It feels strange to say I "liked" or "enjoyed" a true crime book, considering the grisly nature of the subject matter. Given that Humes' Buried Secrets is particularly dark and gruesome, even for true crime, is an understatement, if anything. so while you're probably not going to find better in the field, I'm sticking with 4/5. We are led through the death/human sacrifice cult led by one Adolfo Constanzo, the 'Godfather' who managed to brainwash and bully his followers into believing he possessed supernatural abilities and guiding them into bloody rituals, including human sacrifice and cannibalism. Not exactly the type of thing to discuss over coffee (and certainly not over steak).
Now, as fascinated as I am by cults and comparative religion, this also has an interesting place in history and not just for the international headlines it drew when an American student, Mark Kilroy, was murdered and triggered first a missing person's alert and then an international manhunt.
Buried Secrets came to my attention near the end of the (phenomenal) Lawrence Wright's Remembering Satan (his Going Clear and The Looming Tower are also journalistic masterpieces). The discovery of Constanzo's 'killing fields' helped to bring new life to the Satanic Panic of the eighties and nineties—helped along by the media attention brought to this case by the appearance of people like Oprah and Geraldo (who has had quite the career: from busting open Capone's empty vault to growing that impressive lip tickler to getting booted from Iraq for accidentally broadcasting military movements).
Closer to my home state of Washington, I believe that Wright tied this to the Thurston County Ritual Abuse Case—which was, in fact, a bunch of bullshit thanks to the magic of false memories and pseudoscientific quackery. At the time, however, the news of Constanzo's human sacrifice swept the nation and revitalized the Satanic Panic hysteria.
For a quick summation: Constanzo, beginning with uncanny parlor tricks to gain confidence, wove a web around his cult and got himself involved in the drug trade. Just how deep his connections went and which famous celebrities and politicians Constanzo performed ceremonies for, is unknown—per Jim Schultze's book on this same topic, several pages of Constanzo's journal were carefully removed when it was found due to the incriminating material found within. Humes may also mention this and memory may be eluding.
With corrupt cops on his payroll, coming to him for services, Constanzo was able to parlay a lucrative job: he became the Godfather of a once-thriving but now-struggling drug family on the border and brought them into his bloody rituals. By claiming his murders allowed him foresight (the information was actually coming from the cops on his payroll), he was able to swindle his followers into believing he really did have supernatural powers, further putting them under his spell. After Constanzo came and started performing his magic, the bad luck spell facing the cartel dissipated!
Ultimately, like so many arrogant men, Constanzo's own pride brought him down: he'd drilled his followers to believe in his magic just a little bit too well. After the kidnapping of Mark Kilroy, checkpoints were set up to find him. One of Constanzo's followers blew through one, as the Godfather had told him their cars were invisible to law enforcement—they weren't. Cops followed him and, long story short, wasn't long before Consanzo was on the run with a handful of followers and, after some harebrained schemes that went nowhere, died in a shootout with the cops.
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This allows me to get into the real intriguing religious/cult stuff. For a pedantic start: to call what Constanzo did satanic is accurate in the sense of being demonic or evil—but not Satanic as in representative of the Satanic church or in any way done in worship to a being known as Satan. Constanzo dedicated his sacrifices to the devil of his own twisted belief system and he knew it by the name Kadiempembe. Humes, in fact, even quotes Constanzo mocking those who misinterpreted his practices as satanism.
Constanzo claimed to follow a twisted version of a religion called Palo or Palo Mayombe. It is considered a sort of 'dark twin' to another spiritual practice, albeit one more known today from a song: Santeria. And like Bradley Nowell, I don't practice it.
However, both draw on syncretistic elements. For those who don't nerd out about religion, syncretism is the mixing of old and new religions and can be done for a variety of reasons, primarily assimilation. In this case, syncretization allows deities to take on a new form: slaves who were forced to 'convert' to Christianity would give lip service to Christian rituals while practicing their own with new forms. In the ancient world, the easiest (though imperfect) comparison is how the Romans took Greek gods and myths and repackaged them (Hera—>Juno, Zeus—>Jupiter, Ares—>Mars).
Palo and Santeria both also involve bloody rituals and ceremonies that involve animal sacrifice. As Humes points out, raised by his mother, Constanzo was known for leaving dead animals or their entrails to curse neighbors who pissed off the family.
Getting back to the point, the primary difference between the two is that while Santeria, seen as a 'light' religion, is meant for the purposes of healing or 'liberating' spirits (see the Santeria practice of egg cleansing); Palo, on the other hand, is considered 'dark,' black magic and believes that spirits can be captured at death and used for power and to serve the owner. Think something like the djinni. Not the Robin Williams one, the old-school Thousand Nights ones that are trapped in rings or lamps and used with or without their will.
Using the flimsy mask of his cobbled-together 'religion' (and he did believe something weird, there were notebooks of his weird script) as a cover for his homicidal, sadistic tendencies, Costanzo set about creating what are called ngangas while consolidating and expanding his power. To understand an nganga, think of a witch's cauldron. Now think of something much worse inside than whatever you're imagining and add the stench of rancid, maggoty meat. The worse the stench, allegedly, the more potent the spirit (more like CDC nightmare) inside. Constanzo believed a soul that died in agony would create a more malevolent, violent spirit that would be easier to control and use to inflict damage upon others from the afterlife. And it truly speaks to the depths of depravity some people will sink to.
