Transcript: 20. The Black Magic Murders of Matamoros (Adolfo Constanzo) | Mexico

Mexico:

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Our cases have been researched using open source and archive materials. It deals with true crimes and real people. Each episode is produced with the utmost respect to the victims, their families and loved ones. 

Warning: This episode contains details of Black Magic practice and human and animal sacrifice. It may not be suitable for all audiences. Listener discretion is advised.

It was April 1989 and Mexican state authorities had set up a road block just outside of Matamoros, a town bordering the United States. Drug trafficking was a big problem in these parts and they routinely set up road blocks to monitor all vehicles in the area.

On this day, however, a car ran through the checkpoint with any attempt to stop. Officers followed the vehicle in an unmarked car. They were amazed at the driver’s arrogance – he simply carried on driving as if though he was invisible.

After a high-speed pursuit, the car stopped on a dessert farm called Rancho Santa Elena. When the man got out of his car, he seemed surprised that the officers could see him, as he believed he was invisible to law enforcement. He even invited police to shoot, as he said the bullets would simply bounce off him. This man was Serafín Hernandez, a member of the Hernandez family drug cartel. 

In a preliminary search of the property, police found stacks of marijuana and firearms, enough to take Serafín Hernandez into custody. But they had only just hit the tip of the iceberg. In custody, Hernandez spoke candidly about El Padrino, a practitioner of Black Magic whose magic protected him and the rest of the family. He promised that Hernandez would be was invincible and bulletproof.

Three other men were arrested on the farm and they all confessed to being part of a cult. With a perverse sense of pride, they told police about their belief in the powers of Black Magic. Stories of torture and human sacrifice emerged, all in reverence to one man, their high priest: El Padrino, Adolfo De Jesus Constanzo.

>>Intro Music

Adolfo Constanzo was born on 1 November 1962, in Miami, Florida. His mother was a young 15-year-old Cuban migrant called Delia Aurora Gonzalez Del Valle. Delia would eventually have three children, all to different fathers.

Delia was a follower of Santería, an Afro-Cuban religion. Santería is known for its rituals, like the initiation ritual of ‘cleansing of the head’ of a new member with herbs and water. Artefacts like dolls, coloured bracelets and necklaces and iron tools to protect them from evil are essential to followers of the religion.

Santería believes in one supreme God, Olofi, a magical entity that surrounds all humans. He is responsible for creation and shape and can be both visible or invisible. Demi-gods called Orichas are Olofi’s messengers, who maintain harmony and righteousness among humans. Practitioners of Santería worship the Orichas, but they never replace the Almighty Olofi. Orichas are somewhat similar to Saints in Catholicism. 

Delia was convinced that her son, Adolfo, needed extra protection. There was something special about him, she felt. She wanted him to be initiated into Santería, and as the custom goes, to be consecrated to a particular god or goddess for lifelong protection. So, when he was six months old, Delia had Adolfo ‘blessed’ by a Haitian priest who observed ‘Palo Mayombe’, a somewhat darker form of Santería. 

When Adolfo was still an infant, his father died. Ready for a new start, Delia relocated to 

to San Juan, Puerto Rico. It didn’t take her long to find a new man in her life and the couple married. The only problem was: Delia’s new husband was Catholic. Delia didn’t disclose her Santería roots and agreed to raise their child, along with Adolfo in the Catholic faith. Adolfo was baptized and when he was a young kid, served as an altar boy.

However, Delia frequently took young Adolfo to Haiti. What her husband thought the purpose of these trips were, is unclear, but Delia and Adolfo went as often as they could. They went to learn more about Haitian Vodou – a secret they would keep between them.

In Haitian Vodou, as with Santería, the Supreme Creator doesn’t intervene in human lives directly. Spirits called Loa preside over all aspects of life, each Loa being responsible for one particular aspect of life. In order to cultivate a relationship with a Loa, offerings are required. Personal altars with devotional objects set the stage for dancing and singing ceremonies. It is believed that during these ceremonies, spirits take part by possessing individuals and speaking through them.

In Haiti, Delia and Adolfo took part in ceremonies like these, dancing and singing and  banging on drums to awaken spirits. Typically, a chicken is sacrificed to bring good luck. Different types of drums and the rattling beaded calabashes are played to summon different spirits. Dancers hold an empty glass bottle in one hand and a machete in the other. The bottle signifies a gift to the spirit world and the machete signifies honour. This carries on, until a spirit takes control of you. Then the possessed person continues dancing in a trance, eyes stark and wide until the person convulses in erratic fits.

