Cellphone chats have become death sentences in the continuing, bloody factional war inside Mexico’s Sinaloa drug cartel.

Cartel gunmen stop youths on the street or in their cars and demand their phones. If they find a contact who’s a member of a rival faction, a chat with a wrong word or a photo with the wrong person, the phone owner is dead.

Then, they’ll go after everyone on that person’s contact list, forming a potential chain of kidnapping, torture and death. That has left residents of Culiacan, the capital of Sinaloa state, afraid to even leave home at night, much less visit towns a few miles away where many have weekend retreats.

“You can’t go five minutes out of the city, … not even in daylight,” said Ismael Bojórquez, a veteran journalist in Culiacan. “Why? Because the narcos have set up roadblocks and they stop you and search through your cellphone.”

And it’s not just your own chats: If a person is traveling in a car with others, one bad contact or chat can get the whole group kidnapped.

That’s what happened to the son of a local news photographer. The 20-year-old was stopped with two other youths and something was found on one of their phones; all three disappeared. Calls were made and the photographer’s son was finally released, but the other two were never seen again.

Residents of Culiacan had long been accustomed to a day or two of violence once in a while. The presence of the Sinaloa cartel is woven into everyday life there, and people knew to stay indoors when they saw the convoys of double-cab pickups racing through the streets.

But never have they seen the solid month of fighting that broke out Sept. 9 between factions of the Sinaloa cartel after drug lords Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada and Joaquín Guzmán López were apprehended in the United States after flying there in a small plane on July 25.

Zambada claimed he was kidnapped and forced aboard the plane by Guzmán López, causing a violent battle between Zambada’s faction and the “Chapitos” group led by the sons of imprisoned drug lord Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzmán. “El Chapo” is serving a life sentence in a maximum security prison in Colorado after being convicted in 2019 on charges including drug trafficking, money laundering and weapons-related offenses.

Zambada pleaded not guilty last month in New York in a drug trafficking case that accuses him of engaging in murder plots and ordering torture.

New generation of drug lords and a “chain of hunting”

Residents of Culiacan are mourning their old lives, when the wheels of the local economy were greased by cartel wealth but civilians seldom suffered – unless they cut off the wrong pickup truck in traffic.

But recently, bodies have appeared across Culiacan, often left slung out on the streets or in cars with either sombreros on their heads or pizza slices or boxes pegged onto them with knives. The pizzas and sombreros have become informal symbols for the warring cartel factions, underscoring the brutality of their warfare.

Juan Carlos Ayala, an academic who studies the anthropology of the drug trade at the Autonomous University of Sinaloa, said that following the arrests of Guzmán López and Zambada in July, a new generation of younger, more flashy and cosmopolitan drug lords have taken over.

They fight with extreme violence, kidnapping and cellphone tracking – not the old kind of handshake deals their elders used alongside shootouts to settle matters.

“There is a new generation of leaders of drugs and organized crime here, that has other strategies,” Ayala said. “They see that the tactic of shootouts hasn’t worked for them, so they go for kidnapping.”

“They catch one person, and he has messages from the rival group,” said Ayala. “So they go after him to squeeze more information, and that starts a chain of hunting, to catch the enemy.”

The new tactics are reflected in the huge wave of armed carjackings in and around Culiacan. Cartel gunmen used to steal the SUVs and pickups they favor for use in cartel convoys; but now they focus on stealing smaller sedans.

They use these to go undetected in their silent, deadly kidnappings.

Often, the first a driver knows is when a passing car tosses out a spray of bent nails to puncture his tires. Vehicles pull up front and rear to cut him off. The driver is bundled into another car. All that is left for neighbors to find is a car with burst tires, the doors open, the engine running, in the middle of the street.

The State Council on Public Safety, a civic group, estimates that in the past month there have been an average of six killings and seven disappearances or kidnappings in and around the city every day. The group said about 200 families have fled their homes in outlying communities because of the violence.

Culiacan is no stranger to violence — a shooting broke out across the city in October 2019 when soldiers mounted a failed attempt to arrest another of Chapo Guzmán’s sons, Ovidio. Fourteen people were killed that day.

A few days later, civic activist Estefanía López arranged a peace march and 4,000 residents turned out for it. When she tried to do something similar this year, she could get only about 1,500 people to attend a similar demonstration.

“We got a lot of messages beforehand from a lot of people who said they wanted to join and march, to support the cause, but who were afraid to come,” López said.

There’s reason to be afraid: Last week, gunmen burst into a Culiacan hospital to kill a patient previously wounded by gunshots. In a town north of Culiacan, drivers were astonished to see a military helicopter seeking to corral four gunmen in helmets and tactical vests just yards from a highway; the gunmen were shooting back at the chopper.

The government’s response to all this has been to blame the United States for stirring up trouble by allowing the drug lords to turn themselves in, and to send in hundreds of army troops.

