The four friends grew up within blocks of one another in Venezuela, playing soccer and bouncing between each other’s homes. As the nation deteriorated, they journeyed to the United States and were eking out a new life in Dallas, where they worked long hours and shared a townhouse.

Then, on Thursday, armed officers showed up at their home, arrested them and took them to a Texas detention center, Mervin Yamarte, 29, told his mother by phone. Family members do not know the charges, if any, and the men’s names do not appear in federal, state or local criminal court records.

What happened next horrified the families. Yamarte said they were asked to sign deportation papers and agreed, thinking they would soon be back with their children and loved ones in Venezuela. But a day later, his mother saw a jarring video released by Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele showing alleged gang members being violently pulled off planes from the United States and dragged to a mega-prison notorious for allegations of human rights abuses.

Mercedes Yamarte spotted her son.

He appears for only a second, but she has no doubt it is him. He is kneeling and wearing a ripped black shirt. His head has been shaved. An officer stands behind him. He appears to be wincing.

“I didn’t have words,” Mercedes Yamarte said Monday, her voice strained. “I couldn’t speak.”

Unbeknownst to his family, Yamarte had been put on a plane after President Donald Trump secretly signed a proclamation invoking the Alien Enemies Act of 1798. The wartime provision gave Trump the power to quickly remove Venezuelans accused of belonging to the Tren de Aragua gang, taking away their chance to make their case to a judge before deportation. A federal judge blocked Trump from using the power and ordered the administration to turn around any planes that were already in the air. Three planes landed in El Salvador hours later.

The White House and the Department of Homeland Security did not confirm whether Yamarte or his friends were sent to El Salvador and, if so, whether they had been deported under the Alien Enemies Act. The quickness with which Yamarte was detained and sent to El Salvador corresponds with the use of the authority.

Trump’s secret deployment of the extraordinary power is being argued over in court, as immigrant advocates demand to know who was deported and why. The last time a president invoked the act was during one of the darkest chapters in the nation’s past, when the government interned more than 110,000 Japanese Americans during World War II.

The Trump administration said that U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement investigated each migrant sent to El Salvador to verify their ties to the gang. Robert Cena, an acting ICE field director, wrote in a court filing that those efforts included reviewing surveillance data and testimonies from victims. He acknowledged that “many” of those deported under the act do not have criminal records in the United States, but he said that “does not indicate they pose a limited threat.”

After Mercedes Yamarte recognized her son, the mothers of the other men began worrying and searching for information, too. One of the other men was spotted in a photo released by Bukele, and the mothers assume all four are in El Salvador. In interviews, relatives of the men — Yamarte, Ringo Rincón, Andy Javier Perozo and Edwuar Hernández — insisted the four are not members of the Tren de Aragua gang.

“If there are people with criminal records, then look for them,” Mercedes Yamarte said. “But the innocent shouldn’t have to pay for the rest.”

‘Strong like mom’

The four men hail from Maracaibo, a city in western Venezuela that once was one of the nation’s wealthiest, thanks to its abundant oil reserves.

But as they came of age, their nation began to collapse. Hyperinflation made their salaries worthless. Venezuela’s oil industry tanked. The city began experiencing regular blackouts. Mervin Yamarte found work with a roofing company, his family said, but he still struggled to make ends meet.

In 2023, he and his friends turned their eyes northward. They traveled through Central America and into Mexico to reach the United States. The relatives said they crossed the same way thousands of Venezuelans had before them: entering illegally across the Rio Grande and then surrendering to U.S. Border Patrol agents, who detained and then released them.

All the men shared similar stories. They were in their 20s and 30s, still young enough to imagine starting over somewhere new. All had children. Family members said they have no criminal records in Venezuela. Their histories there could not be immediately verified by The Washington Post.

Yamarte left for the United States in hopes of earning money to fix up his family’s dilapidated home, said Jeannelys Parra, his partner of 11 years. The couple has a 6-year-old daughter. Relatives said he has several tattoos that are testaments to his love of family.

One bears the name of their daughter. Another, on his arm, reads “Fuerte como mamá.” Strong like mom. A third shows two clasped hands, representing him and his partner, next to the date they began dating.

The other men were also family-oriented, their relatives said. Rincón, 39, had been working for a television provider in Venezuela and has three children. Perozo, 30, has five children and had been making a living by delivering food on a motorcycle. His mother said it didn’t make him enough to support his family.

“I tried to offer a hand when I could,” his mother, Erkia Palencia, 52, said in a telephone interview. “But I couldn’t always.”

Hernández, 23, joined his friends in Dallas a year later. His mother said that he was also detained when he illegally crossed the border in the fall, and that officers asked him about his tattoos — a branch on his chest, an owl on his arm. He was released with a date to appear in court in 2027.

Most of the men worked initially in a factory that makes corn and flour tortillas. One later got a job with an online fast-fashion retailer.

