A crackdown in El Salvador, and fears of arbitrary arrests
LA LIMONERA, El Salvador — Esmeralda Domínguez was about 100 yards from home when soldiers and police blocked her on a small bridge. The authorities had waited there for hours. Domínguez, neighbors said, was the only person they stopped.
Her aunt, who lived nearby, protested. Domínguez was no criminal, she insisted, rattling off the community organizations her niece led or was involved in. It didn’t matter.
“We know what we’re doing,” a soldier told the aunt before loading the young woman into a truck. It rumbled off, leaving her black motorcycle beside the road.
That was April 19. No one in her family has seen her since.
Over the past 10 weeks, El Salvador’s security forces have arrested more than 36,000 people since the congress granted President Nayib Bukele the power to suspend some civil liberties to pursue powerful street gangs. Lawmakers extended those powers by another 30 days last week as public opinion polls showed broad popular support.
However, a growing number of the arrests — like Domínguez’s — appear arbitrary or unjustified, human rights groups allege.
Cristosal, a nongovernmental organization, has documented more than 500 cases of arbitrary arrests since the state of exception was imposed March 27, according to its director Noah Bullock. Amnesty International said Thursday that its investigators found that thousands of people had been arrested without legal requirements being met.
Bukele sought the expanded powers after El Salvador’s street gangs killed dozens of people in late March. Two weeks into the mass detentions, the president acknowledged that there could be an “error” of 1 percent of those arrested not having any ties to the gangs. Even that seemingly small number suggests authorities are not making arrests based on investigations, critics say. His office declined to comment.
Now, under the new powers, authorities do not have to give a reason to those being arrested. Detainees can be held 15 days without seeing a judge and without access to lawyers.
When those arrested do finally get a lawyer, the public defender’s office is overwhelmed. Tens of thousands of new cases have piled atop the existing caseloads of only about 250 public defenders nationwide.
Domínguez’s family and some 50 others in the area appear to be among the first to organize in an effort to free their relatives. The families have made filings with the courts known as habeas corpus, which order that someone in custody be brought before a court and places the burden of proof on the government. Cristosal has been helping with many of those cases, including Domínguez’s.
The most common crime attributed to those arrested, including Domínguez, is illegal association for allegedly belonging to a gang. Judges have been practically automatic in ordering arrestees held for six months at the request of prosecutors despite little or no supporting evidence, according to a Cristosal report. Judges have ordered nearly 26,000 people held in jail, prosecutors say.
In April, a police union said that some commanders under pressure to meet arrest quotas were pushing their officers to do anything necessary to make arrests, including giving false statements tying people to gangs. And last month, three police agents were arrested when they went to collect money they had demanded in exchange for not arresting someone.
Just hours before Domínguez was detained, Bukele wrote on Twitter — above photos of shirtless gang members with faces and torsos blanketed in tattoos — that authorities had arrested more than 13,000 “terrorists.” Those following the president’s social media feed would not imagine Domínguez — a mother of two, including a 4-month-old daughter — would soon figure in the soaring arrest tally.
José Lazo Romero, a lawyer with the Brother Mercedes Ruíz Foundation, a Christian social justice organization with which Domínguez worked, said he knew of at least 15 cases similar to hers in the area, including three young men arrested on their way home after playing soccer and a disabled person taken away by authorities.
“It’s said that he who has nothing to hide has nothing to fear,” Lazo said. “Now people who precisely have nothing to hide fear being arrested, fear being taken to jail, being sent to prison.”
Advocates say the vast majority of those arrested come from poor, marginalized communities. The pain is doubly felt by their families, because those arrested were often the breadwinners.