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In the early days of President Donald Trump鈥檚 second term, I spent a few weeks observing Chicago鈥檚 immigration court to get a sense of how things were changing. One afternoon in March, the case of a 27-year-old Venezuelan asylum-seeker caught my attention.
Albert Jes煤s Rodr铆guez Parra stared into the camera at his virtual bond hearing. He wore the orange shirt given to inmates at a jail in Laredo, Texas, and headphones to listen to the proceedings through an interpreter.
More than a year earlier, Rodr铆guez had been convicted of shoplifting in the Chicago suburbs. But since then he had seemed to get his life on track. He found a job at Wrigley Field, sent money home to his mom in Venezuela and went to the gym and church with his girlfriend. Then, in November, federal authorities detained him at his apartment on Chicago鈥檚 South Side and accused him of belonging to the Venezuelan gang Tren de Aragua.
鈥淎re any of your tattoos gang related?鈥� his attorney asked at the hearing, going through the evidence laid out against him in an Immigration and Customs Enforcement report. 鈥淣o,鈥� said Rodr铆guez, whose tattoos include an angel holding a gun, a wolf and a rose. At one point, he lifted his shirt to show his parents鈥� names inked across his chest.
He was asked about a TikTok video that shows him dancing to an audio clip of someone shouting, 鈥淭e va agarrar el Tren de Aragua,鈥� which means, 鈥淭he Tren de Aragua is going to get you,鈥� followed by a dance beat. That audio clip has been shared some 60,000 times on TikTok 鈥� it鈥檚 popular among Venezuelans ridiculing the stereotype that everyone from their country is a gangster. Rodr铆guez looked incredulous at the thought that this was the evidence against him.
That day, the judge didn鈥檛 address the gang allegations. But she denied Rodr铆guez bond, citing the misdemeanor shoplifting conviction. She reminded him that his final hearing was on March 20, just 10 days away. If she granted him asylum, he鈥檇 be a free man and could continue his life in the U.S.
I told my editors and colleagues about what I鈥檇 heard and made plans to attend the next hearing. I saw the potential for the kind of complicated narrative story that I like: Here was a young immigrant who, yes, had come into the country illegally, but he had turned himself in to border authorities to seek asylum. Yes, he had a criminal record, but it was for a nonviolent offense. And, yes, he had tattoos, but so do the nice, white American moms in my book club. I was certain there are members of Tren de Aragua in the U.S., but if this was the kind of evidence the government had, I found it hard to believe it was an 鈥渋nvasion鈥� as Trump claimed. I asked Rodr铆guez鈥檚 attorney for an interview and began requesting police and court records.
Five days later, on March 15, the Trump administration expelled more than 230 Venezuelan men to a maximum security prison in El Salvador, a country many of them had never even set foot in. Trump called them all terrorists and gang members. It would be a few days before the men鈥檚 names would be made public. Perhaps naively, it didn鈥檛 occur to me that Rodr铆guez might be in that group. Then I logged into his final hearing and heard his attorney say he didn鈥檛 know where the government had taken him. The lawyer sounded tired and defeated. Later, he would tell me he had barely slept, afraid that Rodr铆guez might turn up dead. At the hearing, he begged a government lawyer for information: 鈥淔or his family鈥檚 sake, would you happen to know what country he was sent to?鈥� She told him she didn鈥檛 know, either.
I was astonished. I am familiar with the history of authoritarian leaders disappearing people they don鈥檛 like in Latin America, the part of the world that my family comes from. I wanted to think that doesn鈥檛 happen in this country. But what I had just witnessed felt uncomfortably similar.
As soon as the hearing ended, I got on a call with my colleagues Mica Rosenberg and Perla Trevizo, both of whom cover immigration and had recently . We talked about what we should do with what I鈥檇 just heard. Mica contacted a source in the federal government who confirmed, almost immediately, that Rodr铆guez was among the men that our country had sent to El Salvador.
The news suddenly felt more real and intimate to me. One of the men sent to a brutal prison in El Salvador now had a name and a face and a story that I had heard from his own mouth. I couldn鈥檛 stop thinking about him.
As a news organization, we decided to put significant resources into investigating who these men really are and what happened to them, bringing in many talented ProPublica journalists to help pull records, sift through social media accounts, analyze court data and find the men鈥檚 families. We teamed up with a group of Venezuelan journalists from the outlets and who were also starting to track down information about the men.
We spoke to the relatives and attorneys of more than 100 of the men and obtained internal government records that that all the men are 鈥渕onsters,鈥� 鈥渟ick criminals鈥� and the 鈥渨orst of the worst.鈥� We also published a story about how, by and large, the men were not hiding from federal immigration authorities. They were in the system; many had like Rodr铆guez and were waiting for their day in court before they were taken away and imprisoned in Central America.
On July 18 鈥� after I鈥檇 written the first draft of this note to you 鈥� we began to hear some chatter about a potential prisoner exchange between the U.S. and Venezuela. Later that same day, the men had been released. We鈥檇 been in the middle of working on a case-by-case accounting of the Venezuelan men who鈥檇 been held in El Salvador. Though they鈥檇 been released, documenting who they are and how they got caught up in this dragnet was still important, essential even, as was the impact of their incarceration.
The result is a database we published last week including .
From the moment I heard about the men鈥檚 return to Venezuela, I thought about Rodr铆guez. He鈥檇 been on my mind since embarking on this project. I messaged with his mother for days as we waited for the men to be processed by the government of Nicol谩s Maduro and released to their families.
Finally, one morning last week, he went home. We spoke later that afternoon. He said he was relieved to be home with his family but felt traumatized. He told me he wants the world to know what happened to him in the Salvadoran prison 鈥� daily beatings, humiliation, psychological abuse. 鈥淭here is no reason for what I went through,鈥� he said. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 deserve that.鈥�
The Salvadoran government has denied mistreating the Venezuelan prisoners.
We asked the Trump administration about its evidence against Rodr铆guez. This is the entirety of its statement: 鈥淎lbert Jes煤s Rodriguez Parra is an illegal alien from Venezuela and Tren de Aragua gang member. He illegally crossed the border on April 22, 2023, under the Biden Administration.鈥�
While Rodr铆guez was incarcerated in El Salvador and no one knew what would happen to him, the court kept delaying hearings for his asylum case. But after months of continuances, on Monday, Rodr铆guez logged into a virtual hearing from Venezuela. 鈥淥h my gosh, I am so happy to see that,鈥� said Judge Samia Naseem, clearly remembering what had happened in his case.
Rodr铆guez鈥檚 attorney said that his client had been tortured and abused in El Salvador. 鈥淚 can鈥檛 even describe to this court what he went through,鈥� he said. 鈥淗e鈥檚 getting psychological help, and that's my priority.鈥�
It was a brief hearing, perhaps five minutes. Rodr铆guez鈥檚 lawyer mentioned his involvement in an ongoing lawsuit against the Trump administration over its use of the Alien Enemies Act to deport Venezuelans. The government lawyer said little, except to question whether Rodr铆guez was even allowed to appear virtually due to 鈥渟ecurity issues鈥� in Venezuela.
Finally, the judge said she would administratively close the case while the litigation plays out. 鈥淚f he should hopefully be able to come back to the U.S., we鈥檒l calendar the case,鈥� she said.
Naseem turned to Rodr铆guez, who was muted and looked serious. 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 have to worry about reappearing until this gets sorted out,鈥� she told him. He nodded and soon logged off.
We plan to keep reporting on what happened and have another story coming soon about Rodr铆guez and the other men鈥檚 experiences inside the prison. Please .
