A 19-year-old sophomore chemistry major, who also works for the Sinaloa drug cartel, in Sinaloa, Mexico. In their quest to build fentanyl empires, Mexican criminal groups are turning to an unusual talent pool: not hit men or corrupt police officers, but chemistry students studying at Mexican universities. — ©2025 The New York Times Company
THE cartel recruiter moved silently across the university campus, blending in as a janitor. His eyes were fixed on a sophomore chemistry student. The approach was simple and chilling:
“You’re good at what you do. You decide if you’re interested,” the student recalled.
In their bid to dominate the fentanyl trade, Mexican cartels aren’t seeking just hitmen or corrupt officials anymore – they want chemistry students from Mexican universities.
These students, with their advanced scientific knowledge, are being drawn into the dangerous and highly lucrative world of fentanyl production.
A new talent pool
Fentanyl producers, known as “cooks”, revealed that the cartels need trained chemists to strengthen the drug’s potency and create powerful precursors – the essential compounds for manufacturing fentanyl.
This ambition isn’t just about making a stronger product; it’s about independence.
By synthesising their own precursors, cartels could sever their reliance on imports from China, ushering in a terrifying new phase of the fentanyl crisis.
“If we succeed, it would make us the kings of Mexico,” said a chemistry student-turned-cook, reflecting on his six-month tenure in the cartel’s lab.
Chemicals used to produce fentanyl on the floor of a drug cartel safe house in Culiacan, Sinaloa. — ©2024 The New York Times Company
The recruitment process
The New York Times spoke to several insiders: fentanyl cooks, students, cartel operatives and recruiters. They all described a calculated process.
Recruiters scout potential candidates through a network of acquaintances and family members, even observing students’ behaviour in university lectures.
The ideal recruit? Someone discreet, ambitious and morally flexible enough to handle lethal drugs without hesitation.
“They invest in their best people,” one recruiter explained, likening the cartel to a corporate entity. Promising students might even have their tuition covered.
The allure and the risk
For many students, the allure is financial. One second-year student was offered an initial payment of US$800 (RM3,570), plus a monthly salary – twice the average pay for a chemist in Mexico.
Raised in poverty, he had hoped to use his chemistry skills to find a cure for his father’s cancer.
“I want to help people, not kill them,” he said, haunted by the grim reality of his work.
Yet, desperation drove him to accept. Blindfolded, he was taken to a remote lab in the mountains, where he began work on developing precursors.
A dangerous craft
The work is high-risk. Even with protective gear, chemists face toxic exposure and the constant threat of violent retribution.
Mistakes aren’t just professional – they are life-threatening.
“The bosses tell you, ‘These are the materials; figure it out.’ There’s no room for failure,” one sophomore explained.
Creating precursors from scratch is a complex and dangerous process, requiring a broader set of chemical skills than simply mixing imported ingredients.
Some students have already contributed to enhancing the drug’s potency, an outcome the cartel eagerly seeks to compete with rivals.
A broader crisis looming
If cartels achieve self-sufficiency in precursor production, the implications are dire. US officials warn that it would deepen the fentanyl crisis, giving cartels unprecedented control over one of the world’s deadliest drugs.
Efforts to disrupt supply chains have driven cartels to internalise their operations, making enforcement more difficult.
Todd Robinson, of the US State Department, acknowledged the challenge: “They know we’re focused on stopping precursor trafficking. Bringing it in-house gives them an edge.”
Personal costs and dilemmas
For the students, the emotional toll is heavy. One young woman, the eldest of five siblings, was recruited through a relative connected to the cartel.
Offered a US$1,000 (RM4,470) signing bonus, she couldn’t refuse. Her mother’s gruelling job cleaning houses barely supported the family.
Now, she works in a lab far from home, striving to make more potent fentanyl while wrestling with the ethical cost.
“You start from a blank page. How do we create something we didn’t invent?” she questioned.
Another student, working in a makeshift mountain lab, fears for his life with every experiment.
“If they don’t like what you produce, they can make you disappear,” he said.
The pressure is immense; success could mean a house or a car. But all he really wants is money for his father’s medical treatment – money he can’t openly explain.
The recruiter’s perspective
The recruiter, a long-time cartel operative, sees his work as essential.
“When we started, we relied on untrained cooks. Now, quality is everything,” he said.
The shift from crude production to scientifically refined methods reflects a disturbing evolution.
As the cartels adapt, so too must the strategies to combat them.
The battle against fentanyl is no longer just about intercepting drugs – it’s about understanding and disrupting the sophisticated systems driving their production.
The students-turned-cooks are the frontline of this new phase. For many, the choice is not about ambition, but survival. — ©2025 The New York Times Company
