Security Observatory, told El Independiente. "A report recently came out indicating that organized crime groups managed to make nearly $1.2 billion in 2023 from mining activity, while the state made $800 million. It's staggering."

The billion-dollar gold rush you've never heard of

While the world focuses on Ecuador's cocaine trade, illegal gold mining has quietly become equally lucrative. Small-scale gold exports reached $1.26 billion in 2023, surpassing even Canada's Aurelian, the country's only large formal gold mining company.

But here's where it gets suspicious: three companies—Rockgolden, Rocadorada, and Soul Metals—exported $268 million in gold to the UAE and India. That's 20 times more than they exported the previous year. When government inspectors visited their supposed mining sites, they found nothing—no equipment, no workers, no signs of mining.

"We realized that the gold they export was bought from illegal miners," officials told investigators.

The money laundering is breathtaking in scale. Between 2010 and 2015, Ecuador produced 37 tonnes of gold but exported 78 tonnes. Where did the extra 41 tonnes come from? Peru, Colombia, and Ecuador's own illegal mines, all washed through a system so corrupt that falsifying certificates has become standard practice.

A war the government is losing

After three mayors were murdered in 30 days, Ecuador's Association of Municipalities (AME) issued a desperate plea. "These acts are not just individual tragedies," they declared, "but indicative of a grave security crisis that puts all municipal leaders at risk."

The association represents all 221 municipalities in Ecuador. Their president, Patricio Maldonado (no relation to Jorge), called Ecuador's security system "obsolete, inefficient and ineffective" after yet another mayor was assassinated.

President Daniel Noboa declared an "internal armed conflict" in January 2024, deploying military forces and declaring a 60-day state of emergency. But the gangs' response was to take over a TV station during a live broadcast, execute prison guards on video, and intensify their attacks on mayors.

The military has had some successes. In Buenos Aires, Imbabura province, where 10,000 illegal miners had created a settlement called "Plastic City," operations between 2018 and 2019 resulted in 92 criminal groups disrupted and 850 arrests. But the miners and criminals simply moved elsewhere.

"For there to be illegal mining you need city halls and provinces to allow organized crime to operate," one expert explained. The corruption runs so deep that even Ecuador's mining regulatory agency ARCOM was raided by police in September 2024 for allegedly granting fraudulent mining permits.

The human cost keeps mounting

Behind every statistic is a human tragedy. Jorge Maldonado left behind two children, Melissa and Jorge Andrés. At his wake in Portovelo's sports coliseum—a venue he had personally renovated as mayor—citizens formed long lines to pay respects. They said he had "stolen their hope."

The fear is palpable. After Maldonado's murder, Portovelo's municipal workers publicly begged for more security. Who wants to be mayor when the job comes with a death sentence?

Indigenous communities suffer even more. The illegal mining doesn't just bring violence—it poisons their rivers with mercury, destroys their forests, and displaces entire populations. In areas where Los Lobos operates, Indigenous leaders are too terrified to speak out.

The environmental destruction is catastrophic. In Napo province's Yutzupino area alone, authorities seized 107 excavators in a single 2022 operation. Each machine costs $250,000—that's $26.75 million in equipment in just one raid. The gangs can afford to lose it; they'll buy more with next month's extortion payments.

The system that can't be stopped

As I write this, illegal mining continues in Podocarpus National Park. Los Lobos still collects its monthly $1,000 "tax" from thousands of miners. Gang leaders still run operations from prison. Mayors still wake up wondering if today is the day sicarios come for them.

Ecuador's government earned $800 million from legal mining in 2023. Criminal organizations made $1.2 billion. When crime pays 50% more than legitimacy, which side wins?

The machine Jorge Maldonado died trying to stop doesn't need any single person anymore. It has evolved beyond Los Lobos, beyond the cartels, beyond even the corrupt officials who enable it. It's a system now—self-sustaining, self-protecting, self-expanding.

Other mayors will be brave enough to challenge it. In 2023 alone, five mayors were assassinated. The killers who murdered Jorge Maldonado got 34 years in prison, but their bosses are already recruiting replacements. The next mayor who says no to illegal mining already has a target on their back.

This is the new Ecuador—where running for mayor in a mining town is signing your own death warrant, where saving your community means sacrificing your life, where the killers film their crimes and their bosses order new hits from prison.

Jorge Maldonado was a businessman who became a mayor to save his town. He lasted 11 months. His killers filmed themselves doing it. And tomorrow, another ton of illegal gold will leave Ecuador, washed in the blood of those brave enough to say no.

The machine grinds on.