Gay Make Up Artist Deported to El Salvador Jail

PHOTO BY SALVADORAN GOVERNMENT VIA GETTY IMAGES)

Andry Hernandez Romero, a gay makeup artist who came to the United States last year in search of asylum, is one of 238 Venezuelan migrants who were flown from the U.S. to a maximum security prison in El Salvador three weeks ago. 

President Trump, who campaigned on eradicating the Venezuelan gang known as Tren de Aragua, brokered  a deal with El Salvador's president that allows the U.S. to send deportees to  the Terrorism Confinement Center, or CECOT. 

The Trump administration used the Alien Enemies Act, a law not invoked since World War II, to send many of the Venezuelans there, claiming they were all terrorists and violent gang members. 

Lawyers and family members of the Venezuelan migrants told 60 Minutes they've had no contact with the men since they arrived in El Salvador.  

"Our client, who was in the middle of seeking asylum, just disappeared. One day he was there, and the next day we're supposed to have court, and he wasn't brought to court," Lindsay Toczylowski, Hernandez Romero's lawyer, said.

What we know about Andry Hernandez Romero

Hernandez Romero left his home country last May because he was targeted for being gay and for his political views, his attorney says. He made the long trek north through the Darien Gap, a 60-mile roadless stretch of dense forest between Colombia and Panama, to Mexico, where he eventually got an appointment to seek asylum in the United States. At a legal border crossing near San Diego, he was taken into custody while his case was processed.

Photojournalist witnesses Venezuelan migrants' arrival in El Salvador: "They had no idea what was coming"

Toczylowski said he had a strong asylum case. Hernandez Romero had what is known as a credible fear interview, the first step in the process of seeking asylum in the U.S. 

"And the government had found that his threats against him were credible and that he had a real probability of winning an asylum claim," Toczylowski said. 

 

But last month, Hernandez Romero did not appear for a court hearing in the U.S. Instead, he and others were taken in shackles to El Salvador. Toczylowski did not know where he was.

Photos taken by Time magazine photographer Philip Holsinger show Hernandez Romero at CECOT. Holsinger said he heard a young man say, "I'm not a gang member. I'm gay. I'm a stylist." The young man cried for his mother as he was slapped and had his head shaved, Holsinger said.

"It's horrifying to see someone who we've met and know as a sweet, funny artist, in the most horrible conditions I could imagine," Toczylowski said. 

She said she fears for her client's safety. 

"We have grave concerns about whether he can survive," Toczylowski said. 

Tattoos and social media

Hernandez Romero's tattoos were also visible in the photos taken of him by Holsinger. Those tattoos — crowns — were the only evidence U.S. immigration officials presented in court to accuse him of being part of the Tren de Aragua gang.  

"These are tattoos that not only have a plausible explanation because he is someone who worked in the beauty pageant industry, but also the crowns themself were on top of the names of his parents," Toczylowski said. "The most plausible explanation for that is that his mom and dad are his king and queen."

A Department of Homeland Security spokeswoman said on social media that its intelligence assessments "go well beyond just gang affiliate tattoos." She said Hernandez Romero's "own social media indicates he is a member of Tren de Aragua." 60 Minutes reviewed posts on Hernandez Romero's social media going back a decade. Posts include photos of Hernandez Romero with makeup brushes and a bejeweled crown.

Toczylowski said she thinks it's unlikely that the U.S. government knows something she doesn't know about her client. 

"But if it was possible that they had some information, they should follow the Constitution, present that information, give us the ability to reply to it," she said.

Tattoos and social media were also used to link Venezuelan migrant Jerce Reyes Barrios to the Tren de Aragua gang, government documents show. Immigration court documents include a Facebook post from 14 years ago showing him flashing what officers said was a gang sign.

His girlfriend told 60 Minutes the gesture was about rock n' roll. 

Immigration agents also flagged Reyes Barrios' crown tattoo as a gang symbol but they did not mention the crown is above a soccer ball. Reyes Barrios was a soccer player in Venezuela. His lawyer said the tattoo honors his favorite team, Real Madrid, whose logo includes a crown. 

Organized crime analysts say that while members of the Salvadoran MS-13 gang can often be identified by signature tattoos, Tren de Aragua is different. 

"Expert after expert tells us tattoos are not a reliable indicator of whether you're part of this particular gang," said Lee Gelernt, an attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union.

What the records show

The Trump administration has released very little information about the Venezuelan migrants sent to prison in El Salvador.  But internal government documents obtained by 60 Minutes and public records indicate that an overwhelming majority have no apparent criminal convictions or even criminal charges. 

