“It was Christmas Eve in tiny La Tuna, high in Mexico’s Sierra Madre, and Doña Consuelo Loera de Guzmán had company under the arches of the jolly pink rancho her rich and successful closest child built for her, looking down over the hardscrabble farms of everyone he grew up with. Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán Loera, the son she calls mi Rey, my King, would not be joining; he was stuck in New York City, on trial for being the leader of the Sinaloa Cartel.”