Latest news with #ImmigrantDefendersLawCenter
Yahoo
4 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
Immigration courts are dismissing cases of those sent to El Salvador, potentially cutting off their return
Before he was sent to an infamous supermax prison in El Salvador under the Alien Enemies Act, Andry Hernandez Romero was waiting for an immigration judge to decide whether he would be granted asylum in the United States. And even after his deportation, Hernandez's lawyers fought to keep his asylum claim open as a way of ensuring he didn't disappear from the American legal system. But an immigration judge in San Diego dismissed Hernandez's asylum claim on Tuesday — one of at least 14 such dismissals to take place in recent weeks. This has immigration attorneys concerned that the dismissals are the Trump administration's latest tactic in evading due process to ensure those sent away have no means to return. 'It seems the government's intention in dismissing these cases across the country is to complete the disappearance of people to El Salvador, to end their legal proceedings, and to act as though they weren't here seeking asylum in the first place,' said Lindsay Toczylowski, executive director of Immigrant Defenders Law Center, a nonprofit representing Hernandez and seven other Venezuelans deported to El Salvador. Hernandez, 32, is the lead plaintiff in a high-profile lawsuit brought by the American Civil Liberties Union against the Trump administration in Washington, D.C., on behalf of the hundreds of Venezuelans deported to a Salvadoran megaprison under the Alien Enemies Act. That case has been the centerpiece of a legal saga surrounding the deportations — one some legal analysts say has brought the U.S. to the brink of a constitutional crisis. Hernandez, a gay man who worked as a makeup artist for a state TV station in Venezuela, told his lawyers that he had suffered persecution for his sexual orientation and opposition to the government. That alleged persecution formed the basis of his asylum claim, which Hernandez pursued for months from inside the Otay Mesa Detention Center in San Diego. But that process was abruptly cut short on March 15, when President Donald Trump invoked special wartime powers to deport 268 Venezuelan men to El Salvador without court hearings and without notifying their attorneys. A majority of them, like Hernandez, had pending cases in immigration court. In the weeks after the sudden deportations, immigration lawyers around the country scrambled to attend hearings to make sure their cases weren't thrown out. 'We don't want these cases dismissed, because that pulls them out of the court process entirely,' said Michelle Brané, executive director of Together and Free, a nonprofit group coordinating the legal response to the deportations. 'If they are returned to the U.S., this would be a shot at due process.' At first, immigration judges were willing to extend the cases while more information emerged about the removals to El Salvador. But according to attorneys involved in the cases, more immigration judges, including in California and Texas, have been granting the government's requests to dismiss the cases in the last two to three weeks. Together and Free has tracked at least 14 cases nationwide that have been dismissed since April, Brané said. Although the Trump administration has not officially confirmed the identity or location of any of the deported Venezuelans, they are presumed to be held at the Terrorism Confinement Center, or CECOT, a supermax prison in El Salvador designed to hold gang members and terrorists. The prison is notorious for human rights abuses: As a matter of policy, inmates at CECOT are not allowed contact with the outside world, including lawyers and loved ones. None of the attorneys representing Venezuelan men held there have been able to establish contact with their clients — even in cases where federal judges have explicitly ordered the Trump administration to facilitate such contact. 'They're dismissing this proceeding that exists in the United States while providing absolutely no information on how we can communicate with our clients and under what legal authority they're being held at U.S. government expense in El Salvador,' Toczylowski said. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, which presents the government's side in immigration court proceedings, did not respond to a request for comment. The Executive Office for Immigration Review, a branch of the Justice Department that employs immigration judges and runs the immigration court system, also did not respond to a request for comment. Attorneys in Hernandez's case and others stress that the dismissals do not signify the end of the road for the Venezuelans deported to CECOT. Many plan to appeal them to the Board of Immigration Appeals. The immigration judge who dismissed Hernandez's asylum claim allowed for the possibility that the case be reopened if Hernandez returns to the U.S., according to a copy of the dismissal order reviewed by NBC News. Hernandez's loved ones reacted with distress to the news that his asylum case had been dismissed. 'For us, keeping the case open was a beacon of hope that he could return to the U.S.,' Reina Cardenas, Hernandez's childhood friend who has taken the lead in advocating for his release, said in Spanish. 'He didn't leave voluntarily — he was practically kidnapped. And he never got a chance to defend himself.' This article was originally published on
