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Meet the new faces of LGBT juvenile corrections

DOJ, municipalities and former inmates are working to save gay youth

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Lorie Brisbin, Department of Justice, gay news, Washington Blade
Lorie Brisbin, Department of Justice, gay news, Washington Blade

Lorie Brisbin, a program specialist with the Department of Justice, said many LGBT juveniles in custody are there for survival crimes. (Photo courtesy of DOJ)

By THOM SENZEE

LGBT youth have enough trouble adjusting to life in what is still, for lack of a better term, “a straight man’s world.” But for LGBT youth in custody, the world is often a supremely frightening place.

“There is a significant portion of LGBTI juveniles in custody who are there for what we can call survival crimes,” explains Lorie Brisbin, a program specialist with the Department of Justice’s Office of Juvenile Justice and Delinquency Prevention (OJJDP).

“In many cases, these are kids who have been kicked out of their homes by their families simply because of their particular orientation, be that lesbian, gay or what have you.”

Made homeless by their parents as adolescents or as teenagers, and forced to face a tough world on their own with no basic tools for living—such as work experience or identification cards—some LGBT youth turn to petty crimes in order to survive. Survival crimes range from stealing food from grocery stores to prostitution and burglary.

In fact, merely being a homeless minor after 10 p.m. amounts to a violation of curfew laws, not to mention truancy if they cannot stay in school after becoming homeless.

Of course, some homeless youth turn to more serious crimes. Regardless of how they end up in custody, LGBT juveniles find themselves in a system that is only now beginning to recognize that there is a difference in needs compared to their heterosexual counterparts that corrections officials must know in order to keep them safe and well.

“Corrections is a very closed system,” Brisbin said. “There is a lot of education that needs to go on in helping staff feel comfortable with certain issues.”

Two specific issues that could be considered the meat and potatoes of the over-arching problem of how to safely and healthfully manage LGBT juvenile inmates are isolation and gender-appropriate placement.

Getting those two issues right, according to experts, builds a foundation where both juveniles in custody and corrections staff are safer than they would be otherwise.

“For instance, if you have a gay male who is not willing to hide who he is—and most are more than willing to hide—the way it used to work, staff were traditionally going to isolate you for your own protection,” explained Laura Garnette, deputy chief probation officer at Santa Clara County, Calif. Juvenile Detention Division.

“But the courts have said that’s unconstitutional. And actually I say to them, corrections staff, that’s your job. It’s not the juvenile’s job to keep himself safe; that’s what you’re getting paid to do. You’re making them do your job by putting them in isolation.”

According to OJJDP’s Brisbin, Garnette’s employer is a model of safety, efficacy and ethical management of LGBT and intersex juveniles in custody.

“Santa Clara County is phenomenal,” Brisbin told the Washington Blade. “It starts with their perspective, looking at their policies and making their environment safer and more welcoming.”

“More welcoming” might sound like an odd phrase to use when talking about incarceration. But it is important to remember, according to Brisbin, as well as Deputy Chief Probation Officer Garnette and other corrections professionals the Blade spoke to in researching this story; juvenile detention is mandated to rehabilitate rather than simply punish, as is often the case in adult corrections systems.

“Santa Clara probation has worked hard to redefine juvenile corrections,” said Brisbin, speaking by phone from her office at the Department of Justice in Washington, D.C. “Now, when a youthful offender who is lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender or intersex comes in, they are processed much differently, providing the best possible outcome for the general population and the staff.”

But it is not necessarily easy to bring change to the corrections establishment.

“You want to watch something entertaining, just tell a group of unenlightened corrections workers that they need to put a male-to-female transgender offender into housing with girls,” Santa Clara County’s Garnette said. “You’d think you had just told them the most hilarious or outlandish thing anyone ever said.”

Nowadays all youthful offenders in Santa Clara County are processed into and counseled within custody in a manner that is both neutral in terms of sexual orientation and gender identity.

