He disappeared after detention. Now ICE is silent on the fate of Venezuelan man

A Venezuelan man has disappeared into the U.S. immigration system. His family is looking for answers.

Where is their brother? Where is her boyfriend?

Neiyerver Adrian Leon Rengel, 27, was admitted into the U.S. in June 2023, after crossing the southern border through a scheduled appointment with immigration authorities — part of a digital portal created under the Biden administration to manage the flow of migrants entering from Mexico. In his hand, he carried a phone. In his heart, a mission: to build a future for his 6-year-old daughter, Isabela, still in Venezuela, his family said.

Leon Rengel was born in 1998 — the same year Hugo Chávez rose to power, marking the beginning of Venezuela’s unraveling. His generation came of age amid blackouts, food shortages and collapsing institutions. For six years, Leon Rengel lived in Colombia, where according to the national police he had no criminal record. In 2023, he took a risk, packed his barber tools and headed north.

Once in the U.S., he lived picking up odd jobs, cutting hair, saving money. In Dallas he met Alejandra Gutierrez, also a Venezuelan migrant. They were together for over a year, building a life. They had a dog named Princesa, and he helped Gutierrez raise her daughter.

On March 13, his birthday, everything changed.

According to Gutierrez, federal agents detained Leon Rengel in the parking garage of their Irving, Texas, apartment, as he was leaving for a hair-cutting gig.

“They didn’t have an arrest warrant,” Gutierrez said. “They asked him to lift his shirt to show his tattoos, and when they saw them, they claimed he was affiliated with the Tren de Aragua gang. They took his documents — and took him away.” That was the last time she saw him.

Leon Rengel was briefly held at East Hidalgo Detention Center, a private facility in La Villa, Texas, used by Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

Then — nothing. His alien number, a way to track his whereabouts, vanished two days later from ICE’s online system. He disappeared.

ICE agents told Gutierrez her boyfriend had been deported to his home country. But the family has searched in Venezuela, and he isn’t there, she said.

“I’ve been to the ICE office. I’ve contacted the FBI. The DEA. Everyone told me the same thing: He was deported,” Gutierrez said. “But where to? He never arrived in Venezuela.”

It’s possible that the Trump administration deported Leon Rengel to a mega-prison in El Salvador, where hundreds of other Venezuelans were sent last month — but there is no official record to confirm it.

Leon Rengel had no violent history, no serious criminal record. In November 2024, he was a passenger in a car that was pulled over. He was arrested for possession of drug paraphernalia, a non-jailable misdemeanor under Texas law. He later pleaded guilty to possession of marijuana and agreed to pay a $492 fine, according to Irving city records. No jail time. No probation.

However, the U.S. government has been targeting Venezuelan men with tattoos, labeling them as suspected members of the Tren de Aragua gang — despite repeated warnings from South American gang experts that tattoos are not a reliable indicator of gang affiliation in Venezuela, unlike in Central America, where such markings are common among gang members.

Leon Rengel has several tattoos: the names Sandra and Isabela — his mother and his daughter — a barbershop, a tiger and a lion.

Applying for TPS

In December 2024, after living more than 18 months in the U.S., Leon Rengel applied for Temporary Protected Status and completed his appointment, his girlfriend said. His application is still pending, according to U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services.

But TPS is now in limbo. The Trump administration has moved to terminate protections for more than 600,000 Venezuelans — a decision now under legal challenge in federal court. Leon Rengel’s future, like that of thousands of others, became collateral in the national debate over deportations.

Lost generation

Leon Rengel belongs to Venezuela’s lost generation — failed by a collapsing state, abandoned by institutions, and driven out of what was once the wealthiest country in South America. Today, Venezuela is the source of the largest exodus in Latin American history and the second-largest refugee crisis in the world outside of war, with nearly 8 million people displaced. Leon Rengel was one of them.

Now, he’s gone, swallowed into a system that offers little information about the whereabouts of people in detention or those who have been deported.

“I’m depressed. I can’t sleep — I lie awake wondering where he might be,” said his girlfriend. “To this day, I still don’t know why he was even arrested.”