NBC News
4 days ago
- Politics
- NBC News
Immigration courts are dismissing cases of those sent to El Salvador, potentially cutting off their return
Before he was sent to an infamous supermax prison in El Salvador under the Alien Enemies Act, Andry Hernandez Romero was waiting for an immigration judge to decide whether he would be granted asylum in the United States. And even after his deportation, Hernandez's lawyers fought to keep his asylum claim open as a way of ensuring he didn't disappear from the American legal system. But an immigration judge in San Diego dismissed Hernandez's asylum claim on Tuesday — one of at least 14 such dismissals to take place in recent weeks. This has immigration attorneys concerned that the dismissals are the Trump administration's latest tactic in evading due process to ensure those sent away have no means to return. 'It seems the government's intention in dismissing these cases across the country is to complete the disappearance of people to El Salvador, to end their legal proceedings, and to act as though they weren't here seeking asylum in the first place,' said Lindsay Toczylowski, executive director of Immigrant Defenders Law Center, a nonprofit representing Hernandez and seven other Venezuelans deported to El Salvador. Hernandez, 32, is the lead plaintiff in a high-profile lawsuit brought by the American Civil Liberties Union against the Trump administration in Washington, D.C., on behalf of the hundreds of Venezuelans deported to a Salvadoran megaprison under the Alien Enemies Act. That case has been the centerpiece of a legal saga surrounding the deportations — one some legal analysts say has brought the U.S. to the brink of a constitutional crisis. Hernandez, a gay man who worked as a makeup artist for a state TV station in Venezuela, told his lawyers that he had suffered persecution for his sexual orientation and opposition to the government. That alleged persecution formed the basis of his asylum claim, which Hernandez pursued for months from inside the Otay Mesa Detention Center in San Diego. But that process was abruptly cut short on March 15, when President Donald Trump invoked special wartime powers to deport 268 Venezuelan men to El Salvador without court hearings and without notifying their attorneys. A majority of them, like Hernandez, had pending cases in immigration court. In the weeks after the sudden deportations, immigration lawyers around the country scrambled to attend hearings to make sure their cases weren't thrown out. 'We don't want these cases dismissed, because that pulls them out of the court process entirely,' said Michelle Brané, executive director of Together and Free, a nonprofit group coordinating the legal response to the deportations. 'If they are returned to the U.S., this would be a shot at due process.' At first, immigration judges were willing to extend the cases while more information emerged about the removals to El Salvador. But according to attorneys involved in the cases, more immigration judges, including in California and Texas, have been granting the government's requests to dismiss the cases in the last two to three weeks. Together and Free has tracked at least 14 cases nationwide that have been dismissed since April, Brané said. Although the Trump administration has not officially confirmed the identity or location of any of the deported Venezuelans, they are presumed to be held at the Terrorism Confinement Center, or CECOT, a supermax prison in El Salvador designed to hold gang members and terrorists. The prison is notorious for human rights abuses: As a matter of policy, inmates at CECOT are not allowed contact with the outside world, including lawyers and loved ones. None of the attorneys representing Venezuelan men held there have been able to establish contact with their clients — even in cases where federal judges have explicitly ordered the Trump administration to facilitate such contact. 'They're dismissing this proceeding that exists in the United States while providing absolutely no information on how we can communicate with our clients and under what legal authority they're being held at U.S. government expense in El Salvador,' Toczylowski said. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, which presents the government's side in immigration court proceedings, did not respond to a request for comment. The Executive Office for Immigration Review, a branch of the Justice Department that employs immigration judges and runs the immigration court system, also did not respond to a request for comment. Attorneys in Hernandez's case and others stress that the dismissals do not signify the end of the road for the Venezuelans deported to CECOT. Many plan to appeal them to the Board of Immigration Appeals. The immigration judge who dismissed Hernandez's asylum claim allowed for the possibility that the case be reopened if Hernandez returns to the U.S., according to a copy of the dismissal order reviewed by NBC News. Hernandez's loved ones reacted with distress to the news that his asylum case had been dismissed. 'For us, keeping the case open was a beacon of hope that he could return to the U.S.,' Reina Cardenas, Hernandez's childhood friend who has taken the lead in advocating for his release, said in Spanish. 'He didn't leave voluntarily — he was practically kidnapped. And he never got a chance to defend himself.'