Needless to say, this would be quite a confronting experience for any young kid. And reconciling his day-to-day life as an altar boy with practicing Haitian Vodou, would be confusing to say the least. 

This is a quote from Edward Humes’ book, Buried Secrets:

“Adolfo Constanzo’s earliest childhood memory was not of a favourite toy or a parent’s smile, but the gurgling death rattle of a chicken’s slit throat, its blood offered up to the ancient African gods. He knew a home filled with decay and blood, inuring him to death. His reward for good behaviour was the gift of an animal to mutilate or kill… There was the power that shedding blood brought, the essence of Santería. Give blood to the gods and they will answer your prayers… There was the daily embrace of death and decay inside Delia’s filthy home, the basis of Palp Mayombe’s magic. Above all, a palero must relish the stench of decomposing flesh, for he must take the evil spirits of the dead inside him, becoming possessed by them.”

The family returned to Miami in 1972 when Adolfo was 10 years old. Shortly after the move, his stepfather passed away. He left Delia with some money with which they could live comfortably. Comfortably and finally openly as followers of Vodou. In Little Havana, where they lived, Delia was said to be a witch. She wasn’t someone you’d want to anger. Neighbours reportedly found headless goats or chickens on their doorsteps if they’ve had any friction with Delia.

Before long, Delia found another husband. This time around, her choice in partner suited her lifestyle much better. He was a local drug dealer and they had the same religious beliefs. Importantly, he passed some of his philosophies on to budding teenager, Adolfo. He believed:

“Let the non-believers kill themselves with drugs. We will profit from their foolishness.”

As a teenager, Adolfo was an apprentice to a local priest following ‘Palo Mayombe’. He wanted to educate himself on how to make a living from his religion. Like Haitian Vodou, Palo Mayombe involves animal sacrifice. This was nothing new to Adolfo, as he had been encouraged to kill animals from a very young age.

Central to Palo Mayombe is a cast iron cauldron called a nganga. Sacrifices would be fed into the nganga in order to set a spirit free to provide magical powers. Palo means ‘stick’ in Spanish. And that’s what goes into the pot along with other elements: during the ritual, a Palo priest would put 21 sticks – all from different trees – into the nganga. Then he would cut himself and let the blood drip into the cauldron before taking the sacrifice. Another powerful ingredient in any nganga is human bones. On instruction of the priest, Adolfo started robbing graves in Miami to stock the nganga. 

The charismatic and attractive, well-versed young sorcerer Adolfo Constanzo impressed all his fellow Paleros (that is what you call followers of Palo Mayombe). He was said to be able to talk to the dead and predict the future. In 1981 his mother, Delia, claimed Adolfo had predicted the shooting of Ronald Reagan, for instance.

Adolfo wasn’t a typical teenager by any means. He and his mom were arrested a couple of times for minor crimes like theft and vandalism. He was also expelled from school.

It was around this time that he began cruising gay bars. His natural charm and good looks made him popular with men and women alike and he never tried to hide his bisexuality.

In 1983 Adolfo Constanzo achieved something that he felt he was fulfilling his destiny when he pledged himself to Kadiempembe, the religion’s version of Satan. It was only natural that he also became a priest in the cult.

Shortly after, the 21-year-old Adolfo went to Mexico City on a modelling assignment and decided to stay for a while. He lived in the infamous La Zona Rosa (or the Pink Zone), known for its colourful LBGTQ community. In the early 1980’s it was quite the place, with many bars, restaurants and upscale shops.

This was the perfect spot for Adolfo to reel in customers as he started reading tarot cards and telling fortunes. However, this sorcerer offered so much more: he casted spells of good luck – a very lucrative endeavour. He also performed cleansing rituals for people who felt that they had been cursed by their enemies. 

Adolfo knew how to put on a show, with his charismatic way and larger than life personality. When people left his ritual chamber, they felt fantastic, invigorated and cleansed. Word about this young man with the magical powers started to spread around town and followers soon came knocking. 

A psychic called Martin Quintana intrigued Adolfo and he seduced him. Within a year Martin and another follower (and lover) called Omar Orea moved in with Adolfo. He referred to Martin as his husband and Omar as his wife. 