But irregular urban combat in the heart of a city of 1 million inhabitants – against a cartel that has lots of .50-caliber sniper rifles and machine guns – is not the army’s specialty.

Squads of soldiers went into a luxury apartment complex in the city’s center to detain a suspect and they wound up shooting to death a young lawyer who was merely a bystander.

López, the peace activist, has been asking for soldiers and police to be posted outside schools, so children can return to classes – most are currently taking classes online because their parents judge it too dangerous to take them to school.

But police can’t solve the problem: Culiacan’s entire municipal force has been temporarily disarmed by soldiers to check their guns, something that’s been done in the past when the army suspects policemen are working for drug cartels.

The local army commander recently acknowledged that it’s up to the cartel factions – not authorities – when the violence will stop.

“In Culiacan, there is not even faith anymore that we will be safe, with police or soldiers,” López said, noting that that has had a clear effect on daily life and the economy. “A lot of businesses, restaurants and nightclubs have been closed for the past month.”

Laura Guzmán, the leader of the local restaurant chamber, said about 180 businesses in Culiacan have closed, permanently or temporarily, since Sept. 9 and almost 2,000 jobs have been lost.

Local businesses tried to organize evening “tardeadas” – long afternoons – for residents who were afraid to go out after dark, but they didn’t draw enough customers.

“Young people are not interested in going out right now,” Guzmán said.

For those looking to get away from the violence temporarily, the seaside resort of Mazatlan used to be only 2½ hours away by car. But that’s not an option since last month when cartel gunmen hijacked passenger buses, forced the tourists off and burned the vehicles to block the road to Mazatlan.

That leaves just one option, and one only open to some.

“Those who have the economic resources get out of the city by airplane to take a break,” Guzmán said.

Minneapolis — New York Liberty star Breanna Stewart says she and her wife, Marta Xargay Casademont, received threatening, homophobic anonymous emails after Game 1 of the WNBA Finals.

The emails went directly to Xargay Casademont’s account, which was a bit unnerving for the couple, Stewart said at practice on Tuesday.

“The fact it came to Marta’s email is something she (had to) see. The level of closeness was a little bit different,” she said. “Make sure that myself and Marta are OK, but that our kids are the safest.”

“I think that for Marta, especially, I think it was, it is, terrifying,” ESPN quotes Stewart as saying.

According to ESPN, Stewart and Xargay Casademont have two children: three-year-old Ruby and 11-month-old Theo.

Stewart had a chance to win Game 1 of the WNBA Finals, but missed one of two free throws with 0.8 seconds left in regulation and then a potential tying layup at the overtime buzzer. Minnesota ended up winning the game and now the series is tied 1-1 heading into Game 3 on Wednesday night in Minnesota.

The two-time MVP said she notified the team about the emails and they escalated it to league security.

“We’re taking the proper precautions. I think the threats continue to build after Game 1,” Stewart said. “We love that people are engaged in our sport, but not to the point where there’s threats or harassment or homophobic comments being made.”

The New York Post was first to report the threats.

Stewart said Xargay Casademont filed a complaint with police at the advice of the team and security.

“Being in the Finals and everything like that, it makes sense to file something formal,” Stewart said.

The New York Police Department confirmed that it received a report of aggravated harassment involving emails sent to “a 33-year-old victim.” The department’s hate crimes taskforce is investigating, a spokesperson with the department’s media relations team said.

Stewart said she doesn’t usually look at most of the messages she receives and that they usually go to her agency, but once she was made aware of them by her wife she wanted to let fans know there’s no place for it.

“For me to use this platform to let people know its unacceptable to bring to our sport,” she said.

There have been many more online threats to players through social media and email this season.

“We continue to emphasize that there is absolutely no room for hateful or threatening comments made about players, teams or anyone affiliated with the WNBA,” a WNBA spokesperson said. “We’re aware of the most recent matter and are working with league and team security as well as law enforcement on appropriate security measures.”

Commissioner Cathy Engelbert addressed the rising number of attacks that players have dealt with on social media at her state-of-the league address before Game 1.

She said there’s no place for it and the league will work with the players’ union to figure out what they can do together to combat it.

 Engelbert mentioned technology and mental health support.

“It just is something where we have to continue to be a voice for this, a voice against it, condemning it, and making sure that we find every opportunity to support our players, who have been dealing with this for much longer than this year,” Engelbert said.

ESPN reports that Stewart said, “There needs to be a little bit of like a protocol or a thing before the season, because this year, especially … it’s really starting to happen.”

Princeville, North Carolina — On a single-lane road in Eastern North Carolina, surrounded by farmland, the congregation at Mark Chapel Baptist Church listens to a sermon on faith — and the importance of their vote as part of the “Black Belt,” a stretch of majority-Black congressional districts in the South. 

