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Vanessa Richardson
Hi listeners, it's Vanessa Richardson. Real quick, before today's episode, I want to tell you about another show from Crime House that I know you'll love. America's Most Infamous Crimes. Hosted by Katie Ring. Each week, Katie takes on one of the most notorious criminal cases in American history. Serial killers who terrorized cities, unsolved mysteries that keep detectives up at night, and investigations that change the way we think about justice. Listen to and follow America's Most Infamous crimes Tuesday through Thursday on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music or wherever you listen to podcasts.
Carter Roy
This is crime house.
Vanessa Richardson
It was just after 2am on March 14, 1989, and 21 year old Mark Kilroy was ready to go home. The University of Texas pre med student had spent the night partying in the border town of Matamoros, Mexico. Now the bars were closing and the streets were full of spring breakers. Staggering towards the pedestrian bridge that led back into the United States, Mark and his friends joined the crowd but but they got separated in the mob of people. Suddenly, Mark was on his own. He was exhausted, confused and still pretty drunk. So when he bumped into a couple of good Samaritans who offered him a ride, he thought it was his lucky day. They led him to a side street where two men were waiting with their pickup truck. They told Mark they could drive him across the border to meet his friends, so he hopped in for the short ride back. What happened next was the stuff of nightmares and sadly, Mark never made it home alive. From UFO cults and mass suicides to secret CIA experiments, presidential assassinations and murderous doctors, these aren't just theories. They're real stories that blur the line between fact and fiction. I'm Vanessa Richardson and this is Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes. A Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I'll explore the real people at the center of the world's most shocking events and nefarious organizations. And remember, those Monday episodes will also be on YouTube with full video. You can find them every Saturday. Just search for conspiracy theories, cults and crimes and be sure to like and subscribe. Don't to forget, these cases are wild and I want to hear what you think at the end of each episode. Leave a comment wherever you listen. Be sure to rate, review and follow so we can continue building this community together. And for ad free access to all three episodes, subscribe to Crime House plus on Apple Podcasts. Please note this episode contains graphic descriptions of torture, violence and murder. Please listen with care. Today I'm diving into one of the most disturbing groups in modern history the Matamoros cult. The mastermind was a man named Adolfo Constanzo, who encouraged his followers to perform ritualistic human sacrifices, all in the name of becoming better drug dealers. Over the course of several years in the 1980s, Constanzo and his followers made millions of dollars moving tons of marijuana and cocaine from from Mexico to the United States. They also murdered more than a dozen people, including Mark Kilroy, in twisted tributes to their dark gods. These grisly killings earned them the nickname Los Narcos Atanicos, or the Narcosatanists. And all these decades later, the people of Mexico are still living in the group's dark shadow. All that and more coming up.
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Vanessa Richardson
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Vanessa Richardson
Adolfo Constanzo was born in Miami, Florida, on November 1, 1962. He never knew his biological father, but his mother, Delia Gonzalez, had a major impact on Constanzo's early life in Delia was a refugee who fled Cuba during the revolution a few years earlier. Now, at just 15 years old, she was a single mother struggling to raise her son on the streets of Miami's Little Havana neighborhood. Whenever times got tough, Delia relied on her faith for guidance and encouraged her son to do the same. But those religious beliefs were definitely outside the mainstream, at least in America. Delia was a practitioner of both Santeria and Palo. These folk religions developed in Cuba and Haiti during the 19th century when enslaved people from West Africa combined their traditional beliefs with the Roman Catholicism being practiced on the islands. People who practice these religions believe that spirits, sometimes called orishas, control different earthly events. They offer food, drinks, flowers, and sometimes animal sacrifices to appease these spirits and get their help. I want to take a second to make it clear that millions of regular people around the world practice some form of Santeria and Palo. And despite Constanzo's later crimes, these belief systems aren't inherently evil or satanic. But from an early age, his mother used her interpretation of those religions to manipulate him. When Constanzo was just six months old, his mother took him to a Haitian Palero, a type of priest within the Palo tradition. The Palero said her infant son had been chosen by the spirits to achieve greatness and power. This was a good omen, but Delia took it too far. Throughout Constanzo's childhood, she raised him to believe that he was a star who was better than anyone else around him. And she told him that other people who didn't adhere to their religion were animals whose lives didn't matter. So from an early age, Constanzo learned not to care about others. He he also got very comfortable with blood, guts, and death. His mother frequently sacrificed birds to appease