Adolfo was fortune-teller to the rich and famous. Everyone and anyone wanted to book a session with him. Models, actors, a doctor and a wealthy property mogul were regular visitors. He also had many powerful clients, including high ranking police officials. Adolfo was eager to break into the world of drug cartels, as that was where the big money was. Clearly inspired by his stepfather’s lucrative life as a drug dealer back in Miami, he knew how to work his magic, literally. Adolfo manipulated his police clients to introduce him to the leaders of narcotic cartels and he was IN. 

He swore that his magical powers would not only make the cartels and their drug runners invisible to police, but also bulletproof. Most runners were simple men, who were superstitious and grew up believing in brujería (or witchcraft). They fell for Adolfo and his magic spells, hook-line-and-sinker.

All of this came at a price, and Adolfo was filling his pockets faster than you could say ‘Voodoo’. He had 30 regular clients, some who paid up to $4,500 for one session with the sorcerer. He kept records of all his transactions and journals outlining all the rituals he performed. The journal shows that one of his dealer-clients had paid him $40,000 for three years’ worth of magical consultations. 

When the drug lords and their hitmen came for cleansings, Adolfo would bring his A-game. He knew that they would enjoy the violence of sacrifice and performed rituals killing all sorts of animals: snakes, chickens… Prices for sacrifices varied. For instance, a rooster would cost you $6, but a boa constrictor would be $450, a Zebra just over a Grand an African Lion cub would be $3,100. 

Cartel bosses took him seriously and even scheduled their shipments based on Adolfo Constanzo’s premonitions.

Adolfo realised he had it good, but to keep customers coming back, he was ready to take his magic to the next level. It was time that he started his own nganga – the cauldron filled with sacrifices. The nganga is to a palero what an alter is to a Catholic priest.  

In 1985, he took three of his followers to a graveyard, where they dug up human remains to feed the nganga. This became a regular activity. Adolfo had a charismatic personality. It was easy for him to convince others to do what he wanted to have done. They all believed that he could protect them and did whatever he asked of them.

Adolfo Constanzo was obsessed with the notion of protection. He believed that by building a strong nganga he could manipulate all energy from natural powers. He also believed he could manipulate the spirits of the dead. 

Although Palo Mayombe and Santería forbid it, Adolfo believed that by feeding his nganga human sacrifices, it would become the most powerful nganga in existence. By perpetually feeding the nganga with live human remains, the magical cauldron would provide even more protection than merely using skeletal bones.

Around this time, more than 20 mutilated bodies turned up in Mexico City. Most victims were drug runners or prostitutes, people living and working in the darker side of society. Some were known to him: members of his own cult. There were definite signs of torture on the bodies: some had organs removed, other had missing limbs. Adolfo believed that adding bodies who had been tortured to his nganga would imprison their souls and enable him, as the palero to use the souls for evil, until the end of time.

Adolfo Constanzo’s followers worshipped him like a god. Their loyalty to him was intense. Educated people, dangerous men, all believed that he protected them with his spells. His nickname was El Padrino (or The Godfather).

In 1986, Adolfo was introduced to one of Mexico’s most dominant drug cartels, the Calzada family. The head of Interpol in Mexico at the time, Florentino Venture made the introduction. Adolfo swiftly won the Calzadas over with his spells of protection and abundance. They believed his magic spells and stuck to him as the cash kept rolling in. 

Less than a year after becoming involved with the family, he was able to buy himself a $60,000 Condo in Mexico City. He loved luxury vehicles and drove a top-of-the-range Mercedes Benz. He lived the high life and as his wealth and confidence grew, his scams became increasingly brazen. Posing as a DEA agent, he managed to rip off a cocaine dealer in Guadalajara, selling the stash for no less than $100,000.

He wasn’t the only one lining his pockets. The Calzada family were taking over larger and larger sections of the Latin American drug world. Adolfo believed their success was because of his magic spells. He played a crucial part in their shipment schedule and he felt that without his protection, law enforcement would have cracked down on them.

He approached the Calzada family, demanding that they made him full business partner of the cartel. The family wasn’t interested and told him to take a hike. A decision that proved to be fatal.

In April 1987, Guillermo Calzada and six members of his household mysteriously vanished. When they were reported missing, police went to the home to investigate. They found remnants of a religious ceremony in Guillermo’s office: melted candles and other artefacts related to the practice of Palo Mayombe.

