In a distressing turn of events, Franco Caraballo, a 26-year-old Venezuelan barber, contacted his wife in tears and confusion on Friday night. He, along with other Venezuelan migrants, was handcuffed and transported from a detention center in Texas without any explanation of their destination. This resulted in his sudden disappearance from the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s (ICE) online detainee locator less than a day later. Caraballo’s wife, Johanny Sánchez, discovered Monday that her husband was one of the over 200 Venezuelan immigrants sent to El Salvador over the weekend, and they now find themselves in a high-security prison after allegations from the Trump administration attempting to connect them to the Venezuelan Tren de Aragua gang.
Sánchez vehemently denies her husband’s affiliation with any gang, and she is baffled by such accusations. The removal of immigrants from ICE’s locator system has led to panic among affected families, who are desperately trying to locate their loved ones. Some of these individuals have ended up in the El Salvador prison, which severely restricts visitations and communication, and is funded in part by the U.S. to the tune of $6 million to detain migrants, particularly from Venezuela, a country often refusing deportees from the U.S.
Amidst this chaotic situation, several families remain in the dark regarding their relatives’ whereabouts. For instance, Xiomara Vizcaya, a Venezuelan mother, expressed her distress over the lack of information about her son, Ali David Navas Vizcaya, who had been detained in the U.S. since early 2024 following a border crossing attempt to converse with immigration officials. He had optimistically informed her that they would soon reunite, unaware of what lay ahead. His subsequent disappearance from ICE’s system has left her anxious and confused.
Ali had no prior criminal record, and it is surmised that his tattoos mistakenly linked him to the alleged gang membership. Having left Venezuela seeking the American dream and aiming to support his family financially, his hopes were swiftly crushed as he remained trapped in prison. A staggering migration wave of nearly 8 million Venezuelans since 2013, prompted by the collapse of the nation’s economy dependent on oil exports, had many seeking refuge in neighboring Latin American countries, with more heading to the U.S. following the lifting of COVID-19 restrictions under the Biden administration.
The situation escalated over the weekend when President Donald Trump resorted to the Alien Enemies Act of 1798, a provision allowing for the deportation of noncitizens without legal representation or a court appearance. This move has been applauded by numerous conservatives who support a stringent stance on immigration. Despite the administration’s insistence that the deportations target suspected Tren de Aragua gang members, it has yet to substantiate these claims. U.S. officials disclosed in court documents that, although many sent to El Salvador lack criminal records, they are nevertheless deemed a threat due to alleged gang associations.
ICE officials defended their methods, asserting that identification of gang members was not based solely on tattoos. Caraballo, who had been living in compliance with immigration regulations and attending routine check-ins as per his asylum claim, was apprehended during one such visit in Dallas. The Department of Homeland Security’s documentation labeled him a member of the Tren de Aragua, yet without supporting evidence.
Sánchez questions the rationale behind a claimed gang affiliate willingly appearing at a federal office, especially amid a nationwide crackdown on immigrants. She remains in the U.S. in pursuit of her husband’s release, armed with a Venezuelan document testifying to his clean criminal record. She highlights that her husband’s tattoo, a tribute to their daughter, has wrongly implicated him in these proceedings.
The couple’s perilous journey from Venezuela, undertaken with minimal financial resources and reliant on the kindness of others, was in search of a promising future and freedom from Nicolás Maduro’s regime. They had hoped for a new beginning and escape from the country’s dire economic circumstances, yet their hopes have been dashed.
In response to the deportations, the Venezuelan government has condemned the acts as “kidnappings” and called for its citizens in the U.S. to return home, vowing to bring those in El Salvador back. However, with diplomatic relations between Venezuela and El Salvador severed, these individuals have little support. The human rights group Provea accused the situation of turning migrants into geopolitical pawns and criticized the lack of transparency from both the U.S. and El Salvador concerning the perpetrators and the charges against them.
Sánchez finds the notion of achieving the American dream a disillusionment and aspires to leave the U.S. once she reunites with her husband. “We fled Venezuela for a better future. We never imagined things would be worse,” she remarks.