the spirits. Every house they lived in had blood stained walls and dried entrails and feathers stuck to the floors. And as soon as Constanzo was old enough to hold a knife, she taught him how to kill as well. This came in handy whenever she got into arguments with her neighbors, which was often. If someone took her parking space, made a negative comment about her lawn, or criticized Constanzo, she would use her son to get revenge. Based on her instructions, Constanzo would slit a chicken's throat, then leave the corpse on the neighbor's doorstep as a warning. Clearly, Constanzo would do anything for his mother. But she wasn't the only parental figure in his life. Constanzo had multiple stepfathers growing up, but none of them stuck around for long. And at least one of them physically abused Constanzo until Deglia divorced him. At the time, she said she didn't want anyone but her to hit her son. But eventually she found a father figure whose violence and brutality were a perfect fit. When Constanzo was still a young boy, Delia returned to the Haitian Palero, who'd said her son was meant for greatness. She asked him to become Constanzo's godfather. The Palero agreed and went on to become an even worse role model than Delia. While most Palo practitioners turned to the religion for healing and good fortune, this Palero had a different type of clientele. He made a living by offering spiritual protection to Miami's superstitious drug dealers. He performed ceremonies to protect them from arrest to make drugs invisible to customs agents and to predict the safest times to move a shipment. At the time, the drug trade in Miami was booming, and these services made the Palero a very rich man. As he explained to Constanzo, it was sinful to use drugs, but there was nothing wrong with profiting from other people's sinfulness by selling them drugs. In the years to come, the Palero gave Constanzo the education he needed to be a successful drug trafficker. He ritualistically beat the boy to teach him not to fear pain. And he taught him how a ceremonial cauldron called a nganga could be used to enslave the spirits of the dead to do his bidding. By filling nganga with putrid ingredients, including blood, bones, insects, animal corpses and human remains, the spirits inside would grow more powerful. Constanzo was a good student. He took the beatings. And he learned to love the ngangazi horrible stench. And when he was 21, his palero decided he was ready to graduate. One day in late 1983, the Palero led Constanzo into the shed behind his house, where he kept his nganga. There, the Palero formally inducted Constanzo into his dark and twisted interpretation of the Palo faith. Constanzo was prepared. He had bathed in sacred herbs. He was wearing white clothes that had been buried in a fresh grave for three weeks. And he had given himself over to KDM Pempe, the Palo spirit known as the Devourer of Souls. As far as Constanzo was concerned, his soul was now dead. And now he was ready to receive the ultimate blessing. In the darkness of the shed, the Palero sacrificed a chicken. Then, with his blade heated by the fire, the Palero began ritualistic cutting into Constanzo's shoulders, carving an intricate pattern of arrows, crosses, and sacred symbols. As blood coursed down Constanzo's back, he knew the deed was done. Now he was a palero, too. At 21 years old, Constanzo may have achieved success in this warped interpretation of Paolo, but he was struggling in the real world. He'd barely managed to graduate from high school and had given up on community college after one semester. He had a hard time holding down a job. And he was gay, a secret that he was unwilling and unable to share with his mother or his Palero. Now that he was a Palero, he could try to follow in his mentor's footsteps and earn a living providing spiritual services to Miami's criminal underworld. But there was a lot of competition and. And breaking into the business would be difficult. The one other career Constanzo had considered was modeling. He was tall and handsome, with delicate facial features and flowing black hair. People noticed him whenever he walked into a room. But Constanzo was far from the only aspiring model in Miami. Getting booked would be tough, so instead he set his sights further south. He and his mother had recently visited Mexico City, and he realized it could be a fertile ground for both of his interests. Witchcraft and spiritual rituals were popular in Mexican culture, and he had contacts in Mexico City's modeling industry. So in 1984, he kissed his mother goodbye and hopped on a plane. The next phase in Constanzo's dark and twisted journey had officially begun.
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Carter Roy
I'm Carter Roy, host of Murder True Crime Stories. If you listen to true crime because you want more than just what happened, this show is for you. On Murder True Crime Stories, we take deep dives into history's most notorious murders. But we don't stop at the crime scene. We look beyond the headlines to understand the real story and the people who are impacted the most. Because these cases aren't just mysteries. They're lives, families, communities that were changed forever. Whether a case is solved or unsolved, my goal is for you to walk away understanding why these stories still matter and why they deserve to be told with care. Each episode explores the darkest corners of true crime while keeping the focus where it belongs. On the human cost. New episodes drop every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. Follow Murder True crime Stories on Apple podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music or wherever you listen.
