‘Very scared' immigrants continue to answer ICE summons as protesters target S.F. building
Dozens of protesters returned Sunday to a nondescript, two-story white building in an alleyway in San Francisco's South of Market where Bay Area residents working to legalize their immigration status were summoned by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement this weekend.
Activists suspected a trap and brought immigration attorneys to counsel confused immigrants and their families who feared violating the terms of their conditional release if they failed to show and arrest if they did appear. So far, the office has remained locked and closed, as protesters chanted and banged drums at the Tehama Street building.
'People were very scared and very panicked,' said Luis Angel Reyes Savalza, a San Francisco deputy public defender. 'It's very irregular to receive a last minute message to report on a weekend. In my 10 years of practicing, I've never heard of reporting on a weekend.'
Savalza and other attorneys, most volunteering their time, said Saturday they assisted more than 50 participants in the Alternatives to Detention or Intensive Supervision Appearance Program. About 7.6 million immigrants participate in the program, which allows them to live at home as their cases are processed, according to ICE figures from October.
Four program participants who received similar text messages were arrested after reporting to the ISAP office in Fresno on Saturday, Savalza said.
'We have a very strong reason to believe that our mobilization and support stopped ICE from detaining people at the office yesterday,' Sanika Mahajan, an organizer from Mission Action, said Sunday.
ICE officials did not immediately return a request for comment Sunday.
The mysterious weekend reporting requests coincided with massive No Kings Day marches and rallies in San Francisco and nationwide in response to a growing opposition movement to President Donald Trump as he pushes to deport immigrants who are in the U.S. illegally.
The text messages, sent in Spanish, told recipients to report to the Tehama Street facility during business hours Saturday or Sunday.
'If you do not present yourself according to instructions it will be considered an infraction,' the messages read.
Savalza said attorneys have counseled immigrants who went to the facility to inform their reporting officer and to verify their arrival with a photo at the location. Immigrants continued to show up Sunday, though it remained locked in the morning.
Protesters circled in front of the front door, chanting and holding signs, such as 'I.C.E. Out the Bay.' Anti-ICE graffiti remained on the walls from the day before.
In the past, ICE protests have focused on more high-profile buildings such as the field office on Sansome Street and the San Francisco Immigration Court on Montgomery Street.
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Associated Press
9 minutes ago
- Associated Press
ICE is using no-bid contracts, boosting big firms, to get more detention beds
LEAVENWORTH, Kan. (AP) — Leavenworth, Kansas, occupies a mythic space in American crime, its name alone evoking a short hand for serving hard time. The federal penitentiary housed gangsters Al Capone and Machine Gun Kelly — in a building so storied that it inspired the term 'the big house.' Now Kansas' oldest city could soon be detaining far less famous people, migrants swept up in President Donald Trump's promise of mass deportations of those living in the U.S. illegally. The federal government has signed a deal with the private prison firm CoreCivic Corp. to reopen a 1,033-bed prison in Leavenworth as part of a surge of contracts U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement has issued without seeking competitive bids. ICE has cited a 'compelling urgency' for thousands more detention beds, and its efforts have sent profit estimates soaring for politically connected private companies, including CoreCivic, based in the Nashville, Tennessee, area and another giant firm, the Geo Group Inc., headquartered in southern Florida. That push faces resistance. Leavenworth filed a lawsuit against CoreCivic after it tried to reopen without city officials signing off on the deal, quoting a federal judge's past description of the now-shuttered prison as 'a hell hole.' The case in Leavenworth serves as another test of the limits of the Republican president's unusually aggressive tactics to force migrant removals. To get more detention beds, the Trump administration has modified dozens of existing agreements with contractors and used no-bid contracts. One pays $73 million to a company led by former federal immigration officials for 'immigration enforcement support teams' to handle administrative tasks, such as helping coordinate removals, triaging complaints or telling ICE if someone is a risk to community safety. Just last week , Geo Group announced that ICE modified a contract for an existing detention center in southeastern Georgia so that the company could reopen an idle prison on adjacent land to hold 1,868 migrants — and earn $66 million in annual revenue. 