After about a week, police started fishing mutilated bodies out from the Zumpango River. All of the bodies bore signs of torture. Fingers, toes, ears and even genitals were sliced off. And it got worse: two of the bodies had their brains removed and another’s spine was ripped out. All of these body parts were used to feed Adolfo Constanzo’s almighty nganga.

At the time, police in Mexico City did not have a clue what they were dealing with - and the murders of the Calzada family went unsolved for many years.

Adolfo’s aspirations to become a drug lord himself was as strong as ever. He used one of his clients, another high ranking official, in fact the head of narcotics investigations in Mexico, Salvador Garcia, to introduce him to the Hernandez brothers.

The Hernandez family had a history of smuggling drugs across the border into the USA. But after cartel boss, Saul Hernandez was shot outside a Matamoros bar in 1987, the structure of the family business was in disarray. Constanzo wanted to join in, promising the family he would cast spells that would make them invisible to law enforcement. The cartel wasn’t convinced, but didn’t say no straight away either.

Around this time, he met a 22-year-old student, Sara Maria Aldrete Villareal. Sara was a striking athletic blonde who stood over 6 feet tall. She lived in Matamoros, a town on the US border. She had resident alien status in the US, as she was studying at Texas Southmost College in Brownsville. 

They did NOT meet by chance. Sara’s boyfriend at the time was a well-known Brownsville drug smuggler. But one of the Hernandez brothers, Elio, was infatuated with her. Adolfo realised that Sara could be instrumental in him gaining control of the Hernandez cartel.

He orchestrated a seemingly co-incidental meeting. Stories go that he drove into her car in downtown Matamoros on purpose. Using his magnetic charisma, he drew her into his world. It started with a couple of tarot card readings. As she became more entranced by him, he used his power to manipulate her. The two became lovers and Adolfo told her boyfriend about their affair. The boyfriend ended the relationship and Sara and Adolfo embarked on a twisted relationship.

Although Adolfo was bisexual, he preferred being with men. However, he did seem to be infatuated with Sara and felt that she could be a powerful ally in his cult. Sara understood this and even though she wasn’t as close to him as Martin or Omar, she did not move away from the evil wizard. On the contrary, she was so deep into his world, that she became a high priestess of his cult. He gave her the name: La Madrina (or The Godmother).  

Sara, who was known as the honour student in Brownsville by day, became the witch in Matamoros by night.

Before long, the Hernandez brothers agreed to take Adolfo in as their new leader. Finally, Adolfo Constanzo had all he ever wanted: money AND power. He trusted Sara Aldrete and she looked after his followers in Mexico when he went on missions to smuggle marijuana across the border to the US.

Sara was responsible for recruiting more people to join the cult. She would lure men with her striking looks, then tell them about the magical genius of Adolfo Constanzo. Prospective members were made to watch the 1987 film, The Believers, again and again. The film is about a New York City cult, driven to obtain more money and power by sacrificing humans.

It was in this time that Adolfo moved to a farm called Rancho Santa Elena, 20 miles (or 32 kilometres) from Matamoros in the dessert. The ranch belonged to one of the Hernandez brothers.

On the farm, Constanzo carried on with his sadistic rituals, killing people and using them as human sacrifice to nourish his nganga. In a small hut on the property, the members of his cult would congregate and engage in ceremonies similar to the ones Adolfo experienced as a child in Haiti. There was a lot of alcohol involved, they smoked cigars, tortured people and kept the nganga satisfied.

Most of the murder victims were rival drug dealers, but sometimes a stranger would cross paths with one of the cult members, never to be seen again. Adolfo needed all sorts of people to cast his magic spells.

If they wanted to cast a spell that would give the receiver strength, they sourced a muscular man, kidnapped and killed him. They would then feed the man’s muscles to the nganga.

In May 1988, Adolfo shot a drug dealer and a random farmer, but he felt that the offering wasn’t enough for the nganga. They didn’t suffer enough before they died. On a trip to Mexico City he personally supervised the torture and dismemberment of a transvestite called Ramon Esquivel and simply discarded his remains – well, what was left of it – on a public street. It was discovered by local children the next morning.

Ovidio Hernandez and his two-year-old son were kidnapped as the result of a drug war, Adolfo sacrificed a stranger, chanting, praying to his nganga that his cult members would be released. They were released the next day, unharmed. Adolfo took full credit for their safe return.