Vanessa Richardson
What they did to your family. You're lucky to make it out alive. Streaming on Peacock. These men are going to come after me. Taking them out is my only chance. Put a bullet in her head. From the co creator of Ozark. Looks like a family was running drugs Execution style killing. It's rare for the Keys. Any leads on who they might have been running for? The cartel killed my family. I'm gonna kill them. All of them. MIA streaming now only on Peacock in 1984, 21 year old Adolfo Constanzo moved to Mexico City hoping to make a name for himself as a model and and a mystic. And he'd chosen a great place for both of those careers. The massive glamorous city was a major destination in the Latin American fashion scene. And fortune tellers were popular at every level, from street corner card readers to high society oracles. Constanzo settled in the Zona Rosa neighborhood, which was a huge tourist hub and home to many of the city's gay bars. And even though the Zona Rosa was full of fortune tellers, Constanzo made a big splash right away. Working out of trendy sidewalk cafes. He predicted customers futures by drawing tarot cards or scattering small seashells and reading their positions. But what really set him apart was his accuracy. While most other fortune tellers were vague, Constanzo seemed to know his clients deepest secrets. And once he had his hooks in them, they kept coming back for more. Shortly after moving to Mexico City, Constanzo read the fortune of an 18 year old student named Omar Ochoa. As soon as Ochoa sat down, Constanzo seemed to know everything about his life. He brought up details about his family, his boredom at school, even the fact that Ochoa was gay and not fully out of the closet. Ochoa was shocked by how well Constanzo seemed to know him and soon became obsessed, obsessed with this handsome American fortune teller. Constanzo had a similar effect on a young student named Martin Rodriguez, who was so impressed with the quality of Constanzo's predictions that he offered to become his bodyguard. Before long, Rodriguez was always by Constanzo's side. Constanzo wasted no time exerting greater control over both men, showering them with gifts and compliments. He also began sexual relationships with both of them, but on Constanzo's terms. He said that Rodriguez, who was acting as his bodyguard, would be his man, while Ochoa would be his woman. And he promised to teach them both the secrets of Santeria and Palo so they could enjoy the power and protection of his dark faith. Within weeks of meeting them, Constanzo ceremonially cut Rodriguez and Ochoa's backs the same way his Palero in Miami had. During the ceremony, he told them their souls were dead, which meant the men now belonged to him and had to follow his every command. With that, Constanzo's cult was up and running. The three men soon moved in together, sharing an apartment in the Zona Rosa. Ochoa, the woman in the relationship, tended to the house, cooking, cleaning and washing clothes. Meanwhile, Constanzo and Rodriguez hit the streets to build Constanzo's business. Constanzo took advantage of his fashion industry contacts, posing for hundreds of stylish headshots and portraits all over the city. Most of these pictures never showed up in magazines, which was fine with Constanzo. He wasn't really interested in being a professional model. He just wanted access to the glamorous Mexico City fashion world and the wealthy people in it. Sure enough, his good looks and extensive modeling portfolio helped him get that access. Soon, Constanzo was a regular at trendy parties where he rubbed shoulders with other models, fashion designers and socialites. Many of these people were interested in witchcraft and eager to have their fortunes read by him. By 1985, just a year after moving to Mexico City, 22 year old Constanzo was one of the most sought after psychics in town. He charged hundreds, sometimes thousands, thousands of US dollars for a single reading. Soon he was able to move into a fancy condo with Ochoa and Rodriguez and bought them luxury cars and designer clothes. They were all living large and Constanzo was just getting started. Over the next year, he built a growing list of wealthy clients who depended on him and his psychic readings. And by 1986, he inducted six, several of his most loyal customers into his cult. There was Francisco, a real estate developer who relied on Constanzo's predictions to make profitable investments. Another client was an aging model named Carla Guerra. To help her career, Constanzo sacrificed 12 animals, including goats, cats and tortoises. A drag queen named Damian came to Constanzo for revenge after a nightclub owner refused to pay him for a performance. Constanzo soaked a paper with the club owner's name on it in chicken blood, then burned it in a hollowed out coconut. Three weeks later, the club owner died of a heart attack. But Constanzo's most important devotee was a man named Salvador Alarcon. Alarcon came to Constanzo because he believed his body was possessed by three rival spirits. A Sioux, Native American, a Cuban murderer and an African witch. Constanzo performed rituals and sacrifices to cleanse Alarcon of the angry spirits. Alarcon was so thankful that he pledged his soul to Constanzo and allowed him to scar his back and shoulders in a Palero ceremony. Alarcon promised to be forever loyal to Constanzo. And that meant a lot because Alarcon was a commander in Mexico's first federal narcotic police. Constanzo already had a few drug dealer clients who paid him thousands of dollars for spiritual cleansings and protective spells. But now that Constanzo had access to a high ranking police official, it opened up even more opportunities to profit from Mexico's booming drug trade. Alarcon was extremely corrupt, which meant he had connections to several drug kingpins who'd paid him off over the years. He and Alarcon was happy to introduce Constanzo to some of them. In September of 1986, Alarcon set up a meeting between Constanzo and one of Mexico City's top cocaine suppliers, Guillermo Calzada. The Calzada family owned a fire extinguisher company as a supposedly legitimate business. In reality, they smuggled kilos of cocaine