Latest news with #VenezuelanMigrants
CBS News
23-05-2025
- Politics
- CBS News
Relatives of Venezuelan detainees in CECOT find comfort in support group, with no release in sight
On May 18, relatives of the Venezuelan migrant detainees in El Salvador's mega prison CECOT, announced to a WhatsApp group the death of Marlene Ramirez, a grandmother who raised one of the men currently detained there, Jonathan Mendoza Ramirez. Her family said she had died of a heart attack, unable to endure the emotional stress of not being able to communicate with her grandson. She could no longer take it, they said. Since the Trump administration in March removed a group of Venezuelan migrants alleged to be gang members to El Salvador for indefinite detention, a WhatsApp virtual community has come into being, made up largely of mothers of the detainees. The group grew one by one, as the mothers found out about their sons' whereabouts, largely from videos posted on social media by the president of El Salvador, Nayib Bukele. The videos showed the Venezuelan men arriving from the U.S. in shackles, being frog-marched off the plane and into CECOT. Inside the prison, they were forced to kneel as their heads were shaved by guards. "I can't recount these videos or else I fall into a serious depression," said Jetzy Arteaga, the creator of the WhatsApp group. Her son, Carlos Cañizalez Arteaga, is one of the Venezuelan migrants transferred to CECOT in March. "I try to block them, so that I can go on about my day, but only a mother in this situation can understand why these images hurt so much." On days when she can't keep the images out of her thoughts, Arteaga says she can't get out of bed and turns to other mothers in the group chat. "When one of us is down, we go to their house, run their errands and pick up their other kids from school," says Arteaga. "They're all over Venezuela, and I understand that today, it might be them needing help, but tomorrow it might be me in the hospital." Jetzy Arteaga, creator of a Whatsapp support group for mothers whose sons are being held in CECOT, a maximum security prison in El Salvador. Her son, Carlos Cañizalez Arteaga, standing behind her, is being held at CECOT. Photo provided by Jetzy Arteaga Arteaga created the group to communicate with other mothers because she says she needed answers. "I was in a state of disbelief, and I was waiting for the U.S. government to say my son was transferred by mistake," said Arteaga. "The U.S. is a country that follows their laws, and when their investigation concludes my son is not a gang member, they'll release him." Records that prove his lack of criminal gang activity in Venezuela, however, have not led to Carlos' release. The group says it has grown and now includes relatives of 170 of the migrant men detained in El Salvador. "The first thing I do every morning is check the group chat, and we ask for updates and prayers," said Analia Burbano, whose nephew Victor Andres Ortega Burbano, is being held in CECOT. She says she constantly scrolls through social media to see if there are any updates or photos of her nephew in prison. Undated photo of Analia Burbano with her nephew, Victor Andres Ortega Burbano, who is being detained in CECOT, in El Salvador. Photo provided by Analia Burbno Burbano says she is now speaking on behalf of her nephew because his mother is emotionally and physically unable to do so. "Ever since she saw the video of Victor at CECOT, she fell into a depression, does not get up from bed, does not eat and cries every day," said Burbano. "She is very frail." Burbano says her nephew's arrest and transfer came as a surprise, since Ortega had been granted Temporary Protected Status that allowed him to legally work in the U.S. According to immigration documents reviewed by CBS News, Ortega's TPS was approved for June 2024 through last month, in April. The group frequently makes trips to Miramar, Venezuela, to pressure officials to demand the release and deportation of the men back to their country. The chat serves as a venue to plan the next protest or opportunity to publicize the men's plight at events like those held by the United Nations. "We all have our ups and downs, but through this process, we make sure that none of us let the negative thoughts linger for long," said Anyi Yohana Casares Jimenez, mother of Jason Alfredo Silva Casares. On March 13, Jimenez says she received the last call from her son, desperately asking her to send over documents proving he didn't have a criminal record in Venezuela. She never heard from him again. Jason showed up at the U.S. southern border in August 2024 after receiving an appointment through the CBP One app, but remained in detention because immigration agents were suspicious of his crown tattoo, according to his mother. "There's not a day that I don't search social media for any new videos of him inside CECOT." The three mothers all claim their sons are not part of Venezuela's Tren de Aragua gang, but they do fault the men's tattoos for causing their imprisonment. "It was the argument I always had with my son," said Arteaga. "I always asked what his need for a tattoo was." Her son tattooed his mother's name "Jetzy" on his wrist, a tattoo that now serves as evidence of gang affiliation, according to court documents. It's now been more than two months since these men were taken to El Salvador and the U.S. government continues to deport anyone who is in the country illegally after President Trump promised to deport "the worst of the worst". "All we can do is trust that this nightmare will soon end," said Burbano.
