For more than 24 hours, families across Puerto Vallarta stayed indoors as security operations and cartel retaliation rippled through parts of Jalisco and beyond. When Rabbi Shneur and Mushkie Hecht of Chabad of Puerto Vallarta finally took their children out for a short drive to breathe, they described a scene that felt unreal: burned-out cars and trucks, scorched storefronts, and the kind of destruction that makes a place look unfamiliar in an instant.

Authorities say the violence followed a major Mexican special forces operation that killed Nemesio Rubén Oseguera Cervantes, “El Mencho,” the head of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel (CJNG), triggering road blockages and arson attacks in multiple areas, including Puerto Vallarta. The U.S. Mission’s security alert urged U.S. citizens in Puerto Vallarta (and nearby areas) to shelter in place until blockades were cleared, noting that flights had begun departing Puerto Vallarta again and advising travelers to confirm flight status before heading to the airport.

But the Hechts’ message isn’t primarily about what burned. It’s about what didn’t. As smoke and rumors spread, they wrote, “Phones were ringing nonstop, not with panic, but with care.” Neighbors checked on neighbors. Community members offered food, water, and help, whatever was needed, without waiting to be asked. In a moment designed to isolate people behind locked doors, the instinct was the opposite: to connect, to account for one another, to hold the line together.

They anchored that instinct in an old Torah image that feels painfully current. When Noah steps out of the ark into a world stripped down by catastrophe, his first act isn’t rebuilding a house or counting what’s missing, it’s gratitude. The Hechts invoked that moment plainly: devastation can be real without being the final word. Material things can burn. Bonds between people can deepen.

On the security front, Mexico has moved additional forces into Jalisco as officials try to stabilize the region and prevent further flare-ups.

The Hechts ended with what reads like a communal mission statement for the days ahead: peace of mind, peace of heart, and forward movement together. Destruction is visible, but so is love, unity, and the kind of responsibility that turns a frightened city into a caring one.