into the city hidden inside fire extinguishers. Then they used their business accounts to launder the millions of dollars they made selling the drugs on the streets. This was exactly the sort of operation that Constanzo wanted to get involved with. So he made sure he was prepared. Going into the meeting, Alarcon let Constanzo read through all the police files on Calzada's criminal career, his allies, his enemies, and the two assassination attempts he'd survived. The following day, when Constanzo read Calzada's fortune, he was able to bring up all sorts of details about the man's life. Calzada was impressed. Somehow this random fortune teller knew things no one else did. Calzada thought he was the real deal. So he offered to bring Constanzo into his operation to provide spiritual protection to all the members of his cartel. Over the next few months, Constanzo made tens of thousands of dollars offering psychic services to the Calzada family's drug runners. He would tell them which smuggling routes were safe and which were being watched by the police. His predictions were always correct and his stock in the organization grew accordingly. Once again, the secret to Constanzo's success was the policeman Alarcon. He fed Constanzo up to the minute details about which roads narcotics officers were planning to raid and and he had enough power within the federal police that he could shut down patrols or investigations that threatened people Constanzo had blessed. At first, members of Constanzo's inner circle, like Omar Ochoa and his bodyguard Martin Rodriguez, had their doubts. They thought it was unethical to work in the drug trade and lie to the Calzadas about his powers. But Constanzo reminded them what his Palero in Miami had taught him. He it was fine to profit from the wickedness and foolishness of others. And Constanzo was definitely profiting. He was making more money than he ever had before. He started gifting his most trusted followers cars whenever they did something right, and vicious beatings when they let him down. He bought multiple luxury condos and a two story mansion on the outskirts of the city. All of it paid for in cash. But it still wasn't enough. The Calzada cartel was making millions of dollars off of each cocaine shipment. And they didn't just have money, they had power. People feared and respected them. Constanzo wanted a taste of that for himself. So In April of 1987, after several months of serving as Guillermo Calzada's advisor, he approached the old man with an offer. He asked Calzada to make him a full partner with a 50% stake in the operation in exchange for continued magical protection. It was a bold demand, and it didn't go over well. Calzada basically laughed Constanzo out of his office and told him to never come back. After the meeting. Constanzo was furious. Nobody talked to him like that. Especially not after all the work he'd done to protect the cartel. When Constanzo got home, he rounded up Ochoa and Rodriguez. The calzadas were going to pay. A few days later, Constanzo called Calzada and apologized for making such an outrageous demand. He didn't know what had come over him. In fact, he was worried that he might have been on the receiving end of a spell cast by a rival, Palero, that made him temporarily ins. He said he was feeling better now, but he was concerned that Calzada might have been affected by the spell too. As a gesture of goodwill, he offered to come to Calada's house and perform a cleansing ritual for his entire family, free of charge. Calzada appreciated the apology and figured it would be good to neutralize any evil energy, just in case. So he invited his family to join him and Constanzo at his mansion the first following night. April 30, 1987. That evening, Constanzo arrived at the house with several cartons of eggs, statues of different saints, and two live chickens. He set up a makeshift altar in the living room and explained that the ceremony would draw any evil energy from the calzadas and deposit it into the eggs. Once he was ready to begin, he gathered the calzadas and had them stand in a circle around the altar. There were seven people in the living room. Guillermo Calzada, his wife and his mother, along with the family's maid, their bodyguard, one of Calzada's business partners, and his secretary. Constanzo lit candles, dimmed the lights and started to chant in the African dialect of Palo. Slipping in and out of Spanish, he summoned the spirits and called on them to give him the power to strike down his enemies. Before the calzadas could question the real purpose of this ritual, the door to the house burst open. Martin Rodriguez, Constanzo's bodyguard, stormed into the living room, flanked by two of Constanzo's other followers. All three were armed with submachine guns. When the calzadas turned back to Constanzo, he was holding a knife. The following day, the calzada's neighbors called the police when they spotted one of the family's cars on fire in the driveway. Officers entered the home and found bullet holes, blood stains and broken eggs all over the floor. The one thing they didn't find was any bodies. The calzadas were gone, and so were many of their valuables. Investigators later determined that hundreds of thousands of dollars had been taken. Taken from the house, along with several kilos of cocaine. At first, police assumed this was just a standard drug war hit, possibly executed by one of the Cada's rival cartels. But a few days later, when the victim's bodies were found washed up on a riverbank just outside the city, it became clear there was nothing standard about this killing. The calzada's bodies were so badly mutilated that they were almost unrecognizable. One was nearly decapitated, others were missing extremities, and all of them had been castrated. Their hearts had been cut out of their chests and two of their brains had been removed. The police were half right. The calzadas were the victims of a cartel massacre. Constanzo and his followers had had murdered them to steal their supplies and take over their business. But the calzadas were also the victims of a human sacrifice, a blood offering to the spirits. And now Constanzo's cult was more powerful than ever.
