After the ruling that set Caro Quintero free, the former druglord was nowhere to be found. A few days later, the Mexican government said it wanted him locked up again.
The office of the Mexican attorney general issued a warrant for Caro Quintero's "provisional detention," acting on a request from the United States. Once the ex-cartel leader was in custody, the U.S. would have 60 days to try to extradite him.
"Unfortunately, it's likely that few people would have paid attention to Walker or Radelat's murders were it not for the massive attention brought by the Camarena case," says David Shirk, a political science professor at the University of California-San Diego, who has studied and written extensively about the drug war.
"Camarena's killing was the single biggest event of the past 50 years in the drug war and U.S. and Mexican relations," he says.
Mexico's trafficking organizations, historically considered a low-level local threat, were suddenly deemed national security threats.
And the case illustrated, Shirk says, that "corruption had reached the highest levels" in Mexico as evidence trickled in that officials had either helped the Guadalajara cartel directly or been complicit in concealing the crimes.
The shake-up led to the dismantling of the Guadalajara cartel and amped up competition among other surviving cartels that has mushroomed into the snuff film-like violence that makes headlines today.
More than 60,000 people were killed between 2006 and 2012, according to Human Rights Watch. And that's not counting the more than 26,000 who are considered invisible victims, Mexico's so-called disappeared.
More American victims?
Among those who have vanished are four people who may also be victims of the Guadalajara cartel.
A short time before Walker and Radelat were killed, two American couples went knocking on doors in the city, trying to spread their Jehovah's Witness faith.
Benjamin Mascarenas and his wife were living in a small town in Nevada when they were invited in 1984 to take care of a wealthy friend in Guadalajara, according to his sister Pat Romero.
"They loved that city," she tells CNN. "It was just beautiful and they were able to do their work as Witnesses."
The couple invited their friends, missionaries Dennis and Rose Carlson, to visit. The Redding, California, couple were eager to get to work, Romero says.
According to news reports, including the Los Angeles Times, witnesses and investigators said that the Americans appeared to have knocked on the door of Caro Quintero's cartel partner, Ernesto Fonseca Carrillo, who was also convicted for the murders of the DEA agent and his pilot. Fonseca Carrillo is in prison, but a lawyer representing him told CBS News this month that his legal team has filed an appeal based on the same procedural grounds Caro Quintero used.
Jose Luis Guizar said he expects Fonseca Carrillo to be released, according to the story.
The Jehovah's Witnesses have never been found.
Romero believes they paid for their bad luck in going to the wrong house.
"I tell people that this sad story doesn't have an ending," she says.
When Romero's 86-year-old mother got word that Caro Quintero had been freed this month, it was almost too much.
"She can barely keep it together," Romero says. "My mother's heart cannot take any more of this."
Walker Muse pulls out a framed black and white photo. Her father, whose photography adorns her home, is holding up his camera, squatting next to his daughters. Their family portrait is captured artfully in the reflection of a store window.
Walker Muse brushes her dark hair back and studies it.
She looks like her dad.