The crux of the immigration policy enforced during the Trump administration heavily pivots on the interpretation of the term ‘criminals.’ The majority of Americans are in consensus that unlawful dwellers in the United States, with a proven history of crime, pose a threat and should be expelled. However, the conflict arises when the definition of a ‘criminal’ is stretched by the administration beyond public acceptance. The focal point of this contentious issue returns under the spotlight now, with the deliberation about an alarming proposal to relocate Venezuelan illegal immigrants to Guantanamo Bay.
Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem’s recent comments stoked controversy; she pronounced the first contingent of men transported to the Cuban military base in early February as ‘the worst of the worst.’ Unveiling their criminal nature, U.S. officials insisted these men were all affiliated with the notorious Tren de Aragua gang.
The ambiguity and ensuing debate engendered by these actions is embodied by the experience of one prisoner at Guantanamo, Mayfreed Duran-Arape. Doris Arape, who resides in the United States alongside her spouse, shared some details about her son’s predicament, wary of potential backlash from the Trump administration.
Mayfreed was detained on the seventh of July, 2023, says Doris, and has been held in El Paso, Texas since. Tricia McLaughlin, Assistant Secretary of Homeland Security for Public Affairs, acknowledged his presence and custody.
Providing a glimpse into Mayfreed’s legal situation, McLaughlin stated, ‘The subject continues to be held in high-level custody in Guantanamo due to a felony criminal conviction on November 7, 2024, for aggravated assault.’ A subsequent report supplemented that he was implicated for ‘assault, resistance, or obstruction of an officer during a turmoil at a detention center.’
However, Mayfreed’s mother Doris strenuously believes that the true circumstances surrounding her son’s indictment are not as overtly criminal as projected. She questions the rationale for his continued detention despite his culpability for deportation.
Raising queries about the choice of containment, Atlanta-based immigration lawyer Charles Kuck questioned, ‘What is the justification for holding a deportable subject in Guantanamo? Why expend resources to fly detainees at $4,000 per individual onboard a C-17?’
In a similar vein, Leopoldo Martinez Nucete, a Venezuelan ex-congressman and Venezuelan American Caucus co-founder, weighed in with another angle, questioning, ‘If he has no criminal history and his charges consist solely of an unfortunate altercation with law enforcement, does that justify his detention in Guantanamo?’
Nucete further probe the potential misuse of the ‘gang member’ label as a potential vehicle for the government to perpetuate a policy he perceives as both inhumane and xenophobic. ‘How many more will be wrongfully labeled under congruent conditions to advance this draconian governmental policy?’ he queried.
Meanwhile, the Trump administration exhibits unabashed resolve to proceed with their so-called Gitmo initiative, to a point of publicizing videos displaying law enforcement officials handcuffing detainees and embarking them on aircraft.
An ex-DHS official highlighted the inherent complications in discerning objective truth in such a polarized context, exemplified vividly in the case of Duran-Arape. The official observed, ‘The fact that the focus is now shifting towards those with less serious records underlines a key issue—they are overreaching due to lack of maximum deportable individuals.’
Doris is now engaged in gathering character references and legal documents from relatives and acquaintances back home in Venezuela. Her hope is to somehow influence the authorities into releasing her son from Guantanamo Bay.
The emotional toll of her predicament began to show when asked about any message she had for President Trump. She struggled to hold back the tears, replying in a choked voice, ‘I have a succinct and sturdy message. My son has lived his life with values and principles, yet he is treated as a criminal. To the President, and everyone else, my son is no wrongdoer.’
In a heart-wrenching display of a mother’s anguish, she demanded answers, ‘Why so much discrimination against Venezuelans? Why such callous treatment?’
Doris’s parting thoughts underline the sentiment of many such distressed families, ‘We are here as a result of the dire situation in our homeland. This unsought journey and its cruel dead end is, simply speaking, an injustice.’