Lomas del Poleo in Juarez is known for being the dumping ground of the bodies of women who have been victims of femicides. Rarely do the media in Juarez report about the ongoing battle for the land between the residents of Lomas del Poleo and the Zaragoza’s.

But an advocacy group in El Paso reported that in the last weeks, the aggression towards the residents reached unprecedented levels.

I decided to go and see what is happening for myself. After an hour of driving to get to Anapra because the Camino Real was closed, I took an off road and for 30 minutes of driving in the desert, I did not see a single police officer, a gas station or any stores. My cell phone did not have a signal. All I saw were poor homes made of pieces of wood and cardboard. I finally understood why so many crimes have been committed there. It is like a ghost town.

I asked some of the Anapra people for directions. They all pointed to the bluff atop Anapra, a community across the border from Sunland Park, only a few miles from Downtown El Paso. I drove up a dirt road leading to the top of the bluff and saw the infamous fence built to keep the residents isolated. It was an improvised fence with wires and white cement pillars and a big sign that says “private property.” I was expecting to see the private guards with uniforms; however, they were dressed in regular clothes with big radios hanging from their belts. When they saw my car, they started calling on their radios. Then, another guard with sun glasses started following me on a go kart. I could see him through the rear view mirror; he was clearly trying to intimidate me. I drove to the entrance of the fence and pretended to be lost. I asked one of the four guards for directions, he lowered the music on his portable radio, and then he told me that I was really lost. While he was giving me directions to get back to a paved road, I snapped several pictures of the fence hoping they would not see my camera. I asked him, what the private property sign was for and in between laughs, looking at the other guards he told me, “I can’t tell you, it's a secret.” Then another guard jokingly said, “Tell her the truth, this land belongs to your dad.” The guard replied, “I wish.” Then the fence was opened by one of the guards to let one of the resident cars out. A woman drove off and they locked the fence again.

On my drive back, I saw some young men sitting in a corner, from my car I asked them why there were guards by the fence. One of the men told me, “They belong to the Zaragozas.” I asked him, so is this still Lomas del Poleo? He said, “Yes, but there are two parts to Lomas del Poleo.”

Lomas del Poleo is divided into two sections. One part is fenced and heavily guarded by private security men. The other part after the fence is inhabited by a mix of people who tired of the fight and relocated, with Zaragoza's blessing, to smaller lots, and people who happened to be out of the way of the property fight when it began.

For the last five years, the residents of Lomas del Poleo have been fighting to keep their homes against Jorge and Pedro Zaragoza, two of the most prominent businessmen in Juarez. [background] Most of the residents had inhabited the land for more than 30 years, and claim that they have rightful title under a 1975 law federalizing unclaimed land and allowing people to settle on and take possession of such unclaimed land.

But the Zaragozas have argued that the land belongs to them, and the issue is before the courts in Mexico. The residents are represented by Mexico City human rights attorney Barbara Zamora Lopez, after the previous lawyer for the residents, Carlos Javier López Avitia, was killed in June. [link] With the economic potential the land has for future city growth projects, the Zaragozas decided to appropriate the land and intimidate residents to leave, advocates say. There was no permit to build the fence or to keep the residents locked in. The residents cannot receive any visits and they are checked every time they go back into their homes. However, despite the security at the fence, many robberies have occurred, advocates for the residents say.

In Juarez, this situation has been overlooked by the authorities. And while El Paso advocacy groups and others have focused on the issue, most of the people in Juarez remain uninformed and indifferent.

More than 50 homes have been destroyed by tractors and others by fire, residents have said. Two children died in one of the fires, which residents say were started by the hired guards. In 2005, Luis Alberto Guerrero, one of the residents, was killed under questionable circumstances. To this day, the residents have been coerced and have been left without water and electricity.

According to the young men on the street, there are only two families left inside the fence. The rest, they claim, have been bought and have relocated.

The trial for the land is still pending at the Tribunal Unitario Agrario No 5. Three lawyers from Chihuahua and Mexico City are fighting for the residents rights. The Zaragozas have refused to give any interviews. A rare statement was published on Tuesday in a full page ad in a Juarez newspaper claiming that they have been victims of lies from social groups. They deny having any special protection from the state or local government.