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Vanessa Richardson
Hi listeners, it's Vanessa Richardson. I wanted to take a brief moment to tell you about another show from Crime House that I know you'll love. America's Most Infamous Crimes. Hosted by Katie Ring. Each week, Katie takes on a notorious crime, whether unfolding now or etched into American history, revealing not just what happened, but how it forever changed our society. Serial killers who terrorized cities. Unsolved mysteries that keep detectives up at night, and investigations that change the way we think about justice. Each case unfolds across multiple episodes released every Tuesday through Thursday. From the first sign that something was wrong to the moment the truth came out or didn't. These are the stories behind the headlines. Listen to and follow America's Most Infamous Crimes Tuesday through Thursday on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen to podcasts. By 1987, 25 year old Adolfo Constanzo had become one of Mexico City's most popular psychics and the Calzada drug cartel's spiritual guide. But when the calzadas refused to make him a partner in their operation, Constanzo murdered seven members of the family and their employees. With their leadership wiped out, the organization immediately fell apart, allowing Constanzo and his crew to take their cocaine and sell it themselves. But in the immediate aftermath of the massacre, not everyone in Constanzo's cult was on board. His bodyguard, Martin Rodriguez, had participated in the murders. But once he was back at Constanzo's house, he regretted what he'd done. And he wasn't alone. The day after the murders, Constanzo gathered the other members of his inner circle to tell them about the killings. Constanzo was ecstatic as he described how he'd murdered the calzadas, then removed their organs to boil in his nganga cauldron enslaving their spirits. Constantos followers were used to animal sacrifices and working with drug dealers. They'd even dug up graves to find human body parts for some of Constanzo's more elaborate rituals. But they'd never been part of a murder before. Constanzo knew how to calm them down. He explained that human sacrifice wasn't murder. The victims spirits lived on inside the nganga. He also Told them they better get on board for more sacrifices like these because the more humans they offered up to the Nganga, the the more powerful they would all become. Constanzo must have been convincing because his followers stayed by his side as his bloodlust continued to grow. In the summer of 1987, about a month after the Calzada massacre, the Mexican Federal Police gave Salvador Alarcon a new assignment. He was going to be stationed in Matamoros, a border city directly across the Rio Grande from Brownsville, Texas. On paper, Alarcon's job was to try to stop drug traffickers from smuggling cocaine into the United States. But he, along with many of the other narcotics officers in town, was on the cartel's payroll. And after a few weeks in Matamoros to get the lay of the land, Alarcon called Constanzo with a business opportunity. The most powerful drug runners in Matamoros were the Hernandez family. But they'd recently fallen on tough times. The gang's leader, Saul Hernandez, had been assassinated by rivals earlier in the year. After his death, Saul's younger brother, Helio Hernandez had taken over the cartel and it wasn't going well. Helio was a sloppy businessman who'd alienated their suppliers. To make matters worse, one of the family's marijuana farms had been discovered by federal police who torched the entire crew crop. The Hernandez operation was losing money. Their smugglers kept getting arrested and rival cartels were threatening to take over. For Constanzo, this was the perfect opportunity to expand his business. In July of 1987, the 25 year old and his small group of followers moved to Matamoros. There he met a beautiful 22 year old named Sarah Aldretti. She was a Matamoros native and straight a student at Texas Southmost College in Brownsville. But she was looking for something more exciting in her life. Constanzo fit that role perfectly. Over the next few months, Constanzo seduced and indoctrinated Sarah into his cult. Soon she was fully committed to Constanzo and ready to do anything to help him get ahead. Luckily for Constanzo, she she had a lot to offer. Sarah was charming, charismatic and well liked. She also used to date Elio Hernandez. Suddenly, Constanzo knew exactly how he'd worm his way into the Hernandez family's operation. In the fall of 1987, Sarah reconnected with Elio. When they talked, she told Elio all about her new friend Concept Stanzo, and how his magical powers could help him turn his family's business around. Several Months later, in March 1988, Elio sat down with Constanzo for a card reading and was shocked by his psychic abilities. Once again, Constanzo knew all about Elio because of his police contacts, not spirits. But Elio was impressed. Constanzo offered to use his magical powers to bring the Hernandez family drug operation back from the brink in exchange for 50% of their profits. It was the same offer he'd made to the calzadas. But unlike the calzadas, Elio was desperate enough to accept it. A few weeks later, Constanzo initiated Elio and several of his top lieutenants into his cult. He scarred their backs with a knife and told them their sword souls were now dead and they were bound to obey his every command. These hardened drug runners weren't gullible, but they were superstitious. And they believed that Constanzo had the power to protect them and make them rich. So they willingly gave