Venezuelans Share Their Harrowing Journey: Escaping Hell in El Salvador’s Mega-Prison

Mervin Yamarte felt a mix of relief and anguish as he stepped into his mother’s home in Los Pescadores, Maracaibo, Venezuela. “We lived through hell,” he said, his eyes brimming with tears and sweat. Mervin was one of four men deported from the U.S. to El Salvador, landing in a maximum-security prison known as Cecot.

Since January, the U.S. government has increased deportations, often sending people to Cecot under accusations of criminal activity. Mervin and his friends, Edwuar Hernández Herrera, Andy Perozo, and Ringo Rincón, spent four long months in the facility. They reported being mistreated, enduring beatings and degrading treatment.

After a prisoner exchange, these men found their way back home, buoyed by the cheers from their loved ones. Mervin remembered his time in Cecot with a heavy heart. “The prison director told us that whoever entered would never come out,” he recounted. Inmates were forced to eat with their hands and slept on hard metal beds without proper hygiene.

In a recent statement, Venezuela’s Attorney-General, Tarek William Saab, condemned the alleged “systemic torture” occurring at Cecot, claiming it included severe abuse. This is part of a larger narrative where deportees from the U.S. face dire consequences upon return to their home countries. The U.S. deported these Venezuelans under the 1798 Alien Enemies Act, designed for wartime deportations, yet invoked controversially for alleged gang affiliations.

Venezuela is not alone in facing criticism regarding human rights; El Salvador’s president, Nayib Bukele, denied any abuse allegations and has faced international scrutiny. Right groups have criticized Cecot for its overcrowding and harsh conditions, sometimes leading to violence among inmates.

Even as Mervin and the others celebrated their return, the weight of their experiences lingered. Their welcome involved joyful scenes—a caravan of motorbikes, cheerful songs, and a display of balloons in the colors of the Venezuelan flag.

Amid the festivities, Mervin, who previously worked in a tortilla factory in Texas, couldn’t shake the memories of his captivity. In their community, emotions were high. Each man returned to a family that believed in their innocence and longed for their safe return.

Andy Perozo, another deportee, shared his own painful memories from Cecot. He, too, faced physical abuse. The conditions were so harsh that even a small visit from officials resulted in sudden changes meant to present a cleaner image of the facility.

Mervin and Andy’s stories highlight the complexity of migration, deportation, and the harsh realities many face upon their return home. With conversations surrounding immigration heated in both the U.S. and Latin America, the paths ahead for these individuals remain uncertain. They aim to rebuild their lives, but the shadows of their past experiences continue to affect them.

As Mervin looked around his home, amidst his family’s warm embrace, he shared a thought echoed by many deportees: “I want to stay, work, and never leave again.”



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