“For instance, I might ask a male inmate if he has a girlfriend or if he has a boyfriend,” explains Garnette. “He might respond, ‘why would you ask me if I have a boyfriend; what do you think I am a fucking faggot?’”

“And then, of course, I respond, ‘well, why wouldn’t I ask? You could have either. How would I know which? There are plenty of gay young men who don’t fit stereotypes.’”

According to Garnette, that response safely opens the door for an honest answer if the youth is gay, while also planting a seed of tolerance if he is straight.

Santa Clara County neither isolates LGBT juvenile inmates individually, nor places them together in separate groups. Instead, officials and detention staff work with vigilance by observing and counseling all inmates to prevent physical altercations and eliminate bullying in real time—on the floors of housing units in its detention centers, 24/7.

“Isolation is not the solution,” Garnette said. “It’s our job to keep these kids safe by using our words, our eyes and our ears. Yes, it’s hard work, but simply isolating them is lazy and injurious. If you can’t do the job of keeping gay kids safe in the general population, then I’m sorry; get a different job.”

According to OJJDP’s Brisbin, a new vigor arrived in the juvenile corrections profession when, in 2012, the Justice Department issued national standards for ensuring that detention facilities conform to the 2003, “Prison Rape Elimination Act” (PREA) for the first time.

Among a litany of guidelines announced by Attorney General Eric Holder was a mandate to “incorporate unique vulnerabilities of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex and gender nonconforming inmates into training and screening protocols.”

Brisbin organizes workshops for corrections officials and juvenile detention facilities workers around the nation. Her training sessions are designed to introduce technical tools to help realize the promise of PREA, which is an end to rape and sexual abuse behind bars.

“For example PREA calls for changes in language that has been used in facilities in the past,” Brisbin said. “We talk about respectful communications—how do you do it and still get the kind of behavior you need for conformity in a locked-down situation.”

According to her, the words once used recklessly by officials at juvenile lockdowns can actually incite abuse.

“But words can also help prevent violence,” she said. “If you have a verbally disrespectful environment, that can be very, very unsafe. Don’t use terms that are inherently offensive. For instance, it used to be respectful to use the term hermaphrodite; that’s no longer seen as acceptable to use.”

Transgender and intersex youth in custody face particularly tough circumstances finding their places in detention settings. However well intentioned, detention-facility staff with varying levels of education can find the task of helping transgender, questioning and intersex youth safely fit in at “juvie” quite daunting.

Consider the latter of those three categories of youth: The Intersex Society of North America says the complexity of intersexuality makes it a subjective issue—albeit with real biological (i.e., chromosomal and genitalia-related) aspects.

“[Intersexuality] is a socially constructed category that reflects real biological variation,” reads the introductory statement on the group’s homepage. “To better explain this, we can liken the sex spectrum to the color spectrum. There’s no question that in nature there are different wavelengths that translate into colors most of us see as red, blue, orange, yellow. But the decision to distinguish, say, between orange and red-orange is made only when we need it—like when we’re asking for a particular paint color…”

When even experts and advocates admit that making gender distinctions among intersex persons can be similar to knowing the difference between burnt-orange and maroon-rust, how is a juvenile hall counselor working the graveyard shift in a Midwest suburb supposed to know how to refer to an intersex juvenile inmate?

The answer, according both Brisbin and Garnette, is surprisingly simple—let the individual inmate decide. They say the same rule applies to transgender youth in custody.

“The very worst thing you can do is call a transgender girl ‘he’ or ‘him,’” she said. “Not only can that lead to violence from other inmates, which puts the staff in danger as well as the kids in the facility, but it’s emotionally violent. It does real harm.”

Garnette, who is a lesbian, entered the corrections field at the end of the 1980s.

“It was about as different then compared to today as you can imagine,” she said. “This is an exciting time to be working in this field. In the past 10 years we have seen a change to evidence-based policies and procedures that wasn’t there before.”

According to Garnette, there was a time in her early career when she had bosses whose approaches to juvenile corrections were strictly tough for sake of toughness, or more permissive simply for the sake of permissiveness.