CBS News
23-05-2025
- Politics
- CBS News
With no release in sight, relatives of Venezuelan detainees in CECOT find comfort in support group
On May 18, relatives of the Venezuelan migrant detainees in El Salvador's mega prison CECOT, announced to a WhatsApp group the death of Marlene Ramirez, a grandmother who raised one of the men currently detained there, Jonathan Mendoza Ramirez. Her family said she had died of a heart attack, unable to endure the emotional stress of not being able to communicate with her grandson. She could no longer take it, they said. Since the Trump administration in March removed a group of Venezuelan migrants alleged to be gang members to El Salvador for indefinite detention, a WhatsApp virtual community has come into being, made up largely of mothers of the detainees. The group grew one by one, as the mothers found out about their sons' whereabouts, largely from videos posted on social media by the president of El Salvador, Nayib Bukele. The videos showed the Venezuelan men arriving from the U.S. in shackles, being frog-marched off the plane and into CECOT. Inside the prison, they were forced to kneel as their heads were shaved by guards. "I can't recount these videos or else I fall into a serious depression," said Jetzy Arteaga, the creator of the WhatsApp group. Her son, Carlos Cañizalez Arteaga, is one of the Venezuelan migrants transferred to CECOT in March. "I try to block them, so that I can go on about my day, but only a mother in this situation can understand why these images hurt so much." On days when she can't keep the images out of her thoughts, Arteaga says she can't get out of bed and turns to other mothers in the group chat. "When one of us is down, we go to their house, run their errands and pick up their other kids from school," says Arteaga. "They're all over Venezuela, and I understand that today, it might be them needing help, but tomorrow it might be me in the hospital." Jetzy Arteaga, creator of a Whatsapp support group for mothers whose sons are being held in CECOT, a maximum security prison in El Salvador. Her son, Carlos Cañizalez Arteaga, standing behind her, is being held at CECOT. Photo provided by Jetzy Arteaga Arteaga created the group to communicate with other mothers because she says she needed answers. "I was in a state of disbelief, and I was waiting for the U.S. government to say my son was transferred by mistake," said Arteaga. "The U.S. is a country that follows their laws, and when their investigation concludes my son is not a gang member, they'll release him." Records that prove his lack of criminal gang activity in Venezuela, however, have not led to Carlos' release. The group says it has grown and now includes relatives of 170 of the migrant men detained in El Salvador. "The first thing I do every morning is check the group chat, and we ask for updates and prayers," said Analia Burbano, whose nephew Victor Andres Ortega Burbano, is being held in CECOT. She says she constantly scrolls through social media to see if there are any updates or photos of her nephew in prison. Undated photo of Analia Burbano (R) with her nephew, Victor Andres Ortega Burbano (L), who is being detained in CECOT, in El Salvador Photo provided by Analia Burbno Burbano says she is now speaking on behalf of her nephew because his mother is emotionally and physically unable to do so. "Ever since she saw the video of Victor at CECOT, she fell into a depression, does not get up from bed, does not eat and cries every day," said Burbano. "She is very frail." Burbano says her nephew's arrest and transfer came as a surprise, since Ortega had been granted Temporary Protected Status that allowed him to legally work in the U.S. According to immigration documents reviewed by CBS News, Ortega's TPS was approved for June 2024 through last month, in April. The group frequently makes trips to Miramar, Venezuela, to pressure officials to demand the release and deportation of the men back to their country. The chat serves as a venue to plan the next protest or opportunity to publicize the men's plight at events like those held by the United Nations. "We all have our ups and downs, but through this process, we make sure that none of us let the negative thoughts linger for long," said Anyi Yohana Casares Jimenez, mother of Jason Alfredo Silva Casares. On March 13, Jimenez says she received the last call from her son, desperately asking her to send over documents proving he didn't have a criminal record in Venezuela. She never heard from him again. Jason showed up at the U.S. southern border in August 2024 after receiving an appointment through the CBP One app, but remained in detention because immigration agents were suspicious of his crown tattoo, according to his mother. "There's not a day that I don't search social media for any new videos of him inside CECOT." The three mothers all claim their sons are not part of Venezuela's Tren de Aragua gang, but they do fault the men's tattoos for causing their imprisonment. "It was the argument I always had with my son," said Arteaga. "I always asked what his need for a tattoo was." Her son tattooed his mother's name "Jetzy" on his wrist, a tattoo that now serves as evidence of gang affiliation, according to court documents. It's now been more than two months since these men were taken to El Salvador and the U.S. government continues to deport anyone who is in the country illegally after President Trump promised to deport "the worst of the worst". "All we can do is trust that this nightmare will soon end," said Burbano.
