He wasn’t just frightened when a door crashed into a car in Andry Hernández Romero’s childhood. He shrunk for a moment, and retreated from the noise.
It has been nearly a month since 32-year-old makeup artist Hernández Romero and 251 other Venezuelans were released from the infamous El Salvadorian giant prison.
Hernández Romero in an August Zoom interview lists ways in which the trauma of ordeal still manifests itself.
“When the door gets hit – did you notice [my reaction] When the door just makes noise? “He said. I was moved when I fell asleep. If I saw one of the cuffs holding the cuffs in his hand, I would feel scared and nervous.”
Trump administration officials accuse Venezuelans of being a member of transnational gang Tren de Alagua, although many, including Hernandez Romero, have once been No criminal history in the United States or Venezuela.
When Hernández Romero was confined to his lawyer or the news, he did not know that he had become the typical child of the movement to release prisoners.
“Before I was makeup artist Andry, designer Andry was designer Andry,” he said. “I had some approval, but not straightforward.”
On March 15, a few days after he was sent to El Salvador, CBS News released a leaked deportation with his name on it. His attorney Lindsay Toczylowski, who co-founded the Immigration Defenders Law Center in Los Angeles, condemned his removal and “60 Minutes” exposure on the “Rachel McDonald Show.”
In the episode of “60 Minutes”, Time photographer Philip Holsinger tells the story of a man who cries in prison, saying, “I’m not a gang member. I’m gay.” Shaved.
Growing up angry. On social media, users announced that he had disappeared and asked, “Is Andri Hernandez Romero still alive?”
Radicals Made a logo and banner Ask the federal government to “free Andri”. During Pride Month, the Human Rights Campaign holds About his rally In Washington, DC New Queen Pride Parade In New York, he named the Honorary Marshal.
Congressional Democrats Go to El Salvador Push information about the detainees and go home empty-handed.
Rep. Ritchie Torres (d-new York) April 9 video On X. The video cut into charming shots of Hernández Romero, staring from behind three smoldering makeup brushes.
“When was the last time you saw a gay makeup artist in a transnational gang?” Torres said.
Hernández Romero strolls through a market in his hometown of Capacho Nuevo.
Hernández Romero claims to the U.S. authorities that he is associated with the Tren de Aragua gang.
Hernández Romero According to his attorney.
He legally entered the United States on August 29, 2024 at the San Isidro port of entry after obtaining an appointment through CBP One (the asylum application process used in Biden Administration). He said the joy lasted for several minutes.
Hernández Romero spent six months at the Otay Mesa detention centre. He passed a “credible fear” interview – the first step in the asylum process – but immigration officials took two lasers on his nine-line tattoo: the crown on each wrist carries “mom” and “dad” English.
Immigrant detainees are given blue, orange or red uniforms based on their classification level. A guard once explained that detainees like him may be criminals wearing orange. “Is it a homosexual crime? Or a makeup crime?” Hernández Romero said.
When his deportation flight landed in El Salvador, he saw tanks and officials dressed in all black, holding large guns.
An El Salvadorian man got out first – Kilmar Abrego García, whose case became a flash of controversy after federal officials admitted he was wrongly deported.
Eight Venezuelan women were next removed, but El Salvador officials rejected them and they were taken back to the plane. Hernández Romero said the remaining Venezuelans felt relieved and thought they would be rejected, too.
Instead, they ended up in jail.
Hernández Romero put on makeup for Gabriela Mora, the fiancee of his prisoner, Carlos Uzcátegui, hours before their civil wedding in the town of Lobatera.
“I saw myself being hit, I saw myself being lifted to the ground with two officials with their heads, being hit and kicked,” said Hernández Romero. “In this reality, I was shocked: I was in a cell in El Salvador, in the highest security prison, and asked with nine other people: ‘What am I doing here?'”
He said that shaving hair is particularly devastating as a stylist. What’s worse is the blow and homosexual insult that comes with it.
He remembered the shots taken by the photographer and felt the sting that violated his privacy. Now, he understands what they mean: “It’s thanks to those photos we’re back home now.”
Hernández Romero laughed at them in prison and told them: “You will all die here.”
Hernández Romero became friends with Carlos Uzcátegui, 32, who was locked in a cell across the hall. The prisoner is not allowed to talk to people outside the cell, but whenever the guard is distracted, the two will quietly know each other.
