The California ranch owned by the new CJNG leader, which the Trump administration is seeking to seize

He used only his mother’s surname — González — when he bought a ranch in California that was offered to him for $250,000. It was an investment Juan Carlos Valencia González made in 2011, when he was 26, without anticipating that the property’s value would nearly triple because of the U.S. state’s fast-rising real estate market. He also did not imagine he would end up leading the Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG), which at the time had just been founded by his stepfather, Nemesio Oseguera Cervantes, “El Mencho.” That was a bet Rodríguez, also known as “El R3” or “El Pelón,” made 15 years before he became one of the world’s most-wanted drug traffickers.

The property Valencia González left behind when he went fully into crime is in Hemet, around 90 miles east of Los Angeles. It sits in a ranch community amid lots where horses graze, vacant plots, farmland, and upscale homes. Rocky, steep hills frame the pastoral landscape in the distance, far from the bustle of the United States’ second-largest metropolis. The air is clean there, although occasional gusts carry the smell of manure. This was El R3’s refuge whenever he wanted to get away from the streets of Santa Ana, the city where he was born in 1984 and where several of his relatives still live.

“Keep the gate closed. Don’t trust what the horses tell you,” “Beware of dogs” and “Security cameras and audio recorder in use,” warn the signs hung on the chain-link fence surrounding the ranch. Inside are two roosters, two dogs, a goat, and a sheep. A small, nearly dilapidated house, a wooden shed, an old, dust-covered pickup truck, and an American flag flying in the center are other signs that someone lives here.

For several years the U.S. government has had Valencia González’s ranch in its sights. The property is currently managed by the capo’s maternal uncle, José María González Valencia, who lives in Orange County, a source at the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) told EL PAÍS on condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to speak to the press about the matter.

At the end of July, the U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ) filed a federal civil forfeiture action in the District of Columbia, alleging the property is connected to the newly anointed leader of the cartel. The case, now before a judge in Washington, D.C., is being led by the Money Laundering, Narcotics, and Forfeiture Section, a unit of the DOJ Criminal Division.

The rise of El Mencho’s stepson

Valencia González is the son of Rosalinda González Valencia and Armando Valencia Cornelio, who went from being an avocado grower to one of the founders of the Milenio Cartel, a predecessor of the CJNG. That relationship was short-lived. Soon after, Rosalinda became the partner of El Mencho, with whom she had three children: Jessica Johanna, Rubén, and Laisha Michelle Oseguera González, all born in San Francisco, California. Several of Rosalinda’s brothers are also involved in the drug trade. Known as “Los Cuinis,” authorities have identified them as the CJNG’s financial arm.

That family network propelled El R3 into the CJNG’s top ranks, where he led the Grupo Elite, a hit-squad tasked primarily with protecting the cartel boss. The stepchild of El Mencho “organized numerous violent acts... in addition to manufacturing, transporting, and distributing tons of narcotics,” according to a statement from the Department of Justice, which in 2020 charged him with drug importation and firearms offenses.

His coronation as the new leader of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel occurred this past February following the death of El Mencho during a military operation in Jalisco. It was the culmination of a hunt for a slippery fugitive who, from hiding, controlled production and distribution of multiple drugs to dozens of countries while his criminal empire expanded into 21 of Mexico’s 32 states. “El Mencho’s demise did not end CJNG,” DEA Director Terry Cole said at a recent press conference in Washington, D.C., where he confirmed Valencia González’s rise. “In our world, El Pelón is the number one priority of DEA” the official warned.

A $25 million reward now hangs over Valencia González, one of the largest ever offered for a Mexican capo. By comparison, the reward for Rafael Caro Quintero, the DEA’s long-standing foe accused of killing one of its agents in 1985, reached $20 million.

“They’re ranch people”

In the quiet city of Hemet, few know the owner of one of its ranches is a drug trafficker. He bought it in 2011 and registered it under the name Juan Carlos González. It covers 19,468 square meters — roughly the size of three soccer fields. The seller was an entity identified as Hemet Auto Center Leasing Inc. Although the property is zoned “residential,” no building permits have been applied for in the past 15 years, according to Riverside County property records reviewed by EL PAÍS.

The sale closed at a price that was quite reasonable for the time: $250,000, mostly financed through a loan. Since then, its value has soared. The largest jump happened just months after the purchase: between 2012 and 2013 the price rose 51%. The property has seen annual increases of between 5% and 12%. The county assessor’s office estimates the ranch could fetch up to $695,000 today — almost three times its original price. The tax bill has also risen. In 2025 the owners paid $3,747 in property tax, 7% more than the previous year, public records show.

Sanctions the U.S. Treasury imposed at the end of July on the CJNG’s new head put his Hemet ranch squarely in the crosshairs. The designation by the Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) freezes assets and bank accounts the capo may hold in the United States and forbids U.S. persons and companies from engaging in transactions or business with him.

A few days ago the horse trainer who rents the property, who asked not to be named, received a call from José María González Valencia, El Pelón’s uncle. The message worried him: “You have to leave,” he was told, with no explanation. “I didn’t ask questions because it’s not a good idea,” says the man who has occupied the place for the past three years. Each month the capo’s relative collects the $1,500 rent — always paid in cash.

The tenant, originally from Mexico, has already moved his horses to a nearby farm. He now fears the government will take possession of the land before he can remove his belongings. “Everything here is mine,” he says, pointing to a pile of old metal, an equine treadmill, a saddle, the rickety little house, his dust-covered pickup and the other animals still on the property. When one of his roosters crows he looks at it and smiles. It is a hobby he, curiously, shared with the late El Mencho.

The horse trainer says he knows little about who manages the property and nothing about its true owner. “It’s not my business; mine is to pay the rent,” he insists. He assumes the order to remove his animals and belongings means there will be no legal dispute with the government because they will choose to cede it. He says he met the now-CJNG leader through mutual acquaintances at a local estate some time ago. He believes González Valencia lives in Santa Ana and describes him as a “good guy, really nice.” The only thing he’s sure of, he says, is that he and his family “are ranch people.”

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