Surviving a Salvadoran Prison: Stories from Venezuelan Migrants

In a dramatic move, President Trump applied the 1798 Alien Enemies Act to categorize Venezuela’s Tren de Aragua gang as a target. Subsequently, over 250 Venezuelan individuals were deported to El Salvador under suspicion of being affiliated with this group. These individuals were imprisoned at the country's notorious Terrorism Confinement Center, commonly called CECOT.

The detainees, however, fervently argued their innocence, claiming they were wrongfully accused and deprived of lawful proceedings. Following extensive periods of imprisonment, they were finally repatriated to Venezuela in July as part of a diplomatic exchange that also saw Americans detained in Venezuela released.

According to Venezuela’s attorney general, testimonies from these men unveiled a grim reality of systemic torture within the Salvadoran facility. They spoke of relentless beatings, inedible food, and sexual mistreatment. These men are now attempting to reintegrate into Venezuelan life and cope with the challenges of their country's turbulence, which they initially fled.

Arturo Suárez: A Musician’s Resilience

Suárez, who was creating a music video with friends in North Carolina, was swept up with nine others during a police operation. Despite music being prohibited within the prison walls, Suárez, determined to maintain his spirit, composed a song that circulated among fellow detainees, becoming a beacon of hope.

Through his lyrics, he shared a spiritual message: “A voice from Cell 31 encouraged me to remain steadfast as better days were imminent. It was a reminder to sustain faith against adversity.”

Reflecting on his ordeal, Suárez confessed, “I was convinced that I wouldn’t leave there alive.”

Angelo Escalona: Dreams Interrupted

Barely an adult, Escalona had ambitions of becoming a DJ. Just after purchasing equipment to support this dream, he found himself detained alongside Suárez. Despite having no involvement in illicit activities, the circumstances led to his deportation.

Once on the deportation plane headed for El Salvador, Escalona and the others tried to resist deplaning, believing they were wrongly placed. “We were strapped into our seats, insisting that as Venezuelans, El Salvador wasn’t our destination,” he recounted. Their defiance was met with violence from the Salvadoran authorities.

When introduced to the detention center, they were ominously greeted: “Welcome to true torment — exit here is only in death.”

Frizgeralth Cornejo: A Misunderstanding of Ink

Journeying through perilous terrains like the Darién Gap, Cornejo sought refuge and a new life in the United States. An app was his ticket to safety, but upon arrival, his tattoos unjustly branded him as a gang member, resulting in his arrest.

“Receiving harsh judgment just because of my tattoos was unforeseeable,” Cornejo expressed, reflecting his disbelief at the situation.

Ángelo Bolívar: Family Heritage as a Stigma

Bolívar’s love for body art traces back to his family, with his mother and a late father who was a tattooist. Living in Texas, his tattoos became the supposed evidence of gang ties, trumping his innocence and leading to his confinement in El Salvador.

The irony was not lost on Bolívar: “My tattoos were seen as gang affiliation, yet ICE agents bore similar designs themselves.” Back in Valencia, Bolívar continues to reflect on this unjust judgment.