“Either way, it wasn’t about using research for evidence-based outcomes,” she said. “Now it’s exactly the opposite; that’s just what we do.”

Ten years ago it might have been impossible for Mark Seymour, a former inmate who served time in prison for a drug offense, to work with leading practitioners and researchers in the juvenile corrections field.

“When I got out of prison in 2010, I knew I wanted to do something to make it better for LGBT youth in custody because I know first-hand how bad things like being put in isolation—just because you happen to be gay—can be,” Seymour told the Blade. “It took everything I had within me to not lose my mind in isolation.”

Seymour is the first fellow at the National Center for Youth in Custody. He is currently helping implement a pilot program to disseminate the fast-growing body of evidence-based knowledge about how to better meet the stated missions of juvenile corrections facilities: rehabilitating youthful offenders.

“The exciting thing is that a big part of this new push to bring scholarship, research and practical knowledge about what works is a focus on LGBTI kids,” explains Seymour. “The youth of our community, for the first time, are part of the conversation.”

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National

‘They took him!’ Gay married couple torn apart by ICE

As Allan Marrero remains in ICE custody, his husband Matt continues to fight tirelessly for his release.

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Allan Marrero and Matthew Marrero (Photo courtesy of the couple)

For 113 days, Allan Marrero has been in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) custody, while his husband, Matthew Marrero, has been using every available avenue to secure his release.

Since Nov. 24, 2025, Allan—originally from the Cayman Islands—has been held at multiple detention facilities across the United States. His detention began after what was meant to be a routine, good-faith marriage-based green card interview at Federal Plaza in New York City, marking two years of marriage with Matthew.

Advocates, including Rev. Amanda Hambrick Ashcraft, Rev. Dr. Jacqui Lewis, and attorney Alexandra Rizio, have been actively involved in supporting the couple and navigating the legal challenges posed by ICE and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). The case highlights the Trump-Vance administration’s aggressive use of immigration enforcement to detain and deport individuals, even in circumstances where applicants have established legal claims to remain in the U.S.

Timeline of Allan’s detainment

On Nov. 24, Allan and his husband Matt arrived at 26 Federal Plaza in New York City for what was supposed to be a routine, marriage-based green card interview. They were accompanied by Rev. Amanda Hambrick Ashcraft, a minister from Middle Church in Manhattan, where the couple attended and Matthew sang in the choir.

They arrived early for their 8 a.m. appointment, prepared and hopeful. Despite growing news coverage about increased immigration enforcement under President Donald Trump, they believed in the process and felt confident they had done everything right.

“They brought with them a three-inch binder documenting their entire life together—photos, letters, legal records, and other evidence,” Ashcraft said.

“From the moment you get to Federal Plaza, the process is extremely traumatic—and that’s by design,” she explained. “There’s nothing warm or intuitive about it. It’s dehumanizing, and parts of it feel barbaric.”

Immediately after meeting the USCIS officer, something felt off.

“We came with a three-inch binder of our entire life—photos, letters, everything,” Matt said. “We were dressed up, ready, confident we had done everything right. The first thing she said was, ‘I don’t want that. Take it all apart.’ That was the moment I knew something wasn’t right.”

The officer then asked the couple for their passports—something neither of them had on hand. That seemed to be strike two, signaling that, just as with previous steps in this process, the interview was already off course because of the woman behind the desk.

As the couple was told to move to a new room for their interview, Ashcraft was denied entry with them. This struck all three as odd; Ashcraft had attended immigration and green card interviews before to provide spiritual guidance and bolster claims of legitimacy, with no issues. Coupled with the initial hostility over the binder, it was a clear sign that the day would not go as hoped.

“There’s no real policy—it’s whoever is in front of you deciding what the rules are at that moment,” Ashcraft added. “Whatever they say goes. That’s what makes it so dangerous.”

Inside the tightly controlled interview, tensions escalated.