'Never in our 42-year company history have we had so much activity and demand for our services as we are seeing right now,' said CoreCivic CEO Damon Hininger during an earnings call last month with shareholders. A tax-cutting and budget reconciliation measure approved last month by the House includes $45 billion over four years for immigrant detention, a threefold spending increase. The Senate is now considering that legislation. Declaring an emergency to expedite contracts When Trump started his second term in January, CoreCivic and Geo had around 20 idle facilities, partly because of sentencing reforms that reduced prison populations. But the Trump administration wants to more than double the existing 41,000 beds for detaining migrants to at least 100,000 beds and — if private prison executives' predictions are accurate — possibly to more than 150,000. ICE declared a national emergency on the U.S. border with Mexico as part of its justification for authorizing nine five-year contracts for a combined 10,312 beds without 'Full and Open Competition.' Only three of the nine potential facilities were listed in ICE's document: Leavenworth, a 2,560-bed CoreCivic-owned facility in California City, California, and an 1,800-bed Geo-owned prison in Baldwin, Michigan. The agreement for the Leavenworth facility hasn't been released, nor have documents for the other two sites. CoreCivic and Geo Group officials said last month on earnings calls that ICE used what are known as letter contracts, meant to speed things up when time is critical. Charles Tiefer, a contract expert and professor emeritus of law at the University of Baltimore Law School, said letter contracts normally are reserved for minor matters, not the big changes he sees ICE making to previous agreements. 'I think that a letter contract is a pathetic way to make big important contracts,' he said. A Kansas prison town becomes a priority CoreCivic's Leavenworth facility quickly became a priority for ICE and the company because of its central location. Leavenworth, with 37,000 residents, is only 10 miles (16 kilometers) to the west of the Kansas City International Airport. The facility would hold men and women and is within ICE's area of operations for Chicago, 420 miles (676 kilometers) to the northeast. 'That would mean that people targeted in the Chicago area and in Illinois would end up going to this facility down in Kansas,' said Jesse Franzblau, a senior policy analyst for the National Immigrant Justice Center. Prisons have long been an important part of Leavenworth's economy, employing hundreds of workers to guard prisoners held in two military facilities, the nation's first federal penitentiary, a Kansas correctional facility and a county jail within 6 miles (10 kilometers) of city hall. Resistance from Trump country The Leavenworth area's politics might have been expected to help CoreCivic. Trump carried its county by more than 20 percentage points in each of his three campaigns for president. But skeptical city officials argue that CoreCivic needs a special use permit to reopen its facility. CoreCivic disagrees, saying that it doesn't because it never abandoned the facility and that the permitting process would take too long. Leavenworth sued the company to force it to get one, and a state-court judge last week issued an order requiring it. An attorney for the city, Joe Hatley, said the legal fight indicates how much ill will CoreCivic generated when it held criminal suspects there for trials in federal court for the U.S. Marshals Service. In late 2021, CoreCivic stopped housing pretrial detainees in its Leavenworth facility after then-President Joe Biden, a Democrat, called on the U.S. Department of Justice to curb the use of private prisons. In the months before the closure, the American Civil Liberties Union and federal public defenders detailed stabbings, suicides, a homicide and inmate rights violations in a letter to the White House. CoreCivic responded at the time that the claims were 'false and defamatory.' Vacancies among correctional officers were as high as 23%, according to a Department of Justice report from 2017. 'It was just mayhem,' recalled William Rogers, who worked as a guard at the CoreCivic facility in Leavenworth from 2016 through 2020. He said repeated assaults sent him to the emergency room three times, including once after a blow to the head that required 14 staples. The critics have included a federal judge When Leavenworth sued CoreCivic, it opened its lawsuit with a quote from U.S. District Court Judge Julie Robinson — an appointee of President George W. Bush, a Republican — who said of the prison: 'The only way I could describe it frankly, what's going on at CoreCivic right now is it's an absolute hell hole.' The city's lawsuit described detainees locked in showers as punishment. It said that sheets and towels from the facility clogged up the wastewater system and that CoreCivic impeded the city police force's ability to investigate sexual assaults and other violent crimes. The facility had no inmates when CoreCivic gave reporters a tour earlier this year, and it looked scrubbed top to bottom and the smell of disinfectant hung in the air. One unit for inmates had a painting on one wall featuring a covered wagon. During the tour, when asked about the allegations of past problems, Misty Mackey, a longtime CoreCivic employee who was tapped to serve as warden there, apologized for past employees' experiences and said the company officials 'do our best to make sure that we learn from different situations.' ICE moves quickly