Andry Hernandez jumped through hoops to claim asylum in the United States, hopeful of beginning a new life with an American man he met on Instagram — only to be doomed by an innocent pair of wrist tattoos that landed him in a brutal El Salvador prison.
Andry, a 32-year-old gay make-up artist and stylist, became one of the faces of US President Donald Trump’s migrant crackdown when he was arrested and deported with 251 other Venezuelans to El Salvador’s Terrorist Confinement Center (CECOT).
During his four months in the mega-prison he was physically and psychologically tortured.
“He sacrificed himself for love,” Paul Diaz, Andry’s Philadelphia love interest — whom he never got to meet — told AFP in a telephone interview.
He feels “very responsible” for Andry’s suffering, he added.
Andry and Paul, a 49-year-old psychologist of Puerto Rican origin, met online two years ago and quickly fell for each other.
“He is like half of my being,” Andry, a sensitive man with large brown eyes, told AFP in an interview at his home in the Venezuelan Andes.
Within months of their digital hook-up, they were making plans for Andry to join Paul in Philadelphia.
Andry set out in 2024 with two identical bracelets, one for him and his intended.
He braved criminal gangs and wild animals in the Darien jungle before making his way up through Central America and Mexico to the US border.
His first attempt to enter the United States ended in failure. Andry was detained and deported to Mexico.
It was then that he learned about the the CBP One app, which migrants used under former president Joe Biden’s administration to apply for asylum from Mexico.
On August 29, 2024, he crossed back onto US soil for his asylum appointment, citing persecution over his sexuality in Venezuela.
“I did it!” he thought when he saw the US flag fluttering over the San Ysidro border crossing.
But two crowns tattooed on his wrists, representing the Catholic feast of Three Kings Day — a major fixture in his hometown of Capacho Nuevo for which Andry designs costumes — became his downfall.
US authorities pounced on the tattoos as proof of his alleged membership of Venezuela’s powerful Tren de Aragua crime syndicate and detained him.
“On that day I thought about my parents, about Paul and all that I had risked to finally end up with nothing,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.
Paul hired a lawyer to try secure Andry’s release, emphasizing that he had no criminal record.
But Trump’s return to the White House on a promise to carry out the largest migrant deportation operation in US history sealed Andry’s fate.
In March 2025, he was among a group of 252 Venezuelans flown to CECOT after Trump invoked a rarely used wartime laws to expel them to El Salvador in shackles.
The group was kept at CECOT in brutal conditions for four months before being exchanged for a group of US citizens and residents held in Venezuela.
After his release Andry went public with allegations of being beaten and sexually assaulted by prison guards.
He told AFP that he forced to perform oral sex on one officer and that another sexually assaulted him with a baton.
On his return to Capacho Nuevo in July he received a hero’s welcome and, with the help of his family, began recovering from his ordeal.
He still talks regularly with Paul by video call and has plans to meet him in Colombia, but is also thinking about opening a beauty salon in Capacho.
“You have to face reality. He’s there, I’m here,” he said, his eyes welling with tears, while assuring that if given the chance to emigrate to the United States, “I would go.”
AFP
AFP
