NEWS

EL MENCHO TRUSTED THE WRONG WOMAN — FBI REVEALS THE UNDERCOVER AGENT HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT

thutrang Avatar

Posted by

thutrang

-

Who is Maria Julissa? El Mencho girlfriend rumors slammed by influencer after cartel boss killed; ‘can cause harm’

El Mencho or Nemesio Oseguera, the leader of the feared Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG) was killed in a military operation after a tip from his girlfriend.

Published on: Feb 26, 2026 7:16 AM IST

ByShuvrajit Das Biswas

Share

El Mencho or Nemesio Oseguera, the leader of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG) was killed by the Mexican military after an operation there. A later update from authorities indicated that a critical tip from El Mencho’s girlfriend had led to the feared drug lord being taken down.

Maria Julissa has slammed speculations linking her to El Mencho. (X/@TrollFootball, Instagram/mariajulissa13)
Maria Julissa has slammed speculations linking her to El Mencho. (X/@TrollFootball, Instagram/mariajulissa13)

Defence minister Ricardo Trevilla shared that information from a confidante of one of El Mencho’s girlfriends aided the operation. As per authorities, she was key to finding him in Tapalpa, a picturesque village of vacation homes in New Mexico.

The ‘romantic partner’ was reportedly brought there by one of the cartel leader’s associates. She is believed to have met with him on Saturday, and left, while the attack from Mexico’s armed forces came the next day.

Also Read | Who was Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes? Jalisco New Generation Cartel leader El Mencho killed during military operation

Amid interest in the person who authorities have hailed as crucial in taking down El Mencho, the name of influencer Maria Julissa has come up. Several unverified profiles on social media claimed she was the rumored romantic partner who gave up El Mencho.

“El Mencho’s girlfriend María Julissa might have sealed his fate,” one person wrote on X, sharing alleged photos.

Another added “Meanwhile, it’s been rumored that it was a Onlyfans girls that led authorities to him.” Yet another claimed “OnlyFans Model Maria Julissa’s Life is In Danger Because People Believe She Leaked El Mencho’s Location.”

One post even claimed there was a bounty on her and that she’d been turned over by her brother. “After the CJNG placed a $1.5 million bounty on Maria Julissa for exposing El Mencho’s location to the Mexico military, her brother who works for a local cartel saw it as a quick money making opportunity. In the early hours of today, he handed her over to the CJNG’s armed wing.”

However, these claims have been denied by Julissa in a social media post. She took to Instagram to issue a lengthy statement, in Mexican. The translation reads “The information circulating is false and unfounded. I ask you not to share unverified content and not to believe every post you see on social media . Disinformation can cause a lot of harm […] I ask you not to fall for fake news and to always consult reliable and official sources.” Her statement was widely reported on by regional outlets as well.

Who is Maria Julissa?

Julissa is a sports influencer from Hermosillo, Sonora. Apart from sports content, Julissa posts about travel, fashion, humor, and her daily life. She reportedly lives in Cali, Colombia now, and is engaged to streamer Stiven Tangarife or Mr Stiven TC.

She has made it clear she has ‘no relation’ to Mencho.

Julissa has 3.5 million Instagram followers and around 600,000 on her alternate account under the name ‘Barbie Beisbolera’. She also has a YouTube channel with almost a half a million subscribers.

While Julissa has quashed rumors about her links wit

The avalanche hit without warning — white, violent, unstoppable. When it settled, rifles were missing. Packs were gone. And Claire was nowhere to be found. They dug. They found scraps of her gear. Then their team leader made the call no one wants to make: “She’s dead. We move.” They pulled out with wounded men and a storm closing in — leaving their medic behind. But Claire wasn’t dead. She woke up buried in ice, shoulder shattered, air running out. No radio. No weapon. Just darkness and pressure and the memory of one rule from survival school: panic kills faster than cold. She dug with numb hands until she broke through into a full Arctic storm. And that’s when she heard it. Gunfire. Her Rangers were still out there — taking contact, without their medic. What she did next is the part they don’t put in the official report. Because hours later, through the whiteout, a single figure emerged from the storm… Carrying four Rangers.
The avalanche hit without warning — white, violent, unstoppable. When it settled, rifles were missing. Packs were gone. And Claire was nowhere to be found. They dug. They found scraps of her gear. Then their team leader made the call no one wants to make: “She’s dead. We move.” They pulled out with wounded men and a storm closing in — leaving their medic behind. But Claire wasn’t dead. She woke up buried in ice, shoulder shattered, air running out. No radio. No weapon. Just darkness and pressure and the memory of one rule from survival school: panic kills faster than cold. She dug with numb hands until she broke through into a full Arctic storm. And that’s when she heard it. Gunfire. Her Rangers were still out there — taking contact, without their medic. What she did next is the part they don’t put in the official report. Because hours later, through the whiteout, a single figure emerged from the storm… Carrying four Rangers.

