Frizgeralth De Jesus Cornejo Pulgar (25) left Venezuela to escape gang violence on February 10, 2024, accompanied by Daniela, his girlfriend, and three friends. He wanted to find a stable job and experience another culture. But above all, he longed to be reunited with two of his siblings, Miguel and Mónica, who had lived there for several years.
They crossed the Darien River, a journey that took several days. They then continued through Central America to Mexico. There, they waited two months for the appointment they requested on CBP One, the app that, until January 2025, allowed visa-free migrants seeking asylum to schedule appointments at border ports of entry for legal entry.
They were scheduled for an interview on June 19, 2024. That day, they arrived punctually at the San Ysidro border crossing in Baja California and were ushered in one by one to speak with the immigration officer. Frizgeralth was nervous because the officers kept staring at him. He felt like an oddball, intimidated.
“You’re going to go last,” an officer told him.
He could only nod and try to remain calm because there was nothing to hide.
Family and friends say that Frizgeralth, in Venezuela, was like any other boy. He went on dates with Daniela; worked with his brother Carlos selling clothes in an online store; played soccer with his friends; went to the stadium and hung out with his family. "I'm clean, I've got no crimes," he thought as he waited. He watched his friends and Daniela leave, but when his turn came, time seemed endless.
Two hours, three hours, four hours, five hours… His brother Miguel was asked to leave. They were told that the proceedings were over for the day.
Frizgeralth never came out, and they decided to leave to avoid trouble, but they knew something bad was happening. Hours later, a call from immigration confirmed it: "He's been detained for an investigation."
Time has passed and everyone in this family has had a hard time understanding exactly what has happened.
"He was always told it was for a tattoo investigation. He has approximately 20 tattoos all over his body, one of which is a rose. That's the day this nightmare began," Carlos says now from his home in Caracas.
Frizgeralth Cornejo was first taken to the Otay Mesa Detention Center in San Diego, California, a medium-security federal prison controlled by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Weeks later, he was transferred to Winn Correctional Center in Louisiana, where he spent the longest time: six months.
Mónica and Daniela spoke with him because the officers sometimes lent him a cell phone, which he used to text them. They also saw him occasionally during what they called "picnic visits." They made "appointments" to be allowed these meetings, or he made them. Once, they brought him some forms he was supposed to sign and weren't allowed to bring them in.
To hug each other, they had to follow a meticulous protocol. They could only buy food at a specific location and open each bag upon arrival. At the counter, they left their cell phones, keys, and IDs. They were searched. Then, they were led down a long, brightly lit hallway surrounded by many bars.
"There were a lot of officers. We walked past them until we reached a room where they brought him in. We only saw him twice at Winn Correctional Center and once at Otay Mesa," Monica recalls.
During those visits, they noticed Frizgeralth was in better spirits. He told them he prayed often so he wouldn't feel alone; that when he left, he wanted to go to church, get married, and have children. And that there were other Venezuelans inside who claimed to have been detained for the same reason he was detained: having tattoos. He repeated to them, over and over again, the same thing he texted them: "I long to be with you now, but I have to wait for God's timing."
They passed on to the family every detail they could obtain.
On December 14th, Fritzgaralth spent his 26th birthday locked up and unable to spend time with his family.
One day, Monica received a message that worried her: "I'm feeling discouraged because Venezuelans who were already free have started arriving here, and they say they were searched for at their homes and at their workplaces, and told them they were suspicious about their tattoos. I know my tattoos aren't related to anything criminal, but these people are judging everyone the same way."
Fritzgeralth’s tattoo artist provided a sworn statement: “I am Pedro Elias Freites Rodríguez, friend and tattoo artist of Frizgeralth De Jesús... I have about 8 years tattooing, in which I have made different designs to Frizgeralth as a canvas... All the designs made to my friend and clients were made without any intention of promoting any violence or alluding to any gang or criminal group… You can see some of my work in my Instagram account @pedro.allinblack.”
“He is a good kid. He has never committed a crime; he doesn’t have a criminal record,” Fritzgeralth’s sister said as she cried uncontrollably. “He is young, hard-working and an athlete.”
Like other men who disappeared to the torture prison in El Salvador, Frizgeralth and his family were told he was being deported and would be released. "They'll be putting us on the plane soon. They told us we're going to Venezuela," he told them in a final call the authorities allowed him.
They only discovered through scouring the footage of the men being herded while shackled through the CECOT prison, that Frizgeralth had instead been sent to El Salvador. They saw him in at short clip. A profile of Frizgeralth appeared. It was him, no doubt: his head was shaved and his back was to another detainee. A large rose could be seen on his neck, one of his more than 20 tattoos.
Joseph Giardina, an attorney based in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, who is representing De Jesus in his asylum case, was stunned to learn his client had been deported to El Salvador. The final hearing in his asylum case was scheduled for April 10.
When Giardina heard De Jesus had been deported, he checked online and saw that his asylum hearing was still pending. He thought there must have been a mix-up. “With a pending asylum application and a trial, that would make absolutely no sense,” Giardina said. “I’ve been doing this for years. That’s not how it works.” “He has been in proceedings for months. The government has never filed an I-213, which would indicate any criminal background. They have never filed any evidence of any kind of criminal history,” Giardina said.
At his asylum hearing in April, Giardina said that the Justice department lawyers told the judge “’He’s no longer in ICE [Immigration Customs Enforcement] custody, that’s all we’re prepared to say,’ They wouldn’t even say where he is.”
Giardina continued, “I’m like, ‘I know where he is, judge. It’s ridiculous that the government isn’t prepared to say where he is, considering they sent him there and they’re paying for him to be housed there.’”
Rather than just tell the judge at the hearing last week where Cornejo Pulgar was, the government asked for a continuance. The judge scheduled a new hearing for Sept. 4.
“She gave them two weeks to file an updated address form,” Giardina told the Daily Beast.
https://storage.courtlistener.com/recap/gov.uscourts.dcd.278436/gov.uscourts.dcd.278436.67.21.pdf
https://correodelcaroni.com/pais-politico/alas-en-armonia-los-pajaros-migran-al-unisono/