Yahoo
24-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Father ripped from family as agents target immigration courts, arresting people after cases dismissed
The man just had his immigration case dismissed and his wife and 8-year-old son were trailing behind him when agents surrounded, then handcuffed him outside the downtown Los Angeles courtroom. Erick Eduardo Fonseca Solorzano stood speechless. His wife trembled in panic. The federal agents explained in Spanish that he would be put into expedited removal proceedings. Just moments earlier on Friday, Judge Peter A. Kim had issued a dismissal of his deportation case. Now his son watched in wide-eyed disbelief as agents quickly shuffled him to a service elevator — and he was gone. The boy was silent, sticking close by his mother, tears welling. 'This kid will be traumatized for life,' said Lindsay Toczylowski, chief executive and co-founder of Immigrant Defenders Law Center, who reached out to the family to help them with their case. Similar scenes are taking place across the country as government lawyers dismiss immigrants' deportation cases only to have them immediately arrested by agents as they leave the courtroom to be removed on a fast track that does not involve a judicial review. The courthouse arrests escalate the administration's efforts to speed up deportations. Migrants who can't prove they have been in the U.S. for more than two years are eligible to be deported without a hearing before a judge. Historically, these expedited removals were done only at the border, but the Trump administration has sought to expand their use. The policies are being challenged in court. 'Secretary [Kristi] Noem is reversing Biden's catch-and-release policy that allowed millions of unvetted illegal aliens to be let loose on American streets," said a senior official from the Department of Homeland Security. The official said most immigrants who entered the U.S. illegally within the last two years "are subject to expedited removals." But he noted that if they have a valid credible fear claim, as required by law, they will continue in immigration proceedings. Toczylowski said it was Fonseca Solorzano's first appearance in court. Like many of those apprehended this week, Fonseca Solorzano arrived in the United States from Honduras via CPB One, an application set up during the Biden administration that provided asylum seekers a way to enter the country legally after going through a background check. More than 900,000 people were allowed in the country on immigration parole under the app, starting in January 2023. The Trump administration has turned the tool into a self-deportation app. "We are punishing the people who are following the rules, who are doing what the government asks them to do," Toczylowski said. "I think that this practice certainly seemed to have shaken up some of the court staff, because it's so unusual and because it's such bad policy to be doing this, considering who it targets and the ripple effects that it will have, it'll cause people to be afraid to come to court." A Times reporter witnessed three arrests on Friday in the windowless court hallways on the eighth floor of the Federal Building downtown. An agent in plain clothes in the courtroom came out to signal to agents in the hallway, one wearing a red flannel shirt, when an immigrant subject to detainment was about to exit. "No, please," cried Gabby Gaitan, as half a dozen agents swarmed her boyfriend and handcuffed him. His manila folder of documents spilled onto the floor. She crumpled to the ground in tears. 'Where are they taking him?' Richard Pulido, a 25-year-old Venezuelan, had arrived at the border last fall and was appearing for the first time, she said. He had been scared about attending the court hearing, but she told him missing it would make his situation worse. Gaitan said Pulido came to the U.S. last September after fleeing violence in his home country. An immigrant from Kazakhstan, who asked the judge not to dismiss his case without success, walked out of the courtroom. On a bench across from the doors, two immigration agents nodded at each other and one mouthed, 'Let's go.' They stood quickly and called out to the man. They directed him off to the side and behind doors that led to a service elevator. He looked defeated, head bowed, as they searched him, handcuffed him and shuffled him into the service elevator. Lawyers, who were at courthouses in Santa Ana and Los Angeles this week, say it appears that the effort was highly coordinated between Homeland Security lawyers and federal agents. Families and lawyers have described similar accounts in Miami, Seattle, New York, San Diego, Chicago and elsewhere. During the hearing for Pulido, Homeland Security lawyer Carolyn Marie Thompkins explicitly stated that the case would be dismissed because the government planned on deporting Pulido. 