The four friends grew up within blocks of one another in Venezuela, playing soccer and bouncing between each other’s homes. As the nation deteriorated, they journeyed to the United States and were eking out a new life in Dallas, where they worked long hours and shared a townhouse.
Then, on Thursday, armed officers showed up at their home, arrested them and took them to a Texas detention center, Mervin Yamarte, 29, told his mother by phone. Family members do not know the charges, if any, and the men’s names do not appear in federal, state or local criminal court records.
What happened next horrified the families. Yamarte said they were asked to sign deportation papers and agreed, thinking they would soon be back with their children and loved ones in Venezuela. But a day later, his mother saw a jarring video released by Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele showing alleged gang members being violently pulled off planes from the United States and dragged to a mega-prison notorious for allegations of human rights abuses.
Mercedes Yamarte spotted her son.
He appears for only a second, but she has no doubt it is him. He is kneeling and wearing a ripped black shirt. His head has been shaved. An officer stands behind him. He appears to be wincing.
“I didn’t have words,” Mercedes Yamarte said Monday, her voice strained. “I couldn’t speak.”
Unbeknownst to his family, Yamarte had been put on a plane after President Donald Trump secretly signed a proclamation invoking the Alien Enemies Act of 1798. The wartime provision gave Trump the power to quickly remove Venezuelans accused of belonging to the Tren de Aragua gang, taking away their chance to make their case to a judge before deportation. A federal judge blocked Trump from using the power and ordered the administration to turn around any planes that were already in the air. Three planes landed in El Salvador hours later.
The White House and the Department of Homeland Security did not confirm whether Yamarte or his friends were sent to El Salvador and, if so, whether they had been deported under the Alien Enemies Act. The quickness with which Yamarte was detained and sent to El Salvador corresponds with the use of the authority.
Trump’s secret deployment of the extraordinary power is being argued over in court, as immigrant advocates demand to know who was deported and why. The last time a president invoked the act was during one of the darkest chapters in the nation’s past, when the government interned more than 110,000 Japanese Americans during World War II.
The Trump administration said that U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement investigated each migrant sent to El Salvador to verify their ties to the gang. Robert Cena, an acting ICE field director, wrote in a court filing that those efforts included reviewing surveillance data and testimonies from victims. He acknowledged that “many” of those deported under the act do not have criminal records in the United States, but he said that “does not indicate they pose a limited threat.”
After Mercedes Yamarte recognized her son, the mothers of the other men began worrying and searching for information, too. One of the other men was spotted in a photo released by Bukele, and the mothers assume all four are in El Salvador. In interviews, relatives of the men — Yamarte, Ringo Rincón, Andy Javier Perozo and Edwuar Hernández — insisted the four are not members of the Tren de Aragua gang.
“If there are people with criminal records, then look for them,” Mercedes Yamarte said. “But the innocent shouldn’t have to pay for the rest.”
The four men hail from Maracaibo, a city in western Venezuela that once was one of the nation’s wealthiest, thanks to its abundant oil reserves.
But as they came of age, their nation began to collapse. Hyperinflation made their salaries worthless. Venezuela’s oil industry tanked. The city began experiencing regular blackouts. Mervin Yamarte found work with a roofing company, his family said, but he still struggled to make ends meet.
In 2023, he and his friends turned their eyes northward. They traveled through Central America and into Mexico to reach the United States. The relatives said they crossed the same way thousands of Venezuelans had before them: entering illegally across the Rio Grande and then surrendering to U.S. Border Patrol agents, who detained and then released them.
All the men shared similar stories. They were in their 20s and 30s, still young enough to imagine starting over somewhere new. All had children. Family members said they have no criminal records in Venezuela. Their histories there could not be immediately verified by The Washington Post.
Yamarte left for the United States in hopes of earning money to fix up his family’s dilapidated home, said Jeannelys Parra, his partner of 11 years. The couple has a 6-year-old daughter. Relatives said he has several tattoos that are testaments to his love of family.
One bears the name of their daughter. Another, on his arm, reads “Fuerte como mamá.” Strong like mom. A third shows two clasped hands, representing him and his partner, next to the date they began dating.
The other men were also family-oriented, their relatives said. Rincón, 39, had been working for a television provider in Venezuela and has three children. Perozo, 30, has five children and had been making a living by delivering food on a motorcycle. His mother said it didn’t make him enough to support his family.
“I tried to offer a hand when I could,” his mother, Erkia Palencia, 52, said in a telephone interview. “But I couldn’t always.”
Hernández, 23, joined his friends in Dallas a year later. His mother said that he was also detained when he illegally crossed the border in the fall, and that officers asked him about his tattoos — a branch on his chest, an owl on his arm. He was released with a date to appear in court in 2027.
Most of the men worked initially in a factory that makes corn and flour tortillas. One later got a job with an online fast-fashion retailer.
Their lives had changed, but they had managed to keep their friendship. They were colleagues and roommates. And when they had free time, relatives said, they spent it playing soccer.
The officers arrived at their home Thursday morning. By then, Mervin’s younger brother, Jonferson Yamarte, had arrived in Texas. He witnessed the arrests, but was not detained, and described them to The Post.
He said armed immigration officers were in his living room when he woke up. They asked him to sit down, requested his name and then inquired whether he had tattoos. Scholars and journalists who have studied Tren de Aragua say tattoos are not a reliable indicator of membership in the gang. Relatives of several Venezuelan men whom the Trump administration described as Tren de Aragua members and sent to Guantánamo in February also said immigration agents had focused on tattoos. The relatives denied that their loved ones had ties to the gang.
Jonferson Yamarte, 21, said he showed the men the tattoo that he and his brother share: “Fuerte como mamá.”
It remains unclear why one brother was arrested but not the other. Jonferson Yamarte said one of the men, Perozo, had missed a court date and had a final deportation order.
On Saturday, Melvin Yamarte called his mom. She said he told her that all four friends were in detention together and had signed deportation papers. The mothers began making arrangements for their arrival. One of the men’s children wanted to throw a welcome home party.
Then Mercedes Yamarte saw the video from El Salvador. She alerted the other moms and girlfriends. They wailed in despair.
“The house felt like somebody had died,” said Yareli Herrera, 44, Hernández’s mother. “I haven’t been able to eat or sleep.”
Mervin Yamarte’s partner, Parra, said that when she saw the video, “my heart broke in a million pieces. Because my husband is not part of Tren de Aragua. And I couldn’t believe they sent him there.” After so many years together, she knows his expressions, and what she saw on his face was clear.
“It was a face of pain,” she said. “Of fear.”
Ana Vanessa Herrero, Arelis R. Hernández and Aaron Schaffer contributed to this report.
