In a sprawling Friday afternoon speech, President Donald Trump touched on numerous topics, from egg prices to his campaign promise to drive out “corrupt forces” from the U.S government. A particular focus, however, was on the arrest of members of Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan gang. Trump assured that the measures taken against them would soon feature prominently in news reports. “You’ll be very impressed,” he remarked.
What followed was a series of covert actions involving clandestine expatriations. Over two dozen Venezuelan immigrants, including both confirmed gang affiliates and those simply possessing tattoos deemed suspicious, were deported in a dramatic test of presidential authority against judicial oversight. This instance involved invoking an ancient statute known as the Alien Enemies Act of 1798.
The arrest and resultant expulsion of these Venezuelan men proceeded in a whirlwind of events. Trump’s comments coincided with the transfer of many detained immigrants from across the nation to South Texas. From there, chartered flights whisked them off to El Salvador, a nation led by President Nayib Bukele, a self-styled autocrat.
These deportees were soon lodged in a maximum-security facility infamous for its harsh conditions. Initially, their sudden imprisonment seemed like a crackdown on dangerous elements, but soon, narratives of innocence began emerging. Some deportees claimed their arrests were misguided, fueled by superficial links like certain tattoos, and family members presented documentation to back their legal statuses.
John Dutton, a Texan lawyer representing one such deported man, expressed disbelief at the operations. “It makes no sense,” he lamented, marking the midnight maneuvers to send individuals directly from U.S. custody to El Salvador’s prison complex as exceptionally questionable.
For the Trump administration, however, this action was part of a larger strategy to fulfill campaign promises regarding immigration. Persistent in his narrative of a criminal immigrant influx, Trump had aimed at showcasing Tren de Aragua as emblematic of this threat.
Historically, the Alien Enemies Act, crafted under President John Adams, grants expansive powers for noncitizen deportation and detention during wartime—a provision rarely invoked except during pivotal world conflicts previously. The Trump administration’s branding of several Latin American criminal groups, including Tren de Aragua, as foreign terrorist entities foreshadowed this aggressive approach.
The deportations commenced without much fanfare. Flight activity ramped up in the small city of Harlingen, Texas, with ICE Air transports arriving from various U.S. locations in preparation for the mass deportation operation to El Salvador.
An anomaly in flight scheduling caught the attention of those monitoring such patterns. Tom Cartwright, an analyst with an immigration advocacy group, raised alarms upon noticing unusual flights from Harlingen, hinting at imminent large-scale deportations.
Court documents revealed that many detained Venezuelan men had been systematically moved over days to the El Valle Detention Facility, a short distance from Harlingen’s airport. One detainee, Andry José Hernández Romero— a makeup artist fleeing discrimination and political turmoil in Venezuela—was entangled in this mass reorganization.
Romero, identifiable by his crown tattoos, found those simple markings linked to gang affiliation under U.S. immigration scrutiny despite their innocent significance related to cultural and familial ties.
When soon moved without warning to a facility in Texas, Romero’s fate rapidly shifted alongside many others scheduled for deportation based on their superficial associations.
By March 14, widespread confusion and urgency filled the legal circuits. Javier Maldonado, a Texas-based immigration attorney, faced surprising and significant disruptions in his work schedule.
As whispers emerged from Venezuelan detainees about an impending removal, an informal coalition of lawyers, operating across various U.S. locations, faced a race against time to initiate legal interventions.
Late into the night, amidst semi-coordinated efforts, the hastening deportation was utilized under the Alien Enemies Act, signed by Trump while en route to Florida, though without a public statement.
The legal defense, spearheaded by groups like the ACLU and Democracy Forward, scrambled to draft and file a petition to halt these deportations, citing potential misclassifications and procedural violations.
Federal Judge James E. Boasberg, upon receiving the emergency petition, instituted a temporary restraining order aimed at suspending the deportations.
Despite the legal restraint order, the deportation flights, already.in motion, reached Central America the following day. A dramatic confrontation unfolded as the nearly 261 deportees, mostly identifying as Venezuelans misjudged under the Alien Enemies Act, landed in El Salvador.
National outrage and fear overshadowed the flight’s arrival as the transferees immediately faced harsh prison conditions notorious in the Central American country.
President Bukele of El Salvador reacted with lighthearted disdain, mocking the U.S. legal directive that lagged behind the on-ground reality. Meanwhile, the Trump administration confronted ongoing legal challenges concerning adherence to the judicial block.
The consequences linger: The Supreme Court may intervene as the Trump administration petitions for a resumption of these contentious deportations under extraordinary legal measures.
Romero, along with others, remains embroiled in El Salvador’s prison system, their lives upended in a saga that merges political ambition, human rights, and international diplomatic ramifications.