The fiercest voices of dissent against President Nayib Bukele have long feared a widespread crackdown. They weathered police raids on their homes, watched their friends being thrown into jail and jumped between safe houses so they can stay in El Salvador.
Then they received a warning: Leave immediately. It鈥檚 exile or prison.
A combination of , a new , violent repression of peaceful protesters and the risk of imminent government detention has driven more than 100 political exiles to flee in recent months.
The biggest exodus of journalists, lawyers, academics, environmentalists and human rights activists in years is a dark reminder of the nation's brutal civil war decades ago, when tens of thousands of people are believed to have escaped. Exiles who spoke to The Associated Press say they are scattered across Central America and Mexico with little more than backpacks and a lingering question of where they will end up.
鈥淲e're living through a moment where history is repeating itself," said Ingrid Escobar, leader of the human rights legal group Socorro Juridico, who fled El Salvador with her two children.
鈥淲e've lost everything," she said.
Bukele's administration did not respond to requests for comment.
鈥榃e鈥檒l have to leave this country鈥�
Bukele, 43, has long been criticized for and committing human rights abuses in his , in which the government waived constitutional rights and arrested more than 1% of El Salvador's population.
Activists and journalists say for years they have faced mounting harassment and threats from the self-described 鈥渨orld's coolest dictator,鈥� whose tongue-in-cheek , and tough-on-crime discourse has many on the American right.
Despite 60% of Salvadorans saying they fear publicly expressing political opinions in a , Bukele continues to enjoy soaring levels of approval because violence plummeted following his crackdown on gangs.
Escobar 鈥� one of the populist's most vocal critics 鈥� said that as her organization challenged the government through thousands of legal cases, police constantly surveilled her family, showing up outside her mother's house and her 7- and 11-year-old children's schools.
鈥淥ne day, we'll have to leave this country,鈥� she told them, hoping it wasn't true.
But things have reached an inflection point in recent months as Bukele grows with President Donald Trump, namely due to the in a Salvadoran prison made for gangs.
In May, the El Salvador government passed a resembling legislation used by Russia, Venezuela and Nicaragua to criminalize dissent by targeting organizations receiving overseas funding. Shortly after, police detained Ruth L贸pez, an anti-corruption lawyer at El Salvador's top human rights organization Cristosal, accusing her of corruption. L贸pez denies the allegations.
As police escorted her in shackles to a June court appearance, she shouted: 鈥淭hey鈥檙e not going to silence me! I want a public trial!"
Her detention came amid the arrests of several critics.
On Thursday, Cristosal announced it had quietly evacuated all of its staff to Guatemala and Honduras, and shut down operations in El Salvador.
鈥淭he justice system has been weaponized against us," said Cristosal leader Noah Bullock. 鈥淣obody in El Salvador has any doubt that the government can detain whoever it wants and disappear them in prisons indefinitely."
'If I stay, will I die?'
Escobar soon received news that her name appears on a list with 11 other journalists and activists targeted for detention.
Escobar, who was about to enter treatment for sarcoma, a rare form of cancer, worried that if she was thrown in prison, she wouldn't receive care. Around a third of under Bukele were caused by a lack of medical attention.
鈥淚 asked myself one question: 鈥業f I stay, will I die?鈥欌�� she said.
In June, she and her children slipped across the Guatemala border, flew to the U.S. and then to another Latin American country. She looks over her shoulder every day.
Many of the exiles asked AP to not disclose their locations, fearing they could be tracked down. Others who have fled were too scared to speak on the record, even anonymously.
A couple flees
Journalist M贸nica Rodr铆guez, 40, and her husband, 37-year-old activist Steve Maga帽a, are in exile.
They were among a handful of people who documented on video Salvadoran police violently quashing a peaceful demonstration. Hundreds of protesters, including children and elderly people, wanted the president to stop the eviction of their rural community on a road near his house.
鈥淚t contradicted Bukele's discourse,鈥� Rodr铆guez said. 鈥淭hey were repressing people and we were the ones evidencing it."
Bukele later posted on the social platform X that the community had been "manipulated" by NGOs and journalists, then announced the foreign agents law.
Soon came the arrests and more people fled the country. Rodr铆guez said police showed photos of her and her husband to the community, asking where they were.
Rodr铆guez and Maga帽a were already scared after masked police officers raided their home months earlier, seizing computers, cellphones, Maga帽a's credit cards and hard drives containing Rodr铆guez鈥檚 reporting materials.
The couple went into hiding, hopping between four safe houses in San Salvador before leaving the country. In June, the Association of Journalists in El Salvador reported that at least 40 journalists fled the country in a matter of weeks.
'We鈥檝e lost it all'
For some, including 55-year-old Jorge Beltr谩n, a reporter who served in the Salvadoran military during the civil war, it's a case of d茅j脿 vu.
Between 1979 and 1992, war raged between a repressive, U.S.-backed government and leftist guerrillas. While there's no universally agreed upon number, historians believe tens of thousands of political exiles fled, including opposition leaders, journalists and human rights activists. The U.N. estimates around 1 million people left the country over the course of the war.
鈥淚 never thought I'd live through something like that again," Beltr谩n said. "The armed conflict paved the way for a fledgling democracy we enjoyed for a few years. ... Something was achieved. And now we've lost it all.鈥�
The journalist investigating corruption in El Salvador for the newspaper El Diario de Hoy said he pushed back against legal attacks before going into exile.
Beltr谩n was sued by a business owner with close ties to the government for $10 million in 鈥渕oral damages鈥� for his investigation that uncovered evidence of corruption. A Salvadoran court forced him to retract the story but he wasn't required to pay any damages. Meanwhile, he said, officials constantly harassed him for not revealing his sources in stories about human trafficking and continued forced disappearances.
He eventually received a call from a government official warning that police might come for him.
鈥淚 recommend you leave the country. You're one of the 鈥榦bjectives鈥� they're looking to silence,鈥� Beltr谩n said he was told. 鈥淵ou can leave journalism, but they'll make you pay for what you already did.鈥�
He left El Salvador alone with two bags of medicine for high blood pressure and his war injuries, a book about government repression and two letters from his wife and daughter saying they hoped they would meet again one day.
With bags still packed in another Central American country, he said he wants to seek asylum in Canada. Noting Trump and Bukele are allies, it's the only place in the hemisphere he thinks he will feel safe.
鈥淓ven here, I'm stuck behind bars,鈥� he said, speaking from the home with barred windows where he's hiding. 鈥淓xile is a prison.鈥�
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This story has been corrected to show Beltran investigated human trafficking, not drug trafficking, and that he was forced to retract a story alleging corruption but was not required to pay damages.
