In the glittering pageantry of American politics, it’s always interesting to see who gets to claim the moral high ground—and who ends up face down in the dust. Take, for example, Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem. A woman best known recently for casually recounting how she shot her own dog to death (and bragged about it in print), Noem took the stage this week at a Homeland Security hearing and somehow managed to make not knowing if a gay asylum-seeker is still alive sound like a scheduling conflict.
Let’s set the stage. Rep. Robert Garcia (D-CA), one of the few openly gay members of Congress and a man whose very presence radiates the kind of empathy we wish was contagious, brought the case of Andry Hernandez Romero directly to Noem’s attention.
Garcia was calm. He was respectful. And he asked a question that shouldn’t be hard for any actual human being to answer:
“Would you commit to just letting his mother know – as a mother-to-mother – if Andry is alive?”
To be clear, Andry is a gay hair stylist from Venezuela who legally sought asylum in the U.S. after facing threats due to both his sexuality and his political beliefs. He played by the rules. He had an appointment. He did everything by the book. Then, without a trial or legal recourse, the U.S. deported him—in shackles—to El Salvador’s CECOT prison, a place known globally for its high-budget PR drone shots and its low-budget human rights standards.
CECOT isn’t a rehab center. It’s a mega-prison used to house thousands in mass sweeps, where torture and abuse are regularly reported. Even his lawyer didn’t know he had been deported there until he failed to appear for a scheduled court hearing.
In a haunting video clip that made its way out of CECOT, you can hear Andry pleading:
“I’m not a gang member. I’m gay. I’m a stylist.”
And what was Secretary Noem’s response to Garcia’s plea? A nonchalant shrug.
“This isn’t under my jurisdiction.”
Translation: Not my dog, not my bullet.
When Garcia pressed again—gently, persistently:
“Would you commit into at least looking and asking El Salvador if he is alive?”
Noem replied, completely devoid of irony:
“This is a question that is best asked to the president and the government of El Salvador.”
Right. Because the U.S. has no influence in El Salvador. We definitely haven’t funded their security apparatus. And we certainly don’t use that prison as a “tool in our toolkit,” as Noem herself previously boasted. (Oops.)
But let’s go back to Andry. The reason he was flagged as dangerous? His tattoos.
According to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), the “evidence” tying him to gang activity came from former Milwaukee police officer Charles Cross Jr., who lost his job after crashing into a house drunk and being investigated for fraud. He now works for CoreCivic, the for-profit detention contractor that screens immigrants like Andry.
Cross flagged Andry’s tattoos as “gang-related.” The tattoos? They say “Mom” and “Dad”—a common tribute in his Venezuelan hometown of Capacho, known for its elaborate Three Kings Day festival. If you’re trying to connect the dots, good luck.
“Andry dedicated his life to arts and culture, and he worked hard to better his craft,” said his childhood friend, Reina Cardenas.
Andry’s lawyer, Lindsay Toczylowski, adds:
“The government had found that his threats against him were credible and that he had a real probability of winning an asylum claim.”
Instead, he was taken away in shackles and beaten in a prison camp.
And nobody—not ICE, not CoreCivic, not Secretary Noem—can be bothered to check if he’s even alive.
So here we are, in a country that loves to wrap itself in rainbow flags every June, to invite drag queens to story hours (then legislate against them), to slap “Love is Love” on Target t-shirts and call it a day. And yet when a gay man pleads for asylum, follows the rules, and asks for help, he’s not just ignored—he’s vanished.
Garcia asked for something so achingly simple: a wellness check.
Not a plane. Not even justice. Just confirmation that a mother’s son hasn’t been murdered in a foreign prison we helped fill.
But Noem’s answer, as always, was clear:
“This isn’t under my jurisdiction.”
No. It’s under your conscience.
And if that’s not a jurisdiction you recognize, you don’t belong in public service. You belong in history’s footnotes—filed right next to the people who could have done something but didn’t.
Because queer lives don’t just matter during Pride Month. They matter in holding cells. In asylum interviews. In Salvadoran prisons. And they matter most when it’s inconvenient to care.
America promised Andry safety. Instead, it delivered him to a cage. We don’t need another candlelight vigil. We need answers. And until we get them, none of us should let this story go quietly.
Remember: visibility without protection is just theater.
Source: LGBTQ Nation
Just utterly disgusting. I am so close to leaving this country. I keep asking myself, what will push me over the edge to make me leave ? I am so embarrassed to be an American at this moment.
The poor guy has probably been raped to death by this point. And if he hasn’t he (and everyone else in there) is going to have some serious trauma to deal with for the rest of their lives. I was in a *regular* jail for 7 months for something I didn’t do about 10 years ago and I’m still trying to process it and deal with it. I still have nightmares about it and if I think about it or see anything jail related in media I get a stomach ache. I can’t even imagine what kind of horrendous shit these people at CECOT are going through.
Too bad so many folks couldn’t bear to vote for the Black woman and sat the election out or worse voted Green or MAGA. FAFO.