The 1st Congressional District hasn’t elected a Republican since 1883, and African Americans have represented the district since 1992, but this year, that could change.

Residents here find themselves in a new political reality. The key swing state has 16 electoral votes at stake, and though a Democratic presidential candidate hasn’t won the state since 2008, the margins for Republicans have diminished in the past two elections. Donald Trump won in 2016 by 3.6 points and in 2020, just eked out a win over Joe Biden by 1.3 points. The First District has the state’s only competitive congressional race after North Carolina’s redistricting. 

Currently, there are seven Democrats and seven Republicans in North Carolina’s congressional delegation. The new map is expected to result in 10 Republicans and three Democrats, with the 1st District a tossup, according to the Cook Political Report.

On Sunday, Vice President Kamala Harris visited East Carolina University in Pitt County, which was redistricted out of the Democratic-leaning 1st Congressional District to the 3rd Congressional District, which is expected to elect a Republican. The 1st District’s incumbent Democratic Rep. Don Davis, spoke shortly before Harris took the stage.

“The young man who’s now in the 1st Congressional District went in on the old map,” said former Rep. Eva Clayton, who used to represent the district. “Now he’s doing the new map, and that’s — he’s having some challenges.”

The 1st Congressional District is home to some of the oldest Black communities in the U.S. and a centuries-long legacy of political organizing. Princeville is the oldest town chartered by African Americans in the country, formed at the end of the Civil War. In nearby Warren County, a 1982 protest is credited with originating the term “environmental justice.” The district is also home to Soul City, a utopian project inspired by the 1970s civil rights movement. 

Princeville has suffered frequent flooding that has threatened residents for decades. One of Mayor Bobbie Jones’ biggest challenges has been protecting the historic town from increasingly severe flooding.

“It makes me feel disenchanted, frustrated, but by the same token, it’s the hand that we’ve been dealt,” Jones told CBS News. “There’s nothing we can do about that outside of moving, and that’s not an option.”

Princeville has benefited from the Biden administration’s focus on climate infrastructure. In 2024, the town was awarded $11 million to build flood reduction infrastructure through the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law. The funding is also part of President Biden’s Justice40 initiative, which aims to give 40%  of federal climate grants to disadvantaged communities like Princeville.

And this year, Jones is seeing his community invigorated in ways he hasn’t seen in over a decade.

“I’m excited to see the enthusiasm from our young people who want to vote and who are talking about voting. I haven’t heard this a lot lately, since President Obama,” Jones told CBS News.

In nearby Warren County, community leaders focus on teaching younger generations about historical political movements that began in their backyards. Rev. Bill Kearney’s family lived next to a landfill where the federal government dumped PCB chemicals. In the 1980s, protesters gathered at the nearby Coley Springs Missionary Baptist Church to march to the landfill to protest the adverse effects of dumping toxic soil in a majority-Black community. Five hundred people were arrested, and the protest is considered to be the beginning of environmental justice as a movement. 

“They’re about two or three generations moved from that, and they’re looking somewhere else for heroes, and we got so many heroes right here who are doing great things,” Kearney told CBS News. 

The PCB protests also propelled change in race relations. Wayne Mosely, who is White, marched in the protests and believes it changed the political landscape of the county.

“You rarely saw Blacks and Whites socializing together, but this is the first time I had ever known Blacks and Whites to eat together, join hands, march together, sing together,” he told CBS News. 

He believes the protests represented a turning point, when the predominantly Black county began electing more Black elected officials, including Clayton.

Clayton, the first Black woman elected to Congress from North Carolina, was elected in 1992. She believes turnout in the Black Belt’s rural Black communities, which have been overlooked by Democratic campaigns in the past, is key to winning both the1st District and the state for a Democratic presidential candidate. 

“You can’t do it just on the urban front,” she said. “You should not ignore that the Blacks who are in rural areas are there.”

Across rural Eastern North Carolina, organizations, like Woke Vote, a nonprofit working to increase voter turnout and community engagement in politics, are working to get out the vote. 

One Sunday this summer, the group paid a visit to Mark Chapel Baptist Church to speak to the community. Tilda Whitaker-Bailey, Edgecombe County Lead at Woke Vote, helped register voters and inform them about the identification they’ll need to vote and a plan to get to the polls. 

“They are waking up to the fact that they need to get involved,” she said. “They need to do something to change those numbers. They are aware that they haven’t shown up well because they haven’t gotten the results that they want to see.”

As a result, church leaders have been urging their congregants to register. Some, like Pastor Douglas Leonard at Mark Chapel, are coordinating transportation. 

“We just want to educate folk on the importance of voting, how significant it is, and why we as people of color should always go to the polls,” he told CBS News. “So many of our ancestors even died that we will have the right to vote, and we don’t want their death to be in vain.”