This reckless lack of regard for human life meant that Constanzo would sometimes kill his cult members if they disobeyed him. One member, Jorge Valente de Fierro Gomez was caught using drugs after El Padrino had banned all members from doing so. That was the end of Jorge. 

One human sacrifice ritual went awry, and the cult had to shoot the victim before the ritual could be completed. The cultists rushed out and picked up a stranger and killed him instead. What they didn’t realise was that their victim was the 14-year-old cousin of one of the cult members.

But there were no tears. Murder, death and human sacrifice became a part of everyday life.

The cult allegedly also killed children to cast the spell of youth. As the story goes: they once cut a young boy’s throat and he started to cry. Constanzo said that that was no good, as it would make the pot sad. So, they killed the boy and discarded his body, went out and got another kid that was riding his bike, and killed him as the better sacrifice. 

Constanzo wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and reportedly preferred to perform most of the torture killing himself. He insisted that his victims had to die screaming. Only if dying while being tortured would he be able to control their souls in casting spells.

Rancho Santa Elena was also where Adolfo and the Hernandez Cartel stored huge shipments of cocaine and marijuana. From the outside in, it could look risky. But not to Adolfo’s men. He promised them a Black Magic bubble of protection. A bubble to not only protect them from apprehension by law enforcement by making them invisible, but also to make them bulletproof. They honestly believed that if confronted by police, they would be unseen, and bullets would simply bounce off them.

In March 1989, El Padrino needed another human sacrifice for his nganga. The last one didn’t scream, and he was afraid that this would bring bad luck to the cult. The only way out was to sacrifice another person. He felt they needed a brain, someone who was smart, and ordered his men to bring him an American medical student. 

This might sound random, but at the time, Matamoros was over-run with American students on spring break. In Texas, this week in March is known as ‘Texas Week’ as many colleges break up for spring at the same time.

Brownsville and Matamoros are towns on either side of the border. They are only separated by the Rio Grande river and a bridge connects the two cities. They co-exist for the most part, with people living on the one side, but working on the other, for instance. Like Sara Aldrete who studied in Brownsville but lived in Matamoros.

The upside to the easy access for spring breakers is: the legal drinking age in Mexico is 16, not 21 like in the US. So, a quick walk through customs at the border and you can have a night of legally consuming alcohol and having fun. American students flocked there by the thousands, in fact in March of 1989, there was an estimated 15,000 young people in the Matamoros area for spring break.

On Monday night, March 13, 1989, Constanzo's henchmen took to the bars and streets of Matamoros to find their next victim.

Mark Kilroy arrived on South Padre Island on March 11th with his friends Billy Huddleston, Bradley Moore and Brent Martin. Mark was a pre-med student at the University of Texas in Austin and was looking forward to spring break.

The group stayed at the Sheraton and spent a lot of time on the beach and socialising with students from all over the country. It was a constant party and Monday the 13th of March was no exception. The day started at the beach and after lunch they returned to the beach for the daily Miss Tanline contest. 

That night, Mark and his friends went to a party on South Padre Island. In the course of the evening they decided to go to Matamoros as they had done the night before. Around 11pm, the group parked on the US side of the border and walked across to Matamoros for a night of partying.

They found a bar where the line was short, Los Sombreros. Mark was a handsome, nice guy and girls flocked around him. Before he went to UT, he studied at Charleston State on a basketball scholarship. He was athletic, smart and handsome – with a personality to suit. At some point, Mark’s friends lost sight of him after he met up with a couple of girls. When they found him again, he was leaning against a car, talking to the winner of that day’s Miss Tanline competition. Bill and the other guys suggested they head back to the hotel.

The four friends walked along the main strip around 2am. There were many people around and they were socialising as they walked. At some point, Bill ran ahead to find a tree, so he could use the toilet. When he was done, he found Bradley and Brent, but Mark was nowhere to be seen.

Bradley and Brent said that Mark had also stopped to use the toilet, but he hadn’t returned. Bill went back to look for Mark but couldn’t see him anywhere. The friends thought perhaps Mark had gone across the border already and was waiting at the car, so they went there. But he wasn’t there. Remember, this was in 1989, before everyone carried a cell phone. There was nothing to do but wait and hope that Mark would show up at the car. After two hours, at 4am, there was still no sign of Mark. 