Uzcátegui said he was also detained for tattoos, another picture depicting three stars, one of which was a young sister.
On March 26, a prisoner was relocated by the guards of the terrorist detention center, a high security prison in Tecoluca (Alex Brandon, via Getty Images, Pool/AFP)
U.S. Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem spoke when visiting the Terrorist Lockdown Center on March 26 (Alex Brandon, via Getty Images Pool/AFP)
Hernández Romero said he noticed some guards staring at him while he was taking a shower. He told reporters that the guards took him to a small room called “La Island” or “The Island” because he noticed that he was bathing with a bucket outside the designated time. There, he said, according to NPR and other media, he was beaten by three guards wearing masks and forced to perform oral sex on one of them.
Hernández Romero no longer wants to talk about the details of what is called abuse. His attorney is looking for available legal options.
“Maybe those people will escape from human justice, but when it comes to the justice of our Father God, no one escapes.” “Life is a restaurant – no one leaves without paying.”
Uzkatgui said the guard once pulled out his toenails and denied his medication despite a high fever. He had finished his shower, but as the fever worsened, he took a second shower and was not allowed.
He said the guards pushed him down, kicked him repeatedly in the stomach, and left him in “La Isla” for three days.
In July, rumors began to circulate in prisons that Venezuelans might be released, but detainees did not believe the speech until the pastor who preached daily seemed unusually emotional. He told them: “The miracle is done. Tomorrow is a new day for everyone.”
Uzcátegui still doesn’t believe it. That night, he couldn’t fall asleep because of the noise of people moving in prison. This usually means guards will enter their cells early in the morning to defeat them, he said.
Hernández Romero noticed his friend’s uneasiness. “We’re leaving today,” he said.
“I don’t believe it,” Uzkategui replied. “It’s always the same.”
Hernández Romero knew they had been imprisoned for 125 days because when any detainee went to medical consultation, they would unceremoniously notice the calendar in the room and report it to the team. The detainee will then use soap to mark the day on the metal bed frame.
On July 18, the bus arrived at the prison at 3 a.m. and took the Venezuelans to the airport. Officials called together Hernandez Romero and ArturoSuárez-Trejoa singer whose case also attracted public attention. Hernández Romero said they were confused but had an obligation.
Under the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown, immigrants who were expelled from El Salvador arrived at Simon Blival International Airport in Miquetia, Venezuela, and arrived on July 18.
(Ariana Cubillos/AP)
When do they Flying landingan official told them: “Welcome to Venezuela.” Walking along the plane steps, Hernández Romero felt the Caribbean breeze on his face and thanked God.
A few days later, he returned to his hometown Capacho Nuevo, embracing his parents and brothers at the center of a group of journalists and supporters who recited his name.
“I bring a suitcase full of dreams, dreaming of helping my people and helping my family, but unfortunately that suitcase of dreams turned into a suitcase of nightmare,” he said. Tell reporters there.
Hernández Romero said he wanted to see his name cleared. For him, justice will mean “kidnapping us does not fairly accuse the people we should pay.”
President Trump invoked 18th-century wartime laws to quickly evacuate many Venezuelans from El Salvador. exist 2-1 Decision On September 2, a panel of judges from the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals found that the government had taken illegal actions, saying “no invasion or predatory invasion.”
Trump administration officials told federal judges they will promote Venezuelans to return to the United States if they wish to continue asylum proceedings Dismissed They were sent to El Salvador after they were sent. Hernández Romero said he said he had “nothing” if there was another chance to realize his dream.
Uzcátegui has a different view on this. He said he might not go back after he had gone through everything.
Now, he suffered a nightmare because it happened again. “Though everything is there, you end up thinking it’s not true that we’re not there,” he said. “You wake up thinking you’re still there.”
Carlosuzcátegui exchanged vows with Gabriela Mora at his wedding in August, looking at Hernández Romero on the right, right.
When he started his career again, Hernández Romero was redeveloping the client list as a makeup artist. Last month, he had a special wedding: Uzkatai. He put on makeup for his friend’s current wife, Gabriela Mora.
“He lives in the same thing I do there,” Uzkategui said. “It’s like knowing we’re finally free – despite all the things we’ve talked about, we never thought it would happen, friendships still exist. We’re like family.”