“She’s Dead!” They Abandoned The SEAL Sniper — Then She Emerged Carrying 4 Rangers The rotor wash died,…

“She’s dead.” They left the SEAL sniper under ten feet of Alaskan snow and moved on with the mission… Hours later, in the middle of a whiteout, she walked back into the fight — carrying four Rangers on her shoulders. November 2018. A Ranger platoon out of Joint Base Elmendorf–Richardson lifted into the Brooks Range for a hostage rescue that had to be finished before a blizzard locked the mountains down for days. Attached to them? A Navy medic — Hospital Corpsman First Class Claire Maddox. Quiet. Compact. Instantly underestimated. Some Rangers glanced at her PT scores and made up their minds. The team leader, Staff Sergeant Tyler Kane, kept it professional but distant. “Stay close. Don’t slow us down.” Claire didn’t argue. She checked radios. Tourniquets. Chest seals. IV warmers. Cold-weather meds. She studied wind angles and ridgelines the way other people read street signs. Insertion was clean. The mountain wasn’t. They moved across a knife-edge locals called Devil’s Spine when visibility collapsed into gray static. Then came the sound no one forgets — a deep, hollow crack above them.
“She’s dead.” They left the SEAL sniper under ten feet of Alaskan snow and moved on with the mission… Hours later, in the middle of a whiteout, she walked back into the fight — carrying four Rangers on her shoulders. November 2018. A Ranger platoon out of Joint Base Elmendorf–Richardson lifted into the Brooks Range for a hostage rescue that had to be finished before a blizzard locked the mountains down for days. Attached to them? A Navy medic — Hospital Corpsman First Class Claire Maddox. Quiet. Compact. Instantly underestimated. Some Rangers glanced at her PT scores and made up their minds. The team leader, Staff Sergeant Tyler Kane, kept it professional but distant. “Stay close. Don’t slow us down.” Claire didn’t argue. She checked radios. Tourniquets. Chest seals. IV warmers. Cold-weather meds. She studied wind angles and ridgelines the way other people read street signs. Insertion was clean. The mountain wasn’t. They moved across a knife-edge locals called Devil’s Spine when visibility collapsed into gray static. Then came the sound no one forgets — a deep, hollow crack above them.

“She’s Dead!” They Abandoned The SEAL Sniper — Then She Emerged Carrying 4 Rangers The rotor wash died,…

Naval Station Norfolk was silent except for the click of metal around Lieutenant Kara Wynn’s wrists. The charge? Abandoning her overwatch position during an operation near Kandahar. Prosecutors claimed she “froze.” That because she didn’t fire, three Marines died. The headlines were already brutal: Female SEAL cracks under pressure. In dress whites, Kara didn’t flinch when they called her a coward. Didn’t react when they hinted her record was exaggerated. She just sat there, posture perfect, as the bailiff locked the cuffs. “Standard procedure,” the judge said. The prosecutor smirked. Then the courtroom doors opened. Not a clerk. Not a late observer. A four-star admiral.
Naval Station Norfolk was silent except for the click of metal around Lieutenant Kara Wynn’s wrists. The charge? Abandoning her overwatch position during an operation near Kandahar. Prosecutors claimed she “froze.” That because she didn’t fire, three Marines died. The headlines were already brutal: Female SEAL cracks under pressure. In dress whites, Kara didn’t flinch when they called her a coward. Didn’t react when they hinted her record was exaggerated. She just sat there, posture perfect, as the bailiff locked the cuffs. “Standard procedure,” the judge said. The prosecutor smirked. Then the courtroom doors opened. Not a clerk. Not a late observer. A four-star admiral.

