I was born again. God gave me a second chance.
A hotel holding newly deported US immigrants collapsed during 7.2-7.5 magnitude earthquakes in Venezuela, with survivors describing harrowing escapes from rubble. The deportation flight arrived hours before the disaster; 146 people including 19 women and 7 children were being processed at the hotel when earthquakes struck.
- 146 Venezuelans, including 19 women and 7 children, arrived on a deportation flight from Miami hours before the earthquakes
- Two earthquakes measuring 7.2 and 7.5 magnitude struck Venezuela on Wednesday, killing over 1,700 people
- The Hotel Santuario La Llanada in La Guaira, where deportees were being processed, collapsed during the earthquakes
- 12 deportation flights to Venezuela operated in May 2026, three days a week, after a 13-month pause that ended in February 2025
Over 146 Venezuelans deported from the US were housed in a hotel that collapsed during severe earthquakes, leaving survivors traumatized and families searching for missing deportees.
A deportation flight from Miami touched down in Venezuela on Wednesday afternoon carrying 146 people—Venezuelans who had been living in the United States and were now being sent back. Among them were 19 women and seven children. Within hours of their arrival, before they could even leave the hotel where they were being processed, the ground began to shake.
The earthquakes came in two waves, measuring 7.2 and 7.5 in magnitude. They struck La Guaira, a coastal city that bore the brunt of the disaster. The hotel where the deportees had been taken—the Hotel Santuario La Llanada—collapsed around them. Lisbeth Portillo, 58, was on the second floor when the first tremor hit. She had stepped onto a balcony moments before, looking out at the sea, when the sky turned black and the heat became unbearable. She returned to her room, lay down on a bed, and felt the building begin to move. The women around her started to fall. They screamed for help. Then the second earthquake came, and Portillo found herself buried under a beam. The shaking shifted the debris just enough for her to crawl free, her body covered in bruises.
She was not alone in the rubble. Jenny Rodriguez, 24, was also trapped. She managed to free one hand from the debris and grabbed a fellow deportee by the trousers, begging for help. He pulled her out. About 20 deportees in total escaped the collapsed hotel and walked the streets of La Guaira in shock, some of them naked or barefoot, searching for help. Portillo walked nearly five kilometers, crying the entire way. There was no communication, no way to reach anyone. When they finally reached a national guard building, they were allowed to make phone calls to their families. "I was born again," Portillo said later, her voice breaking. "God gave me a second chance. I am traumatized."
The Venezuelan government reported that more than 1,700 people were killed in the earthquakes. The exact number of deportees who died or remain missing is unclear. Liliana Rojas has been trying to locate her 33-year-old partner, who was on the same deportation flight. The detention center in El Paso, Texas, where he had been held, confirmed only that he was deported. No one has given her any further information about his whereabouts or condition.
This disaster occurred against the backdrop of an accelerating deportation campaign. In May alone, the Trump administration ran 288 deportation flights to 38 countries across Africa, Asia, and Latin America. Twelve of those flights went to Venezuela, operating three days a week. Deportation flights to Venezuela had resumed in February 2025 after a 13-month pause. Portillo had been caught up in this machinery—removed from the United States, processed through the system, and placed on a flight home with no warning of what awaited her.
When the deportees arrived at Caracas airport on Wednesday, Venezuelan authorities received them and documented their arrival. The plan was for them to undergo medical exams, receive identification documents, and return home the next day. Instead, they found themselves trapped in a collapsing building, clawing their way out of rubble, walking through a devastated landscape searching for safety. U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement did not immediately respond to requests for information about the incident or the welfare of those affected. Families of the deported were left waiting for answers that were not coming.
Notable Quotes
We walked about five kilometers, and I cried and cried … there was no communication.— Lisbeth Portillo, 58, a deportee who escaped the collapsed hotel
No one is giving an answer about anything.— Liliana Rojas, searching for her deported partner
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does it matter that these were deportees specifically? Couldn't this have happened to any travelers?
Because they had no choice in being there. They were removed from the US and placed on a flight with minimal notice. They arrived in a country many hadn't lived in for years, were taken directly to a hotel for processing, and had no ability to leave or seek shelter elsewhere. They were in a specific place at a specific time because of a government decision.
The article mentions the Trump administration's deportation campaign. Is that the main story here?
It's part of the context, but the main story is what happened to these specific people in that moment. The broader deportation policy explains why they were there, but the earthquake is what makes this a crisis—it's the collision between two things: a system moving people rapidly, and a natural disaster that caught them in the middle.
Portillo says she was "born again." That's a strong phrase. What do you think she means?
She nearly died. She was buried under a beam in a collapsing building and managed to escape. She walked five kilometers through a devastated city with no communication, no way to know if she'd survive. When she finally reached safety and could call her family, she felt like she'd been given her life back. It's not metaphorical—it's literal relief.
What about the people still missing? Liliana Rojas is looking for her partner.
That's the part that remains unresolved. The deportation system moved him from El Paso to a hotel in Venezuela, and then the hotel collapsed. Now she's calling detention centers and getting no answers. He's not in the US anymore, but no one is telling her where he is or if he's alive.
Why did ICE not respond to requests for information?
That's the question. They run the deportation flights, they coordinate with Venezuelan authorities, they have records of who was on that flight. But when a disaster happens, they go silent. Families are left in the dark.