If José Duval Mata were still alive, he would be in a living nightmare.
For more than two years, the 26-year-old tractor driver has been serving time in a Salvadoran prison, accused of “banding together”, despite the country’s legal system twice ordering his immediate release.
Despite two judges clearly ruling in his favour, Mr Mata continues to languish in one of the toughest prisons in the world: El Salvador’s notorious Secote prison, a “terrorist” facility Super prison.
The BBC has brought the case to the attention of the Salvadoran government on several occasions, including directly to the prosecutor’s office, the Ministry of Security, the Vice President and, earlier this year, President Nayib Bukele himself.
Despite repeated assurances from authorities that an investigation will be conducted, no action has been taken so far.
This is a Kafkaesque story.
In April 2022, Mr Mata was walking home in the dusty rural community of La Noria when he was stopped by troops entering his village as part of President Bukele’s nationwide crackdown on the country’s powerful street gangs.
Police and the military can detain anyone suspected of gang ties without due process due to an emergency decree known as a “state of exception” that suspends a range of constitutional rights.
New York-based Human Rights Watch said some 70,000 people, including about 3,000 children, were arrested in two years, many with no apparent links to gang activity.
Although Mr Mata claimed he had never joined or worked for a gang, the force detained him for “unlawful association” – a catch-all term used to round up people under the state of exception.
His mother, Marcela Alvarado, has not seen or heard from her son since that day.
“The police told me I needed to produce evidence to prove his innocence, so I collected his high school diploma, his land deed, his bank loan repayment receipts, his employer’s statement about his good character,” she said explained, showing the documents to the BBC, which experts say few Salvadoran gang members would be in possession of.
Her efforts were in vain.
José Duval, along with more than 350 other prisoners, was put on trial in a mass trial that lasted only a few minutes. He was initially sentenced to six months in prison, which was later extended indefinitely.
Marcela still cries at the memory. But things are about to get worse.
In September 2022, a judge ordered Jose Duval’s immediate release, and he was subsequently released from prison briefly.
However, while he was waiting for his family to pick him up, he was arrested again at the prison gate on the same charge.
Noah Bullock, executive director of Cristosal, a major human rights NGO in El Salvador, said the rearrest of prisoners at the prison gate “is an arbitrary act…illegal detention and double jeopardy.”
Still, he said, the practice remains common in states of exception.
In June 2023, a second judge confirmed an earlier decision to release Mr. Mata. Yet, more than a year later, he remains behind bars, while Marcela’s increasingly urgent requests for information fall on deaf ears.
The family of José Duval has now filed a lawsuit with the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.
A source at the Salvadoran prosecutor’s office told the BBC they believed there was “no legal basis or any clear explanation” for continuing to detain the young man.
Throughout the ordeal, Marcela faithfully brought a food package every week to the Izalco prison where her son was being held — a bag full of “corn flakes, oatmeal, bread and biscuits,” she said. plastic bags to help Jose Duval maintain his meager prison rations.
When she delivered a food bag last June, the guard told her he had been transferred from prison weeks earlier.
Her worst fears had come true.
José Duval is now being held in Cecot (Terrorist Confinement Center), a maximum-security prison that is the cornerstone of Mr. Bukele’s anti-gang policy.
Mr Bukele’s supporters hailed the facility as evidence of his iron-fist approach to gang crime.
Critics consider it a human rights black hole and one of the toughest prisons in the world.
President Bukele often said that the prisoners did not see “a ray of sunlight” and were not given the most basic rations of cold rice and tortillas.
The Bukele administration widely released photos of bald, heavily tattooed inmates being transferred to the facility.
Mr. Bukele has repeatedly defended the state of exception and Secot, saying they have changed the face of security in El Salvador.
Many “no-go” and gang-controlled neighborhoods did return to the control of security forces, with entire communities saying they no longer lived in fear.
The crackdown was therefore very popular. Millions of people in El Salvador are forever grateful to their young, media-savvy leaders for tackling the gang problem with swift and ruthless force.
February, President Nayib Bukele re-elected in landslidereceived approximately 90% of the votes.
At a press conference, I asked him whether in his second term he would focus on freeing those unjustly detained.
In a lengthy reply, President Bukele attacked his critics, particularly those from abroad, for what he believed to be high-profile miscalculations in the UK.
He said his security forces had made only “a few mistakes” and about 7,000 people had been released.
He insisted that the crackdown had restored calm to the streets of El Salvador and that was the most important thing.
I told him the specifics of Jose Duval Mata’s case, and after the press conference, his team asked me for a copy of the judge’s release order. A few days later, members of his inner circle requested the information a second time, this time in digital format, and I again provided it to them.
In the following weeks, the BBC pursued the Bukele government several times, and I spoke directly to Vice President Felix Ulloa about the case on several occasions.
A year ago, he told the BBC that Mr Mata was just days away from being released.
Ulloa said he hopes that after his release from prison, the media will portray José Duval Mata as a “landmark case of due process.”
In fact, he was transferred to Sekot without the knowledge of his family at the time.
Earlier this year, after months of requests, the BBC did gain access to Sekot Prison, but we were not allowed to speak to prisoners or ask officials about specific cases.
Meanwhile, for more than two years, Marcela received no proof of life or formal confirmation of her son’s welfare. Not surprisingly, she often thought about the possibility of José Duval dying in prison.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about this,” she tells me on a small plot of land in La Noria. “I was obsessed with this idea and I felt completely hopeless. All I could do was cry.
Now, she said, she’s just holding on to hope that her son is still alive and will eventually be released.
“I trust God. That’s all I can do.