Day 57: Detained

Today, I met a 21-year-old man from Venezuela. In his country, he was just starting his career as a civil engineer. 

He was released from Torrance County Detention Facility in Estancia, New Mexico. Various detention centers in Texas and New Mexico have been releasing detainees to our shelter to make room for anticipated policy changes to Title-42 at the end of July (T-42 is a COVID-prompted immigration law that passed last March). Over the past week, we've been getting busloads of 50 detainees a day. 

They're all men, and most are younger than 23. The majority are Haitians and Venezuelans. When the bus drivers drop them off, they usually say: "We have a busload of 50 bodies here for you." 

They don't bother to identify them as people.

The Venezuelan man I talked to told me that he had lost two cousins in a governmental raid in 2018—"El Junquito." His cousins were part of a rebel group that fought against corruption within the Bolivarian Government. 

Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro has been deeply criticized internationally for collaboration with gangs known as Colectivos. These gangs oversee cocaine trading at the hands of government officials, acts of extortion, and more. 

Three years ago, the rebel group took a public stance against the government and was attacked as a result. Five men were shot and killed, and six were arrested. One of the cousin's wives was also killed in the shooting. She was pregnant. 

After my shift, I spent a while researching the background of the raid and listening to tapes that are published online of the five men's death wishes right before they were killed. 

It's silly, but I asked myself who I would call if I were moments away from being tracked down and killed by the U.S. government. I wondered what I could possibly say. 

The young man at our shelter told me that he used to go to protests against the government, but stopped after the incident with his cousins. He left the country because he was also being searched for by the government. He didn't tell anyone that he was leaving. 

I'm the same age as him. I'm also just starting my career, but I'm doing so without a language barrier. I'm doing so with the option of having my family close by. I've never had to fear for my own life. 


(The ankle tracking bracelet that many of the men who have been coming here are required to wear. It's up to the ICE official's individual discretion, and it seems pretty arbitrary who gets one and who doesn't. I personally think it makes our guests look and feel like criminals.)

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