Their lives had changed, but they had managed to keep their friendship. They were colleagues and roommates. And when they had free time, relatives said, they spent it playing soccer.

Fear

The officers arrived at their home Thursday morning. By then, Mervin’s younger brother, Jonferson Yamarte, had arrived in Texas. He witnessed the arrests, but was not detained, and described them to The Post.

He said armed immigration officers were in his living room when he woke up. They asked him to sit down, requested his name and then inquired whether he had tattoos. Scholars and journalists who have studied Tren de Aragua say tattoos are not a reliable indicator of membership in the gang. Relatives of several Venezuelan men whom the Trump administration described as Tren de Aragua members and sent to Guantánamo in February also said immigration agents had focused on tattoos. The relatives denied that their loved ones had ties to the gang.

Jonferson Yamarte, 21, said he showed the men the tattoo that he and his brother share: “Fuerte como mamá.”

It remains unclear why one brother was arrested but not the other. Jonferson Yamarte said one of the men, Perozo, had missed a court date and had a final deportation order.

On Saturday, Melvin Yamarte called his mom. She said he told her that all four friends were in detention together and had signed deportation papers. The mothers began making arrangements for their arrival. One of the men’s children wanted to throw a welcome home party.

Then Mercedes Yamarte saw the video from El Salvador. She alerted the other moms and girlfriends. They wailed in despair.

“The house felt like somebody had died,” said Yareli Herrera, 44, Hernández’s mother. “I haven’t been able to eat or sleep.”

Mervin Yamarte’s partner, Parra, said that when she saw the video, “my heart broke in a million pieces. Because my husband is not part of Tren de Aragua. And I couldn’t believe they sent him there.” After so many years together, she knows his expressions, and what she saw on his face was clear.

“It was a face of pain,” she said. “Of fear.”

WP: https://www.washingtonpost.com/immigration/2025/03/18/trump-migrants-venezuelans-deportation-bukele/

Para cuatro amigos venezolanos, la Ley de Enemigos Extranjeros truncó el sueño americano

Los cuatro amigos crecieron a pocas cuadras uno del otro en Venezuela, jugando fútbol y moviéndose entre las casas de cada uno. Cuando el país se deterioró, emprendieron viaje a Estados Unidos y comenzaban lentamente una nueva vida en Dallas, donde trabajaban arduas jornadas y compartían una residencia.

Entonces, el pasado jueves, oficiales armados llegaron a su casa, los arrestaron y los trasladaron a un centro de detención en Texas, según relató Mervin Yamarte, de 29 años, a su madre por teléfono. Sus familias desconocen los cargos, si es que hay alguno, y los nombres de los detenidos no aparecen en los registros judiciales penales federales, estatales ni locales.

Lo que sucedió después horrorizó a las familias. Yamarte explicó que les pidieron firmar documentos de deportación y lo hicieron voluntariamente, pensando que volverían rápidamente a Venezuela junto a sus hijos y seres queridos. Al día siguiente, sin embargo, su madre vio un perturbador video difundido por el presidente de El Salvador, Nayib Bukele, mostrando supuestos pandilleros expulsados violentamente de aviones procedentes de Estados Unidos y trasladados a una megacárcel infame por denuncias de abusos contra los derechos humanos.

Mercedes Yamarte reconoció a su hijo.

Aparece apenas un segundo, pero no tuvo dudas de que era él, arrodillado, con la cabeza rapada, una camiseta negra rasgada y un oficial detrás suyo. Parece hacer una mueca de dolor.

“Me quedé sin palabras”, relató Mercedes Yamarte el lunes con voz quebrada. “No pude hablar”.

Sin que la familia supiera, Yamarte había sido puesto en un avión después de que el presidente Donald Trump firmara secretamente una proclamación invocando la Alien Enemies Act (Ley de Enemigos Extranjeros) de 1798. Aquella medida extraordinaria de tiempos de guerra otorgó al expresidente Trump la facultad de expulsar con rapidez a venezolanos acusados de pertenecer a la pandilla Tren de Aragua y negó su derecho a presentar un caso ante un juez antes de la deportación. Un juez federal bloqueó el uso de este poder por parte de Trump y ordenó a la administración dar media vuelta a cualquier avión que ya estuviese en vuelo. Horas después, aterrizaron tres aviones en El Salvador.

La Casa Blanca y el Departamento de Seguridad Nacional se negaron a confirmar si Yamarte o sus amigos fueron enviados a El Salvador y, en caso afirmativo, si habían sido deportados bajo la Alien Enemies Act. Sin embargo, la rapidez con la que Yamarte fue detenido y trasladado coincide con el uso de esta autoridad.

La aplicación secreta y extraordinaria de este poder por parte de Trump ahora se disputa en los tribunales, donde activistas defensores de inmigrantes exigen saber quiénes fueron deportados y bajo qué argumentos. La última vez que un presidente estadounidense invocó esta ley fue durante uno de los capítulos más oscuros de la historia del país, cuando durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial más de 110,000 estadounidenses de origen japonés fueron internados por el gobierno.