'The government intends to pursue expedited removal in this case,' she said. Pulido appeared confused as to what a dismissal would mean and asked the judge for clarity. Pulido opposed having his case dropped. 'I feel that I can contribute a lot to this country,' he said. Kim said it was not enough and dismissed the case. The courthouse arrests have frustrated immigrant rights advocates who say the rules of the game are changing daily for migrants trying to work within the system. "Immigration court should be a place where people go to present their claims for relief, have them assessed, get an up or down on whether they can stay and have that done in a way that affords them due process," said Talia Inlender, deputy director at the Center for Immigration Law and Policy at UCLA School of Law School. "That is being ripped away sort of at every turn. "It's another attempt by the Trump administration to stoke fear in the community. And it specifically appears to be targeting people who are doing the right thing, following exactly what the government has asked them to do," she said. Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
24-05-2025
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
Father ripped from family as agents target immigration courts, arresting people after cases dismissed
The man just had his immigration case dismissed and his wife and 8-year-old son were trailing behind him when agents surrounded, then handcuffed him outside the downtown Los Angeles courtroom. Erick Eduardo Fonseca Solorzano stood speechless. His wife trembled in panic. The federal agents explained in Spanish that he would be put into expedited removal proceedings. Just moments earlier on Friday, Judge Peter A. Kim had issued a dismissal of his deportation case. Now his son watched in wide-eyed disbelief as agents quickly shuffled him to a service elevator — and he was gone. The boy was silent, sticking close by his mother, tears welling. 'This kid will be traumatized for life,' said Lindsay Toczylowski, chief executive and co-founder of Immigrant Defenders Law Center, who reached out to the family to help them with their case. Similar scenes are taking place across the country as government lawyers dismiss immigrants' deportation cases only to have them immediately arrested by agents as they leave the courtroom to be removed on a fast track that does not involve a judicial review. The courthouse arrests escalate the administration's efforts to speed up deportations. Migrants who can't prove they have been in the U.S. for more than two years are eligible to be deported without a hearing before a judge. Historically, these expedited removals were done only at the border, but the Trump administration has sought to expand their use. The policies are being challenged in court. 'Secretary [Kristi] Noem is reversing Biden's catch-and-release policy that allowed millions of unvetted illegal aliens to be let loose on American streets,' said a senior official from the Department of Homeland Security. The official said most immigrants who entered the U.S. illegally within the last two years 'are subject to expedited removals.' But he noted that if they have a valid credible fear claim, as required by law, they will continue in immigration proceedings. Toczylowski said it was Fonseca Solorzano's first appearance in court. Like many of those apprehended this week, Fonseca Solorzano arrived in the United States from Honduras via CPB One, an application set up during the Biden administration that provided asylum seekers a way to enter the country legally after going through a background check. More than 900,000 people were allowed in the country on immigration parole under the app, starting in January 2023. The Trump administration has turned the tool into a self-deportation app. 'We are punishing the people who are following the rules, who are doing what the government asks them to do,' Toczylowski said. 'I think that this practice certainly seemed to have shaken up some of the court staff, because it's so unusual and because it's such bad policy to be doing this, considering who it targets and the ripple effects that it will have, it'll cause people to be afraid to come to court.' A Times reporter witnessed three arrests on Friday in the windowless court hallways on the eighth floor of the Federal Building downtown. An agent in plain clothes in the courtroom came out to signal to agents in the hallway, one wearing a red flannel shirt, when an immigrant subject to detainment was about to exit. 