It is disturbing and surreal that an American citizen, Kilmer Abrego, remains in a notorious Salvadoran prison after he was wrongly deported. The Trump regime claims it cannot get him freed because he is in the hands of Salvadoran authorities.
Throughout its modern history, the United States has stage-managed El Salvador. During that nation’s civil war, a la Vietnam, American military advisors, diplomats, and spies called the shots. It is impossible to imagine that they no longer do.
Abrego’s plight brought to mind one I recount in my book
In spring 1984, after a day of reporting for Time, my rental car broke down, stranding me in the countryside. I flagged down one of the pick-up trucks that served as rural public transportation.
When we arrived at an army checkpoint, a soldier ordered the passengers and the driver to present their national identity cards. I told the soldier I did not have a card and was about to show him my US passport. He angrily pointed his rifle at my stomach.
“Get over there with the rest of them,” he said, motioning to a slope on the side of the highway.
There were about five men, face down with their thumbs tied together behind their backs. One craned his neck to look at me. He appeared terrified. The soldier ordered me to lie face down with the other men.
I was sure that if I joined the men on the ground, I would be arrested and likely tortured and killed. Because I am a Latino, security forces often mistook me for a local.
I told the soldier I was an American, and that was why I did not have a card. However, my military-issued identification card and passport identified me as a journalist. I presented and explained the documents, and he let me get back in the truck.
Ricardo Chavira Chicano 