Jhon Chacín Gomez, 35, is a very well-known professional tattoo artist in Barranquilla, Venezuela where he lived for many years with his wife and three children, according to his mother-in-law.
In 2024, Jhon left home and traveled through the dangerous Darien gap to the US to work and make money for his family.
“He entered the US with his CBP-One appointment through the Chaparral border on October 8, 2024, along with his traveling group. The others were released, but he was told that he was going to be under investigation for the tattoos,” said Yurliana Chazi, John Chacín’s sister. Yurliana claimed that Jhon’s work as a professional tattoo artist caused him to receive comments from officers inside the detention center.
“He told me he was going to remain in ICE custody for 90 days, because of the tattoos he had on his body. He told me that he was going to be under investigation for that reason, and that there was a lot of discrimination against him and many other Venezuelans for having tattoos on their skin,” she said.
Yurliana was in contact with her brother for more than five months while he remained in a California Detention Center. He was never free in the US.
Jhon told his wife through a video call, after he spent so many months detained in the US, “that he couldn’t take it anymore, that he needed to go back because there was no hope of release or anything”
“They had told him he would be allowed into the U.S. So they took him out, and it turns out he was handcuffed on a plane for 24 hours. But they didn’t let him to the U.S., they just moved him from one detention center in California to another in Texas,” she said.
“He was held in the Texas facility for two or three days. When he realized they had tricked him, that he wouldn’t be allowed into the U.S., and he said ‘no’, he was done.” He wanted to come home to Venezuela, so Jhon requested deportation.”
“Coincidentally, the day his deportation was accepted, President Nicolás Maduro and Diosdado Cabello announced the Plan Return to the Homeland, so they told him he’d be deported to Venezuela,” his wife added.
“That day [in mid March, 2025], he called me happy, excited. He said, ‘I’m leaving, be ready. As soon as I get to Maiquetía Airport [in Venezuela], I’ll contact you so you can help me with expenses.’
So we were waiting for him at the airport,” his wife continued. “But the plane never arrived in Venezuela. Never.”
A day later, while furiously texting with family to try to locate her brother, the news played in the background on Yurliana’s television. As she watched videos of migrants arriving in El Salvador pop up on her screen, she spotted who she believed to be her brother. The images were blurry, but she could identify his tattoos, glasses and recognized his posture.
“It was emotional,” she said. “I don’t know if he’s okay, if he’s eating, how he’s sleeping. He must be nervous and scared.”
Four days later, the family confirmation from DHS that he had been sent to El Salvador. Her only way of getting in touch with him now—by going through channels in El Salvador.
“He knows how much I love him,” she said. “My heart is broken,” Jurliana said.
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https://www.cnn.com/2025/03/21/politics/deported-migrants-families/index.html