“TAKE THOSE CUFFS OFF—RIGHT NOW.” They Handcuffed a Female SEAL Sniper in Court—Then a Four-Star Admiral Walked In…

🚨 They sIapped cuffs on a female SEAL sniper in open court — called her a coward, blamed her for three dead Marines… and thought it was over. Then a four-star admiral walked in, took one look at the chains on her wrists, and the entire courtroom stopped breathing. At Naval Station Norfolk, the air inside the courtroom felt colder than the wind off the harbor. Fluorescent lights hummed over polished wood as Lieutenant Kara Wynn, 28, sat in dress whites at the defense table — posture flawless, face unreadable, hands pressed flat like even a tremor would betray her. Across the aisle, the prosecutor didn’t hold back. He said she abandoned her overwatch near Kandahar. He said she froze. He said three Marines died because she failed to pull the trigger. The gallery murmured. Families stared. Journalists scribbled. The headline had already been written: Female SEAL cracks under fire. They called her a fraud. Said her record was padded. Said the Navy needed to “send a message.” Kara didn’t flinch. Until the bailiff stepped forward with metal cuffs. Her attorney objected — no flight risk, base-restricted, decorated operator. The judge didn’t hesitate. “Standard procedure.” The click of steel around her wrists echoed louder than the accusations. Cameras zoomed in. Someone in the back whispered, “So much for elite.” And then— The courtroom doors opened. Not casually. Not quietly. Deliberately. Every officer in the room straightened at once. An older man in full dress uniform entered, chest heavy with ribbons that silenced the room faster than a gavel ever could. Conversations died mid-breath. Even the judge shifted. Because this wasn’t an observer. It was a four-star admiral. And he wasn’t looking at the prosecutor. He wasn’t looking at the press. He was staring directly at the cuffs on Kara Wynn’s wrists like they were a personal insult. He stopped beside her table. The air felt electric. And in a calm, controlled voice that carried to the back row, he said: “Remove those cuffs. Right now.” Why would a four-star risk his career to interrupt an active court-martial — and what evidence did he bring that could flip the entire case upside down? 👇 Part 2 in the comments.
🚨 They sIapped cuffs on a female SEAL sniper in open court — called her a coward, blamed her for three dead Marines… and thought it was over. Then a four-star admiral walked in, took one look at the chains on her wrists, and the entire courtroom stopped breathing. At Naval Station Norfolk, the air inside the courtroom felt colder than the wind off the harbor. Fluorescent lights hummed over polished wood as Lieutenant Kara Wynn, 28, sat in dress whites at the defense table — posture flawless, face unreadable, hands pressed flat like even a tremor would betray her. Across the aisle, the prosecutor didn’t hold back. He said she abandoned her overwatch near Kandahar. He said she froze. He said three Marines died because she failed to pull the trigger. The gallery murmured. Families stared. Journalists scribbled. The headline had already been written: Female SEAL cracks under fire. They called her a fraud. Said her record was padded. Said the Navy needed to “send a message.” Kara didn’t flinch. Until the bailiff stepped forward with metal cuffs. Her attorney objected — no flight risk, base-restricted, decorated operator. The judge didn’t hesitate. “Standard procedure.” The click of steel around her wrists echoed louder than the accusations. Cameras zoomed in. Someone in the back whispered, “So much for elite.” And then— The courtroom doors opened. Not casually. Not quietly. Deliberately. Every officer in the room straightened at once. An older man in full dress uniform entered, chest heavy with ribbons that silenced the room faster than a gavel ever could. Conversations died mid-breath. Even the judge shifted. Because this wasn’t an observer. It was a four-star admiral. And he wasn’t looking at the prosecutor. He wasn’t looking at the press. He was staring directly at the cuffs on Kara Wynn’s wrists like they were a personal insult. He stopped beside her table. The air felt electric. And in a calm, controlled voice that carried to the back row, he said: “Remove those cuffs. Right now.” Why would a four-star risk his career to interrupt an active court-martial — and what evidence did he bring that could flip the entire case upside down? 👇 Part 2 in the comments.

“TAKE THOSE CUFFS OFF—RIGHT NOW.” They Handcuffed a Female SEAL Sniper in Court—Then a Four-Star Admiral Walked In…

