Authorities contend that in the past decade, members of the Texas Syndicate, which is the state's original prison gang, have carried out at least 50 murders, solved or unsolved, in addition to countless extortions, kidnappings, robberies and assaults. Bodies have turned up all over Texas, with dozens of the gang's members and associates prosecuted in Austin, Dallas and Houston.
Thousands of the gang's members are locked up in state and federal prisons, but even more are on the streets today, their wrath chilling. Just this January, three were sentenced in the Rio Grande Valley to life without parole.
At the heart of that case: A Syndicate gangster turned federal informant was taken to Hooters by his buddies. After dinner, they drove to a sugar-cane field and shot him in the head.
A member in Dallas was similarly shot, then rolled in a carpet and stuffed in a car that was set ablaze. He had violated an order to end an affair with another member's mother.
Yet another, nicknamed Third Eye for a scar on his forehead, was shot in Houston as he sat outside a strip joint in his black Ford Mustang.
He was suspected of snitching, and bragging at a nightclub about being a member.
The Latino gang long has provided a blueprint for gangs of all races climbing into the major leagues of crime. It was the first Texas prison gang to embrace such Italian mobster traditions as strict rules and harsh discipline.
Among the Syndicate's main rules: Once you join, you are in for life and the gang comes before your blood family, God or anything else.
Despite changes that have come since the Texas Syndicate was founded in the 1970s, authorities said the state's original prison gang has dwindled in size but remains a significant threat.
On the streets as well as in the prisons, it is suspected of having approximately 3,800 confirmed or suspected members, although it is unclear how many are still active in the gang.
The Syndicate claims not to kill innocent people, but does go after those who betray them. Especially those who betray them.
Most are retribution hits on their own members, associates or rivals, according to authorities.
"It is the person you trust the most who will be whacking you," said a Texas Department of Public Safety lieutenant who supervises the major gang squad and has spent much of his career investigating Latino gangs.
Snitch's heroin death
Among the Syndicate's more infamous killings — for which a ranking member was executed by the state of Texas in 2009 - is the case of a gang member wrongfully suspected of being a snitch. He was held down in the so-called "Texas Syndicate Tank" by Syndicate soldiers in an El Paso jail and injected with heroin that had been smuggled inside.
"We don't harm innocent people, man," contends Mike Mendoza Jr., 32, a second-generation Texas Syndicate member from Baytown who is serving life in prison for murder.
"We don't tolerate none of our members who do that," Mendoza said in a face-to-face interview at a state penitentiary about 25 miles outside Huntsville. There also have been numerous instances of extortion, kidnapping, robberies and murders, both sanctioned and not sanctioned by the gang.
Mendoza, who has been an enforcer for the Syndicate, went out on his own when he stabbed a Baytown man who was not a Syndicate enemy. Mendoza had been drinking, and the two had an argument that quickly escalated.
"In that indictment all you see is drug dealers getting robbed, ex-members getting killed. … Respect is given when respect is given to us," Mendoza said of the federal case that snared him.
He killed Isaac Benavidez, 26, in an attack that a state prosecutor who is now a judge described as "an absolutely senseless, cold-blooded killing" in which the victim was "gutted like a deer."
Mendoza claimed he was defending himself because Benavidez had a gun.
Cartel subcontractors
One of the most common Syndicate-sanctioned crimes is the drug business. They work as subcontractors for Mexican cartels to enforce and transport drugs on U.S. soil.
The Syndicate's other crime of choice is home invasions, ripping off dealers by smashing down doors and stealing their dope and cash.
Hits are sanctioned against fellow gangsters by a majority vote of other members in a prison unit or city.
"When Moses came down from Mount Sinai, he had only Ten Commandments. These folks have 22," federal prosecutor Robert Wells Jr. told Valley jurors in a case in which three Syndicate members got life. "Violate any one of them and you're subject to death."
Authorities contend they have crippled the gang by sending key leaders, soldiers and associates to prison in the past decade. More than 40 have been indicted in federal courts. They were often taken down with the help of members who betrayed the gang at the risk of death.
"Many cooperating witnesses are Texas Syndicate members that have been ordered to be killed by the Texas Syndicate, placed in the witness-protection program, or are otherwise at risk of harm if their identities are disclosed," notes a document filed by prosecutors in 2007 in Houston when Mendoza and others were convicted.
Mendoza offers no excuses for his life in the Syndicate.
"I done lost everything for it," said Mendoza, who grew up in Baytown and goes by the street name Barney. "Even though they are considered criminals and that kind of stuff, the ones I grew up with, it was all about respect."
Mendoza's biological father - a man he never knew - was also in the Texas Syndicate.
Sitting behind protective glass and screening, Mendoza said that as a teenager he thought he would one day be a Marine and wear a dress-blue uniform to make his mother proud. Not the prison whites worn by an inmate.
"It just didn't work out. The street gangs caught up with me," said Mendoza, who while in prison used ash, shampoo and a needle to ink his first Syndicate tattoo.
'Nothing like it was'
Arnold Darby, 62, is one of the few white men ever accepted into the Syndicate and one of the oldest survivors from the original Syndicate soldiers.
He said that while old-school gangsters were known for keeping a low profile, a new breed is more brash and willingly draws the attention of law enforcement.
"The class and character of the members they bring in now is nothing like it was," said Darby, who has two murder convictions, including killing an ex-member who testified for the government.
Despite the influx of young members who have their own style, Darby said the Texas Syndicate remains a force.
"There is no one in the Texas prison system who does any time who doesn't know you better show some respect to them," Darby said during an interview at another state prison near Huntsville.
Law enforcement officials and Syndicate members said that the newer generation is more likely to turn their backs on tradition and take deals in exchange for leniency.
Hard case, hard time
Mendoza said he won't take a deal and wants nothing to do with those who will.
Because he is a member of the Syndicate - considered by the Texas Department of Criminal Justice to be one of a dozen especially dangerous gangs - he serves his time under the harshest conditions in the prison system.
He is locked in a cell by himself 23 hours a day for his entire sentence.
In Mendoza's case, that means forever. Unless he renounces his membership and tells everything he knows - which he says he won't.
"Why would I run and put my tail between my legs? I did this to myself."