Washington Post
22-05-2025
- Politics
- Washington Post
Venezuelan migrants lost legal status. Here's what that means for the economy.
A Supreme Court decision allowing the Trump administration to cancel temporary protections for up to 350,000 Venezuelans could destabilize industries and regions around the United States, with broader spillover effects in certain areas. Monday's order from the high court marked a reversal of a Biden administration decision that allowed Venezuelan migrants to live and work in the U.S. for humanitarian reasons. The Department of Homeland Security moved to cancel the protections in February, saying they were not in the national interest and arguing that migrants presented a public security risk and a drain on resources. The Supreme Court agreed with the Trump administration, although ongoing litigation is playing out in the lower courts. Economists say the administration's efforts to expel hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans from the country could spur labor shortages, job losses, business closures and higher housing costs in some parts of the U.S., citing academic research on the effects of mass deportation. Here are some basics to know about Venezuelan workers with temporary protected status and the potential economic fallout of the Supreme Court decision. About 350,000 Venezuelans who arrived during the Biden administration received protections in 2023 that allowed them to live and work in the U.S. They were granted temporary protected status through a program created in 1990 for migrants from countries experiencing war, environmental disasters or other catastrophes. President Joe Biden allowed Venezuelans to qualify for temporary protected status, because administration officials decided the political unrest and dire economic conditions under Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro made it too risky to return migrants. Since then, hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans have found jobs and established lives in the U.S., helping to boost the U.S. economy. A separate group of about 250,000 Venezuelans received their temporary status from the Biden administration in 2021. Their protections expire in September. About 350,000 Venezuelans who arrived during the Biden administration received protections in 2023 that allowed them to live and work in the U.S. They were granted temporary protected status through a program created in 1990 for migrants from countries experiencing war, environmental disasters or other catastrophes. President Joe Biden allowed Venezuelans to qualify for temporary protected status, because administration officials decided the political unrest and dire economic conditions under Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro made it too risky to return migrants. Since then, hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans have found jobs and established lives in the U.S., helping to boost the U.S. economy. A separate group of about 250,000 Venezuelans received their temporary status from the Biden administration in 2021. Their protections expire in September. Nearly 60 percent of Venezuelan temporary protection status holders who lost their status this week live in Florida and Texas, according to an analysis of American Community Survey data by George Mason University economics professor Michael Clemens. Smaller groups have settled in Georgia, Utah, Michigan, New York, Illinois and Tennessee. Nearly 60 percent of Venezuelan temporary protection status holders who lost their status this week live in Florida and Texas, according to an analysis of American Community Survey data by George Mason University economics professor Michael Clemens. Smaller groups have settled in Georgia, Utah, Michigan, New York, Illinois and Tennessee. Data suggests that Venezuelans with protected status work in lower-wage industries that have faced labor shortages since the coronavirus pandemic. Clemens's analysis found that about 21 percent of Venezuelans who lost their status on Monday work in the leisure and hospitality sector. Another 16 percent work in construction. Among the roughly 350,000 Venezuelans, the most common occupations are cook, construction laborer, housekeeper, carpenter and industrial truck and tractor operator. Venezuelans with protected status have 'been concentrating in urban areas doing urban things,' including retail and transportation, as opposed to agriculture and food production, where immigrants with rural origins tend to cluster, Clemens said. Data suggests that Venezuelans with protected status work in lower-wage industries that