“I looked over at my husband when she asked how we met—just instinct. He’s the love of my life,” Matt said. “She snapped her fingers in my face and said, ‘Don’t look at him.’ We’re telling our love story, and I’m not even allowed to look at my husband.”

The officer then raised questions about a missed immigration hearing for Allan in 2022. 

Allan had lived in the United States since 2013 and had been diligent about maintaining his legal status and personal growth. During that time, he had entered a rehabilitation program for alcohol addiction—a commitment that, coincidentally, caused him to miss the scheduled court hearing. Medical records explained by Alexandra Rizio, Allan’s attorney, corroborate this.

Because the judge did not know Allan was in rehab, a removal order was issued in his absence.

“He didn’t realize that he had a removal order in his name,” Rizio, the Make the Road New York attorney, explained. “When you have a removal order, it means ICE can pick you up at any moment. He walked into that interview completely unaware that he was at risk of being arrested on the spot.”

Allan Marrero and Matthew Marrero (Photo courtesy of the couple)

The officer acknowledged that their marriage was legitimate but denied Allan’s green card application. She told them they would need to appear before an immigration judge, signaling that his journey to legal status was far from over and still subject to the whims of others.

“She told us, ‘Out of the goodness of my heart, I’ll let you leave today. I could have called ICE, but I won’t,’” Matt recalled. “My husband started crying, I was a wreck.”

Despite that comment, the couple was escorted through a series of back hallways. Allan’s file was handed off to ICE officers, and the supervisor walked away.

“They walked us down this long hallway, took his file, handed it to ICE agents, and just left. No explanation, no warning. Suddenly they’re telling him to put his hands behind his back, and I’m standing there asking, ‘What is happening?’”

The gravity of the situation escalated.

“He was crying, I was crying, we were hugging, and I kept saying, ‘It’s going to be okay,’” Matt said. “And then they just pulled him away into an elevator and left me there. It happened so fast it didn’t even feel real.”

A supervisor entered briefly to distinguish between what could be controlled inside the office and what could not be controlled outside. Rizio called this a deliberate choice to intensify the emotional pressure.

“What the officer could have done was say, ‘You have a removal order—go hire a lawyer,’” Rizio said. “That would have been the humane and reasonable response. Instead, ICE was called, and they arrested him.”

Outside the room, Ashcraft heard the chaos unfold.

“The next thing I heard was Matthew screaming down the hallway: ‘Amanda! Amanda! They took him!’” she recounted. “That’s how it happened—just like that, after everything they had prepared.”

For the next 36 hours, Matt had no information about his husband’s whereabouts.

“For 36 hours, I had no idea where my husband was,” he said. “No phone call, no information, nothing. It felt like he had just disappeared.”

The following morning, Matt’s mother and sister drove down from Connecticut to help. They returned to Federal Plaza with Allan’s anxiety medication and contact information, only to be told minutes later that Allan was no longer there. The couple could not locate him through the ICE online system. Only after contacting an attorney did they learn he had been transferred to Delaney Hall, a detention facility in New Jersey.

Matt and Allan’s mother drove to Delaney Hall in Newark, an industrial area where families—including children—waited in the rain. Inside, staff initially insisted Allan was not present, despite documentation proving otherwise. After long delays, they were finally allowed to see him.

This was the first time Matt felt the point-blank homophobia of the detention system.

“When I finally saw him, they told us we couldn’t touch,” Matt said. “I’m watching straight couples kiss and hold each other, but I can’t even hold my husband’s hand.”

“You ripped my husband away, didn’t tell me where he was for 36 hours, and now I’m not allowed to console him?” he added. “It was so cold—it felt completely inhuman.”

Conditions inside detention quickly became grueling.

“He was moved in the middle of the night, chained at his wrists and ankles, not told where he was going,” Matt said. “They kept the cuffs on for days—he had cuts and bruises.”

“The worst part isn’t even the facilities—it’s the transport,” Matt continued. “You’re chained like an animal, trying to eat a bologna sandwich and drink water while shackled. You can barely move your body.”

