As a July 1 election looms in Mexico, getting Guzman seems more urgent than ever.

The recent public dumping of bodies — 49 in one incident near Monterrey last weekend and 18 days before in Guadalajara — along with a recent spree of violence against the press have highlighted a grim reality: after almost six years, President Felipe Calderón’s militarized drug war is as fierce as ever. More than 50,000 people have died.

Calderón’s National Action Party (PAN) has become wildly unpopular. PAN’s presidential candidate, Josefina Vasquez Mota, trails by 20 points and polls 25 per cent. Bringing down Guzman could change that.

But Calderón and Mota are not the only one with eyes on El Chapo (“Shorty,” in English).

“We want him badly,” said Rusty Payne, a spokesman for the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA). “He’s the world’s No. 1 drug trafficker. . . . We want him, the Mexicans want him, and we want to do whatever we can to help the Mexicans get him.”

Despite committing most of his crimes in Mexico, the 54-year-old faces numerous U.S. charges. Forbes estimates he is responsible for 25 per cent of the illegal drugs trafficked from Mexico into the U.S.

Catching him will be anything but easy. Guzman’s back story reads like a screenplay. And his ability to elude capture, provide for those who support him — and murder those who don’t — have made him a mythical figure, hovering between hero and villain.

El Chapo’s saga begins in the grinding, rural poverty of the mountainous state of Sinaloa in western Mexico, where he first entered the trade via a narcotrafficante uncle. He moved into the upper ranks of western Mexico’s cartels of the early 1990s.

A shrewd sense for business, despite little education, and a reputation for ruthlessness moved him up the ranks. He eventually formed his own cartel from an inner circle of Sinaloan family and close associates.

His ambition also inspired a botched attempt on his life in 1993, which resulted in the death of a Mexican bishop — an event that remains shrouded in narco-conspiracy theories. Chapo fled to Guatemala, but was promptly arrested.

While being extradited to Mexico, Chapo is said to have written a confession, naming those in power who were protecting him. Forced to recant and write a less-damning (and, presumably, less truthful) account, he spent the next eight years in jail.

Inside, Chapo’s friends and associates made sure all his needs were met, and that business remained as usual outside.

As extradition talks heated up — this time to the U.S. — he vanished from jail in 2001. Some accounts have him tucked in a laundry basket; others, bribing and intimidating officials. Yet another — that of investigative journalist Anabel Hernandez — has him walking out the front door in the uniform of the Federal Police.

Whatever the details, he is thought to have immediately slipped back into a top position in the Sinaloa Cartel. And with that, into new era of narco mythology.

He is ranked 55 on Forbes’ list of the world’s most powerful men this year, ahead of Apple CEO Tim Cook and Russia’s Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev. He sits No. 10 among Mexico’s billionaires — and he is the most visible face of drug trafficking in Mexico and, arguably, the world.

Most believe El Chapo uses as his refuge the vast, rural homeland of the Sierra Madre Occidental range that runs south from the Arizona border in western Mexico. He is thought to live in opulent, remote mansions.

Despite a reputation as a philanderer, in 2007 he married the niece of a top Sinaloan lieutenant on her 18th birthday in a lavish wedding. To much criticism, in 2011 she gave birth to twins — thought to be his — in a Los Angeles hospital, then drove back across the Mexican border without incident.

Roads in the Sierra Madre are few and often undriveable. An aging man nicknamed “Don Juan,” strapped with two grenades, and two younger bodyguards, “El Bravo” and “El Fantasma” (The Brave One and The Ghost), are close to Guzman at all times. A vast network of lookouts and informants spans the region, feeding information by walkie-talkie to a loyal protection force. Local media speculate that he is surrounded by up to 300 gunmen. On his home turf, El Chapo stays one step ahead.

Diego Osorno, author of a book on the Sinaloa Cartel, explains that protection from higher up ensures this ground-level security remains a last resort.

“The Sinaloa Cartel is first and foremost a political cartel. Before bloodshed, they will always look first for the political option.”

Bribes, favours and threats to politicians, businessmen and all levels of state security forces make it especially hard to get close to the cartel’s leadership, Osorno said.

Public criticism has been so fierce that the government has had to repeatedly deny any collusion. At least a part of the motivation for ramping up efforts to capture Chapo is to prove the collusion rumours false.

The Sinaloa Cartel’s local charity creates, in effect, another layer of protection for Guzman, said the DEA’s Payne.

“(The Sinaloa Cartel) is very generous with their money. They build schools, they build hospitals, they build roads. They try to help to make people’s lives a little better in some of these small Mexican towns. They win hearts and minds, and people look the other way.”

There have long been whispers that U.S.-trained kill squads in the Mexican Navy, Army and Marines are hunting Guzman. These whispers exploded again after U.S. Homeland Security boss Janet Napolitano said during a February visit that Chapo was still a top priority.

The whispers began again in March after Mexico’s assistant attorney general, Jose Cuitláhuac Salinas, announced that they “almost had” Chapo after a sting in an exclusive mansion outside the resort town of Los Cabos. However, when a military operation raided the house, Guzman had — again — vanished just in time.

Alejandro Almazan, the author of the forthcoming book El Hombre Mas Buscado (The Most Wanted Man) has investigated drug trafficking in Mexico for 15 years. He finds the Cabos escape story difficult to believe.

According to Almazan’s research, Guzman’s influential contacts allow him to move discretely, but freely, through international airports, along major highways and past the hundreds of military checkpoints that dot the country. Chapo could have been in Baja, Almazan said, but the details of the near capture don’t add up.

“They’ve come close to getting him before, but they’ve never said anything, so why now?” Almazan said. “I think it’s due to influence from the U.S. government, and the enormous pressure from the Mexican government to detain him.”

Almazan also points to two larger, systemic flaws underpinning the hunt. Chapo does not actually lead the cartel, but sits No. 3 or 4, and works more as a director of operations and face for the cartel, rather than a top boss.

More critically, Almazan doesn’t believe his capture or death will have change drug trafficking in Mexico.

“Chapo has become something of a golden goose for the government, heading towards the elections,” said Almazan. “But every time they kill a capo, a new one comes right back, only more fierce, more violent. . . . Nothing changes.”