Alirio Belloso Fuenmayor (30) is from Maracaibo, Venezuela, the youngest of seven siblings. Like most migrants in the last 10 years, Alirio left Venezuela due to the economic situation. He first went to Peru, where he spent three years, then returned to Maracaibo and began working in a workshop with his brother, refacing engine covers. However, he couldn’t earn enough in Venezuela to maintain his family.
His goals in migrating to the US were clear, according to his wife, Noemí Briseño: “He went to work to fix up the house and buy a car, and then he'd come back. “We were living in a very critical situation; we slept on the floor and had nothing. He decided to leave, especially for his daughter, because he couldn't buy her school supplies or uniforms; that drove him crazy. What he earned was only half enough to eat,” recalls Noemi who stayed in Venezuela with their daughter and her mother-in-law.
Alirio left for the US in 2023. He crossed the dangerous Darien Jungle and arrived in American, where he settled in Utah in November 2023. He worked as a DoorDash driver, living on very little and sending everything he could back to his family. “The first thing Alirio did when he arrived in the United States was pay back the $1,500 a cousin lent him to leave Venezuela, and then he began sending money to repair the house. He also sent $120 a week for our food and whatever else we needed. It's not that we've had a great life, but it certainly became more comfortable since he left,” said Noemi.
Alirio’s mother, Noemí, and his eight-year-old daughter Alicia, share the house that Alirio managed to partially repair with his earnings in the US. Alirio sent money to plaster some walls, install a door at the back of the house, replace the zinc sheets on the roof, and pour a layer of cement on the floor.
While in the US, Alirio spent his free time on the phone with his wife and daughter, asking about the Alicia’s homework and watching movies together. In December 2024, he shared with his wife the depression and fatigue he felt being away from his family and that he wanted to come home, but first he had to save up to buy a car so he could support himself financially upon his return.
However, on January 28, 2025, ICE detained Alirio. “He was at a gas station filling up his car to start work when they caught him. I got a call from an unknown number from the [U.S.]. It was him. He said, ‘My love, immigration caught me, and I don't know when I'll be able to speak to you again,’” Noemi said.
Alirio was working without permission; he didn't have TPS. In August 2024, he had filed the paperwork for a work permit, which would have taken another six months to arrive. In January, he returned to court, days before ICE detained him and canceled the application because he was planning on returning to Venezuela.
Finally, on March 14, 2025, two days before the deportation flights, Alirio called to tell his wife and daughter the good news, that he was being deported to Venezuela. He called again to say the flights were delayed due to weather, but he should be back in Venezuela by Sunday. When Alicia found out that her father was coming home, the 8-year-old could not hide her joy. “My daddy is coming home soon,” she told everyone, including her teachers at school.
On Sunday night, March 16th, Alirio's brothers, his wife, and other relatives were gathered in expectation of Alirio’s arrival. They all talked about what they were going to do when he arrived, how happy they were, and how much they missed him, until a sister-in-law alerted them: " They took some Venezuelans to El Salvador; they're saying that they’re members of Tren de Aragua," Noemí recalls.
Everyone immediately began searching social media for the news, and although at first they mistook Alirio for another of the detainees, a short while later “We went to a Facebook page where it was clear it was him, devastated and crying,” Neomi said. When the press published the list of names of men sent to CECOT, Alirio’s name was on the list.
Noemi is worried about whether the prison is feeding her husband adequately and how the guards are treating him. Since El Salvador suspension of civil rights through a policy known as the “state of exception” in 2022, officials have locked up thousands accused of being affiliated with gangs, often with little to no evidence. Some have died, and human rights observers are concerned about claims of torture and starvation.
"This news has changed my life a lot. I can't eat because I feel like my son is starving. I don't want to bathe, or go out, or do anything. I just pray to God to free him; to bring him back to me safely so I can be with him," Alrio’s mother said. Alirio’s family strongly deny that he has any ties to gangs or any criminal history at all.
https://cronica.uno/alirio-el-zuliano-que-tiene-mas-de-20-dias-preso-en-el-salvador/