On September 11th, in a hotel on the outskirts of Malabo, two men deported by the United States government were beaten, bound, and hooded before witnesses — punished, it appears, for the act of bearing witness themselves. Their story is part of a broader arrangement in which the Trump administration has paid Equatorial Guinea $7.5 million to receive people whom American courts had already determined would face torture if expelled — a legal and moral contradiction now made flesh. What unfolds at Hotel Bamy is not merely a diplomatic failure but a reckoning with what it means to render a human b
US deportees beaten and tortured in Equatorial Guinea detention hotel, lawyers say
You will disappear from the earth. I am the law.
Why did the authorities beat these two men specifically? Was it just about the phone, or something else?
The phone was the trigger, but the real reason was what was on it. Soliman had filmed guards pointing guns at detainees, had documented the conditions, and had shared that video with journalists and lawyers. The beating happened the same day Reuters reported on it. The message was clear: don't talk about what's happening here.
But we should be careful about motive. We know the beating happened. We know it followed the video release. We know detainees believe it was retaliation. But the source material doesn't include a statement from authorities explaining why they beat these men. We're inferring the connection, which is reasonable, but it's not confirmed by the people who did it.
Fair point. So what's the legal status of these 30 people still there? Are they prisoners? Are they being held lawfully?
They have no legal status in Equatorial Guinea at all. They were deported there under a US agreement, but they're not citizens, they're not refugees, they have no documentation. They're in limbo. And the country they're in is authoritarian—the US State Department itself documents torture there.
The US paid $7.5 million for this arrangement. That's a concrete fact. But we don't know the full terms of the deal, what obligations Equatorial Guinea actually has, or what leverage the US has to intervene. The State Department won't say.
Why can't these men just be sent back to the US?
Because they've been deported. Once you're deported, you're out. The US has decided it doesn't want them here anymore, even though judges said they'd face torture if sent home. So now they're in this third country with no ties, no language, no way forward.
And that's the core problem the reporting surfaces. The US changed its policy. It used to let people like this stay indefinitely. Now it's exporting them. But the source material doesn't explain the policy reasoning—why the Trump administration decided to do this, what the stated justification is. We know what's happening, but not the full argument behind the decision.
What about the other 12 people who were sent back to their home countries?
They were forced onto planes to Ethiopia and other places—countries where they're likely to face torture. At least 12 have been returned to their home countries where they face the persecution that US courts had already said they would suffer.
"Likely to face torture" in Ethiopia—that's based on what? General knowledge about Ethiopia's human rights record, or specific intelligence about these individuals?
The source doesn't specify. But the broader point is that Equatorial Guinea is sending people somewhere, and the UN has warned against it. The African Commission issued an order telling Equatorial Guinea to stop.
And the US embassy in Equatorial Guinea—they know about this?
Lawyers have sent them emails documenting the violence and threats. Multiple emails. None have been answered. The State Department won't say whether it's even aware of how these people are being treated.
That's a significant gap. We know lawyers sent emails. We don't know if they reached the right people, if they were read, if there's an internal response we just don't know about. The silence could mean indifference, or it could mean something else. But the fact that there's no public acknowledgment, no public intervention—that's real.
Le Pouls
- Two men — an Egyptian and an Eritrean, both protected by US court rulings against deportation to their home countries — were violently beaten by police after filming evidence of abuse inside their detention hotel.
- Roughly 30 deportees remain trapped at Hotel Bamy in Malabo with no medical care, no legal status, no fresh clothing, and armed guards on 24-hour watch — their phones confiscated in the week following the beatings.
- At least 12 detainees have already been forcibly sent to the very countries where US judges ruled they would face persecution, with officials offering a grim ultimatum: go home or go to prison.
- The UN and the African Commission have both issued urgent orders demanding Equatorial Guinea halt these transfers, while international lawyers call the situation 'a human rights catastrophe' demanding accountability from both governments.