across the CoreCivic's Leavenworth prison, other once-shuttered facilities could come online near major immigrant population centers, from New York to Los Angeles, to help Trump fulfill his deportation plans. ICE wants to reopen existing facilities because it's faster than building new ones, said Marcela Hernandez, the organizing director for the Detention Watch Network, which has organized nationwide protests against ICE detention. Counties often lease out jail space for immigrant detention, but ICE said some jurisdictions have passed ordinances barring that. ICE has used contract modifications to reopen shuttered lockups like the 1,000-bed Delaney Hall Facility in Newark, New Jersey, and a 2,500-bed facility in Dilley, Texas, offering no explanations why new, competitively bid contracts weren't sought. The Newark facility, with its own history of problems, resumed intakes May 1, and disorder broke out at the facility Thursday night. Newark Mayor Ras Baraka, a Democrat who previously was arrested there and accused of trespassing, cited reports of a possible uprising, and the Department of Homeland Security confirmed four escapes. The contract modification for Dilley, which was built to hold families and resumed operations in March, calls its units 'neighborhoods' and gives them names like Brown Bear and Blue Butterfly. The financial details for the Newark and Dilley contract modifications are blacked out in online copies, as they for more than 50 other agreements ICE has signed since Trump took office. ICE didn't respond to a request for comment. From idle prisons to a 'gold rush' Private prison executives are forecasting hundreds of millions of dollars in new ICE profits. Since Trump's reelection in November, CoreCivic's stock has risen in price by 56% and Geo's by 73%. 'It's the gold rush,' Michael A. Hallett, a professor of criminal justice at the University of North Florida who studies private prisons. 'All of a sudden, demand is spiraling. And when you're the only provider that can meet demand, you can pretty much set your terms.' Geo's former lobbyist Pam Bondi is now the U.S. attorney general. It anticipates that all of its idle prisons will be activated this year, its executive chairman, George Zoley, told shareholders. CoreCivic, which along with Geo donated millions of dollars to largely GOP candidates at all levels of government and national political groups, is equally optimistic. It began daily talks with the Trump administration immediately after the election in November, said Hininger. CoreCivic officials said ICE's letter contracts provide initial funding to begin reopening facilities while the company negotiates a longer-term deal. The Leavenworth deal is worth $4.2 million a month to the company, it disclosed in a court filing. Tiefer, who served on an independent commission established to study government contracting for the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, said ICE is 'placing a very dicey long-term bet' because of its past problems and said ICE is giving CoreCivic 'the keys to the treasury' without competition. But financial analysts on company earnings calls have been delighted. When CoreCivic announced its letter contracts, Joe Gomes, of the financial services firm Noble Capital Markets, responded with, 'Great news.' 'Are you hiding any more of them on us?' he asked. ___ Hanna reported from Topeka, Kan. Associated Press writers Joshua Goodman in Miami and Morgan Lee, in Santa Fe, N.M., contributed reporting.
Axios
30 minutes ago
- Axios
ICE's cash crisis deepens amid immigration crackdown
President Trump 's immigration crackdown is burning through cash so quickly that the agency charged with arresting, detaining and removing unauthorized immigrants could run out of money next month. Why it matters: Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) is already $1 billion over budget by one estimate, with more than three months left in the fiscal year. That's alarmed lawmakers in both parties — and raised the possibility of Trump clawing funds from agencies to feed ICE. Lawmakers say ICE's parent agency, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), is at risk of violating U.S. law if it continues to spend at its current pace. That's added urgency to calls for Congress to pass Trump's "Big Beautiful Bill," which could direct an extra $75 billion or so to ICE over the next five years. It's also led some lawmakers to accuse DHS and ICE of wasting money. "Trump's DHS is spending like drunken sailors," said Sen. Chris Murphy (D-Conn.), the top Democrat on the DHS appropriations subcommittee. Zoom in: ICE's funding crisis is being fueled by Trump's team demanding that agents arrest 3,000 immigrants a day — an unprecedented pace ICE is still trying to reach. Its detention facilities — about 41,000 beds — are far past capacity as DHS continues to seek more detention space in the U.S. and abroad. The intrigue: If Trump's big bill isn't passed soon, he could use his authority to declare a national emergency to redirect money to ICE from elsewhere in the government — similar to what he did in 2020 to divert nearly $4 billion in Pentagon funds to his border wall project. "I have a feeling they're going to grant themselves an exception apportionment, use the life and safety exception, and just keep burning money," a former federal budget