A Country Without a Compass - The United States Plans to Deport Kilmar Abrego Garcia to Liberia

With every new court document, the Department of Homeland Security loses more and more moral footing. Yesterday afternoon brought the next document from a government that seeks to turn wrongdoing into righteousness. The U.S. government plans to deport Kilmar Abrego Garcia to Liberia - possibly as soon as October 31. One is left speechless. A country to which he has no connection, that he has never set foot in, and where no one awaits him. The attempt to remove him from the United States now appears as a political act of revenge - a cold, calculated demonstration of power by a government that seeks not justice, but retribution. Yet we all stand against it.

Abrego Garcia, born in El Salvador, was mistakenly deported to his home country in March 2025 - a serious procedural error that the Supreme Court later deemed unlawful. In June, the court ordered his return, and the government was forced to bring him back. Since then, he has been under constant observation, a man between nations, a person without a country. Because he cannot be deported to El Salvador again, the immigration agency ICE has begun moving him across the globe like a commodity - first to Uganda, then Eswatini, then Ghana. All attempts failed. Now, Liberia.

In its latest statement, the Department of Homeland Security claims that Liberia is "a thriving democracy and one of the United States' closest partners on the African continent." It sounds like something taken from a PR manual, as if one could paint over moral decay with pretty words. In reality, Liberia continues to struggle with the consequences of decades of civil war, corruption, nepotism, a weak judiciary, and crumbling infrastructure. More than half the population lives below the poverty line, political loyalties are often ethnically or clientelistically driven rather than based on conviction. Freedom of the press exists in principle, but journalists work under precarious conditions and constant threat. The state apparatus is dependent on international donors - and reforms stall as soon as the world's attention fades. That a man who has never been to Africa is to be deported there shows how freely the moral compass needle of the Department of Homeland Security now swings.

"Costa Rica stands ready to accept him as a refugee - a legally permissible and humane option. Yet the government has chosen a course that inflicts maximum suffering," says his attorney Simon Sandoval-Moshenberg. "These actions are punitive, cruel, and unconstitutional." Words that could hardly be clearer - and yet they fade in the hum of legal bureaucracy. Abrego Garcia has an American wife, a child, and a life in Maryland. As a teenager, he came to the United States without valid papers, worked, and built a life. In 2019, an immigration judge recognized his fear of violence in El Salvador as "well-founded" and granted protection. The family thought they could finally breathe again. But since his wrongful deportation and forced return, the man has become a projection surface - for a policy that confuses strength with cruelty.

At the same time, he faces a case in Tennessee on charges of human smuggling, to which he has pleaded not guilty. His lawyers call it a "vindictive" prosecution - and indeed, the court has already indicated that it is considering dismissing the charges for lack of evidence. The court directed harsh criticism at the U.S. government. That is more than a legal signal - it is a recognition that this entire case has long since lost its legal foundation.

We have been active in this case since March 2025 - and we will not relent. We have just finished an intensive brainstorming session, examining every possible option that could still be pursued, legally or from the family’s side. We may even travel to Liberia as soon as tomorrow to meet with journalists there and to briefly document the so-called "thriving" situation in a verifiable way - a not entirely unprecarious undertaking in a country that may be governed democratically, but where investigative work remains risky. What remains is the question of how far a state may go to save face - and when a country that once promised refuge finally ceases to be one.