His friends reconciled with the idea that Mark had hooked up with Miss Tanline and had left to spend the night with her. 

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Nobody would have thought that in this bustling strip of restaurants and bars it would be possible to kidnap a person. When Adolfo Constanzo’s men approached Mark, he thought they were police officers. They were wearing uniforms and said that they were arresting him for being drunk in public. 

They pulled Mark into a van and he quickly realised that this was no arrest, but rather a kidnapping. As they were driving through the industrial section of Matamoros, the van pulled over, so the driver could go to the toilet. 

Mark took the only chance he had and escaped. He made a run for it and would probably have managed to get away if it wasn’t for a second vehicle of cultists that pulled up. Mark was relieved and thought that the occupants of the vehicle would be able to help him. But as it turned out, they were also cultists, the back-up car to the van driven by Serafin Hernandez.

They immediately tied his hands and bundled him into the car. They then drove to Rancho Santa Elena, where a tied-up, blindfolded Mark was kept overnight. Throughout the night, Mark was tortured and sodomised by unknown attackers.

The next morning an old caretaker brought him some scrambled eggs and water. Most of Mark’s face was wrapped in thick silver duct tape, but he managed to eat a little bit.

At 2pm on March 14th a car pulled up outside of the barn where Mark was held. El Padrino, Adolfo Constanzo had arrived, and he was ready to engage in yet another human sacrifice. They had to be quick with this one, as he had been in captivity for almost 12 hours. The cult believed that death should occur before the 13th hour, otherwise it would mean bad luck for them. They couldn’t keep him any longer, they had to kill him.

They took Mark into another barn, or hut where the nganga was kept. It was a dingy and rotten place with a putrid smell. Mark’s captors commanded him to lie on his stomach. The fire was lit, and Adolfo’s men prepared the nganga. Then the ritual kicked off with relentless litany and the burning of sticks. 

In the haze of smoke, Adolfo Constanzo beheaded Mark Kilroy with a ritualistic machete. The group then proceeded with the ritual by dismembering Mark’s limbs. They cut off his legs above his knees – so it would be easier to bury him. Then the extracted the prized organ: Mark’s brain and placed it into the hungry, gurgling nganga, along with a goat’s head, chicken feet, a turtle, a horseshoe, coins and animal blood.

It was a job well done, the nganga was nourished and El Padrino was satisfied. Now their drug operation would carry on undetected and all of the believers would be protected.

Back on South Padre Island, Mark’s friends were deeply concerned when he hadn’t returned to the hotel the next day. 

They went back to Matamoros and reported Mark missing at the US embassy. The vice-consul tried to appease them and said he was sure Mark had been arrested by Mexican police and would be released soon. The friends weren’t convinced. When they were back on the US side of the border, they reported his disappearance to Cameron County Police.

Before this incident, co-operation between law enforcement agencies on both sides of the border had always been good. But as soon as US police approached their Mexican colleagues, they refused to help the Brownsville police. A power-struggle between Mexican and American authorities ensued. Mexican authorities said that – according to their records – Mark had crossed the border back to the United States and that there would be no investigation on their side. 

In America, reports of Mark’s disappearance aired daily, but it yielded no results. The constant media attention made US citizens cautious to cross the border into Matamoros and local businesses started to suffer because of it. 

Mark’s parents, Jim and Helen Kilroy went to the area to look for their son. They did everything they could: distributed flyers, talked to locals, pressured law enforcement… They even put out a $15,000 reward, but there was no trace of Mark to be found.

American police realised there was one man in Mexican law enforcement that would help, no matter what. Commandante Juan Benitez Ayala stood just over 5-foot-tall, but once he entered the room, you knew he was someone to be reckoned with. He worked for the Mexican Federal police and often assisted the DEA and US customs. He was a vigilante, a true defender of justice.

When Mexican authorities followed Serafín Hernandez to Rancho Santa Elena on April 1st, they knew that they had stumbled onto something big. Evidence indicated that this farm was more than just a home base for a drug cartel. 

In a small shed they found various items that – at first glance – looked like someone practiced Santería. But on closer inspection, they found elements that were way more confronting than Santería offerings. They were dealing with a very dark side of magic.

The four cult members arrested that day, were two Hernandez brothers and two Martinez brothers. Police recovered state police uniforms. These were the uniforms they used while posing as police officers when they abducted Mark Kilroy. In their cars were red lights, making the cars look like unmarked police vehicles too.