themselves over to him. And with that, Constanzo's cult took full control of the Hernandez family's drug operation. Constanzo and his followers moved to Rancho Santa Elena, a farm outside the city owned by Elio's father. There, Constanzo set up a nganga in the shed. He also worked with Aladcon and his other police contacts to turn the business around. Just weeks after inducting Elio into his cult, Constanzo arranged for corrupt police officers to seize over a ton of marijuana from a rival gang and and deliver it to Rancho Santa Elena. The Hernandez family made an enormous profit transporting this stash into the US and selling it. After that, nobody in the organization had any doubts about Constanzo's power. A few weeks later, in May 1988, a Hernandez operative learned that two members of a rival cartel would be moving a shipment of marijuana towards the border. That night, on Constanzo's orders, his followers ambushed the traffickers, stole their marijuana, then brought the captives to a nearby orchard. Constanzo shot both hostages in the head, then ordered his followers to bury the bodies. He explained that these weren't human sacrifices. A proper sacrifice could only occur under a waxing moon. These murders were just in preparation for the violence to come. By August, Constanzo decided it was time to move from marijuana into the even more profitable cocaine trade. So he ordered his men to steal roughly $800,000 worth of it from a rival cartel. But this bold move had consequences. Three days after the robbery, the rival cartel kidnapped Elio's brother off the street and held him for ransom, threatening to kill him if they didn't get their drugs back. Elio panicked. But Constanzo was calm. He had a plan to get his brother back. It was time for a human sacrifice. On Constanzo's orders, Elio picked up a hitchhiker on one of the roads outside town, then brought him back to the ranch Constanzo's other followers to tied him up and dragged him to the nganga in the shed. There Constanso ritually tortured him with a machete before finally killing him with a blow to the head. As with the calzadas, Constanso removed the man's heart and brain to add to his nganga, capturing his soul to appease the dark spirits. It was a brutal sacrifice, but somehow it it seemed to work. The next day, Helio's brother returned to the ranch. His kidnappers didn't have the stomach to kill him, so they let him go. Constanzo was thrilled. As far as he was concerned, nothing could stop him now. In March 1989, 26 year old Constanzo decided that his nganga needed a higher quality. Sacrifice. No more drug dealers and nameless drifters from the streets of Matamoros. He wanted someone important. An American. A college student whose powerful brain would make the spirits in the nganga smarter and more capable. Constanzo told his followers that if they found him a victim like this, the sacrifice would make them superhuman. Afterwards, they would be able to turn invisible to hide from the police and be able to shrug off gunshot wounds like they were nothing. Constanzo's followers were just as hungry for these new powers as he was. So on March 14, 1989, two of them drove into Matamoros. There they spotted 21 year old medical student Mark Kilroy stumbling down the street. He was just the type of sacrifice Constanzo was looking for. So they lured him to their truck, then brought him back to the ranch. The men drove Mark away from the crowds, then held him down and bound his hands, feet, eyes and mouth with duct tape. Once they were sure he couldn't escape, they drove deeper into the countryside to the ranch. They left Mark in the back of the truck all night, terrified and alone. In the morning, Constanzo walked over to the truck. He was dressed in white and wore multiple gold amulets around his neck. He grabbed Mark from the vehicle and dragged him to the shed where he kept his nganga. There, in front of all the other members of the cult, Constanzo brutally tortured Mark for hours before finally killing him with a single machete blow to the head. Once the deed was done, Constanzo removed his brain and other organs and boiled them in the enganga. In the blood stained, she shed. Constanzo told his loyal followers the good news. Now that their cult had offered up the brain of an American college student, the dark spirits who protected them would grant them special powers. They would be unstoppable. But Constanzo had underestimated Mark Kilroy. The college student he'd killed would eventually bring the entire cult down. Mark Kilroy was different from the cult's other victims. He wasn't a drifter or a foot soldier in Mexico's violent drug war. He came from a middle class American family and his uncle worked for the U.S. customs and Border Protection Agency. So when Mark's friends reported that he never came back from their night out together in Mexico, the response was intense. Matamoros, Mexico and Brownsville, Texas are only separated by some fences and the Rio Grande River. Crossing the border means a 20 minute walk across the Gateway International pedestrian bridge. City officials from both sides also regularly communicate with each other. So when Brownsville police formed a task force to look for Mark, the police in Matamoros joined to help out. Politicians in Texas include including the governor and U.S. senator Lloyd Benson put pressure on Mexican authorities to contribute more resources to the investigation. Groups from Mark Kilroy's hometown made multiple trips to Matamoros to put up missing flyers. Less than two weeks after his disappearance, Kilroy's case was featured on an episode of the popular TV show America's Most