- US lawyers' repeated appeals to the American embassy in Equatorial Guinea have gone entirely unanswered, and ICE has formally disclaimed any responsibility for deportees once they leave its custody.
On September 11th, in a hotel on the outskirts of Malabo, two men deported by the United States government were beaten, bound, and hooded before witnesses — punished, it appears, for the act of bearing witness themselves. Their story is part of a broader arrangement in which the Trump administration has paid Equatorial Guinea $7.5 million to receive people whom American courts had already determined would face torture if expelled — a legal and moral contradiction now made flesh. What unfolds at Hotel Bamy is not merely a diplomatic failure but a reckoning with what it means to render a human being stateless, voiceless, and expendable in the name of enforcement.
Ahmed Soliman, 31, and Samson Birhane, 47, were beaten, bound, and hooded by police at Hotel Bamy in Malabo on September 11th — hours after a video Soliman had filmed circulated among lawyers and journalists, showing armed guards pointing weapons at detainees and the squalid conditions inside the facility. Officers demanded to know where the phone was as they struck the men, then pushed them down a staircase and transferred them to a prison. Authorities later told the remaining deportees they might never see the two men again.
Both men had come to the United States seeking safety and built lives there over decades. Soliman, a gay Egyptian man, had lived in Phoenix most of his life until a drug conviction cost him his green card; a judge had ruled he would face persecution in Egypt because of his sexuality. Birhane arrived as a refugee at 13, lost his status after a teenage conviction, but was permitted to remain after a judge determined he faced torture in Eritrea. Both had been deemed too vulnerable to send home. Both are now in a Malabo prison.
The Trump administration has deported at least 66 people to Equatorial Guinea under a cooperation agreement worth $7.5 million — individuals from across Africa, Cuba, and Brazil whom US courts had shielded from removal to their home countries. Instead of allowing them to remain in America, the administration expelled them to a country where they have no family, no language, no legal standing, and no path forward. Equatorial Guinea is itself documented as a state that tortures political prisoners.
Conditions at Hotel Bamy have been dire from the start. One detainee with a severe hernia requiring regular hospital drainage has received no medical attention. Others depend on human rights lawyers to obtain HIV and diabetes medications, living in fear that access will be cut off. In the days after the beatings, police swept rooms for cellphones and confiscated them. Lawyers have been barred from visiting. One officer told a detainee: 'You will disappear from the earth. I am the law.'
At least 12 deportees have already been sent to their home countries — the very places US courts said they would be persecuted — after officials gave them a choice between that or prison. The UN and the African Commission have both issued urgent orders demanding Equatorial Guinea stop these transfers. Lawyers representing detainees have sent multiple documented appeals to the US embassy; none have been answered. ICE has stated it bears no responsibility for individuals once they leave its custody. The State Department declined to say whether it was aware of the abuse or had attempted any intervention, citing diplomatic confidentiality.
The roughly 30 people still at Hotel Bamy live with the memory of what they witnessed. They have no phones, no lawyers, no legal status, and no country willing to claim them. They are waiting — in a place where an officer has already told one of them that he does not exist — to see what comes next.
Ahmed Soliman, a 31-year-old from Egypt, and Samson Birhane, 47, from Eritrea, were bound, hooded, and beaten in front of dozens of witnesses on September 11th at a hotel on the outskirts of Malabo, Equatorial Guinea's coastal capital. Police officers shouted "Where is the phone? Where is the phone?" as they struck the men, who were then pushed down a flight of stairs and transferred to a prison. The beating came hours after a video surfaced—shot by Soliman himself—showing armed guards pointing weapons at detainees and the broader conditions inside Hotel Bamy, a run-down facility that has become a detention center for people expelled from the United States.
The Trump administration has deported at least 66 people to Equatorial Guinea under a cooperation agreement that has paid the country $7.5 million. These deportees come from various African nations, Cuba, and Brazil—people whom US judges determined would face torture or persecution if returned to their home countries. In the past, the US allowed such individuals to remain and work in America indefinitely. The current approach is different: expel them to third countries where they have no family, no language skills, no legal status, and no way to build a life. About 30 of these deportees remain at Hotel Bamy, trapped in a country notorious for authoritarian rule and documented torture.
