This post is part of our series on Latin America: Migrant Journeys in collaboration with The North American Congress on Latin America (NACLA). Stay tuned for more articles and podcasts. This article is written by Levi Bridges.* Most migrants at Tochan once dreamt of reaching the United States. But cartel violence running along the train tracks, as well as the increased security along the U.S. border, has made Mexico become a new destination country for migrants. Rudi Solaris left his native country of Honduras because his coworkers tried to kill him. The 27-year-old former cop joined the police force in search of a steady income and better life for his family. Instead, his workplace became a decade-long nightmare that offered no escape. The entrance of Tochan, a migrant shelter in a lower class Mexico City neighborhood, serves as a point of refuge for many Central Americans fleeing gang violence in their home countries. While most Central American migrants leave home with dreams of reaching the U.S., many are thwarted by the dangerous journey north and decide to start a new life in Mexico. Solaris’s story begins in the small city of Choluteca, a short drive from the Pacific coast in southern Honduras, and ends in the industrial city of Monterrey, Mexico, over 1,500 miles to the north. The youngest of seven children, his mother died young, and at age 14, like many young Hondurans from the countryside, he left for the Honduran capital of Tegucigalpa in search of work to send money home. As a young teenager alone in Tegucigalpa, Solaris found work in construction sites. He joined the police force at age 17 and quickly discovered to what extent organized crime had infiltrated Honduran law enforcement. “At least half of Tegucigalpa’s police work with gangs,” Solaris said. Honduras currently has the highest murder rate in the world, a phenomenon created by drug violence and police corruption. The security situation began deteriorating in 2009, when the military ousted former president Manuel Zelaya from office. Mexican drug cartels took advantage of the region’s instability by working with Honduran gangs, like the Mara Salvatrucha, to ship drugs arriving on the country’s sparsely populated Caribbean coast north towards the United States. During his 10 years in the Honduran police force, Solaris learned firsthand about this reality. At one point he was assigned to work as a prison guard, a post which he held for several years. One day, an official informed Solaris that he would be sent away for several days to guard a prisoner. Solaris says that Honduran prisoners with money to bribe officials can do anything, even leaving the prison for short periods. When Solaris escorted the prisoner outside of the jail a car awaited him. Two men inside stripped him of his weapons. Solaris soon learned that the prisoner was part of a powerful gang, and his role was not that of a bodyguard, but a bargaining chip in a deal to release the prisoner on a brief visit home on the condition that both men would be returned to the prison promptly. The men drove Solaris into the mountains outside Tegucigalpa where he spent three days in a large house complete with armed guards. “They told me that if I didn’t try to escape, everything would be okay,” Solaris said. “I spent three days there, and I was so afraid that I didn’t sleep the whole time.” As the years passed, and Honduras continued to destabilize from 2009 onwards, Solaris’s job became more dangerous. On one occasion, many officers simply received notes saying they would be killed if they didn’t begin working for the gangs. One by one, Solaris watched other officers disappear. Eventually, he said that uncorrupt police banded together for protection and moved into a dormitory located within Tegucigalpa’s police headquarters. “I only left the building to work,” Solaris explained. “It wasn’t safe outside without other officers. I Rudi Solaris, a former police officer in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, writes a thank you letter to send to several Mexican social workers who helped him apply for Mexican residency. Just like in the U.S., Central Americans have difficulty finding work in Mexico without the proper documents. couldn’t have a normal life,” he lamented. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend.” Solaris lived in fear. One day during work, he witnessed an arms deal between several members of the police and a Mexican gang involved in the drug trade. The next day, he received a death threat because of what he saw. He locked himself in his room for two days with several automatic rifles waiting for assailants to begin shooting through the door. To save his life, Solaris fled from Tegucigalpa, hoping to reach the United States and apply for asylum.