official told Axios. "You could imagine a new emergency declaration that pertains to interior enforcement that would trigger the same kind of emergency personnel mobilization statutes," said Chris Marisola, a professor at the University of Houston Law Center and a former lawyer for the Defense Department. "These statutory authorities authorizing the president to declare emergencies" ... unlock "a whole host of other authorities for these departments and agencies [that] are often written incredibly broadly and invest a lot of discretion in the president," Marisola added. The White House has been trying to stretch its authority over the federal budget in various ways. Besides vastly overspending DHS's budget, Trump's Office of Management and Budget has stopped publicly disclosing the money it's dispersing across the government. The administration also has had other agencies hold up money Congress appropriated for various programs. Driving the news: DHS recently shifted around almost $500 million within its accounts to help support its immigration operations. But the agency asked appropriators for at least $2 billion more to meet the agency's needs by the end of September, as Axios reported in March. Lawmakers who oversee DHS's appropriations say it could run out of money as soon as July, causing it to violate the Antideficiency Act. The law bans agencies from obligating or spending federal funds that haven't been approved by Congress. Agency officials theoretically could face criminal charges and fines for violations, but no one has been charged before. Rep. Mark Amodei (R-Nev.), the top Republican on the House's DHS appropriations subcommittee, expressed concern during a May hearing that DHS will break the law by overspending if it doesn't get help soon. "We're watching what goes on" with budget talks in the Senate, "because if there's much of a hiccup in that, those concerns are all capital 'C' concerns," Amodei (R-Nev.) told Axios. What they're saying: "They are spending likely in the neighborhood of a billion dollars more at ICE than we authorized, and that's patently illegal," Murphy said. "They cannot invent money. They cannot print money. They don't have the money to spend that they're spending." "I hope it doesn't happen," Sen. John Kennedy (R-La.), another member of the DHS subcommittee, said when asked whether the agency could reach the end of the fiscal year in violation of the Antideficiency Act. "I hope we'll get them some money by then." Sen. Katie Britt (R-Ala.), the DHS subcommittee chair in that chamber, said it's a "work in progress" to get DHS the funding it needs to "make good on the promises to the American people." DHS Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin told Axios that "Under Secretary [Kristi] Noem's leadership, DHS is rooting out waste, fraud, abuse, and is reprioritizing appropriated dollars."
Yahoo
43 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Trump Sent Them To Hell. Now He's Erasing Them Altogether.
The only information Ysqueibel Yonaiquer Peñaloza Chirinos' family has received about him in the past three months came from former Republican congressman Matt Gaetz. Gaetz probably didn't mean to help. But last month, as part of a propaganda video for the far-right One America News Network, he took a tour of the infamous El Salvadoran prison to which President Donald Trump has sent hundreds of U.S. immigrants for indefinite detention, without charge, trial or sentencing: El Centro de Confinamiento del Terrorismo, or CECOT. By the time Gaetz arrived, the men Trump had rendered to the prison had already been there for two months. It happens quickly: The OANN camera pans across a cluster of cells Gaetz says are being used to hold the people Trump sent to El Salvador. Many chant 'Libertad!' Some press their hands together in prayer, pleading. Peñaloza's face flashes on screen, framed by two metal bars. He looks mournful, almost crying, and does not say anything. But he does what most others are doing, opening and closing his fingers over a closed thumb, making what his lawyers say is an internationally recognized hand symbol for distress — a flashing 'send help' request popularized by domestic violence advocacy groups during the COVID-19 pandemic. Immigration policies aren't just politics — they're personal. At HuffPost, we explore the human stories behind the headlines, reporting on how immigration laws impact real people and communities. Support this vital coverage by Peñaloza's mother, Ydalys Chirinos-Polanco, spotted him in the video. She already knew he was at the prison — Peñaloza's olive branch tattoo was visible in the initial March 15 footage of the U.S. CECOT detainees — but she hadn't seen him since then. Peñaloza's only encounter with the law in the United States had been a traffic ticket, she said. 'I felt a lot of pain,' Chirinos recalled to HuffPost on a video call Wednesday, speaking in Spanish and through tears. 