On Friday, October 24, 2025, the U.S. government confirmed plans to deport Kilmar Abrego Garcia, a Salvadoran national whose case has become a lightning rod in America’s immigration debate, to Liberia—a West African country described by officials as a stable democracy and close U.S. ally. The announcement, made in a federal court filing and echoed by Liberian officials, comes amid a storm of legal, political, and humanitarian controversy that has drawn in voices from both sides of the Atlantic.
Abrego Garcia’s story is anything but straightforward. Having lived in Maryland for over a decade, he first arrived in the United States around 2011 as a teenager, joining his U.S. citizen brother and fleeing what he and his family described as rampant gang violence in El Salvador. His legal odyssey began in earnest earlier this year when, despite a 2019 court order barring his removal to El Salvador due to a credible threat of persecution, he was mistakenly deported there in March 2025. According to The Baltimore Sun and FrontPage Africa, Abrego Garcia was held in a notorious Salvadoran detention center, only to be returned to the U.S. in June after the Supreme Court ordered federal officials to “facilitate” his repatriation.
The government’s error did not go unnoticed. In March, Abrego Garcia and his family filed suit in U.S. District Court in Maryland, alleging that his deportation violated both his constitutional rights and previous court orders. Judge Paula Xinis minced no words in her ruling: the deportation “shocks the conscience” and “there were no legal grounds whatsoever for his arrest, detention, or removal.” The U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit later denied a government request to stay the order, writing, “The United States Government has no legal authority to snatch a person who is lawfully present in the United States off the street and remove him from the country without due process.”
Yet, after his return, Abrego Garcia’s legal troubles continued. He was arrested on federal human smuggling charges in Tennessee—charges he has consistently denied. According to FrontPage Africa, courts have found no evidence to support claims that he was a gang member or that he transported undocumented immigrants for profit. U.S. District Judge Waverly Crenshaw noted a “realistic likelihood” that the prosecution is vindictive, a sentiment echoed by Senator Chris Van Hollen, who called the government’s actions “a vindictive prosecution against Abrego Garcia, after a federal judge concluded earlier this month that his prosecution may stem from retaliation by the DOJ and DHS due to Abrego’s successful challenge of his unlawful deportation in Maryland.”
With El Salvador off the table due to the credible threat of persecution, U.S. officials began searching for other countries willing to accept Abrego Garcia. According to The New York Times and FrontPage Africa, Uganda, Eswatini, and Ghana all refused. Costa Rica reportedly agreed, and Abrego Garcia consented to go there, but the Trump administration instead pressed for his removal to Liberia—a country with which he has no familial, cultural, or linguistic ties.
The Department of Homeland Security justified the decision by describing Liberia as “a thriving democracy and one of the United States’s closest partners on the African continent,” committed to the humane treatment of refugees and, conveniently, an English-speaking nation. The Justice Department also highlighted Liberia’s historical and constitutional links to the U.S., noting that its capital, Monrovia, is named after President James Monroe and that its 1986 constitution was modeled after the U.S. Constitution. Recent executive orders issued by Liberian President Joseph Boakai, they added, aimed to enhance humanitarian safeguards for vulnerable populations.
But not everyone is convinced. Human rights activists in Liberia have expressed mixed feelings, with some raising pointed questions about the true motivations behind the government’s acquiescence. John Stewart, a commissioner on Liberia’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, told FrontPage Africa, “I think it’s a moral failure. America preaches democracy and human rights. I think that’s a violation of the man’s rights no matter how we are trying to polish it.” Stewart suggested that Liberia may have had little choice, especially as it seeks international loans and remains reliant on U.S. goodwill. “Saying no to the U.S. secretary of state could have adverse implications for the Liberian government, given all we’ve seen from the Trump administration,” he added.
Other Liberians, however, defended the government’s decision. Kanio Bai Gbala, an assistant professor of law at the University of Liberia, argued that “Liberia’s decision reflects our proud tradition as a refuge for those in need and aligns with international humanitarian norms.” He firmly rejected the idea that Liberia was pressured, insisting, “There is no credible evidence to suggest that the Liberian government was pressured into accepting Garcia. The relationship between Liberia and the United States has always been anchored in mutual respect and partnership, not coercion.”
The official Liberian government stance, delivered by Justice Minister Oswald Tweh at a press conference, was that Garcia “is coming to Liberia not as a prisoner” and “will move about freely, without harassment or intimidation.” The government further asserted that its decision was “reached after extensive consultations with relevant national and international stakeholders, reflecting Liberia’s enduring commitment to upholding the principles of human dignity, international solidarity, and compassion in times of distress.” They emphasized that Garcia would not be returned to any country where he might face persecution, torture, or other serious harm.
Nonetheless, the specter of coercion lingers. The announcement followed a meeting between Liberia’s Foreign Minister Sara Beysolow Nyanti and U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio in Washington, and came after a string of African countries refused to take Abrego Garcia. President Joseph Boakai, when asked by FrontPage Africa about the U.S. request, said, “I didn’t get the impression that the Americans were putting a gun to anybody’s head to sign anything… If and when they decide to ask us, we will know how to respond.”
Meanwhile, legal wrangling in the United States may yet delay Abrego Garcia’s removal, which officials had originally scheduled for as soon as October 31, 2025. His lawyers remain adamant that the entire process is unconstitutional and cruel. Simon Sandoval-Moshenberg, Abrego Garcia’s attorney, told CBS News, “Due process means the chance to defend yourself before you’re punished, not after. This is an abuse of power, not justice.”
Underlying all this is a stark reality: the U.S. State Department’s own 2024 human rights report cited Liberia for “significant human rights issues,” including arbitrary police killings, cruel or degrading treatment, and harsh prison conditions. Despite diplomatic assurances, critics question whether humanitarian principles or political expediency are guiding this high-profile deportation.
For now, the fate of Kilmar Abrego Garcia remains in limbo, suspended between courtrooms, diplomatic corridors, and the lives of his American wife and three children with profound health challenges. Whether history will see his deportation as a triumph of international partnership or a cautionary tale of political pressure and human rights remains to be seen.