Back to Humes' book, and concluding on it: it is a well-researched true crime book on an obscure criminal organization/cult that's, frankly, rather difficult to find much information on. Two other books about the subject were written around the time: Sacrifice and Cauldron of Blood. Sacrifice, in particular, had assistance from the father of the victim, which was a tremendous and powerful step on his part. However, his emotions and his own religion color the integrity of the information (the bit about how everyone who smokes even marijuana is to some degree complicit in Kilroy's death is pretty heavy-handed too), an issue that is even worse in Cauldron of Blood. Even Humes' book has aged poorly at times—the bits that speak about the "homosexual" or LGBTQ community come to mind, though they are much more subdued. Humes' shortened history about the Bantu also leaves some room for nuance—and unfortunately for us all, Constanzo's forefather was not one of the Bantu that Zevon's 'Roland' battled to his knees.
Nevertheless, Buried Secrets is the best available on the subject and an informative book that mixes history, law, and true crime, though not one for anyone with a weak stomach (or even a strong one—I haven't had to put down many books due to queasiness and this is one of them).
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Lingering Questions/The Things Not to Think About at Night
—While Constanzo was brought to justice, there are still questions about just how many people he and his group killed, as well as which famous celebrities, politicians, and members of the elite he was performing his ceremonies for.
—Humes or Schultze (can't recall who, though Schultze plays more fast and loose with the facts) also mentions the discovery of several pairs of bloody baby's clothing, opening the disturbing question of whether or not the ritual sacrifice of children was involved. I believe the bloody clothing was found in particular at the 'altar' of Sara Aldrete, the cult's high priestess. Another part of one of the books (foggy on this memory) mentioned a rumor around town that Constanzo had allegedly been looking into a coven of women for the purpose of having a supply of babies for sacrifice, showing how deranged he had become as time went on. The theory was that poor women on the border facing a life-or-death decision between starvation or entering his employ to provide for his 'sacrificial baby mill,' would opt for the latter—I can only hope this rumor isn't true.
—What happened to his escaped associates? Were they ever captured or are they still out there somewhere? Allegedly, near the end of his life, one of Constanzo's last, desperate hopes to get away was getting plastic-surgery and fleeing deep into South America, where he and his followers could continue to practice their butchery—did any of them get away and pull off something similar?
—After his death, one of the ngangas on the ranch went missing; Malio Fabio Ponce Torres, the man who kidnapped Mark Kilroy, escaped and "Mexican investigators believe he retrieved the nganga found to be missing from the room of the dead in Mexico City, then put it to use as a means of magically preserving his freedom." Later, in 1989 FBI agents meaning to serve a warrant on a suspected drug dealer in Brownsville found a back room painted crimson red; it contained a stinking refrigerator filled with vials of blood and other fluids, names inside the vials. On an altar were three voodoo-doll like figures pierced with pins, with the words "Law Be Gone" printed on them. The centerpiece of the altar had a stabbed newspaper of Juan Benitez Ayala, the man who brought down Constanzo. Could this alleged dealer have been Torres or another associate?
—How widespread was his cult, not counting those who escaped and the rich people he provided services for? In another part of the book, Humes discusses Constanzo's captured associates admitting to knowledge of "others who practiced black magic and sacrifice—sister groups of Constanzo's... Then Sara [Aldrete, the 'high priestess' of the cult], said something very similar at one of the big press conferences, 'I don't think that the religion will end with us, because it has a lot of people in it. They have found a temple in Monterrey that isn't even related to us. It will continue.'" Through the preceding two years, sixty ritual killings of adults had occurred, including two after Constanzo's death; fourteen babies were also found. While Constanzo was initially suspected, different methods emerged, indicating more than one active group.
—Among Constanzo's notable survivors is the woman I mentioned above, Sara Aldrete, his 'Padrina' or 'Godmother.' Thanks to the bizarre Mexican judicial system, they do not have a life sentence and so there is the possibility she will be free within her lifetime (2039 release); thankfully, the US had a standing extradition request. But she's a wily one who, last I checked, has spent more time whitewashing her own part in criminal activity than atoning for it. Even wrote a book, which I'm seeing varying titles for: one is El Angel de la Oscruridad and the other is Me Dicen La Narcosatanica. One means 'The Angel of Darkness' and the other means 'They Call Me the Narco-Satanica.' Neither one of them exactly have the ring of remorse, more of a murderer who has deluded herself into thinking she was the victim.
—One of the lingering things that sticks with me about this book is the usage of psychology and anthropology in bringing down Constanzo. Due to his bizarre religion, Constanzo personally placed a lot of value in his nganga and clearly believed in some sort of supernatural power—somehow, despite the fact he, of all people, knew it was all a sham due to blackmailing both cartels and cops. While on the run, after the shack with the nganga was discovered, I believe it was an anthropologist who was brought in and able to pinpoint what religion Constanzo practiced.
This also ties in with the cult mocking those who believed they were 'Satanists' when they worshipped Kadiempembe and practiced a twisted Palo Mayombe instead of Christianity.
This anthropologist realized the significance of the nganga and the psychological significance it would have to Constanzo and the cult. It wasn't that the cauldron or the hut were possessed of any supernatural power—but pouring out the cauldron, dousing it and the shack with gasoline, and destroying both infuriated Constanzo and led to the meltdown where he was, ultimately, killed and those on the run with him captured.
It might seem like splitting hairs, but the essential distinction here allowed that anthropologist to move past the broad brush 'Satanism' to the actual religion behind the cult's basis and how to turn this to the advantage of law enforcement. That's some brilliant work.
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