Wanted. Kilroy's disappearance had become a national national obsession in the US but back in Mexico, Constanzo and his cult weren't worried about getting caught. They didn't even think they could get caught. They couldn't have been more wrong. The Mark Kilroy investigation broke wide open on the evening of April 1, 1989, about two weeks after Mark disappeared. That day, a group of Mexican federal police officers had set up a checkpoint on a local highway to inspect passing cars for drugs. The search for Mark Kilroy had brought some of Mexico's top federal agents to Matamoros. These officers weren't corrupt like the locals. So when they noticed a bright red pickup truck speed through the checkpoint, they were on high alert. It turned out the man behind the wheel was one of Constanzo's followers. And he believed what Constanzo had told him. That because they'd sacrificed Mark Kilroy, he could become inferior, invisible to the police. Of course, the police had seen him. But rather than pull him over, they radioed for a group of undercover officers to follow him in an unmarked car. They trailed him to Rancho Santa Elena, which police knew was tied to the Hernandez family. Eight days later, on April 9, police raided Rancho Santa Elena. When they arrived, they found 64 pounds of marijuana and multiple guns. That alone was enough to arrest all the cult members on the property. But when investigators discovered Constanzo's nganga, full of rotting flesh and human bones, they realized there was much more to this ranch than just a simple drug operation. The handcuffed cult members were calm, almost confused. They seemed to have a hard time processing that they were actually in trouble after all their protective rituals. Under questioning, they started to talk about the human sacrifices. When shown a picture of Mark Kilroy, they confirmed that he'd been killed at the ranch. They led police to a makeshift graveyard in a nearby field where Investigators eventually discovered 15 badly mutilated bodies, including marks. And they told police about the man behind the madness, Adolfo Constanzo. But Constanzo was lucky. He was across the border in Brownsville that day. And it didn't take long for word to get to him that police were at the ranch. Realizing it was only a matter of time before his name and face were on tv, he rushed to the airport and bought a plane ticket to Mexico City. The spirits weren't protecting him anymore. Now it was time to to run. Once Constanzo landed in Mexico City, he went to one of the condos he owned and hunkered down to plan his next move. Over the next few days, he was joined by four of his remaining followers. The group included his first two cult members and lovers. His bodyguard, Martin Rodriguez and Omaro Choa. Sarah Aldretti, the college student who helped introduce him to the Hernandez. His family met them at the house as well. Then there was a hitman from the Hernandez cartel named Alvaro Valdez. The group spent a few weeks bouncing between multiple properties in Mexico City, staying indoors while Constanzo tried to figure out a way to get them out of Mexico. Eventually, he called Salvador Alarcon. Alarcon hadn't been outed as a member of the cult yet and was still serving as a federal police officer. Constanzo begged him to help, But Constanzo's longtime enabler wasn't interested. Alarcon could see that Constanzo's so called magical protection wasn't working. It was all the proof he needed to break free from the cult leader he'd served for years. Constanzo was furious. He'd lost the power that he'd coveted for so long, and now the walls were closing in. Over the next few days, he grew increasingly irritable, lashing out at his remaining supporters and accusing them of betraying him. The mood in the apartment had gotten dark, but the ordeal was almost at an end. On May 6, 1989, Constanzo peered out the window of his apartment and spotted police cars on the street outside. In reality, they were responding to an unrelated call, but Constanzo was extremely paranoid and assumed they had come for him. He grabbed a submachine gun, smashed the window and started shooting at the police cars down below. One of his bullets wounded a detective, and soon a small convoy of officers arrived and surrounded the building. For the next 45 minutes, Constanzo and his remaining followers traded gunfire with the police outside. Eventually, though, they were nearly out of ammunition. But Constanso refused to be taken alive. As police advanced on the building, he handed his submachine gun to Alvaro Valdez and ordered him to shoot both him and Martin Rodriguez. After some convincing, Valdez pushed Constanzo and Rodriguez into a walk in closet and sprayed them with submachine gun fire. Moments later, police burst into the apartment, arresting Valdez. Sarah Aldreti and Omar Ochoa. Constanzo was pronounced dead at the scene. He was 26 years old. He had died young and he'd lived a sinful life. But true to his godfather's prediction, he had been a star. Briefly, in the aftermath, the surviving culture tried to pin all the blame on Constanzo. Omar Ochoa, who'd been with him from the beginning, said Constanzo had brainwashed him. Sarah Aldreti claimed that Constanzo had kidnapped her and that she was a hostage the entire time. Those excuses didn't help them. Sarah Aldreti was convicted on multiple counts of murder, drug trafficking, and aiding and abetting known fugitives. In August of 1990, she was sentenced to to 62 years in Mexican prison. And American authorities have made clear that they plan to arrest and try her on separate charges if she's ever released. Alvaro Valdez was also convicted