The story of Myrelis Casique Lopez highlights the plight of Venezuelan emigrants caught in a controversial US deportation program. Footage reveals her son Francisco, identified in a mega-prison in El Salvador, while families fear wrongful incarcerations based on tattoos, amidst a crackdown on organized crime.
Venezuelan Mother's Heartbreak as Son Detained in El Salvador Mega-Prison

Venezuelan Mother's Heartbreak as Son Detained in El Salvador Mega-Prison
Myrelis Casique Lopez identifies her deported son in shocking footage, raising concerns over wrongful deportations linked to the Tren de Aragua gang.
In a quiet neighborhood of Maracay, Venezuela, Myrelis Casique López anxiously awaited the return of her 24-year-old son, Francisco José García Casique, who had been living in the US for 18 months. His imminent deportation was a bittersweet relief, as she longed to embrace him once again. Only hours after their brief phone call, however, Ms. Casique's world shattered when she spotted Francisco's image on television, not in Caracas, but in El Salvador, over 1,400 miles away.
The footage displayed disturbing scenes of 238 deported Venezuelans being taken into the notorious Terrorism Confinement Centre, known as Cecot. Ms. Casique immediately recognized her son from his arm tattoo, even as US officials maintained that all deportees were gang members, specifically part of the Tren de Aragua—a group the Trump administration has designated as a foreign terrorist organization.
Despite the administration's assurances that those deported had been "carefully vetted," families like Ms. Casique's expressed grave concerns over mistaken identities based on tattoos—common among many young Venezuelans marking their cultural identities and family ties. Ms. Casique vehemently defended her son’s innocence, questioning how someone seeking a better life could be mistaken for a criminal.
With a history of escaping Venezuela's deepening crises, Francisco left for Peru in 2019 before finally crossing into the US in September 2023. His mother lamented that not only had she missed him for years, but now he was imprisoned in a foreign land, caught in a web of political decisions that seemed to overlook the reality of their lives.
In the broader context, fear looms over the Venezuelan community in the US as the deportations escalate under the Trump administration's aggressive policies. Advocacy groups warn of the chilling effects felt by thousands of Venezuelans, who are now petrified that they could face wrongful deportation, even with documentation. Adelys Ferro from the Venezuelan-American Caucus voiced her fears of broader consequences for innocent families while emphasizing that not all Venezuelans are criminals.
The push against the Tren de Aragua gang, while seen as a necessary measure, has drawn ire for its potential to ruin the lives of those unjustly categorized. Such concerns were echoed by immigration lawyers in the US, troublingly aware of the uncertain futures awaiting hundreds of thousands of Venezuelan nationals.
As Myrelis Casique clamored for visibility on the fate of her son, that plea was echoed in several tales of mothers affected by similar circumstances. The families of other deportees, like Mervin Yamarte, reached out for understanding and justice, sharing their fears of how tattoos could orchestrate their children's downfall.
The situation highlights a painful irony: seeking asylum from crime and chaos in Venezuela has led to uncertainty and despair in a new land. The specter of deportation looms large, amplifying the anxieties of a community striving for safety and stability, and forcing them to confront their worst fears. The chaotic deportation crisis, fueled by political machinations, underscores the need for careful legal scrutiny and human empathy, lest more innocent lives slip through the cracks.