Jhoanna Sanguino was 11 years old when she held her nephew in her arms for the first time.
She told Daily Kos there was no longer a reason to play with dolls. She finally had “a real baby boy in my arms.”
And while her nephew is now a 24-year-old who towers over her, she fears holding him again might never be possible.
In March, Widmer Josneyder Agelviz Sanguino was one of more than 250 undocumented immigrants who were illegally removed from the U.S. and thrown into El Salvador’s notorious terrorism confinement center, known as CECOT.
CECOT was built by Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele as a means to crack down on the country’s high crime rates and gang activity. The maximum security prison can house up to 40,000 inmates but is known for its overcrowding and inhumane conditions. Since President Donald Trump and Bukele joined forces earlier this year, a chunk of those beds are now reserved for men who Trump claims were dangerous Tren de Aragua gang members terrorizing the U.S.
Videos from inside the prison show men with shaved heads sleeping on hard, mattress-free cots stacked on top of each other. Similar to an animal’s watering hole, the cells feature rectangular bathtub-like structures near the bars where prisoners are forced to bathe in clear view of guards and the other inhabitants.
Imagining what Widmer is going through is hellish for his devoted aunt—but she refuses to stop fighting for his safe return.
“He’s currently deprived of his freedom,” Jhoanna Sanguino said of her nephew. “But fortunately, he has a family that’s waiting for him.”
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On June 9, Sanguino travelled from her home in Colombia to El Salvador on behalf of Widmer’s family to plead for any proof of her nephew’s well-being and ask for his release. She submitted documents and statements to a human rights ombudsman and spoke to media about her nephew’s plight.
“I haven’t rested since he disappeared,” she said after returning home.
The trip cost over $1,500—not a small amount for the family. Despite her efforts, Jhoanna left only with a receipt from the penal center acknowledging the countless documents she submitted to prove her nephew’s innocence.
Efforts to help advocate for Widmer’s release also extended to his native country of Venezuela.
On June 4, a young girl in Venezuela sang into a microphone as his family members, school teachers, and friends swayed and waved banners that read “Josneyder libertad—No soy delincuente,” which translates to “Free Josneyder—I am not a criminal.”
And while the community has rallied to plead his innocence, they’ve also grouped together to help fund what will be a pricey effort to hopefully free Widmer and help the family with the mounting legal and travel costs.
For families like the Sanguinos, traveling to El Salvador from other Central or South American countries to plead innocence on behalf of their loved ones isn’t an easy or inexpensive feat.
“It was a team effort,” Jhoanna said. While she and her husband worked to raise money to pay for the necessary visa and other travel expenses, Widmer’s mother—who works two jobs while raising two young children in Texas—gave what she could as well.
“Widmer’s girlfriend, who is alone in Ecuador, organized a raffle with her coworkers,” she added.
Jhoanna wanted to offer encouragement to other families who may be lost or overwhelmed when thinking about mounting similar efforts.
“It is possible with organization, discipline, and most importantly, do not travel illegally,” she said. “Get your documents in order, gather information ahead of time, and start raising funds.”
After discovering Widmer was one of the hundreds of Venezuelan men onboard the first plane to El Salvador, the Sanguino family originally filed a lawsuit against Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem. In it, they demanded information on his whereabouts and for his right to legal representation. Unlike typical legal cases in the U.S., these men were denied any rights to due process and shipped to a foreign prison without any proof they’d committed a crime.
On May 27, the firm representing Widmer’s family dismissed the lawsuit with the option to refile in the future. It’s unclear why the case has been dismissed; Daily Kos contacted the family’s lawyer for comment but did not immediately hear back.
Like many of the detained, Widmer has no past criminal record in the U.S. or any other country he has resided in. His aunt describes him as a “dreamer” who is “cheerful, intelligent, affectionate, respectful” and “skipped the rebellious phase of adolescence.”
He entered the country in September 2024 with his mother and two younger brothers under the United Nations Refugee Resettlement Program—an organization known to take years to vet applicants before approving them.
“To be admitted under that program, he underwent a full legal, psychological, and health review,” Jhoanna said. “These organizations don’t relocate criminals.”
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But Widmer was detained at the U.S. border upon entry by an Immigrations and Customs Enforcement agent on the premise of his tattoos being gang-affiliated.
His tattoos—an owl, a clock, and a rose—were enough to keep him from reuniting with his mother in Texas. And while he was able to communicate while he was in U.S. detention facilities, his family has not had any communication with him since he was deported to El Salvador.
Government officials have not elaborated on any additional evidence and the court case has been sealed to the public.
“To label someone a criminal, there must be a process—an investigation, a trial, and then a ruling,” Jhoanna insisted.
“None of that has been done for Widmer. Why? Because they have no proof. The only ‘evidence’ they have is that he’s Venezuelan and has tattoos. But tattoos don’t define us—they don’t make someone a criminal.”
In a statement provided to Daily Kos, Assistant DHS Secretary Tricia McLaughlin said that Widmer is a member of Tren de Aragua who is “now out of our country and behind bars where he belongs.”
“DHS intelligence assessments go well beyond just gang affiliate tattoos and social media. We are confident in our law enforcement’s intelligence, and we aren’t going to share intelligence reports and undermine national security every time a gang member denies he is one. That would be insane.”
However, Jhoanna believes her visit to El Salvador to plead her nephew’s case provided a glimmer of hope.
“Before the trip, there was a lot of sadness, anguish, desperation, anxiety. As a family, we’ve mixed days with nights looking for a solution, seeking help to get them released and bring the truth to light,” she said.
“I feel this trip has set a precedent and has been a breakthrough in this entire process—not just for Widmer, but for the 252 Venezuelans who are being held there.”
So far, only one man who was sent to El Salvador—Kilmar Abrego García—has been returned to U.S. custody after the courts declared he was wrongfully imprisoned. Despite the Trump administration dropping claims that he is a dangerous MS-13 gang leader, the Maryland father was quickly hit with new charges of human smuggling—or a trumped-up accusation of giving other immigrants a ride to a job site.
Despite the odds, the cost, and the distance, Jhoanna’s hope for the nephew she loves as much as if he were her own child hasn’t faltered.
“They’ve shattered his dreams, but I have faith he’ll soon be free and will pursue the life he planned,” she said. “This has been an incredibly difficult time in our lives, but I repeat: Here I am, and he has a family that hasn’t stopped fighting.”
“I know his release is near. The trip wasn’t easy—raising the money, doing the paperwork to enter the country legally—but if I have to do it again, I will,” Jhoanna said. “I won’t rest until I have my child in my arms.”
Senior editor Erika Chavez contributed to this report.