have faced labor shortages since the coronavirus pandemic. Clemens's analysis found that about 21 percent of Venezuelans who lost their status on Monday work in the leisure and hospitality sector. Another 16 percent work in construction. Among the roughly 350,000 Venezuelans, the most common occupations are cook, construction laborer, housekeeper, carpenter and industrial truck and tractor operator. Venezuelans with protected status have 'been concentrating in urban areas doing urban things,' including retail and transportation, as opposed to agriculture and food production, where immigrants with rural origins tend to cluster, Clemens said. It's not clear. Monday's Supreme Court order has spurred widespread confusion because it doesn't explicitly state whether the 350,000 Venezuelans with temporary protected status have already lost their legal status and work permits. The high court specified that some Venezuelans who lose their status and work authorization may be able to sue if the administration moves to deport them. To date, U.S. immigrant authorities have not provided an interpretation of how the Supreme Court decision immediately affects Venezuelans' legal status or work authorization. The federal register of the DHS agency that administers the program indicates that the protections have ended. 'The immediate impact of the decision is unclear because the court answers almost nothing in its order,' said Ahilan Arulanantham, an attorney who argued the case at the district court level. Still, the ruling has ignited widespread dread in Venezuelan communities and alarm among businesses that employ them. Adelys Ferro, director of the Venezuelan-American Caucus, an advocacy group, said she has already been hearing from workers who were fired because of the Supreme Court decision. 'If there was some sense of desperation before, you can multiply that ad infinitum,' Ferro said, adding that people 'don't know what to do.' 'We desperately need guidance,' said Amy Peck, an immigration compliance attorney for employers at the firm Jackson Lewis. 'There are employers who are extremely concerned that this case will have an immediate effect.' It's not clear. Monday's Supreme Court order has spurred widespread confusion because it doesn't explicitly state whether the 350,000 Venezuelans with temporary protected status have already lost their legal status and work permits. The high court specified that some Venezuelans who lose their status and work authorization may be able to sue if the administration moves to deport them. To date, U.S. immigrant authorities have not provided an interpretation of how the Supreme Court decision immediately affects Venezuelans' legal status or work authorization. The federal register of the DHS agency that administers the program indicates that the protections have ended. 'The immediate impact of the decision is unclear because the court answers almost nothing in its order,' said Ahilan Arulanantham, an attorney who argued the case at the district court level. Still, the ruling has ignited widespread dread in Venezuelan communities and alarm among businesses that employ them. Adelys Ferro, director of the Venezuelan-American Caucus, an advocacy group, said she has already been hearing from workers who were fired because of the Supreme Court decision. 'If there was some sense of desperation before, you can multiply that ad infinitum,' Ferro said, adding that people 'don't know what to do.' 'We desperately need guidance,' said Amy Peck, an immigration compliance attorney for employers at the firm Jackson Lewis. 'There are employers who are extremely concerned that this case will have an immediate effect.' It's not clear whether all Venezuelans who lose their status in the U.S. would necessarily leave or be forcibly deported — especially if they have other protections, including through marriage or a pending asylum application. Yet, economists warn that the fallout from the removal of Venezuelans who have lost their status could be swift and particularly harmful for local economies. And deportations could have ripple effects on U.S.-born workers, business owners and housing stock. 'It's going to have a big impact,' said Chloe East, an economist at the University of Colorado at Denver who co-authored a 2022 study on the impact of Obama-era deportations. 'I anticipate we'll see employers [in sectors that employ Venezuelans with temporary protected status] have a much harder time finding workers, if they can find workers at all.' Research on the impact of past deportation efforts shows that immigration enforcement actions worsen labor shortages and lead to fewer jobs for U.S.