On March 16, 2025, the Trump administration deported over 200 Venezuelans to El Salvador, landing them in San Salvador’s Terrorism Confinement Center under a $6 million deal with President Nayib Bukele.

Billed as a crackdown on alleged Tren de Aragua gang members, the operation defied a federal judge’s order and leaned on the Alien Enemies Act of 1798—a wartime statute rarely invoked in modern times. The move has thrust Trump’s immigration policy into a legal maelstrom, raising questions about its legitimacy and scope.

The Alien Enemies Act allows the president to detain or deport noncitizens from nations engaged in an “invasion or predatory incursion” against the U.S. Trump’s team argues that gang activity qualifies, framing it as a national security threat.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio praised Bukele’s cooperation, casting the deportations as a bold stroke against “criminal migrants.” Yet, hours before the planes took off, U.S. District Judge James Boasberg ruled the action unlawful, citing a lack of declared war with Venezuela and no evidence of a state-led incursion. He ordered the flights grounded, but they proceeded anyway, prompting accusations of executive overreach.

Legal experts are split. Some, like Georgetown’s Paul Rothstein, call the Act’s use a “creative stretch,” noting it’s historically tied to formal conflicts—last wielded against Japanese nationals in 1942. Others, including the ACLU, argue it violates due process, as many deportees lack proven gang ties or individual hearings. The Justice Department counters that immigration falls under plenary presidential power, though bypassing a court order could invite contempt charges or impeachment chatter.

Bukele’s role adds complexity—his 84,000 detentions since 2022 flout international norms, yet Trump’s $6 million payment (renewable yearly) outsources custody to a dubious ally. Critics warn this sets a precedent for skirting U.S. law, while supporters cheer a hardline stance. As Venezuela decries the “criminalization of migration,” the courts—and history—may yet judge Trump’s gambit.