We were raised to believe that this could not happen here. That no one should have to fear being taken—day or night—by unchecked authority. That our laws protect both citizens and non-citizens from being held without communication, denied due process, and secretly deported. These were the kinds of nightmares we believed only happened elsewhere. Not anymore.
It happened to Kilmar Abrego Garcia.
But Abrego Garcia is not simply a deportee—he is a hostage to political gamesmanship between the Executive and Judicial branches, and to the question of whether Trump and the MAGA movement can place themselves above the law.
A Maryland resident who was granted legal protection by a U.S. immigration court in 2019, Abrego Garcia, was wrongly deported by ICE to El Salvador. The court ruling clearly stated he faced life-threatening danger if returned. But ICE ignored it. He was sent anyway. Now, he sits in El Salvador’s notorious CECOT mega-prison—a facility built to house gang members and enemies of the state.
On April 10, 2025, the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously ruled—9 to 0—that the government must “facilitate” his return. Not suggest. Not consider. Facilitate. Yet, President Trump and his allies continue to defy the order, claiming El Salvador will not cooperate and citing “sovereignty” as a barrier.
Meanwhile, Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele—fresh off a political meeting with Trump—has labeled Abrego a “terrorist,” without presenting a single piece of public evidence.
Let us be clear: If the U.S. truly wanted Abrego Garcia home, he would be back already. El Salvador receives nearly millions annually in U.S. aid. Its economy is tethered to U.S. remittances, trade agreements, and military assistance. Bukele is not resisting the U.S.—he is helping perform political theater alongside Trump. And Abrego Garcia is the prop.
And when Trump invokes “sovereignty” to explain why the U.S. won’t push harder for Abrego Garcia’s return, let’s recall this is the same man who has floated invading Greenland, called Canada the “51st state,” mused about occupying Gaza, and threatened military strikes inside Mexico. Sovereignty is not a principle in this context—it is a pretext. It is like Vladimir Putin saying he defends democracy.
What is really at stake here is the rule of law. When a President of the United States can defy a unanimous ruling of the Supreme Court, we are not just witnessing a policy dispute—we are confronting a constitutional crisis.
If due process can be ignored for one individual, it can be ignored for millions. If a court order means nothing, then democracy is no longer based on laws—it is based on whoever holds power. Our federal system, with its co-equal branches of government, was precisely designed to prevent tyranny: the unchecked power of a single individual. When one branch begins to supersede the others, democracy is in real trouble.
Abrego Garcia’s story hits home for millions of Chicanos and other Latinos in the U.S. Many of us were raised to believe the American system was better than the countries our families came from—Mexico, El Salvador, Guatemala, etc. We believed in due process, basic rights, and citizenship. We believed the law was a shield.
But Abrego Garcia’s case proves otherwise. As it unfolds before us, legal status, court protections—even a Supreme Court decision—can all be disregarded by those who believe they are above the law.
Some critics have questioned whether Abrego Garcia is the ideal person to rally behind. But the central issue is not about what’s an “ideal” candidate or not, it's about whether laws still matter. It is about the basic legal processes that must be adhered to: a fair hearing, the presumption of innocence, and respect for the law. That is it.
It is not our job to be Abrego Garcia’s judge. It is our duty as citizens to defend the process that protects everyone’s rights. If Abrego Garcia’s rights can be violated, then its open season on anyone’s – even those of naturally born citizens.
This is not just about one individual—it is also about the kind of country we are becoming. Increasingly, we are coming to resemble those regimes we have readily condemned for violating democratic norms. The myth of American exceptionalism—that we are inherently just, that our institutions always win out—is collapsing under the weight of our growing contradictions. And it’s happening in real time, right before our eyes.
Kilmar Abrego Garcia is a symbol of this tragic decline. To question American exceptionalism is not unpatriotic—it is necessary. If we still believe in the Constitution, in human rights, and in equal justice under law, we must demand that they apply these to everyone, including Abrego Garcia.
He is not just sitting in a prison in El Salvador—he is trapped in a crisis we created.
And unless we act, he won’t be the last.