on multiple counts and sentenced to 30 years in prison for his role in the killings. American officials have also stated their intention to charge him if he's ever released. The only member of the trio to escape conviction was Omar Ochoa because he died of a heart attack in jail while awaiting trial in 1990. Shortly after their arrests, Sarah and Omar told police about Salvador Alarcon's involvement with the cult. Alarcon was arrested and fired from his job as a federal agent. Despite testimony from other cult members, Alarcon was only indicted on cocaine trafficking charges and received received a relatively light sentence. The collapse of Constanzo's cult was a media sensation. It tied together two of the biggest news stories in America at the time. One was drug trafficking. The other was the so called Satanic panic when many Americans believed without evidence that satanic cults had infiltrated every level of society. Journalists on both sides of the border reported reported on the cult's grisly human sacrifices and cult like rituals. In the Mexican media the group was called Los Narcos Satanicos. But at the end of the day, there was nothing satanic about what Constanzo was doing. The murders and rituals weren't about Satan or Santeria or Paulo. They were about Adolfo Constanzo. He didn't worship a God. He wanted others to worship him. Him. For a few years he got exactly what he wanted until eventually he paid the ultimate price for what he'd done. And he's not the only cult leader who had a rude awakening. In Cult Watch this week, I'm highlighting the Grace Road Church. The group was founded in 2002 by Shin Ok Ju, a Christian pastor in South Korea who claims that a global famine is imminent. Throughout the church's early years, Shin searched the world for a place where she and her followers could stay safe through the coming apocalypse. In 2014, she declared that the island nation of Fiji would be one of the few places spared by God in the coming famine. So using donations extorted from the church members, she bought a compound in Fiji and relocated there with nearly 400 of her followers. Today, it's estimated that the Grace Road church has nearly 1,000 members between South Korea and Fiji. Former members report being pressured to cut off all contact with friends and family and being forced to donate all their money to fund the church's operations in Fiji. Former members allege that their passports were taken away. Many say that they were were beaten by leaders, including Pastor Shin, who was once caught on camera slapping a church member in the face. After years of allegations, Pastor Shin was arrested in 2019 and sentenced to seven years in prison. Although she is behind bars, the Grace Road Church continues to operate from its Fijian compound. Much like the Matamoros cult, this group shows that once a charismatic leader breaks a person's will, it's almost impossible to escape their abuse. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Vanessa Richardson and this is Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes. Come back next time. We'll decode the episode together and hear another story about the real people at the center of the world's most notorious cults, conspiracies and criminal acts. Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes is a Crime House original Powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media, rimehouse on TikTok and Instagram. Don't forget to rate, review and follow. Follow Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference and to enhance your Conspiracy Theories, Cults and Crimes listening experience, subscribe to Crime House plus on Apple Podcasts. 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Podcast Summary: Conspiracy Theories, Cults & Crimes — "CULT: Mark Kilroy & the Narcosatanists" (April 15, 2026)
This gripping episode, hosted by Vanessa Richardson, unpacks the chilling account of the Matamoros cult, led by Adolfo Constanzo—a drug-trafficking ring infused with ritualistic human sacrifice. The story centers on the abduction and murder of American college student Mark Kilroy and exposes how Constanzo merged supernatural beliefs, psychological manipulation, and cartel brutality, ultimately spiraling into one of the most infamous true crime sagas at the U.S.-Mexico border.
[05:09 – 14:33]
[14:33 – 28:48]
[29:49 – 44:33]
[44:34 – 54:24]
[50:10 – 54:24]
[54:20 – End]
On cult psychology:
“Human sacrifice wasn’t murder. The victims’ spirits lived on inside the nganga.”
— Vanessa Richardson, [30:32]
On Constanzo's unique mix of brutality and charisma:
“He didn’t worship a god. He wanted others to worship him.”
— Vanessa Richardson, [54:10]
On the broader implications:
“Much like the Matamoros cult, this group [Grace Road Church] shows that once a charismatic leader breaks a person’s will, it’s almost impossible to escape their abuse.”
— Vanessa Richardson, [54:55]
This episode masterfully weaves the violent saga of Adolfo Constanzo, the Narcosatanists, and the tragic murder of Mark Kilroy into a broader analysis of cult psychology, faith-based manipulation, and the permeability of crime and ritual at the cartel borderlands. Vanessa Richardson's narration is equal parts chilling and empathetic, carefully distinguishing between distorted beliefs and traditional spiritual practices. The episode demonstrates how charisma, fear, and desperation create the fertile ground for cults—and how, in the end, their leaders’ hubris can lead to spectacular downfall.
For more discussions and cases at the intersection of faith, fear, and manipulation, subscribe and join the Crime House community for future episodes.