Mexico City, the sunlight blinding, the air scorching hot.
A special bulletproof glass prison van, slowly rolled through the main streets of the city center under the deafening sound of sirens and the tight escort of an armored convoy.
Inside the cage, Gilbert was firmly secured to a custom-made metal frame.
His hands were handcuffed behind the frame, and his waist and legs were tightly strapped, displaying him in a humiliating posture, unable to stand fully upright.
His clothes were filthy, stained with sweat and dirt, his cheeks hollow, eyes void and lifeless, only the occasional involuntary twitch caused by strong light or loud noise proving he was still alive.
Unlucky, as soon as he got off the plane, he was shoved into the prison van and began the public display.
Even Guzman didn't get this treatment.
Of course, perhaps they feared the other might kick the bucket during the public display.
