Mexico’s political world has seen its share of storms, but few hit as suddenly as the one surrounding Hilda Araceli Brown Figueredo, a federal congresswoman from the Morena party and former mayor of Rosarito. In late September, the U.S. Treasury Department’s Office of Foreign Assets Control added her name to its sanctions list, accusing her of ties to a network linked to the Sinaloa Cartel. Within hours, Mexico’s own Financial Intelligence Unit followed suit, ordering her bank accounts frozen.
The move came after U.S. officials named several people connected to what they described as the Los Mayos faction, a branch of the Sinaloa Cartel run by René Arzate García, known as “La Rana.” The Treasury statement claimed that Brown worked closely with Candelario Arcega and local businessman Jesús González Lomelí to protect the group’s criminal operations in Rosarito. According to the allegations, they collected payments, placed allies in government, and helped guarantee “security” for cartel activities through Rosarito’s police department.
Brown has publicly rejected all accusations. She said she has no connection to any criminal network, no information about why her name appeared on a sanctions list, and no notice of any bank restrictions at the time the U.S. announcement came out. She even said she crossed into the United States days before the news broke without issue. But things changed quickly once Mexico’s financial watchdog moved to act on Washington’s alert. Her accounts were suspended in at least two banks, and her access to private banking services was cut off.
In Mexico, being placed on the blocked persons list under Article 115 of the Credit Institutions Law is not a conviction. It is a preventive measure that stops a person from moving money while authorities investigate. The Financial Intelligence Unit, or UIF, says this step is routine when someone is flagged abroad. It is meant to protect the country’s financial system from possible laundering or illicit transfers. Still, for Brown, the move felt less like a formality and more like a sudden lockdown on her life.
She has now filed an amparo, a legal protection that serves as a constitutional shield in Mexico. The case was registered in a district court in Tijuana. Her filing challenges two actions: being added to the list of blocked persons and the freezing of her assets. If she wins, the court could order the banks to restore her access until the case is resolved. In her argument, she claims her rights were violated because she was never notified or given the chance to defend herself before the freeze took effect.
Meanwhile, the story continues to evolve. Mexican media outlets have reported that the U.S. Treasury briefly removed her name and an accompanying chart from its online statement, leading some officials to suggest that there may have been confusion or even an error. Others insist the connection is too specific to dismiss. For now, the official U.S. position remains unchanged. Her name is still listed, and sanctions are active.
The case has become more than a personal fight for Brown. It highlights the uneasy space between Mexico’s financial sovereignty and its cooperation with U.S. enforcement efforts. When Washington designates someone, Mexico usually reacts within hours, but domestic law still demands that any restriction on property or access must stand on legal ground. The courts will now decide whether the government crossed that line.
For Brown, once known in Rosarito as a straightforward, sometimes defiant public figure, this is a political and personal crisis. She is facing accusations that could end her career and stain her reputation permanently, even if she is never charged with a crime. The court’s decision in the coming weeks will tell whether her shield holds or if the arrows aimed at her have already found their mark.