'But at the same time — a lot of happiness to see that he is alive and that he had the strength to stand up.' A month later, she hasn't seen any more of her son. In his absence, the U.S. government has worked to remove Peñaloza, who is Venezuelan, from domestic immigration court entirely. Six days after Gaetz's prison tour, an immigration judge granted the Department of Homeland Security's request to dismiss Peñaloza's case. As far as the United States immigration court system is concerned, he does not exist. At least 24 people sent to CECOT have had their immigration cases dismissed in their absence, Michelle Brané, the executive director of Together & Free, a nonprofit working to identify and track CECOT detainees, told HuffPost. The actual number may be higher — and it is unclear how many cases have pending dismissal requests from DHS that have not received rulings from immigration judges, who are technically Justice Department employees rather than members of an independent court system. Some immigration judges are pushing back. Last week, one such judge denied a DHS motion to dismiss a CECOT detainee's immigration case, saying the Trump administration had 'essentially rid itself of its opposing party.' But that is a rare exception to the trend. The dismissal of immigration cases for the CECOT detainees is yet another example of the Trump administration working to erase any trace of them in the United States, even though hundreds had ongoing legal cases here when they were disappeared. Without that legal toehold in the U.S. immigration system, CECOT detainees risk falling not only outside the purview of U.S. law but outside of any legal recognition whatsoever. There was no hearing in Peñaloza's case to discuss the dismissal — a May 30 court date was canceled ahead of time — and no discussion of where Peñaloza is, or how he got there. Instead, in a two-paragraph filing in April, attorneys for Immigration and Customs Enforcement said only that the 25-year-old 'was identified as an Alien Enemy and removed from the United States.' It was a perverse legal argument. Because Trump had removed Peñaloza without legal process, he was no longer present in the United States, and therefore, was not entitled to any legal process, the government claimed. On May 15, an immigration judge granted DHS's motion, stating that 'the Court does not have the authority to demand DHS return Respondent to the United States.' Peñaloza's legal team plans to appeal, and lawyers for CECOT detainees are involved in several lawsuits on their behalf. While dismissing cases, some immigration judges have said that the proper venue for legal challenges are habeas corpus lawsuits — and despite the Trump administration's open defiance, federal judges have advanced such lawsuits nationally, most notably earlier this month. 'Imagine having to explain to someone's mother, as a United States immigration attorney, that their son has an immigration hearing, and the government attorneys fighting his case say that they have no means of being able to connect you with your client — when the United States government has paid for the detention of that individual in a third country,' Margaret Cargioli, directing attorney of policy and advocacy at Immigrant Defenders Law Center and Peñaloza's attorney in the United States, told HuffPost. Like other attorneys for CECOT detainees, Cargioli argues that because the Trump administration made an arrangement with El Salvador to imprison Trump's expelled migrants, her client is still in the 'constructive custody' of the United States, and is still owed his day in court. 'It's astounding that I could not get any information about Ysqueibel to provide to their family during immigration court hearings, and that by sheer bravery on his part, he pressed his face against the bars of a dangerous prison to let his loved ones know that he's still alive,' she said, referring to the Gaetz video. The Trump administration defended the handling of these cases. 'The appropriate process due to an illegal alien terrorist with final deportation orders is removal, plain and simple,' Department of Homeland Security spokesperson Tricia McLaughlin told HuffPost in a statement, ignoring a lengthy list of specific questions. McLaughlin said DHS has a 'stringent law enforcement assessment in place that abides by due process under the U.S. Constitution.' But DHS has not released evidence supporting its assertions regarding the CECOT detainees, and around half of the people the Trump administration has sent to CECOT had no final deportation orders at all. Those who did mostly had orders to be deported to Venezuela, not El Salvador. White House spokesperson Abigail Jackson said separately, 'Any illegal alien who is deported from the United States receives due process prior to any removal.' But that's simply not true. Human rights groups and lawyers have characterized the Trump administration's renditions of hundreds of people to CECOT as 'enforced disappearances,' in which someone is detained and deprived of their rights without due process while their captors refuse to even acknowledge their detention. Peñaloza is just one of at least 278 people, mostly Venezuelans and some Salvadorans, sent by the Trump administration to the Salvadoran prison earlier this year as part of an arrangement in which the Trump administration is paying the Salvadoran government millions of dollars to detain non-U.S. citizens. Around half of the immigrants in that group were sent to CECOT after they received 'removal' orders in standard deportation proceedings — an unprecedented punishment given immigration proceedings are civil in nature, not criminal. The other people, including Peñaloza, were accused by the U.S. government of being 'alien