Allan remained at Delaney Hall for approximately two weeks. One night, he told Matt that groups of detainees were being taken out in the middle of the night without warning. Shortly afterward, he was among them.

Around 12:30 a.m., Allan called to say he was being moved. He and others were gathered in a visitation room and held for hours without food or beds. By midday, they were shackled again, loaded onto transport, and flown out of state. His location once again disappeared from the ICE tracking system.

Over the next several days, Allan was moved through multiple locations, including a holding area near an airport in Phoenix, where detainees were kept in overcrowded, tent-like enclosures without seating. He remained in restraints for extended periods and was denied access to his medication.

From there, he was transferred through facilities in Texas and Louisiana before ultimately being sent to a remote detention site in the Florida Everglades, informally known as “Alligator Alcatraz.”

Conditions there were severe. Detainees were held in cages with dozens of men in each enclosure. Sanitation was poor, with overflowing toilets near sleeping areas. Exposure to the elements and limited access to medical care caused Allan’s health to deteriorate. Phone calls were limited to short, scheduled windows.

“He told me about being in a cage in the Everglades—30 men, toilets overflowing next to where they sleep,” Matt said. “There were signs about poisonous snakes, and he said, ‘If one shows up, I’m going to die—there’s nobody here.’”

“ICE officers would tell them, ‘You’re a burden to your family. Just sign your self-deportation papers,’” Matt added. “He would call me crying, saying, ‘Just let me go, forget about me.’ That’s psychological warfare.”

Ashcraft reflected on the system’s cruelty.

“At every step, it feels designed to be as insular, as cruel, and as impenetrable as possible,” she said. “At every turn, we’re seeing a new kind of cruelty…Someone will say, ‘They can’t do that,’ and we have to say, ‘Actually, they are.’”

Eventually, Allan was transferred to a detention facility in Natchez, Miss., where conditions were more stable and he was finally able to receive his prescribed medications. Around this time, his legal case began to shift.

His attorney submitted documentation showing that the missed 2022 hearing had occurred while he was in a verified rehabilitation program. The same immigration judge who had issued the original removal order agreed to reopen the case and rescinded that order, restoring Allan’s standing.

“The judge agreed with us and granted bond. At that point, we thought he would be released and we could move forward. That’s how the system is supposed to work,” Rizio said.

In early February, a bond hearing was scheduled. Matt traveled to Mississippi in anticipation of Allan’s release. The legal team presented extensive documentation, including letters of support from members of Congress, as well as evidence of Allan’s marriage and community ties.

Instead of releasing him, ICE exercised its authority to place a 10-day hold while considering an appeal. During that time, Matt remained in Mississippi, visiting Allan regularly.

“ICE decided to just ignore that and not release him. They used something called the ‘auto stay’ provision to keep him locked up anyway,” Rizio said. “It’s essentially them saying, ‘We don’t like the judge’s order, so we’re not going to follow it….That feels crazy—because it is crazy. There’s no real statutory basis for it. It’s a regulation that allows them to operate outside the bounds of what the law actually says.”

Before the hold period ended, a second immigration judge became involved. Without reviewing the full evidence or receiving a newly filed green card application, the judge issued a decision in advance.

“A completely different judge—who isn’t even an immigration specialist—stepped in and denied an application that wasn’t even before him,” Rizio explained. “I have never seen anything like that in 14 years of practice.”

She has argued that the decision was procedurally improper and legally flawed.

“He decided, based on rehab records showing recovery and sobriety, to label Allan a ‘habitual drunkard.’ He cherry-picked information and ignored the evidence that he had successfully completed treatment.”

When the 10-day hold expired, Allan’s legal team attempted to secure his release again, but ICE cited the new ruling to continue detaining him. By that point, Allan had been in detention for more than 100 days.

“He could have walked out of detention with a green card,” Rizio said. “Instead, he’s still sitting in detention because of actions that simply shouldn’t have happened.”