-born workers in the regions where they happen. There is scant research on the deportation of temporary protected status holders, specifically. 'You can see at a construction site all immigrants doing the framing and concrete pouring, and you can see the electrician and project managers who are U.S. born. Those jobs rely on each other,' said Clemens, the George Mason University economist, citing research on the construction industry. 'If the framer is gone, the native-born electrician will not have a job either.' The broader economy suffers as economic activity declines, East's research shows. 'Immigrants get haircuts, they go to restaurants and buy groceries, and that creates jobs for everyone,' East said. It's not clear whether all Venezuelans who lose their status in the U.S. would necessarily leave or be forcibly deported — especially if they have other protections, including through marriage or a pending asylum application. Yet, economists warn that the fallout from the removal of Venezuelans who have lost their status could be swift and particularly harmful for local economies. And deportations could have ripple effects on U.S.-born workers, business owners and housing stock. 'It's going to have a big impact,' said Chloe East, an economist at the University of Colorado at Denver who co-authored a 2022 study on the impact of Obama-era deportations. 'I anticipate we'll see employers [in sectors that employ Venezuelans with temporary protected status] have a much harder time finding workers, if they can find workers at all.' Research on the impact of past deportation efforts shows that immigration enforcement actions worsen labor shortages and lead to fewer jobs for U.S.-born workers in the regions where they happen. There is scant research on the deportation of temporary protected status holders, specifically. 'You can see at a construction site all immigrants doing the framing and concrete pouring, and you can see the electrician and project managers who are U.S. born. Those jobs rely on each other,' said Clemens, the George Mason University economist, citing research on the construction industry. 'If the framer is gone, the native-born electrician will not have a job either.' The broader economy suffers as economic activity declines, East's research shows. 'Immigrants get haircuts, they go to restaurants and buy groceries, and that creates jobs for everyone,' East said. President Donald Trump and his advisers have touted mass deportations as a way to create higher-wage jobs for native-born Americans and relieve the housing affordability crisis. On the campaign trail, Trump and Vice President JD Vance blamed housing inflation on the surge in immigrant arrivals under Biden and pointed to mass deportations as a solution for reducing competition for housing and jobs. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi L. Noem said the temporary protection status program was 'contrary to the national interest,' citing gang activity and increased burden to cities such as New York for sheltering migrants. President Donald Trump and his advisers have touted mass deportations as a way to create higher-wage jobs for native-born Americans and relieve the housing affordability crisis. On the campaign trail, Trump and Vice President JD Vance blamed housing inflation on the surge in immigrant arrivals under Biden and pointed to mass deportations as a solution for reducing competition for housing and jobs. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi L. Noem said the temporary protection status program was 'contrary to the national interest,' citing gang activity and increased burden to cities such as New York for sheltering migrants. Trump is also seeking to roll back other Biden-era protections that have allowed millions of immigrants to remain in the U.S. while their immigration cases play out, including temporary protected status for some 520,000 people from Haiti that is set to expire in August and for some 10,000 from Afghanistan and Cameroon, who could lose their status in coming weeks. Justin Jouvenal, Sabrina Rodriguez and Arelis R. Hernández contributed to this report. Trump is also seeking to roll back other Biden-era protections that have allowed millions of immigrants to remain in the U.S. while their immigration cases play out, including temporary protected status for some 520,000 people from Haiti that is set to expire in August and for some 10,000 from Afghanistan and Cameroon, who could lose their status in coming weeks. Justin Jouvenal, Sabrina Rodriguez and Arelis R. Hernández contributed to this report.
