El derecho de propiedad y la Constitución mexicana de 1917

No se mata la verdad

"They came for her husband. The trucks arrived with a crash, the occupants came down screaming, their grandchildren played in the street, both ran scared. It was seven thirty in the afternoon. They were followed by at least six men. Others stayed outside, on duty. In the rustic interior courtyard, María Ordóñez could only hug the little ones. The only room with a door inside the house was the one below. The invaders tore her down. But there was no one behind. They seized a laptop, a tablet, a camera, two cell phones: the reporter's work tools. He slept on the top floor. The fatigue of two...