“None of what I just described reflects a system that cares about justice,” she said. “It feels like punishment. I feel very confident these actions are designed to make people give up… Allan has already lost over three months of his life. He’s never going to get that time back.”

“We did everything right,” Matt said. “We followed the law, built a life, got married, had a clear pathway to citizenship. And now my whole life is on pause. If someone wants to understand this, imagine someone coming in and kidnapping the person you love most—taking away all your control. That’s what this feels like.”

Allan remains in detention in Natchez while legal challenges move forward. Throughout his time in custody, detainees have reported being pressured to accept voluntary deportation, often being told they are burdens to their families. Despite the mounting legal and emotional toll, Allan continues to fight his case from inside detention, while his family and community advocate for his release on the outside.

The couple has set up a Go-Fund-Me to help with the financial costs of this ongoing situation.

The Blade contacted ICE and DHS for comment but did not receive a response.

Matthew Marrero and Allan Marrero (Photo courtesy of the couple)
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The White House

Kennedy Center leadership changes as Trump ally Grenell departs

Numerous productions cancelled shows during gay Trump loyalist’s tenure

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Former Kennedy Center Executive Director Richard Grenell at a Senate Judiciary Committee hearing in January 2025. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

Longtime Trump ally and openly gay “Special Presidential Envoy for Special Missions of the United States” Richard Grenell is stepping down from his leadership role at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.

The story was first reported by Axios on March 13 before President Donald Trump made any official statements about the leadership change at the Kennedy Center, which has undergone a sweeping overhaul of rule changes and pro-Trump appointees to its board since Trump took office in 2025.

In addition to packing the Kennedy Center boardroom with loyalists and appointing himself chair of the board in February 2025, the Trump-Vance administration has placed the president’s name on the facade in an attempt to rename the center — despite the move being illegal without an act of Congress to officially change its name. The administration has also painted the building’s columns white and removed diverse programming.

Since these changes, multiple shows have pulled out of performing at the historic venue — including productions associated with the Washington National Opera.

Matt Floca, the former vice president of facilities operations at the national cultural center under Grenell, has been named the new head of the Kennedy Center, according to Trump.

The change is expected to be announced at a Kennedy Center board of directors meeting at the White House on Monday, which Trump is expected to attend.

“I am pleased to announce that Matt Floca, subject to the approval of the Board of Directors, will be named the Chief Operating Officer and Executive Director of THE TRUMP KENNEDY CENTER where, as Vice President of Operations, Matt has helped us achieve tremendous progress in bringing the Center to the highest level of Excellence!” Trump wrote in a post on Truth Social. “A Complete Reconstruction of THE TRUMP KENNEDY CENTER will begin after the July 4th Celebration, with a scheduled Grand Re-Opening in approximately two years.”

“Ric Grenell has done an excellent job in helping to coordinate various elements of the Center during the transition period, and I want to thank him for the outstanding work he has done,” the post added. “THE TRUMP KENNEDY CENTER will be, at its completion, the finest facility of its kind anywhere in the World! — President DONALD J. TRUMP.”

Grenell previously served as U.S. ambassador to Germany and later as acting director of national intelligence during Trump’s first term. He led the Kennedy Center during a period in which its programming was reshaped and new board members aligned with Trump were appointed. Trump also named himself chair of the board.

Congress approved $257 million in reconstruction funding for the Kennedy Center in last year’s spending package, a project estimated to take roughly two years to complete. Kennedy Center officials have also said they implemented increased cost-cutting measures — including large-scale layoffs — and that staff salaries are no longer being paid using debt reserves.

Actor Harvey Fierstein, a longtime critic of Trump’s takeover of the cultural institution and an award-winning openly gay performer, posted on Instagram celebrating Grenell’s departure.