'No, please,' cried Gabby Gaitan, as half a dozen agents swarmed her boyfriend and handcuffed him. His manila folder of documents spilled onto the floor. She crumpled to the ground in tears. 'Where are they taking him?' Richard Pulido, a 25-year-old Venezuelan, had arrived at the border last fall and was appearing for the first time, she said. He had been scared about attending the court hearing, but she told him missing it would make his situation worse. Gaitan said Pulido came to the U.S. last September after fleeing violence in his home country. An immigrant from Kazakhstan, who asked the judge not to dismiss his case without success, walked out of the courtroom. On a bench across from the doors, two immigration agents nodded at each other and one mouthed, 'Let's go.' They stood quickly and called out to the man. They directed him off to the side and behind doors that led to a service elevator. He looked defeated, head bowed, as they searched him, handcuffed him and shuffled him into the service elevator. Lawyers, who were at courthouses in Santa Ana and Los Angeles this week, say it appears that the effort was highly coordinated between Homeland Security lawyers and federal agents. Families and lawyers have described similar accounts in Miami, Seattle, New York, San Diego, Chicago and elsewhere. During the hearing for Pulido, Homeland Security lawyer Carolyn Marie Thompkins explicitly stated that the case would be dismissed because the government planned on deporting Pulido. 'The government intends to pursue expedited removal in this case,' she said. Pulido appeared confused as to what a dismissal would mean and asked the judge for clarity. Pulido opposed having his case dropped. 'I feel that I can contribute a lot to this country,' he said. Kim said it was not enough and dismissed the case. The courthouse arrests have frustrated immigrant rights advocates who say the rules of the game are changing daily for migrants trying to work within the system. 'Immigration court should be a place where people go to present their claims for relief, have them assessed, get an up or down on whether they can stay and have that done in a way that affords them due process,' said Talia Inlender, deputy director at the Center for Immigration Law and Policy at UCLA School of Law School. 'That is being ripped away sort of at every turn. 'It's another attempt by the Trump administration to stoke fear in the community. And it specifically appears to be targeting people who are doing the right thing, following exactly what the government has asked them to do,' she said.
Yahoo
22-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Gay asylum-seeker's lawyer worries for the makeup artist's safety in Salvadoran ‘hellhole' prison
The last time anyone spoke to Andry Hernández Romero, he thought he was being put on a plane back to Venezuela. Instead, the 31-year-old gay Venezuelan makeup artist, who came to the United States seeking asylum from political persecution and anti-LGBTQ+ violence, according to his attorney, was forcibly disappeared into one of the world's toughest prisons. Keep up with the latest in + news and politics. Hernández Romero is now believed to be held inside El Salvador's Terrorism Confinement Center, better known as CECOT — a sprawling, brutalist mega-prison that has been compared to a modern gulag or concentration camp. Constructed by President Nayib Bukele to house alleged gang members, CECOT holds tens of thousands of men in isolation, most without trial. Many have not been convicted of any crimes. There is no phone access. No mail. No visits. No light. No end. Related: Gay Venezuelan asylum-seeker 'disappeared' to Salvadoran mega-prison under Trump order, Maddow reveals 'This is one of the most shocking things I could ever imagine happening to a client,' said Lindsay Toczylowski, a 15-year immigration attorney and executive director of Immigrant Defenders Law Center, in an interview with The Advocate. Toczylowski is representing Hernández Romero in court. Andry Hernandez RomeroCourtesy Immigrant Defenders Law Center 'He never left ICE custody,' she said. 