When police visited the ranch the next day, they showed the caretaker a photo of Mark Kilroy and asked if he had perhaps seen him. The caretaker confirmed that Mark was the young man he had given breakfast to on the morning of the 14th of March. He did not know what happened to him after that, however.

This was the first clue as to what had happened to Mark. In custody, police confronted Serafín Hernandez with the caretaker’s information, and he freely admitted to killing Mark Kilroy.

On the 11th of April, almost a month after Mark’s death, police, led by Commandante Juan Benitez Ayala, took Serafín Hernandez to Rancho Santa Elena and asked him to show them where the body was. Hernandez asked: which body? The Commandante wasn’t in the mood for games and made it clear to Hernandez. Hernandez clarified: I meant which of the bodies would you like me to show you?

Law enforcement officers watched on in amazement as Hernandez walked around an pointed out the locations of one body after the other. 

“Gilberto is over there – I don’t know his last name.”

Throughout the whole excursion, Hernandez seemed cool and unaffected by the whole situation, still maintaining the attitude that he was invisible, bulletproof and invincible. At one point he stopped and said he was hungry, someone should bring him some food. The Commandante lost it. He grabbed an Oozy and fired it in Serafín Hernandez’s direction, all around him. And suddenly, as if though a spell was broken, Hernandez realised that he wasn’t bulletproof after all. 

The Commandante wanted to know where Mark Kilroy was. Hernandez said: he is over there by the wire.

As they walked closer, officers saw the end of a coat hanger stick out of the ground. Hernandez explained that the coat hanger was a marker to show where the shallow grave was, but also that Adolfo Constanzo had threaded it through Mark Kilroy’s spine, with the intention of digging it up later and to it as a necklace.

On the first day of exhumation alone, they recovered 13 bodies from the ranch. Hernandez admitted to his part in the murders, which occurred over a nine-month period. All the bodies were badly mutilated: some were castrated, some were sodomised and most of them were missing limbs or organs. 

Among the bodies were two renegade federal narcotics officers, Joaquin Manzo and Miguel Garcia. Some bodies were never identified. In total, 23 bodies were dug up.

Hernandez also told police about the cult’s leader: El Padrino, Adolfo Constanzo. He explained that the murders were ordered by Constanzo in order to feed his nganga. With no remorse, he outlined exactly what took place at ritual sacrifices.

Mark Kilroy’s family were understandably devastated by the news. They are a family of faith and the only comfort they had was that Mark was with his maker. His mom tried to make sense of the horrific circumstances of his death. She felt his killers must have been possessed by the devil. There could be no other explanation for the monstrous murder of her son.

Police were on the hunt for Adolfo Constanzo. They learnt about his cleansing ceremonies in Mexico City and went there to raid his properties. In his luxury home at Atizapan, just outside Mexico City, they found stacks of gay pornography and Constanzo’s much valued book of Spells and Recipes. The book also named some of his high-profile clients, if the contents were to be made public, it would have caused a massive uproar. At the same premises a hidden ritual chamber was discovered. 

Constanzo could have been anywhere. With a lot of media coverage, sightings of the Black Magic palero were reported as far North as Chicago. 

In fact, when Serafín Hernandez drove through the police road block, he had just been in Brownsville, where he had met with Adolfo, Sara Aldrete, Martin Quintana and some other cult members. When they learnt about the arrests at Rancho Santa Elena, they drove to McAllen in Texas – about an hour away from Brownsville and boarded a flight to Mexico City.

The Commandante knew how to lure El Padrino out of hiding. With a deep understanding and respect for Mexican superstition and belief in witchcraft, or Brujería, he approached a practitioner of White Magic to counter Adolfo Constanzo’s Black Magic. He asked the bruchus to protect him and his task force against the forces of evil. But mostly, he wanted to know what they could do to smoke El Padrino out of his hiding spot. The bruchus suggested they burn down the ritual chamber on the ranch, as well as the revered nganga. 

Commandante commissioned a Mexican TV crew to accompany them and they filmed the Bruchus pouring accelerant over the pot and round the hut and set it alight. On live television, the whole nation could see how Constanzo’s temple of human sacrifice turned into cinders. 

That same night, Adolfo Constanzo was located.