“Good old anti-LGBTQ+ self-loathing dick licker, #RichardGrenell, is moving on to ruin something new under the auspices of our demented war-mongering MAGA fool Prez,” Fierstein wrote. “Maybe #RicGrennell can open a little boutique selling red baseball hats. But first, after destroying the Kennedy Center for the Arts, he’s earned a vacation. Maybe he and Kristi Noem can go puppy hunting together. They can tell each other tales of when they were once called ‘the best people’ and other fairy tales.”

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Federal Government

Gay Venezuelan man ‘forcibly disappeared’ to El Salvador files claim against White House

Andry Hernández Romero had asked for asylum in US

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Andry Hernández Romero (Photo courtesy of the Immigrant Defenders Law Center)

A gay Venezuelan asylum seeker who the U.S. “forcibly disappeared” to El Salvador has filed a claim against the federal government.

Immigrant Defenders Law Center, who represents Andry Hernández Romero, on Friday announced their client and five other Venezuelans who the Trump-Vance administration “forcibly removed” to El Salvador under the Alien Enemies Act of 1798, filed “administrative claims” under the Federal Tort Claims Act.

The White House on Feb. 20, 2025, designated Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan gang, as an “international terrorist organization.”

President Donald Trump less than a month later invoked the Alien Enemies Act of 1798, which the Associated Press notes allows the U.S. to deport “noncitizens without any legal recourse.” The White House then “forcibly removed” Hernández, who had been pursuing his asylum case in the U.S., and more than 250 other Venezuelans to El Salvador.

Immigrant Defenders Law Center disputed claims that Hernández is a Tren de Aragua member.

Hernández was held at El Salvador’s Terrorism Confinement Center, a maximum-security prison known by the Spanish acronym CECOT, until his release on July 18, 2025. Hernández, who is back in Venezuela, claims he suffered physical and sexual abuse while at CECOT.

“As a Venezuelan citizen with no criminal record anywhere in the world, I would like to tell not only the government of the United States but governments everywhere that no human being is illegal,” said Hernández in the Immigrant Defenders Law Center press release. “The practice of judging whole communities for the wrongdoing of a single individual must end. Governments should use their power to help every person in the nation become more aware and informed, to strengthen our cultures and build a stronger generation with principles and values — one that multiplies the positive instead of destroying unfulfilled dreams and opportunities.” 

Immigrant Defenders Law Center filed claims on behalf of Hernández and the five other Venezuelans less than three months after American forces seized then-Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, at their home in Caracas, the Venezuelan capital.

Maduro and Flores have pleaded not guilty to federal drug charges. Delcy Rodríguez, who was Maduro’s vice president, is Venezuela’s acting president.

‘Due process and accountability cannot be optional’

Immigrant Defenders Law Center on Friday also made the following demands: 

  • The Trump administration must officially release the names of all people the United States sent to CECOT to ensure that everyone has been or will be released. 
  • The federal government must clear the names of the 252 men wrongfully labeled as criminal gang members of Tren de Aragua.  
  • DHS (Department of Homeland Security) must end the practice of outsourcing torture through third‑country removals, restore humanitarian parole, and rebuild a functioning, humane asylum system.  
  • DHS must reinstate Temporary Protected Status for all individuals who cannot safely return to their home countries, halt mass deportations and unlawful raids and arrests, and guarantee due process for everyone navigating the immigration system.  
  • Congress must pass the Neighbors Not Enemies Act, which would repeal the Alien Enemies Act.   

“In all my years as an immigration attorney, I have never seen a client simply vanish in the middle of their case with no explanation,” said Immigration Defenders Legal Fund Legal Services Director Melissa Shepard. “In court, the government couldn’t even explain where he was — he had been disappeared.” 

“When the government detains and transfers people in secrecy, without transparency or access to the courts, it tears at the basic protections a democracy is supposed to guarantee,” added Shepard. “What this experience makes painfully clear is that due process and accountability cannot be optional. They are the only safeguards standing between people and the kind of lawlessness our clients suffered. We must end third country transfers, restore the asylum system, and humanitarian parole, and reinstate temporary protective status so this nightmare never happens again.” 

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