A gay Venezuelan makeup artist who fled his home nation to escape persecution for his sexual orientation and political beliefs was detained and shipped off to a 'hellhole' prison in El Salvador by the Trump administration. Andry Jose Hernandez Romero, 31, was detained at the Mexico-US border last year when he requested entry to attend a pre-arranged asylum hearing in San Diego, California. The makeup artist and hairdresser was reportedly trying to claim asylum to avoid crackdowns in Venezuela by strongman Nicolas Maduro who is widely accused of stealing the July 2024 election to continue his reign. But border agents arrested him after noticing tattoos on his wrists that read 'Mum' and 'Dad' adorned with a pair of crowns. US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) claimed that Hernandez's crown tattoos 'are consistent' with those adopted by members of Tren de Aragua - a notorious Venezuelan gang known for human trafficking and extortion throughout Latin America. In reality, the makeup artist's tattoos were derived from his upbringing in his hometown of Capacho, famed for its 'Three Kings Day,' which sees thousands of Christians turn out in the streets to participate in carnival-like celebrations every year. Many residents of the town are inked with the same tattoos to signify their faith and culture, according to Miguel Chacon, the president of Capacho's Three Kings Day foundation. Despite no other evidence to suggest Hernandez had any gang connections, he languished in detention for months until his immigration court hearing on March 13, after which he was put on one of three planes with 237 other migrants and deported. Now, Hernandez' mother Alexis has told the Guardian she has received no word from her son since he arrived in El Salvador's notorious CECOT prison. 'Everyone has these crowns, many people. But that doesn't mean they're involved in the Tren de Aragua,' she said. 'We know nothing. They say nothing. They give no information. That's the trauma – not knowing anything about these young men, especially mine.' Despite its criminal activities in Latin America, Tren de Aragua does not have a significant presence in the US, according to Rebecca Hanson, an expert on Venezuelan gangs and assistant professor at the University of Florida. Hanson went on to add that Tren de Aragua members cannot be identified simply by tattoos or hand gestures. Hernandez is just one of the 238 Venezuelans who were ushered onto planes and deported to El Salvador with no chance to contest their detentions in court. The US government has provided scant information about the deportees, beyond alleging that they are members of Tren de Aragua, which is now designated a foreign terrorist organisation by the Trump administration. An investigation of their cases by Reuters found that 27 of the Venezuelans were never even ordered deported and had upcoming immigration court hearings to make their asylum and other claims to stay in the United States. Judges in several cases appeared shocked to find migrants who failed to attend scheduled immigration court dates because they were already in El Salvador, according to immigration lawyers who attended the hearings. The sweeping operation, carried out after President Donald Trump invoked the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 to deport alleged members of Tren de Aragua, has been challenged by civil rights groups for a failure of due process. A US appeals court last week upheld a decision to block Trump's use of the law, leading the administration to appeal to the Supreme Court. The Trump administration insists it deported dangerous gang members even as it has declined to provide evidence. Meanwhile, immigration lawyers, family members of those deported and advocates said border authorities are simply rounding up young Venezuelan men with tattoos that often honour family members, their professions and even soccer teams rather than signifying membership in the Tren de Aragua gang. When asked for comment, a Trump administration official said that the administration had confidence in the process of identifying gang members. 'Intelligence assessments go well beyond a single tattoo,' the person said on condition of anonymity. While the controversy rages on, the deported Venezuelans must endure horrific conditions at the supermax Centro de Confinamiento del Terrorismo (CECOT) prison in Tecoluca, El Salvador. The sprawling complex contains thousands of hardened gangsters and stands as a symbol of Salvadoran president Nayib Bukele's harsh crackdown on gang violence since it opened in 2023. Bukele recently struck a deal with the United States to house purported gang members deported from American shores. For him, it is an opportunity to show the world the brutal efficacy of his repressive 'State of Exception' regime that grants his administration wide ranging powers to crack down on criminal activity at the expense of public freedoms. For the prisoners, a 'black hole of human rights' awaits, according to monitoring groups. CECOT, built in 2023, has been heralded by Bukele as a superweapon in the war on gang violence. At the prison, the suspected gang members spend 23-and-a-half hours each day locked in overcrowded cells with just 30 minutes a day to stretch, even while chained in the middle of the hallway. Huge concrete walls separate some 20,000 of the country's most violent prisoners from the rest of society. To enter the jail, staffers, guards and prisoners have to go through a complex registration system before making their way through three sections safeguarded by gates. Each cell comes equipped with 80 bare iron bunks - mattresses are not included - along with two toilets and two sinks. Windowless solitary confinement rooms await any prisoners who step out of line.