Meet the children left without parents under El Salvador’s emergency decree

As El Salvador's state of emergency turns four years old, families warn of the toll of the mass arrests on children.

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In a quiet church courtyard in El Rosario, El Salvador, 16-year-old Sarita sits beside her grandmother. From her neck hangs a medallion, its golden face flashing against the starchy white fabric of her school uniform.

“It’s a chain of Saint Benedict,” she says. “I wear it every day. I never take it off.”

The pendant is a sign of protection for Catholics. But for her grandmother, 54-year-old Sara de Perez, it carries another meaning.

“My son used to wear one like this too,” she says mournfully, as she stares down through thick-rimmed glasses at the pendant.

De Perez gifted her granddaughter the necklace two years ago, when her son — the girl’s father — was arrested and imprisoned. They have been denied contact with him ever since.

He is one of the more than 90,000 Salvadorans who have been detained as part of El Salvador's ongoing state of emergency.

Friday marks the fourth anniversary of the emergency declaration, which was introduced on March 27, 2022, to rein in gang violence.

But as the state of emergency enters its fifth consecutive year, families and advocacy groups say the mass arrests are leading to an under-reported but troubling trend.

Children, they say, have been deprived of one or both of their parents, essentially being left orphaned by the state.

The advocacy group Movement for the Victims of the State of Exception (MOVIR) estimates that as many as 60,000 children have lost parental support. Other estimates put the number much higher, at about 100,000 or more.

Some children are lucky enough to have other relatives or friends to care for them. Others have no such support. But no matter the circumstance, such arrests can exact a steep psychological toll.

“Sometimes I just shut myself in my room,” said Sarita. “I just kneel down and start crying and crying, looking at photos of my father."

So far, her father has been convicted of no crime. But he remains in detention, accused of "illegal associations", though his family insists he is innocent.

Sara de Perez, 54, remembers her son as she sits in the courtyard of El Rosario’s church in El Salvador [Euan Wallace/Al Jazeera]Sara de Perez, 54, remembers her son as she sits in the courtyard of El Rosario’s church in El Salvador [Euan Wallace/Al Jazeera]

At the expense of civil rights?

Proponents argue that the state of emergency was an extreme act to combat an extreme situation.

In March 2022, El Salvador was in the grip of a crime wave that saw 62 people murdered in a single day. Death tolls that high had not been seen in the country since its civil war ended in 1992.

The government of President Nayib Bukele responded with an emergency decree.

For 30 days, certain civil liberties would be suspended so that police and military officials could crack down on the gangs orchestrating the violence.

But despite starting as a temporary measure, the state of emergency has since been renewed a total of 48 times.

Supporters argue the decree has been an unprecedented success. They credit the sweeping changes for crippling MS-13 and Barrio 18, the gangs that once dominated El Salvador’s streets.

Over the nine-year period from 2015 to 2024, the country's homicide rate went from the highest in the Western Hemisphere to a 98-percent decline.

But critics say that the drop has come at the expense of human rights. Mass arrests have been conducted, sweeping up people thought to be innocent of any crime.

Suspects have been detained without the right to legal defence or even to know why they were arrested. And in 2023, Bukele's government authorised mass trials of up to 900 people.

"In four years under the state of emergency, we are without human rights, without fundamental guarantees. The regime has eliminated all of these rights," said Samuel Ramirez, the founder of MOVIR.

Bukele himself acknowledged that innocent people had been arrested during the state of emergency. In November 2024, the president estimated that approximately 8,000 had already been freed.

But Ramirez warned that, as long as the state of emergency remains in effect, El Salvador would be punishing its own citizens.

"Bukele contradicts himself when he says we are the safest country," Ramirez told Al Jazeera. "Only a country in permanent conflict can have a permanent state of emergency."

Sara’s de Perez granddaughter, Sarita, 16, explained that she often cries looking at photos of her imprisoned father [Euan Wallace/Al Jazeera]Sara’s de Perez granddaughter, Sarita, 16, explained that she often cries looking at photos of her imprisoned father [Euan Wallace/Al Jazeera]

Mental health burdens

Ramirez is among the advocates who say children are suffering under the uncertainty and widespread detentions taking place in El Salvador.

In 2025, El Salvador had the highest incarceration rate in the world, with approximately 1.7 percent of its population in prison — roughly twice the rate of the next highest country, Cuba.

According to human rights organisations such as MOVIR, El Salvador’s youth are among the most seriously impacted by the downstream effects of mass incarceration, especially when their caregivers are imprisoned.

"There is a very grave situation with children," said Ramirez. "There are many children who have been left without their parents, so those who used to provide for their basic needs are not there any more."

As a result, experts say the affected children are experiencing psychological issues.

"Anxiety issues in these children have increased," said a psychologist with Azul Originario, a nonprofit youth organisation based in San Salvador.

The psychologist often works with children whose parents have been abducted. She asked to remain anonymous for fear of reprisals, as NGO workers and critical voices have been intimidated, surveilled and, in some cases, arrested under El Salvador’s state of exception.

"Sometimes they don't want to do any physical activity or any studying," she said.

"They don't want to spend time with other children or go outside. They're afraid of authorities, because some of them experienced the authorities taking their parents away."

At a recent demonstration near San Salvador’s Cuscatlan Park, several families echoed those observations.

Among them was Fatima Gomez, 47, whose adult son was arrested in 2022. He left behind two daughters, ages 10 and three.

With their mother working full-time, Gomez has been taking care of the children. But she has noticed the eldest daughter seems traumatised.

"When she sees soldiers and police, she starts crying and runs inside," Gomez said of the 10-year-old. "She says they are going to take all of us, too."

Gomez had gathered with a crowd of men and women to demand the release of their loved ones.

Clutched in Gomez's hands is a blue printed poster, emblazoned with her son’s face and a single word: "innocent".

Fatima Gomez, 47, protests on March 8 after her son was arrested under El Salvador's state of emergency in April 2022 [Euan Wallace/Al Jazeera]Fatima Gomez, 47, protests on March 8 after her son was arrested under El Salvador's state of emergency in April 2022 [Euan Wallace/Al Jazeera]

Increasing expenses

Many in the crowd said they, too, have taken on the care of a child after the detention of a parent or caregiver, an economic burden that some have struggled to bear.

"There are moments — as a father, as a mother — when you feel like maybe you can't go on anymore," says Rubidia Hernandez, whose 21-year-old son was arrested in August 2022, leaving behind a daughter who was just two years old at the time.

The girl's mother was no longer in her life, so Hernandez took the child in. "She always asks me, ‘When is my daddy coming? I need him to come.'"

According to a 2023 report from Azul Originario, families of imprisoned individuals often face increased expenses.

Since the state of emergency started, El Salvador has drastically reduced the essentials it offers to prisoners. Only two small meals are provided a day.

For everything else, families are required to pay roughly $170 per month for their loved ones' food, clothing, hygiene and other products.

Based on Azul Originario's 2023 estimates, those costs can add up to roughly 16.7 percent more in household expenses over a six-month period.

Given the high costs, Hernandez and her family have struggled to pay for her granddaughter's schooling, which includes fees of about $40, plus the cost of her uniform and equipment.

But Hernandez fears she has no other choice. Children left without anyone to care for them are often sent to government institutions run by CONAPINA, El Salvador’s child protection agency, where they can face abusive conditions.

For Hernandez, the solution is simple: The government should release her son.

"We need our son to be free because he was the one who worked," Hernandez said. "He always looked out for us."