Soliman and Birhane had both come to the US as young men seeking safety. Soliman, a gay Egyptian, had lived in Phoenix for most of his life with a green card until a drug possession conviction cost him his status. A judge had ruled in October that he would face persecution and torture if returned to Egypt because of his sexuality. Birhane arrived as a refugee at age 13 but lost his status after a robbery conviction in high school in 1988. Despite that conviction, a judge determined he faced torture in Eritrea and allowed him to stay, checking in regularly with Immigration and Customs Enforcement as required. Both men had built lives in America. Both had been deemed too vulnerable to send home. Both are now in a Malabo prison.
Detainees at Hotel Bamy say the two men were targeted for retaliation—beaten because they had documented what was happening inside the facility and shared it with lawyers and journalists. The hotel has no functioning medical care. One detainee with a severe stomach hernia requiring regular hospital drainage has not seen a doctor since arriving. Others have managed to obtain medications for HIV and diabetes only through human rights lawyers, living in fear that access will be cut off arbitrarily. Armed guards maintain 24-hour watch. No fresh clothes have been provided since arrival. In the week after Soliman and Birhane were beaten, police searched other detainees' rooms for cellphones and confiscated them. Lawyers have been barred from visiting. Authorities told the remaining 29 deportees that they may never see Soliman or Birhane again. One witness described the treatment as if the detainees were "blanks" who "don't even exist." An officer told another detainee: "You will disappear from the earth. I am the law."
The video Soliman shot before his arrest showed the reality inside the hotel. In one sequence, a Cuban man asked an officer to return his confiscated phone so he could contact relatives and a lawyer. The officer ignored him. When Soliman began filming this exchange, multiple officers rushed toward him and others nearby, pointed guns, and forced Soliman to kneel with his hands raised for 10 to 15 minutes. In another video, Soliman documented authorities forcibly sending US deportees to Ethiopia, a country where they are likely to face torture. When deportees resisted, officials gave them a choice: return to their home country or go to prison. At least 12 people have been sent back to their home countries, where they now face the persecution that US courts had said they would suffer.
In May, United Nations human rights experts issued a rare public appeal asking Equatorial Guinea to stop returning deportees to their home countries and to comply with international standards against refoulement—the expulsion of people to places where they face persecution. The African Commission later issued an urgent interim order instructing Equatorial Guinea not to deport, transfer, or relocate deportees against their will. Bella Mosselmans, director of the Global Strategic Litigation Council representing several deportees, called the situation "a human rights catastrophe" and said both the US and Equatorial Guinea "must be held accountable for the atrocities they are committing."
Lawyers have sent multiple emails to the US embassy in Equatorial Guinea documenting threats and violence against detainees. None have been answered. When asked about the violence, a spokesperson for Immigration and Customs Enforcement said that once individuals are no longer in ICE custody, the agency bears no responsibility for them, and that all deportees were sent to "a safe third country." The State Department said it uses "all legal means" to remove people without the right to remain in the country but declined to answer whether it was aware of how Equatorial Guinea was treating US deportees or whether any intervention had been attempted. The agency cited the confidentiality of diplomatic communications.
The remaining 30 deportees at Hotel Bamy live with the knowledge of what happened to Soliman and Birhane. They are haunted by flashbacks and terrified of retaliation. They have no way to contact the outside world. They have no legal status in a country that has tortured political prisoners. They cannot go home. They cannot stay in America. They are waiting to see what happens next.
Citations marquantes
This is a human rights catastrophe. The US and Equatorial Guinea must be held accountable for the atrocities they are committing.— Bella Mosselmans, director of the Global Strategic Litigation Council
When an individual is no longer in ICE custody, ICE is no longer responsible for them. All of these illegal aliens were deported to a safe third country.— Immigration and Customs Enforcement spokesperson