I’m Captain Lena McAdams, U.S. Army. I’ve led convoys through places where the roads were more dangerous than the enemy. I’ve trained soldiers twice my size. I’ve watched scared twenty-year-olds become leaders in weeks because survival demanded it. Yet somehow, in my own hometown, I was still just “the awkward little sister.” I took four days of leave in June to handle something personal. Quietly. On my terms. Ethan and I aren’t the flashy, post-everything kind of couple. We’re steady. We met three years ago in a dusty joint training environment full of acronyms, 0500 wake-ups, and coffee that tasted like regret. What started as respect turned into something rare: a love built on shared grit. We didn’t make some viral engagement announcement. No staged photos. No dramatic kneeling in public. But I wanted to choose something meaningful for him while I was home. Something that said, I see you. I choose you. Out loud. So I made one mistake. I told my family. By the time we walked into that jewelry store, Danielle was already on edge. My older sister has always been the center of gravity — loud, charming, perfectly curated. House. Husband. Kid. Committees. A Facebook life that looks flawless if you don’t zoom in. Me? I chose discipline over applause. Service over spotlight. And apparently, that was unforgivable.
I’m Captain Lena McAdams, U.S. Army. I’ve led convoys through places where the roads were more dangerous than the enemy. I’ve trained soldiers twice my size. I’ve watched scared twenty-year-olds become leaders in weeks because survival demanded it. Yet somehow, in my own hometown, I was still just “the awkward little sister.” I took four days of leave in June to handle something personal. Quietly. On my terms. Ethan and I aren’t the flashy, post-everything kind of couple. We’re steady. We met three years ago in a dusty joint training environment full of acronyms, 0500 wake-ups, and coffee that tasted like regret. What started as respect turned into something rare: a love built on shared grit. We didn’t make some viral engagement announcement. No staged photos. No dramatic kneeling in public. But I wanted to choose something meaningful for him while I was home. Something that said, I see you. I choose you. Out loud. So I made one mistake. I told my family. By the time we walked into that jewelry store, Danielle was already on edge. My older sister has always been the center of gravity — loud, charming, perfectly curated. House. Husband. Kid. Committees. A Facebook life that looks flawless if you don’t zoom in. Me? I chose discipline over applause. Service over spotlight. And apparently, that was unforgivable.

My Sister Slapped Me At The Jewelry Store — Then An Army Colonel Said: Touch Her Again My…

My sister slapped me in the middle of a jewelry store and called me “toy soldier.” She didn’t know an Army Colonel was standing three feet behind her. I was home on leave in Charleston, quietly picking out an engagement gift for the man I planned to marry. No announcement. No spotlight. Just something meaningful. Danielle couldn’t stand it. She’s the golden child — perfect house, perfect posts, perfect life. I’m just the one who joined the Army at eighteen and never asked for applause. The second she realized I was buying something for an engagement, her smile tightened. “Oh wow,” she said loudly, eyeing my uniform. “Did he outrank you, or are you just playing house now, toy soldier?” I ignored it. I’ve handled worse under fire. But when I asked the clerk to show me a band from the locked case, Danielle grabbed my arm and hissed, “You really think you deserve this?” Then she slapped me. In front of strangers. In uniform. The store went silent. Before I could even react, a calm, controlled voice cut through the air. “Touch her again,” he said evenly, “and see what happens.” Danielle turned. Standing behind her was a full-bird Army Colonel — a man she’d been flirting with moments earlier, not realizing who he was to me… or what he’d just witnessed. Her face drained of color. And what he said next — about rank, respect, and exactly who I was — shut her down in a way our family never had. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just sibling jealousy. It was years of resentment about to explode. Full story in the first comment ⬇️
My sister slapped me in the middle of a jewelry store and called me “toy soldier.” She didn’t know an Army Colonel was standing three feet behind her. I was home on leave in Charleston, quietly picking out an engagement gift for the man I planned to marry. No announcement. No spotlight. Just something meaningful. Danielle couldn’t stand it. She’s the golden child — perfect house, perfect posts, perfect life. I’m just the one who joined the Army at eighteen and never asked for applause. The second she realized I was buying something for an engagement, her smile tightened. “Oh wow,” she said loudly, eyeing my uniform. “Did he outrank you, or are you just playing house now, toy soldier?” I ignored it. I’ve handled worse under fire. But when I asked the clerk to show me a band from the locked case, Danielle grabbed my arm and hissed, “You really think you deserve this?” Then she slapped me. In front of strangers. In uniform. The store went silent. Before I could even react, a calm, controlled voice cut through the air. “Touch her again,” he said evenly, “and see what happens.” Danielle turned. Standing behind her was a full-bird Army Colonel — a man she’d been flirting with moments earlier, not realizing who he was to me… or what he’d just witnessed. Her face drained of color. And what he said next — about rank, respect, and exactly who I was — shut her down in a way our family never had. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just sibling jealousy. It was years of resentment about to explode. Full story in the first comment ⬇️

My Sister Slapped Me At The Jewelry Store — Then An Army Colonel Said: Touch Her Again My…