“ He is not a member of a gang ”: indignation as makeup artist at the prison of El Salvador for the tattoos of the crown | US immigration

FOr as long as anyone who can remember Andry José Hernández Romero has been fascinated by the annual celebrations of the three kings for which his Venezuelan’s hometown is famous, joining thousands of Christian colleagues in the streets of Capacho to remember the way in which the trio of wise men visited Bébé Jesus carrying gold, French and myrrh.

At the age of seven, Andry became a mini-king, because the members of the dramatic group of the city of the city Los Mini Reyes were known. Later in life, he tattooed two crowns on his wrists to commemorate these commemorations of epiphany in the shape of a carnival and its Catholic roots.

“Most Capacheros Get tattoos from the crown, often adding the name of their father or mother. We have a lot of people with these tattoos- it’s a tradition that started in 1917, “said Miguel Chacón, president of the Three Kings Day Foundation in Capacho.

The Latin American tradition seems to have been lost on American immigration agents who owned Hernández, a 31-year-old make-up artist, a hairdresser and a lover of the theater, after having crossed the southern border last August to attend an appointment in San Diego.

Hernández, who is gay, told the agents that he was running away from the persecution from his sexual orientation and his political opinions. A few weeks earlier, Venezuela’s authoritarian chief Nicolás Maduro had sparked fierce repression after being accused of having stolen the presidential election to extend his 12 -year regulation.

But Hernández’s tattoos were considered proof that he was a member of the most notorious gang of Venezuela, the Tren of Aragua, and a “security threat” in the United States.

“The” crowns “of the Ports de Hernandez (sic) detained who comply with those of a member of Tren de Aragua,” said an agent from California Otay Mesa Center Center, according to court documents published this week.

These 16 words seem to have sealed the fate of the young Venezuelan stylist, who, according to friends, family and lawyers, have never committed a crime.

On March 15, after more than six months in detention in the United States, Hernández was one of the dozens of Texas stolen venezuelans at a maximum security prison in El Salvador as part of the Donald Trump mass expulsion campaign. The horror of their loved ones, some detainees were paraded before the cameras and filmed by guards and being shaved before being grouped into the cells.

“Let my son leave. Review his file. He is not a member of the gang,” pleaded Hernández’s mother, Alexis Dolores Romero de Hernández, pleaded while she was reconciled with the disappearance of her son in the famous “Central Center for Central Terrorism”, known to the Spanish acronym.

“Everyone has these crowns, many people. But that does not mean that they are involved in the Tren of Aragua … He has never had problems with the law,” said Hernández, 65, who has not heard of his son since he called the day before his transfer to make him know – to incorrect – that he was expelled in Venezuela.

“We know nothing. They say nothing. They give no information. It is trauma – not knowing anything about these young men, especially mine,” complains Alexis Hernández.

The fate of his son caused indignation in Táchira, the western state where he grew up, with people who wrapped the picturesque church of Capacho of the 19th century, San Pedro de la Independencia, to demand his freedom.

“We are talking about someone who is one of the celebrations of the three Kings of Capacho for 23 years,” said Chacón, who heads the campaign. “This is why I do everything I can to release this young man. He is completely innocent.”

Krisbel Vásquez, 29, manicure, denied her childhood friend “calm, kind and humble” was a bad guy. “I have known him all my life. He doesn’t bother anyone,” said Vásquez, urging Trump and the president of El Salvador, Nayib Bukele, going back.

Xiomara Ramírez, 57, said that her son had grown up with Hernández, the couple making their homework together. “I wonder why so much injustice. Why don’t the United States give good people like Andry Opportunities? ” Ramírez asked.

Melissa Shepard, a lawyer from the California immigrant Defenders Law Center, representing Andry, was perplexed that her “very sweet, kind and thoughtful” client was imprisoned in “one of the worst places in the world.

“The fact that this administration took someone who is so vulnerable and put them in such a terrifying situation is just horrible. We fear that if it happens to him, it can happen to anyone,” she said.

An increasing indignation on the fate of Hernández, and that of other apparently innocent Venezuelans expelled in Salvador on the basis of their tattoos, spreads to unexpected places.

“It’s horrible,” said Joe Rogan, a Trump podcaster during his last show. Rogan supported Trump’s offensive against Venezuelan “criminals”. The president said terrorizing the United States. “But don’t let innocent gay hairdressers collapse with the gangs,” he said, asking, “How long before this guy can get out? Can we understand how to get them out? Is there a plan in place to alert the authorities they made a horrible mistake and correct it?”

But the Trump administration has not shown any sign of reconsideration of its decision to send as many venezuelans to El Salvador on the basis of these fragile evidence.

Trump thanked Bukele on Monday for receiving another group of alleged Latin American criminals “and gave them such a wonderful place to live!”

Bukele said the deportations were “another step in the fight against terrorism and organized crime”, saying that the 17 detainees were all “confirmed murderers and high -level delinquents”.

The White House press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, bristled when he was asked about the use of agents of a “point system” to classify prisoners as gang members according to their tattoos or their outfits. “Shame on you and ashamed to the consumer media for trying to cover these individuals (criminals),” she replied, saying that “a litany of criteria” was used to correctly identify “foreign terrorists” or “illegal criminal foreigners” for deletion.

Shepard questioned the assertion of the administration that prisoners such as Hernández were “deleted”. “It was disappeared,” she said. “I know that the government is trying to use the language it has been” deleted “(but) … it has absolutely disappeared.”

Thousands of kilometers away in Capacho, Hernández’s mother, spoke sadly how her son had decided, against the wishes of his family, to abandon their country economically damaged last May and make the perilous travel to the North through the Jungles of Darién between Colombia and Panama. “He left because he wanted to help us … and realize his dream,” said Hernández, adding: “Now the reality is different.”

A recent evening, she and hundreds of demonstrators filled the San Pedro church for their last vigil in support of Hernández. The crowd included three men disguised in three kings, who wore theatrical beards and tiaras dotted with false jewelry and wore plates bearing the words: conscience, justice and freedom.

“We, his family, and the whole city guaranteed innocence (Hernández). It is not possible that in Capacho to have a crown tattoo be a symbol of pride, but for him, that makes him a criminal,” said Chacón, directly attractive to the presidents of the United States and El Salvador.

“I know Trump is a good man and Bukele is a good man,” said Chacón. “But he cannot have sent this young man to prison. There must be many others.”