enemies.' They were declared members of the Tren de Aragua gang, often simply because of common tattoos. The Trump administration considers Tren de Aragua to be not only a gang but also a terrorist group, as well as essentially an invading army that's allegedly working hand-in-glove with the Venezuelan government. In March, Trump invoked the Alien Enemies Act, a wartime authority last used in World War II, to allege that the gang was actually 'supporting the [Venezuelan President Nicolás] Maduro regime's goal of destabilizing democratic nations in the Americas, including the United States.' Veteran intelligence analysts who disputed that claim were fired. Suddenly, it only took a low-level bureaucrat's say-so to banish someone from the country and into indefinite detention in one of the world's most notorious prisons, without any review by judges. The same day Trump signed his declaration, the administration began flying hundreds of Venezuelans in U.S. custody to CECOT. A federal judge ordered the Trump administration to halt the removals and turn the flights around, but government officials ignored the directive. The judge opened criminal contempt proceedings against the administration in April, but the administration made no effort to return the expelled men. Officials even defied a Supreme Court order telling them to return Kilmar Abrego Garcia, a Salvadoran immigrant who multiple government officials acknowledged was wrongfully expelled to El Salvador despite a judge's prior order protecting him from being returned there. The Trump administration finally returned Abrego Garcia to the United States on June 6, nearly two months after the Supreme Court spoke on his case; he now faces criminal charges for alleged conspiracy to transport aliens and unlawful transportation of undocumented aliens. Abrego Garcia was arraigned Friday and has entered a not guilty plea. The U.S. government has never acknowledged the full list of people sent to CECOT, but CBS News, Bloomberg and other media outlets have used leaked lists and court records to establish that the vast majority of people had no criminal record at all, either in the United States or elsewhere around the world. The administration's own records showed the same thing, journalists from ProPublica, The Texas Tribune and the Venezuelan outlets Cazadores de Fake News and Alianza Rebelde Investiga recently reported. And out of 90 cases in which the detainee's method of coming to the United States was known, 50 cases described people who had entered the United States legally — 'with advanced US government permission, at an official border crossing point,' the CATO Institute, a libertarian think tank, found. Peñaloza was one of them. He came to the United States through a pre-scheduled appointment on CBP One, the cellphone app used by the Biden administration to process asylum-seekers. Nevertheless, due to the Trump administration's actions, hundreds of active cases in U.S. immigration courts suddenly ground to a halt, with worrying implications for CECOT detainees' futures. Like other people Trump has banished to CECOT, Peñaloza had a legal right to make a case in the United States for why he should stay here — a right that the government usurped. If a given immigration case is dismissed, 'you don't have legal status and you don't have a way to get it, because you're not in the process,' said Brané, the Together & Free executive director, who previously worked as a Biden administration official focusing on immigration. Should CECOT detainees who have had their immigration cases dismissed somehow return to the United States someday, it's not clear what their next steps would be, Brané said. 'Like all this [Alien Enemies Act] stuff, it's never happened before and they're not following normal procedures,' she said, referring to the Trump administration. The detainees 'were denied due process, they are disappeared, and they are now in this legal limbo where they remain in a prison with no legal protections, excluded from the protection of the law, and they don't know if they'll ever have a chance at a fair trial,' Isabel Carlota Roby, an attorney for Robert F. Kennedy Human Rights, told ABC News. Jerce Reyes Barrios, one of the people who faced having his immigration case tossed, was in the final stages of his asylum proceedings when the government disappeared him in March. A professional soccer player and youth soccer coach, Reyes Barrios fled Venezuela last year after being detained and tortured with electric shocks and suffocation for protesting authoritarian leader Nicolás Maduro, his lawyer Linette Tobin wrote in a court declaration. While in Mexico, Reyes Barrios made an appointment on CBP One and presented himself to immigration officials at the U.S. border. Immigration officials detained him at a facility in San Diego and accused him of being a member of Tren de Aragua, citing one of his tattoos and a hand symbol he made in a social media post. The tattoo, which shows a crown atop a soccer ball and the words 'Dios,' or 'God,' resembles the logo of Reyes Barrios' favorite soccer team, Real Madrid, Tobin wrote in the declaration. And the hand gesture, she wrote, 'is a common one that means I Love You in sign language and is commonly used as a Rock & Roll symbol.' After submitting Venezuelan documents showing he had no criminal record, as well as letters of employment, a declaration from the tattoo artist, and documents explaining the meaning of the tattoo and the hand gesture, Reyes Barrios was removed from maximum security. His final hearing on his asylum case in immigration court was set for April 17. 