His case is not just a tragedy for his family — it may constitute a case of enforced disappearance, a serious violation of international human rights law. According to Amnesty International, rights such as liberty, access to a fair trial, the right to seek asylum, legal defense and protection from torture or enforced disappearance are not privileges — they are obligations that governments are required to uphold at all times.

Leon Rengel’s family, from Caracas, has been deeply affected by his detention and disappearance.

“My mother suffered a stroke last year, and now her health is even more fragile. She’s overwhelmed with worry. We all are,” said Nedizon Leon Rengel, one of his brothers, who described Nieyerver as an outgoing person, a sportsman who played baseball.

Unbearable silence

It has been more than a month since the first deportation flights from the United States to El Salvador carried more than 200 Venezuelan men, accused of being members of the Tren de Aragua gang. Among them were a man with refugee status, an asylum seeker, a makeup artist, a soccer player — and many others whose lives were reduced to suspicion and silence.

The deportations followed the Trump administration’s invocation of the Alien Enemies Act, a 227-year-old wartime law used last month to justify targeting Venezuelan migrants by claiming the gang is “invading” the U.S.

The U.S. Supreme court has blocked, for the time being, the deportation of more Venezuelans to a third country using the wartime law.

At least some families have confirmation that their loved ones are being held in a mega-prison in Central America, after a list of 238 names was made public by CBS News.

Leon Rengel’s name is not on it — the only publicly available list about the fate of hundreds of Venezuelans deported to a third country.

There have been at least three deportation flights to El Salvador from the U.S. The first carried 238 Venezuelans, with subsequent flights deporting additional individuals — though the exact total remains unclear. While the U.S. government has confirmed more recent deportations, it has not disclosed how many or provided details. On March 31, Secretary of State Marco Rubio said on X that “17 criminals from the Tren de Aragua and MS-13” had been deported to El Salvador the day before — without specifying how many were from each gang or country.

Over the past weekend, Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele made headlines by proposing the transfer of 252 Venezuelans detained in the Centro de Confinamiento del Terrorismo — the Terrorism Confinement Center, known by its Spanish initials, CECOT — back to Venezuela in exchange for political prisoners held by the Caracas regime.

The proposal has sparked outrage among human rights advocates in Venezuela, who condemned it as a thinly veiled political trade. Many argue that it mirrors tactics used by the Maduro regime, which has a long history of treating political prisoners as bargaining chips.

The U.S. government claims the individuals sent to El Salvador are gang members, yet the identities of many of the deportees remain undisclosed, leaving families in uncertainty. While the names of those deported on the first flight have been made public, the identities of the Venezuelan men deported on the subsequent flights have not been revealed. If Leon Rengel was among them, no one knows.

The Miami Herald requested information from ICE on April 10 regarding Leon Rengel’s arrest and deportation, but has yet to receive a response.

“His human rights are being violated. We don’t know where he is. We don’t even know if he’s safe,” his brother said.

With Venezuela’s consular services in Miami closed since 2012 under the Chávez government, and diplomatic ties between the U.S. and Venezuela severed in 2019 under Nicolás Maduro, Venezuelan nationals in the U.S. face significant additional hardships. The lack of diplomatic coordination not only complicates deportation procedures, but also leaves Venezuelans with little to no protection, accountability or advocacy from their own government.

As of April 14, there have been 10 deportation flights from the United States to Venezuela carrying 1,694 Venezuelans, including 94 women and 2 children. In addition, three flights from Mexico have returned more than 866 Venezuelans to their home country — bringing the total number of Venezuelans deported to 2,580, according to data provided by Votoscopio, a Venezuelan nonprofit organization.

The data on Venezuelans deported to their home country does not specify whether the individuals were suspected of affiliation with the Tren de Aragua gang or had criminal records in the United States, information the Maduro regime has not disclosed.

Leon Rengel’s family has looked in Venezuela among those who arrived on those flights seeking answers, but they say he is not in his home country.

And for those who love him, the silence has become unbearable.

“Some days, I wake up with hope — that we’ll finally find out where he is. That we’ll hear his voice. That we’ll get some kind of answer,” said his brother Nedizon. ”But other days, it’s hard to hold on. I feel hopeless.”