By REGINA GARCIA CANO, Associated Press

LOBATERA, Venezuela (AP) — Carlos Uzcátegui tightly hugged his sobbing wife and stepdaughter on Wednesday as the morning fog in western Venezuela lifted. The family’s first embrace in more than a year finally convinced him that his nightmare inside a prison in El Salvador was over.

Uzcátegui was among the migrants being reunited with loved ones after four months in prison in El Salvador, where the U.S. government transferred them in one of its boldest moves to crack down on immigration.

“Every day, we asked God for the blessing of freeing us from there so that we could be here with family, with my loved ones,” Uzcátegui, 33, said. “Every day, I woke up looking at the bars, wishing I wasn’t there.”

“They beat us, they kicked us. I even have quite a few bruises on my stomach,” he added before later showing a mildly bruised left abdomen.

The migrants, some of whom characterized the prison as “hell,” were freed Friday in a prisoner swap between the U.S. and Venezuelan governments, but the latter sequestered them upon arrival to their country.

Venezuela’s President Nicolás Maduro and other officials have said many of the immigrants were physically and psychologically tortured during their detention in El Salvador, airing on state television videos of some of the men describing the alleged abuse, including rape, severe beatings and pellet-gun wounds. The narratives are reminiscent of the abuses that Maduro’s government has long been accused of committing against its real or perceived, jailed opponents.

As the men reached their homes, they and their relatives shared deeply emotional moments in which sad tears and happy tears rolled down their cheeks at the same time.

Uzcátegui’s wife, Gabriela Mora, 30, held onto their home’s fence and sobbed as she saw the military vehicle carrying him approach after a 30-plus-hour bus ride to their mining community nestled in Venezuela’s Andean mountains. She had set up gifts and decorations in their living room, including a star-shaped metallic blue balloon with a “Happy Father’s Day” greeting that his stepdaughter had saved since the June holiday.

‘We met a lot of innocent people’

The 252 men ended in El Salvador on March 16 after the administration of U.S. President Donald Trump agreed to pay $6 million to the Central American nation to house them in a mega-prison, where human rights groups have documented hundreds of deaths and cases of torture. Trump accused the men of belonging to the violent Tren de Aragua street gang, which originated in Venezuela.

The administration did not provide evidence to back up the accusation. However, several recently deported migrants have said U.S. authorities wrongly judged their tattoos and used them as an excuse to deport them.

Interior Minister Diosdado Cabello on Friday said only seven of the men had pending cases in Venezuela, adding that all the deportees would undergo medical tests and background checks before they could go home.

Arturo Suárez, whose reggaeton songs surfaced on social media after he was sent to El Salvador, arrived at his family’s working-class home in the capital, Caracas, on Tuesday. His sister hugged him after he exited a vehicle of Venezuela’s intelligence service.

“It is hell. We met a lot of innocent people,” Suárez told reporters, referring to the prison he was held in. “To all those who mistreated us, to all those who negotiated with our lives and our freedom, I have one thing to say, and scripture says it well: Vengeance and justice is mine, and you are going to give an account to God Father.”

The Associated Press could not verify the abuse allegations that Suárez and other migrants narrated in the videos aired by state media.

Attorney General Tarek William Saab on Monday said he had opened an investigation against El Salvador President Nayib Bukele based on the deportees’ allegations. Bukele’s office did not respond to requests for comment.

Appointment to seek asylum

The men left El Salvador as part of a prisoner exchange with the U.S., which received 10 citizens and permanent residents whom Maduro’s government had jailed over accusations of plotting to destabilize Venezuela.

Mora said her husband migrated after the coal mine he had long worked at halved his pay and their street food shop went out of business in 2023. Uzcátegui left Lobatera in March 2024 with an acquaintance’s promise to help him find a construction job in Orlando.

On his way north, Uzcátegui crossed the punishing Darien Gap that separates Colombia and Panama, and by mid-April he had reached Mexico City. There, he worked at a public market’s seafood stall until early December, when he was finally granted an appointment through a U.S. government smartphone app to seek asylum at a border crossing.

But Uzcátegui never walked free in the U.S., where authorities regarded his tattoos with suspicion, said Mara. He was sent to a detention center in Texas until he and other Venezuelans were put on the airplanes that landed in El Salvador. Still, she said she does not regret supporting her husband’s decision to migrate.

“It’s the country’s situation that forces one to make these decisions,” she said. “If (economic) conditions here were favorable…, it wouldn’t have been necessary for him to leave to be able to fix the house or to provide my daughter with a better education.”