'We were completely prepared. Everything had been submitted to the court. Everything was ready,' Tobin said in an interview. But by March, Reyes Barrios was feeling nervous, his lawyer said: 'Just in the seven days before his removal, he was expressing a real concern. I think he had a premonition.' In the following days, he was abruptly transferred from a detention facility in California to one in Texas. And then, he went dark. Shortly after the March 15 deportation flights to El Salvador, Reyes Barrios' family saw a picture of some of the men in CECOT with their hands clasped behind their freshly shaven heads. Their faces were mostly obscured by their arms, but his family thought they recognized Reyes Barrios. Tobin called the ICE office in Texas, Reyes Barrios' last known location. She received confirmation he had been 'removed,' but the person on the phone refused to say where, she said. The family's fears were confirmed on March 20, when Reyes Barrios' name appeared on the CBS News list naming some people detained at CECOT. His family spotted him again in the footage released by Gaetz in May. Less than two weeks after Reyes Barrios disappeared, DHS filed a motion to dismiss his immigration case. The four-line motion did not provide any clarity on his location, condition or the reason the government considered him a so-called 'alien enemy.' Instead, a DHS attorney simply argued, 'The respondent is no longer in the United States. As such, there is authority to dismiss on this ground.' Tobin urged the judge to deny the government's request, arguing 'dismissal is inappropriate' and would 'be affirming and exacerbating DHS' gross and flagrant violations of [Reyes Barrios'] due process rights.' She noted that ongoing federal litigation over the legality of the CECOT transfers could result in her client returning home — only to find that his asylum case had been tossed. Indeed, earlier this month, a federal judge ruled that the government must 'facilitate' the ability of those transferred to CECOT to pursue habeas claims, or challenge the legality of their detention. Reyes Barrios' family texted Tobin emojis of party hats in celebration of the ruling. 'To have the injustice recognized by a court made them very happy,' Tobin said. There have been four hearings for Reyes Barrios' asylum case since he was removed from the U.S. The judge asked the government to provide information in support of its dismissal motion, including confirmation that Reyes Barrios was removed from the U.S. and evidence that he is a member of Tren de Aragua. But at each hearing, the government just restated that it is moving for dismissal, Tobin said. 'They never say anything else. They don't cite to regulations. They don't cite to case laws. They just say, 'Dismiss the case,'' Tobin said. At a hearing last month, Tobin asked the judge to administratively close the case, which would effectively pause proceedings. When the DHS lawyer opposed the request, the judge asked for their reasoning. 'Their response, after a very long pause, was, 'Well, because we're moving for dismissal,'' Tobin recounted. Then, on Tuesday, came a crucial development. In a ruling, the judge in Reyes Barrios' case granted Tobin's motion to administratively close it. As a result, his asylum case is still pending. 'Any opposition to administrative closure involves the Department's preference to dismiss proceedings [...] which the court deems inappropriate under the unclean hands doctrine since the Department essentially rid itself of its opposing party,' the judge wrote in his order, noting several so-called 'Avetisyan factors,' a reference to existing immigration court precedent concerning when it is appropriate to administratively close immigration cases, even if one side disagrees. 'Ongoing litigation questions the legality of the Department's removals under the [Alien Enemies Act],' the judge added. 'The court anticipates the respondent's ability to proceed with his [asylum] application, which he filed on December 3, 2024, although it is difficult to determine the ultimate outcome of his proceedings at this stage given that the respondent never had his 'day in court.'' Tobin celebrated the decision in a statement to HuffPost. 'DHS is feeding the public lies every day, saying that they're deporting violent criminals, monsters, the worst of the worst,' she said. 