The Trump administration says just because the migrants don't have criminal records does not mean they are not in a gang and are not dangerous. Border czar Tom Homan has said that immigration agents spent hours conducting rigorous checks on each of the men to confirm they are members of Tren de Aragua.

 

In this handout photo provided by the Salvadoran government, a guard watches the inmates allegedly linked to criminal organizations sitting on the floor at CECOT on March 16, 2025 in Tecoluca, El Salvador. 

But, after cross-referencing the internal documents with domestic and international court filings, news reports and arrest records, 60 Minutes could not find criminal records for 75% of the Venezuelans now sitting in prison in El Salvador.

The analysis did show that at least 22% of the men on the list do have criminal records in the U.S. or abroad. Most of the offenses are non-violent, such as theft, shoplifting and trespassing. About a dozen are accused of more serious crimes, including murder, rape, assault and kidnapping.

For 3% of those deported, it is unclear whether a criminal record exists. 

In response to 60 Minutes' findings, a Department of Homeland Security spokeswoman said many of those without criminal records "are actually terrorists, human rights abusers, gangsters, and more; they just don't have a rap sheet in the U.S."

The 1798 Alien Enemies Act 

In October, Homan told 60 Minutes that the Trump administration's mass deportation plan would start by removing "the worst of the worst."

"We're gonna prioritize those with convictions. We're gonna prioritize national security threats. We have to do that. You gotta get the worst first," he said at the time.

 

While on the campaign trail, Mr. Trump said he would invoke the Alien Enemies Act to expedite the removal of Tren de Aragua members from the U.S. Last month, he followed through and invoked the 1798 law, which allows the president to remove non-citizens without immigration hearings during times of war or invasion.

"Every administration back to 1798 has understood this is wartime authority to be used when the United States is at war with a foreign government," Gelernt said. "The administration is saying, 'Not only are we gonna use it against a criminal organization, but you the courts have no role. You cannot tell us that we're violating the law or stop us.'" 

According to Gelernt, the U.S. does not have the legal right to send someone who's been deported from the country to a foreign prison. 

Gelernt pointed to World War II, when the U.S. government invoked the Alien Enemies Act to detain certain immigrants from Italy, Germany and Japan

"We sent people back to their home country. We didn't send them to a foreign prison," he said 

State secrets privilege

Before the Venezuelan migrants arrived in El Salvador, U.S. District Court Judge James Boasberg ordered the Trump administration to turn the planes carrying the men around. Flight tracking data shows two planes were in the air at the time and one was about to take off from Texas. Instead of turning around, all the planes made a stop at a military base in Honduras. And then, despite Boasberg's verbal and written orders, the planes all flew to El Salvador.

Since then, the U.S. government has disclosed very few details about the operation. CBS News published the only list of all 238 Venezuelan deportees. 

"The government is refusing to answer almost every question from the court," Gelernt said. 

The government invoked state secrets privilege to try to withhold more detailed information about the deportation flights from Judge Boasberg

"They are saying they can't even confirm details about the planes," Gelert said. 

A Homeland Security spokeswoman, when asked what evidence the government has linking the men to Tren de Aragua beyond tattoos and social media posts, cited "state secrets" and "ongoing litigation" as the reasons she could not comment. 

Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, who visited CECOT last month, declined a 60 Minutes request for an interview. 

What's next for these men?

Gelernt is leading the ACLU legal challenge against the Trump administration's efforts to send migrants to CECOT. 

"If they are here illegally and don't have a right to stay, they can be deported back to their home country. If they've committed crimes, they can be prosecuted and perhaps spend many, many years in a U.S. prison," Gelernt said. "It's not a matter of, 'Can these individuals be punished?' It's a matter of how the government is gonna go about doing it. Once we start using wartime authority with no oversight, anything is possible. Anybody can be picked up."

 

Gelernt has spent decades challenging the immigration policies of Democratic and Republican administrations. But he says he doesn't know whether the migrants sent to prison in El Salvador will ever see their families again.

"There's a real danger that they remain there," he said. 

This past week, the Trump administration admitted it mistakenly deported Kilmar Abrego Garcia, a 29-year-old Salvadoran man accused of being a gang member, to CECOT. He lived in Maryland with his wife and child who are American citizens. 

In court papers, the government called it an "administrative error," but said there is no way to get him back. On Friday, a federal judge ruled Abrego Garcia must be returned to the U.S. by Monday, April 7. The Justice Department quickly appealed the order.