'He had no criminal history. And yet they secretly shipped him off to a hellhole, like his life meant nothing.' She said Hernández Romero, a pageant stylist and lifelong theater performer, had never even been arrested. Now she worries he is shackled and starving in a foreign land he had never set foot in before being deported there by the Trump administration under the pretext of national security and based on nothing more than a tattoo. Hernández Romero's journey to CECOT began with a crown — two, in fact. Toczylowski said the tattoos on his wrists, one above his mother's name and one above his father's, were part of a tribute to his family and the Three Kings Day pageants in which he had performed since childhood. But to a disgraced former Milwaukee police officer working for private prison contractor CoreCivic, they looked like gang insignia. Related: Deported gay makeup artist cried for mother in prison, photojournalist says That officer, who had been fired for crashing his car while intoxicated and later hired by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, submitted a report claiming the crowns suggested membership in Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan criminal syndicate that the Trump administration has labeled a foreign terrorist organization. That flimsy accusation, uncorroborated by any credible evidence, became Hernández Romero's ticket to indefinite torture. 'He's not in a gang. He's a makeup artist who worked at Miss Venezuela,' Toczylowski said. 'His social media is full of beauty queens. The only crowns he touches are made of rhinestones.' A prison officer opening a gate at the Terrorism Confinement Center (CECOT) in Tecoluca, in San Vicente, El Salvador on April 4, 2025. Alex Pena/Anadolu via Getty Images Hernández Romero entered the U.S. last year after making an appointment through the Biden administration's CBP One app. The Trump administration has repurposed the app, now called CBP Home, to get undocumented immigrants to self-deport. His attorney says he followed the rules and did everything right. When he arrived, he was detained at the Otay Mesa Detention Center in California, run by CoreCivic. He never once stepped outside a detention facility. He was no danger to Americans, his lawyer says. Related: Bad Wisconsin cop's tattoo claim helped deport gay asylum-seeker to Salvadoran prison hellscape: report Hernández Romero was scheduled for an asylum hearing March 13. But when the hearing came, he didn't appear — not because he skipped court, but because ICE didn't bring him. His lawyers were confused, and then they panicked. By Friday of that week, he was no longer listed in the ICE detainee locator. By Sunday, Bukele posted videos of Venezuelan men being brutally marched off planes in shackles on social media. Hernández Romero's lawyers scanned the footage frame by frame. They saw him. 'He was crying, begging guards, 'I'm gay! I'm a stylist!'' Toczylowski said. 'He was being slapped, his head forcibly shaved. And then he disappeared into the dark.' CECOT is not a prison in any traditional sense. It is a vast fortress of pain. Thousands of men sleep on metal slabs in vast concrete rooms. They are beaten for speaking. They are denied food until they are too weak to resist, Toczylowski said. Their heads are shaved, their identities stripped. They are forbidden from speaking, even to each other. Photojournalist Philip Holsinger, who documented the prison for Time, said Hernández Romero sobbed uncontrollably, praying and calling out for his mother as guards dragged him down a hallway. Hernández Romero's mother learned of his fate only when Toczylowski called to tell her he was in El Salvador. ICE has refused to confirm anything to his attorneys. There is no removal order and no legal paperwork. The Department of Homeland Security and the White House did not respond to The Advocate's requests for comment. The Trump administration claims the Alien Enemies Act — a law passed in 1798 to detain foreign nationals during war — gives it unchecked power to disappear people like Hernández Romero without trial. ICE has since declared it will not facilitate any communication with him or make him available for court appearances, his lawyer said. 'It is terrifying,' Toczylowski said. 'Because we have no idea what is happening to him.' Andry Hernandez RomeroCourtesy Immigrant Defenders Law Center Despite the trauma, Toczylowski and her team are fighting. They've filed court motions. They've contacted elected officials. But the wheels of justice move slowly — too slowly for someone caged in a windowless concrete block, surrounded by armed guards, his future erased. 'Every single day he remains there, his life is at risk,' she said. 'And if anything happens to him, it is on President Trump, Secretary of Homeland Security [Kristi] Noem, and Secretary of State [Marco] Rubio.' Hernández Romero's case, she warned, is not just about one person. 