'To see judges call out the Government for their illegal actions, 'unclean hands,' and obfuscations gives me some degree of hope that justice will eventually prevail and people who were unlawfully disappeared/deported without due process will finally get their day in court.' In several other cases, immigration judges have been willing to grant DHS's dismissal requests quickly, sometimes without even holding a hearing. After the CECOT deportation flights, immigration lawyers around the country scrambled to keep the cases alive. In addition to Peñaloza, Immigrant Defenders Law Center has seven other clients in CECOT. Three have had their immigration cases dismissed, and one received removal orders in absentia, communications director Renee Garcia said in an email. Perhaps the most recognizable case, due to national news coverage, is that of Andry Hernández Romero, a gay makeup artist who was seeking asylum in the United States and who was targeted for indefinite CECOT detention due to benign tattoos, including two crowns with 'Mom' and 'Dad' printed under them. An immigration judge dismissed Hernandez's case late last month, as NBC News reported. A judge also dismissed the case of Arturo Suárez Trejo, a Venezuelan singer and friend of Peñaloza's, who had appeared in Suárez's music videos in the past, Garcia said. Last month, Judge Jason L. Stern, a Houston-based immigration judge, dismissed Frizgeralth de Jesús Cornejo Pulgar's case despite the government filing a motion for a continuance in the case, Mother Jones reported. Another CECOT detainee whose case was dismissed, Henrry Jose Albornoz Quintero, missed the birth of his child while languishing in El Salvador's infamous prison. Quintero and his wife, Naupari Rosila, came to the U.S. in late 2023, initially sleeping in a car until they saved enough for a deposit on a Dallas apartment. In January, when his wife was seven months pregnant, Quintero was detained during a routine ICE check-in. Rosila found an attorney and raised money for him to be released on bond. Days before a hearing in immigration court, he told her he was going to be deported home to Venezuela. He was sent to CECOT instead. In April, an ICE attorney moved to dismiss the case against Quintero, writing in a two-paragraph filing that 'the respondent was identified as an Alien Enemy and removed from the United States.' Quintero's attorney, John Dutton, told HuffPost the dismissal motion was the first time the Trump administration acknowledged using the Alien Enemies Act against his client. The motion to dismiss was 'morally repugnant,' Dutton wrote in a court filing, describing Quintero as being sent to 'an extrajudicial dungeon in a middle of the night, unannounced, covert operation between our government and a foreign dictatorship, bankrolled, directed and fully controlled by the United States.' 'The government cannot be allowed to erase people from its jurisdiction simply by shipping them abroad,' Dutton wrote. 'If DHS's motion were granted, it would establish a chilling precedent: that DHS may abduct noncitizens mid-proceedings, contract out their indefinite detention to foreign governments, and then declare the case moot due to their own unlawful conduct. This would not be an exercise of prosecutorial discretion. It would be a blueprint for lawless tyranny, a dictatorship. This is not hyperbole.' On May 1, a judge granted the government's motion. Quintero's case was dismissed. 'Regardless of the merits of the respondent's opposition to his physical removal from the United States, this Court does not have jurisdiction to consider constitutional issues,' the immigration judge wrote. 'The requirements for dismissal of the Notice to Appear have been met in this case.' *** Over the phone Wednesday, Peñaloza's mother told HuffPost about her son – that he's hard-working, principled, and respectful. He's a trained refrigerator technician who has worked in construction in the past. He's a good cook who loves making chinchurria— a stuffed, fried intestine dish popular in Venezuela — but can also dress up humble meals like vegetarian arepas or rice with tomato sauce. He's an older sibling who, in years past, would remind his younger sisters to listen to their parents. Part of his income from his time in the United States went to paying for his younger sister's physical therapy education. Valentina Polanco-Chirinos, Peñaloza's 17-year-old sister, briefly chimed in on the call. Her brother was sentimental, she said, and would cry when his mother scolded him. But especially given her mother's travels throughout Venezuela for work, she was grateful for him. He was almost a father figure to her, Valentina said. Peñaloza's mother — who'd just returned from Caracas, where a group of CECOT detainees' family members were petitioning the United Nations — said her son's disappearance to El Salvador in March came as a shock to her. He, like many others who ended up in CECOT, believed while in U.S. immigration detention that he was headed home to Venezuela. She said he'd given all of his clothes away to relatives when he'd left for the U.S., and that she'd set out to buy him a new pair of shoes. When news broke that a handful of deportation flights had landed in El Salvador, she figured they'd been diverted due to weather. Reality set in when she saw that one of the prisoners had her son's tattoo. The United States seems to be moving backward, she said: The CECOT detainees were kidnapped, and they weren't given an opportunity to defend themselves. And her son's immigration case in the United States? If he's eventually released from CECOT, did she think he would want to return and fight for his right to stay in the country? She didn't think so. 'I don't think he would feel safe there.' Lawyers Are Sounding The Alarm About Trump Disappearing People The Trump Administration Is Using A Legal Loophole To Keep Mahmoud Khalil In Custody — Despite A Court Order Kilmar Abrego Garcia Has Returned To The United States People Are 'Disappearing' Since Trump Took Office. Here's What That Means.
