A Venezuelan barber who lived in Irving, Texas, is suing the U.S. government for at least $1.3 million after he was deported to El Salvador’s Terrorism Confinement Center (CECOT) and held there for roughly four months.
Neiyerver Adrián Leon Rengel says he was mislabeled as a member of a gang largely because of his tattoos, while the Department of Homeland Security says he is linked to Tren de Aragua and was deemed a public safety threat.
It is a case about one man, but it also raises a bigger question. When immigration enforcement starts looking like counterterrorism, what counts as “evidence,” and who gets to see it?
What Rengel is asking the court to do
Rengel’s lawsuit was filed Tuesday in federal court in Washington, D.C., and seeks at least $1.3 million in compensation under the Federal Tort Claims Act. CBS News, Reuters, and his lawyers describe it as the first known case in which someone previously held at CECOT after a U.S. deportation is seeking damages from the United States.
His legal team says the harms started with a quick stop by immigration agents on March 13, 2025, as he was heading to work. In a DHS administrative claim filed in July 2025, his attorneys said the only justification given was his tattoos and that he was told he was being deported to Venezuela, only to land in San Salvador instead.
DHS disputes his account in the strongest terms. In a statement reported by CBS News, the agency said he is a confirmed associate of Tren de Aragua and argued that publicly detailing evidence would “undermine” national security, while his lawyer Norm Eisen called the case “an illegal and morally bereft plan of action” in a press release announcing the suit.
When tattoos become intelligence
In Rengel’s telling, the turning point is almost painfully ordinary. He told CBS News that a tattoo on his left hand shows a lion with a hair clipper in its mouth, which he sees as a symbol of his work, not a gang mark.
His lawyers, meanwhile, say the tattoos at issue include the names of his mother and daughter, and that he never got a hearing to rebut the gang allegation. Tattoo checks are fast and easy to scale, but the trade-off is obvious, especially when the “proof” is a picture on skin that can mean different things to different people.
Rengel’s DHS claim also says he entered the United States in 2023 using a CBP One appointment at the Paso Del Norte port of entry, provided biometrics, and was scheduled for an immigration hearing in April 2028.
If those details hold up in court, they underline a core tension in modern border enforcement, which can collect mountains of data and still make life-changing calls based on something as subjective as ink on skin.
CECOT and the deterrence debate
CECOT is a centerpiece of El Salvador’s security crackdown, and it has become a flashpoint in U.S. immigration politics. Reuters has reported that El Salvador opened the maximum security facility in 2023 with capacity for 40,000 inmates on a 57-acre site about 43.5 miles east of San Salvador, and President Nayib Bukele has said it cost $115 million to build and equip.
Rengel told CBS News that the months inside were “total hell,” describing beatings and degrading conditions, while his lawsuit alleges severe physical and psychological trauma.
A Human Rights Watch and Cristosal report released in late 2025 documented allegations of systematic abuse against Venezuelans held at CECOT after U.S. removals, including findings the groups said amounted to torture and arbitrary detention under international law.
This is where a domestic legal claim starts to look like a foreign policy problem. Rengel was among 252 Venezuelans who were sent back to Venezuela in July 2025 as part of a prisoner swap, according to Reuters, after being held in El Salvador with limited contact to family or legal help.
The contractor and tech trail
The operational footprint also runs through the private sector. In his DHS administrative claim, Rengel says he was taken to an airport where three planes from GlobalX were waiting, underscoring how contractors can become the visible machinery of a politically explosive policy.
That visibility can carry real risk. Reuters reported in May 2025 that GlobalX’s website was defaced by hackers after the airline’s fleet played a key role in deportation flights to El Salvador, a reminder that controversial government missions can produce reputational and cybersecurity fallout for suppliers.
For companies selling services into immigration enforcement, this is also a governance story. Rengel’s claim points to reports of top-down pressure to identify suspected gang members based on tattoos, which is exactly the kind of informal shortcut that is hard to audit later, whether the tool is a human checklist or an algorithmic score.
What comes next
Because the Federal Tort Claims Act requires an administrative filing first, this case has been building for months. Rengel’s lawyers submitted a formal claim to DHS in July 2025, and the new lawsuit is the next step after that process did not resolve his allegations.
The broader legal fight over the Alien Enemies Act is still moving as well. In an April 2025 order, the U.S. Supreme Court said people targeted for removal under the statute are entitled to notice and a real opportunity to seek judicial review before deportation, a standard that will loom over any case where removals appear rushed or opaque.
For readers, the key issue to watch is not just whether Rengel wins damages. It is whether the litigation forces clarity on how DHS labels someone a gang member, what role tattoos and other proxies should play, and how much decision-making can stay hidden behind “national security” claims that the public never gets to test.
The press release was published on Democracy Defenders Fund.