'If they can do this to him, they can do it to anyone,' she said. 'Green card holders. U.S. citizens. Anyone.' In a quiet moment during the interview, Toczylowski reflected on the emotional toll. 'I have not had a case or a situation that has weighed on me like this since we were at the epicenter of the family separation crisis,' she said. 'We were helping kids in shelters who were crying for their parents. I thought that was the most shocking thing I'd ever witnessed in my career. But what has happened to Andry? It tops that.' She paused. 'This is as bad as it gets.' Andry Hernandez RomeroCourtesy Immigrant Defenders Law Center Hernández Romero doesn't know that people are fighting for him. He doesn't know that his theater troupe in Venezuela is staging rallies in his honor, wearing crowns in protest. He doesn't know that, according to Toczylowski, churches in Canada, Spain, and the Netherlands have offered him sanctuary. He doesn't know that dozens of strangers across the U.S. have offered to house him if he ever returns. 'We just want him to know he's not alone,' Toczylowski said. 'He's loved. We're fighting like hell to bring him home.' ImmDef continues to represent Hernández Romero and others like him pro bono. The nonprofit organization accepts financial contributions and urges those who support Hernández Romero to share his story, contact elected officials, and support legal efforts to bring him back. 'We have started representing other people who are also in El Salvador, whose stories we are just learning,' Toczylowski said. 'We obviously do all of this work pro bono. So, if people want to support organizations like us that fight to get due process for people and that provide free lawyers to people, they should. We could certainly use the support." On Saturday, the U.S. Supreme Court issued a temporary pause on further deportations under the Alien Enemies Act. The court's order came after the American Civil Liberties Union filed an emergency appeal on behalf of dozens of men being held in Texas, many of whom were reportedly being bused to airports without notice or hearings. Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito dissented. The court's move signals new scrutiny of Trump's use of executive wartime powers to bypass asylum law. While the justices have not yet ruled on the law's constitutionality, the pause blocks removals 'until further order of this court.' On Monday, four Democratic U.S. lawmakers traveled to El Salvador to investigate the situation for those detained, including to conduct a welfare check on Hernández Romero. U.S. Reps. Yassamin Ansari of Arizona, Robert Garcia of California, Maxwell Frost of Florida, and Maxine Dexter of Oregon sent a letter to Rubio requesting that they or Hernández Romero's lawyers be able to see him. "As a gay man, Mr. Hernández Romero is at particular risk of persecution if deported or imprisoned in El Salvador, a country where LGBTQIA+ people can face 'torture, inhuman or degrading treatment, excessive use of force, illegal and arbitrary arrests and other forms of abuse, much of it committed by public security agents,'" the letter states. Beyond financial support, Toczylowski said Hernández Romero's case needs continued attention. 'We need elected officials — like Sen. [Chris] Van Hollen did — to go to El Salvador and demand answers,' she said. 'And if we're able to get an elected official to go down like Sen. Van Hollen did, and they're able to speak with him, I want him to know how many people — his team here at ImmDef, his family, and so many around the world — are fighting for him so that he doesn't give up hope, so that he doesn't give up the will to survive.' Van Hollen, a Democratic U.S. senator from Maryland, traveled to San Salvador last week to meet with Kilmar Abrego Garcia, another man deported under similar circumstances. Van Hollen confirmed that Abrego Garcia had been held in CECOT for weeks, isolated, taunted, and emotionally traumatized. He was later transferred to a lower-level facility, still in isolation, but reportedly improved. 'He was clearly strengthened by the fact that people were fighting to ensure his rights are protected,' Van Hollen said at a news conference after returning. Toczylowski said she hopes someone will be allowed to speak to Hernández Romero soon and that he will learn he hasn't been forgotten. 'If it were me, I'd want someone to tell my story. I'd want someone to know I was human,' she said. 'If it can happen to Andry — it can happen to a green card holder. It can happen to a U.S. citizen. That should chill us all.'
