Severed Fingers, Murder, and Flight: Gabriela’s Fight for Safety

What began as a family vacation to Disney World turned into a desperate escape from cartel violence for Gabriela, a woman from Guayaquil, Ecuador. Once living a middle-class life with a steady job in television and a daughter in private school, Gabriela’s world unraveled after receiving death threats from local gangs.

Her family became direct targets. Gabriela recounts receiving extortion demands and videos showing her daughter’s grandfather with fingers severed, a warning that culminated in his murder. Fearing for their lives, Gabriela and her partner fled to the United States, leaving behind everything they knew.

Today, Gabriela joins millions of pending asylum seekers in the U.S. Many Latin Americans cite cartel-related violence as their reason for fleeing, yet U.S. asylum law narrowly defines eligibility. Protection is typically granted for persecution based on race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or membership in a specific social group, categories that cartel violence does not neatly fit.

Legal experts note that while some claimants frame cartels as quasi-political entities, proving persecution under U.S. law remains difficult. During the Trump administration, policies made it harder for victims of gang or domestic violence to secure asylum, requiring proof of government complicity or inability to protect victims. Though the Biden administration has reversed some directives, the backlog and legal ambiguity leave many in prolonged limbo.

For Gabriela, this means living cautiously, working long shifts in a factory while avoiding situations that could jeopardize her case.

“Our life is work and home, nothing more,” she says. She worries about minor infractions drawing attention from authorities and fears being deported back to danger.

Her experience mirrors that of others from Ecuador’s violence-stricken cities. Maria, a lesbian from Durán, fled after gang extortion attempts and now works in New York, awaiting an asylum hearing scheduled years from now. Luis, a taxi driver from the same city, left after gangs targeted his cooperative.

Immigration lawyers warn that U.S. policies labeling some cartels as terrorist organizations may unintentionally complicate asylum claims. Applicants who paid “protection fees” to survive can be viewed as materially supporting the very groups they fled.

Despite these hurdles, Gabriela, Maria, and Luis maintain a clear message: they are law-abiding, tax-paying individuals seeking safety and stability. “We want what everyone wants: to work, live under the rule of law, and no longer live in terror,” Gabriela says.

Their story underscores the human cost of cartel violence and the challenges facing U.S. asylum law in adapting to modern threats.