The job of most editors, myself included, is to delight, entertain, surprise, and inform their readers. The majority of the time, when it comes to choosing a cover story, we try to keep the emphasis on the first three, since the other job of most editors, myself included, is to
When people ask me if cartel violence will find its way into Texas, I tell them it already has—and it’s going to get worse.
The facts of this case are quite simple. Two Border Patrol agents shot at an unarmed man as he was running away from them. And then, they covered it up.
Bienvenidos a Farmers Branch, the headline-worthy Dallas suburb where the biggest hard-liner on illegal immigration could soon be known as Mr. Mayor.
The first Hispanic to lead Texas will be a Basque jai alai phenom, Dallas attorney, and Democratic state representative whose election, in 2018, will relegate the GOP to semi- permanent minority status. Wanna bet?
What it used to be like to cross the border.
Which is worse: looking the other way as millions of illegals stream across the border or building an unconscionably expensive and impractical fence that few in the Valley (a) want or (b) believe will make a difference?
A generation after he crossed the border to work for my family, Vicente Martinez is the foreman of a ranch in the Hill Country, not far from his kids and grandkids. And yes, they all have their papers. This is an immigration story with a happy ending.
“If we advocate righteousness and if in the way we live our lives we exemplify righteousness, we are winning by doing our duty. But if we try to mandate righteousness, we are wrong.”
What the Hispanic vote tells us.
Silvestre Reyes has a plan for the border.
To residents of Presidio and Ojinaga, the international border that separates them had always seemed irrelevant. They crossed it easily, spoke the same language, and considered themselves part of the same community. When Mexican authorities wrongly imprisoned a Texas grocer in April, that relationship changed dramatically—and it hasn't been the
If U.S. officials put an end to illegal trips across the Rio Grande at Boquillas, the enchanting border town will find itself caught between countries and cultures. Of course, that’s where it has always been.
THERE IS AN OBLIGATORY SCENE in every movie about the border between Texas and Mexico: A man draws a line in the dirt with his boot. The line means something different in each movie, and yet, there it is, a narrow little rut in the ground that the characters gesture
An Armey of opposition to the House majority leader; a spirited response to a Christian’s plea for understanding.
Keeping up the good fight.
To those who live on Mexico’s side of the Rio Grande, posing for portraits is not an occasion for smiles.
The disappearance of a University of Texas student in Matamoros led police to the discovery of a drug-dealing cult whose rituals were not only unholy but unthinkable.
The border’s self-appointed problem solvers promise new industry, more jobs, and better schools. So why won’t anyone listen to them?
While U.S. businessmen and Mexican bureaucrats see her as the answer to their economic prayers, factory worker Graciela Fernández just tries to get by—on about 66 cents an hour.
In his dream to create a dynastic empire along the Rio Grande, Chito Longoria went against the wishes of his family and the values of his native land.
In eight square blocks of Nuevo Laredo you can sample a cactus taco, hone your bargaining skills, and buy the best Christmas gifts on the border.
To Texans, it’s the border. To Mexicans, it’s la frontera. It’s a hot, dazzling world where cultures clash and you’re never sure just where you stand.
The race war on the range.
As these photographs show, in Mexico the strange is commonplace, and the commonplace, strange.
In my village in Oaxaca I had heard about those who made it big in El Norte, and I wanted to become one of them. But I didn’t know how hard life in Houston would be without papers, money, or a job.
The writer had no papers, but he wanted to get from Mexico to Houston. His best chance was to put his passage into the hands of a coyote, for a fat fee.
In death as in life, the Mexican revolutionary is still causing trouble. This time the border skirmish is over his death mask.
From all over the world, people are coming to Houston to find a better life. For a few of them—immigrants from Poland, Nigeria, and El Salvador—this is what it’s like.
Nuevo Laredo’s Boys’ Town, where lost innocence meets failed dreams.
Pedro Martínez, with only his Mexican heritage, a determination to work hard, and a desire for a better life, brought his family across the Rio Grande to fine a home in a new land.
Work is tarring rooftops in the scorching Texas heat, home is a falling-down shanty visited by rats and roaches, supper is boiled potatoes and tortillas. It's the good life for two illegal Mexican immigrants trying to make it in America.
The real Nuevo Laredo isn’t George Washington’s Birthday, Boystown, or throngs of tourists; it’s the street life.
The pioneers who came to tame the West met their match in the land of ‘Giant.’
Across the river and into the brush; an eyewitness account of the journey of two wetbacks.
The word going across the border is: Uncle Sam doesn’t want you.
What’s good for marijuana is good for Starr County.
We walk the line for you—from Matamoros to Juárez—to bring you the best of Mexican shopping.
Two self-styled Texas soldiers of fortune engineered one of the more bizarre jailbreaks in history. Here’s how it happened.
Pity the poor Vietnamese: so far from home, so close to Beaumont.
What makes them swim the Rio Grande?