He was hiding out in an apartment in Mexico City. Incidentally, a couple of days before, Sara Aldrete dropped a note out of the window which read:

“Please call the police in tell them that in this building are those that they are seeking. Give them the address, fourth floor. Tell them that a woman is being held hostage. I beg for this, because what I want most is to talk… Or they’re going to kill the girl.”

A pedestrian found the note, but thought it was a joke, so didn’t take it to police.

On the 6th of May 1989, the same day of the Commandante had El Padrino’s hut burnt down, a neighbour reported a disturbance at an apartment in Mexico City.  

The commotion was caused by none other Adolfo Constanzo. When he saw the broadcast, he was outraged. Sara Aldrete later told police that he started burning loads of cash on the stove, saying that he didn’t need it anymore. He also threw some money out of the window – dollar bills and coins.

When police arrived, they didn’t know what they were walking in to. As far as they knew, it was a domestic disturbance, nothing more. When Adolfo saw police vehicles pull up in front of the building, he mistakenly thought that they had been located. Ready to go down, he opened fire with an automatic firearm.

Police retaliated and within minutes the building was surrounded by 180 armed officials. The bullet riddled siege lasted for an excruciatingly long 45 minutes.

Determined not to go to prison, Adolfo Constanzo handed a gun to his best hitman, a cult member they called El Duby. He ordered El Duby to kill him and the love of his life: Martin Quintana. He wanted to die in Martin’s arms.

El Duby told police what was said between him and El Padrino:

“He told me to kill him and Martin. I told him I couldn’t do it, but he hit me in the face and threatened me that everything would go bad for me in hell. Then he hugged Martin, and I just stood in front of them and shot them with a machine gun.” 

By the time police reached the apartment, both Adolfo Constanzo and Martin Quintana were dead. El Duby and Sara Aldrete were immediately arrested.

Theories exist that Mexican police killed Adolfo Constanzo – and that it was NOT an assisted suicide as the official record claims. He had so much information on corrupt high-level officials, had he been arrested, they would all have been ratted out, no doubt. The only way to ensure their anonymity was to make sure he couldn’t talk.

More than a year later, in August 1990, El Duby, who is said to have murdered Adolfo and Martin, was convicted for their murders and given a 30-year prison sentence.

Omar Orea, Constanzo’s ‘wife’ was convicted along with two other cult members, for the murder of Ramon Esquivel in Mexico City and they were all given 35 years in prison. However, Omar Orea died of AIDS before he was sentenced.

Sara Aldrete, Elio Hernandez and Serafin Hernandez were convicted of multiple murders and were ordered to serve prison sentences of over sixty years each. Should any of them be released from prison, American authorities are ready to prosecute them for Mark Kilroy’s murder. 

After the deaths of Adolfo Constanzo and Martin Quintana’s, Martin’s sister told police that Adolfo’s first Madrina or Godmother was still out there practicing Black Magic in Guadalajara. Before Omar Orea died, he said that the death of El Padrino and the cult’s captivity wasn’t the end of their religion. He was confident that the blend of religions that Adolfo Constanzo had created, a mixture of Palo Mayombe, Santería and Haitian Vodou, would live on.

The press dubbed the group Narcosatanists. But that is not what they were at all. They used widely practiced religions and pushed the limits by including human sacrifice in their rituals. The three religions Constanzo drew from had no manual or written doctrine. Rituals and beliefs were passed on from one generation to the next as part of an oral tradition.

Traditionally only heterosexual men are allowed to practice Palo Mayombe. Adolfo Constanzo broke this rule by being bisexual and even more, by bringing in a woman as a high priestess. This woman didn’t only cast spells, she actively participated in torturing victims. 

Sara Aldrete claimed that she was unaware of the human sacrifices and that she would never have been part of the cult, had she known the extent of their practices. This is hard to believe as she was ordained as a high priestess, Adolfo Constanzo’s second in command, chosen above his life partners or business companions. 

Mark Kilroy’s parents had the unthinkable task of rebuilding their lives without their son. In the wake of events, countless people reached out to them with stories of young people who were injured or killed as a result of the drug trade. 

To ensure Mark didn’t die in vain, his family established the Mark Kilroy foundation, with the aim to prevent drug related violence and to educate and rehabilitate at-risk youths. The link to the foundation is in the show notes if you’d like to check it out.

If you’d like to read more about this case, have a look at the resources used for this episode in the show notes. 

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