La administración Trump sostuvo que la agencia de Inmigración y Control de Aduanas (ICE por sus siglas en inglés) investigó individualmente a cada migrante enviado a El Salvador para verificar sus vínculos con la pandilla. Robert Cena, director regional interino del ICE, escribió en un documento presentado ante la corte que tales esfuerzos incluyeron la revisión de datos de vigilancia y testimonios de víctimas. Reconoció también que “muchos” deportados bajo esa ley no presentaban antecedentes penales en Estados Unidos, pero dijo que eso “no significa que representen una amenaza limitada”.

Tras la identificación de Mercedes Yamarte de su hijo, las madres de los otros hombres comenzaron a preocuparse y buscar información desesperadamente. Otro de los arrestados apareció en una fotografía publicada también por Bukele. Las familias deducen que los cuatro están ahora en El Salvador. En distintas entrevistas, los familiares de los hombres—Mervin Yamarte, Ringo Rincón, Andy Javier Perozo y Edwuar Hernández—insistieron en que estos no pertenecen a la pandilla Tren de Aragua.

“Si hay personas con antecedentes criminales, búsquenlos”, dijo Mercedes Yamarte. “Pero los inocentes no deben pagar por los demás”.

“Fuerte como mamá”

Los cuatro amigos proceden de Maracaibo, ciudad en el oeste venezolano que alguna vez fue una de las más prósperas del país debido a sus abundantes reservas petroleras.

Sin embargo, mientras crecían, su país colapsó. La hiperinflación hizo insignificantes sus salarios. La industria petrolera venezolana se hundió. La ciudad comenzó a vivir frecuentes apagones eléctricos. Mervin Yamarte trabajó para una empresa de instalación de techos, dijeron sus familiares, pero no conseguía cubrir sus gastos.

En 2023, él y sus amigos decidieron mirar hacia el norte. Atravesaron Centroamérica y México para llegar a Estados Unidos. Según relataron, cruzaron la frontera ilegalmente—atravesando el Río Grande—y luego se entregaron a agentes de la Patrulla Fronteriza estadounidense, quienes los detuvieron y posteriormente liberaron.

Las historias personales de los cuatro hombres son similares. Tienen entre 20 y 39 años, aún jóvenes como para imaginar un nuevo comienzo. Todos dejan hijos pequeños. Sus familiares afirmaron que ninguno tenía antecedentes criminales en Venezuela. Sus historias allí no pudieron ser confirmadas de inmediato por The Washington Post.

Yamarte salió rumbo a Estados Unidos con la esperanza de reunir dinero suficiente para reparar la deteriorada casa de su familia, relató Jeannelys Parra, su pareja desde hace once años. La pareja tiene una hija de seis años. Los familiares explicaron que Mervin tiene varios tatuajes que simbolizan el amor por su familia: uno con el nombre de su hija, otro en su brazo que dice “Fuerte como mamá”, y un tercero mostrando dos manos entrelazadas—las suyas y las de su pareja—junto al día que comenzaron a salir juntos.

El miedo

Los agentes llegaron temprano aquel jueves. Para entonces, Jonferson Yamarte, hermano menor de Mervin, ya se encontraba en Texas y fue testigo del arresto, aunque no lo detuvieron; describió aquella escena a The Post.

Jonferson, de 21 años, despertó con oficiales armados en la sala de casa. Le pidieron sentarse, preguntaron su nombre y luego si tenía tatuajes. Expertos y periodistas que han investigado al Tren de Aragua señalan que los tatuajes no son un indicador confiable para determinar la pertenencia a la pandilla. Familiares de otros venezolanos enviados por la administración Trump a Guantánamo en febrero—también acusados de pertenecer a esa pandilla—señalaron igualmente que los agentes habían prestado especial atención a sus tatuajes y rechazaron que sus seres queridos tuvieran vínculos con la pandilla.

Jonferson dijo que les mostró a los oficiales el tatuaje que comparte con su hermano: “Fuerte como mamá”.

El sábado, desde el centro de detención, Mervin llamó a su madre y le dijo que los cuatro amigos habían firmado documentos de deportación. Las familias comenzaron los preparativos para recibirlos.

Luego Mercedes Yamarte vio el video desde El Salvador. Avisó angustiada a las otras madres y parejas.

“La casa se sintió como si alguien hubiera muerto”, dijo Yareli Herrera, madre de Hernández. “No puedo comer ni dormir”.

Parra, la pareja de Mervin, dijo que al ver el video “mi corazón se rompió en mil pedazos”, porque su compañero no forma parte del Tren de Aragua. El rostro en esa imagen, asegura, era claro para ella tras tantos años juntos.

“Ese era el rostro del dolor”, dijo, “y del miedo”.

WP: https://www.washingtonpost.com/immigration/2025/03/18/trump-migrants-venezuelans-deportation-bukele/