CBS News
20-05-2025
- Politics
- CBS News
Thousands of Venezuelans in Chicago face deportation after Supreme Court allows Trump administration to end TPS program
Thousands of Venezuelan migrants living in Chicago could soon face deportation, after the Supreme Court ruled this week that the Trump administration can revoke Temporary Protected Status for hundreds of thousands of Venezuelans who have been in the U.S. for years. Temporary Protected Status allows migrants to live and work in the U.S. without the threat of deportation, although it does not provide a path to permanent residency or citizenship. Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem tried to terminate the TPS program for Venezuelans in February, but the move was previously blocked by a lower court. On Monday, the Supreme Court granted the Trump administration's request to lift the lower court's injunction. That could impact thousands of Venezuelan immigrants living in Chicago. "Every single person that we helped apply – because we helped them in 2023 – is going to be impacted by this," said Erendira Rendon, vice president for immigrant justice at the Resurrection Project, which has helped 9,000 Venezuelans in Illinois apply for TPS and asylum status. "Without Temporary Protected Status, if somebody never applied for asylum, they are in fact eligible for deportation, and they're at risk for deportation." Since Aug. 31, 2022, Chicago officials estimated the city has welcomed approximately 51,000 migrants from the southern border. A study done by Northeastern University last fall estimated about 30,000 of those people are from Venezuela, and have settled in neighborhoods like Brighton Park. "Right now, it seems like a rollercoaster because of all the changes," said Ana Alejandre, a shelter-based care manager at Brighton Park Neighborhood Council. The council has helped new arrivals find a home in Chicago. Thanks to the TPS program, they said those same immigrants have been able to get jobs to pay rent and pay taxes. "All of us that work and contribute to this country, we all get taxes deducted. Undocumented people, they also get taxes deducted, Social Security," Alejandre said. For many Venezuelans, the fear is now overwhelming that U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement could use details from TPS applications to find people now eligible for deportation. "Retaliation. Coming and looking for them, knowing where they live, where they work," Alejandere said. It's not clear when TPS for Venezuelans will be terminated and deportation efforts could begin.
The Independent
20-05-2025
- Politics
- The Independent
Trump administration sends 68 immigrants back to Honduras and Colombia on first self-deportation flight
The Trump administration has orchestrated the first repatriation flight of migrants it claims were part of a group of 68 voluntary deportations. The migrants were sent back to Colombia and Honduras on Monday on the first self-deportation flight funded by the government. Thirty-eight Hondurans, including 19 children, were sent to San Pedro Sula in northern Honduras after they were handed $1,000 debit cards from the U.S. government and the offer to apply for legal entry into the U.S. in the future. President Donald Trump promised on the campaign trail to conduct 'mass deportations' during his second stint in the White House. Experts believe that the offer to self-deport won't encounter high demand and is only set to attract a small number of migrants already thinking about going back. The offer to self-deport comes as the government has also conducted high-profile migrant detentions in the U.S. and as it has flown hundreds of Venezuelan migrants to a top-security prison facility in El Salvador. Kevin Antonio Posadas, from the Honduran capital of Tegucigalpa, had lived in Houston for three years and had already thought about returning to Honduras when the Trump administration revealed its new self deportation offering. 'I wanted to see my family and my mom,' he said, noting how easy the process was. 'You just apply (through the CBP Home app) and in three days you've got it,' he added. The flight departed Houston early on Monday. 'It's good because you save the cost of the flight if you have the intention of leaving,' he said. Posadas added that he hadn't been worried about deportation, and while he had enjoyed living in the U.S., he had been considering leaving for some time. He said he would eventually think about taking up the offer for those who choose to leave of their own volition to apply to enter the U.S. legally. Announcing the Monday flight, Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem said in a statement that 'If you are here illegally, use the CBP Home App to take control of your departure and receive financial support to return home. If you don't, you will be subjected to fines, arrest, deportation, and will never be allowed to return.' The Department of Homeland Security said in a statement that a further 26 migrants on the flight were being taken to Colombia. Antonio Garcia, the Honduran deputy foreign minister, said the government would give the returning migrants $100 in cash and a $200 credit at a government-run store that sells basic goods. He added that four of the children arriving in Honduras on Monday had been born in the U.S. Garcia met the arriving migrants at the airport and said they had told him that being undocumented in the U.S. had grown increasingly challenging, and that the situation was becoming more hostile. They were concerned about going to work. Wilson Paz, the Honduran immigration director, said that fewer Hondurans have been sent back so far compared to last year, noting that 13,500 have been deported this year, compared to more than 15,000 by the same time the previous year. 'I don't think it will be thousands of people who apply for the program,' said Paz. 'Our responsibility is that they come in an orderly fashion, and we support them.'
