THE DISAPPEARED

INSIDE THE TRUMP ADMINISTRATION'S DEPORTATION PROGRAM

- ERIC CORTELLESSA AND BRIAN BENNETT

He ushers a group of foreign visitors inside CECOT’s Module 8, a unit unlike others at the sprawling facility situated at the base of a volcano. This one holds 238 Venezuelan nationals who were shipped from the U.S. on March 15 to be held in one of the world’s most infamous prisons at the behest of President Donald J. Trump.

The cacophony is overwhelming. Inmates climb out of their bunks, lean on the bars, and plead and whistle for attention. Module 8 is different from a typical CECOT unit in several ways, Garcia explains. The detainees are allowed blankets and pillows. They eat fast food. They are rambunctious and defiant. As the warden leads the visitors out, the prisoners appear on the verge of mutiny, chanting “Libertad! Libertad!”

Next, Garcia takes the visitors into Module 7. It’s silent inside. The prisoners are Salvadoran nationals, some of whom have been at CECOT for years. They wear white shirts, white shorts, and face masks, and sit upright, staring blankly through the bars. Their cells contain nothing but a pila—a tub they use as a toilet—and bare steel bunks. Inmates spend all day inside, emerging only for 30 minutes of calisthenics or Bible study, according to the warden. There are no TVs or radios. The prisoners can’t make or accept phone calls. They can’t receive visitors, or even letters. They have spoken to no one outside the prison since their arrival. Staff remind them what El Salvador’s President, Nayib Bukele, has said publicly: No one who goes into CECOT will ever come out. “They have lost the will to fight or resist us,” Garcia says.