'Squatter Rights' TikToker Who Mocked American Workers Deported Under Guard

Paul Riverbank, 3/29/2025 The deportation of Venezuelan TikTok influencer Leonel Moreno underscores the complex challenges in immigration enforcement. His provocative social media campaign, promoting exploitation of U.S. benefits and "squatter's rights," culminated in a tense return to Venezuela, highlighting the intersection of social media influence and immigration policy enforcement.

The deportation of Venezuelan TikTok provocateur Leonel Moreno last week offers a fascinating glimpse into the messy intersection of social media, immigration policy, and public outrage.

I've covered immigration stories for decades, but this one stands out. Moreno, who brazenly promoted "squatter's rights" to his followers, found himself needing protection from his fellow deportees on the flight back to Caracas. The irony wasn't lost on anyone watching this unfold.

Here's what makes this case particularly noteworthy: Moreno didn't just enter the U.S. illegally through Eagle Pass in 2022 - he turned his immigration status into social media content. Through his "Leito Oficial" TikTok account, he essentially documented his own case for deportation, boasting about avoiding work and gaming the system for benefits.

The anger from other deportees speaks volumes. Venezuelan Interior Minister Diosdado Cabello had to arrange special security for Moreno during the flight. "The other passengers were very upset," Cabello noted, in what might be the understatement of the year.

But there's more to unpack here. Questions swirl about Moreno's background - was he really just a navy serviceman, as he claims, or something more? The New York Post's homeland security sources paint a different picture, identifying him as a former sergeant in Venezuela's military counterintelligence service (DGCIM).

What's particularly striking about this case is how it ended. After thumbing his nose at the system - even bragging about using his U.S.-born child to secure benefits - Moreno's downfall came from something mundane: failing to check in with ICE as required. He was picked up in Gahanna, Ohio, in March 2024, joining 178 other Venezuelan deportees on a flight that was only possible because deportation flights to Venezuela had recently resumed.

Minister Cabello, for his part, pushed back against U.S. characterizations of the deportees, insisting none belonged to the Tren de Aragua terrorist organization. He framed the deportations as an "opportunity" for Venezuelan migrants to "escape adverse conditions abroad" - a spin that would be almost comical if it weren't so serious.

The whole saga ended with a simple thumbs-up gesture from Moreno upon landing in Caracas. It's a remarkably quiet end for someone who built his platform on inflammatory social media posts and open defiance of immigration laws.

In my years covering immigration policy, I've rarely seen a case that so perfectly encapsulates the challenges of enforcement in the social media age. It raises uncomfortable questions about how we handle immigration in an era where defiance can be monetized through likes and shares.

The deportation of Venezuelan TikTok provocateur Leonel Moreno last week offers a fascinating glimpse into the messy intersection of social media, immigration policy, and public outrage.I've covered immigration stories for decades, but this one stands out. Moreno, who brazenly promoted "squatter's rights" to his followers, found himself needing protection from his fellow deportees on the flight back to Caracas. The irony wasn't lost on anyone watching this unfold.Here's what makes this case particularly noteworthy: Moreno didn't just enter the U.S. illegally through Eagle Pass in 2022 - he turned his immigration status into social media content. Through his "Leito Oficial" TikTok account, he essentially documented his own case for deportation, boasting about avoiding work and gaming the system for benefits.The anger from other deportees speaks volumes. Venezuelan Interior Minister Diosdado Cabello had to arrange special security for Moreno during the flight. "The other passengers were very upset," Cabello noted, in what might be the understatement of the year.But there's more to unpack here. Questions swirl about Moreno's background - was he really just a navy serviceman, as he claims, or something more? The New York Post's homeland security sources paint a different picture, identifying him as a former sergeant in Venezuela's military counterintelligence service (DGCIM).What's particularly striking about this case is how it ended. After thumbing his nose at the system - even bragging about using his U.S.-born child to secure benefits - Moreno's downfall came from something mundane: failing to check in with ICE as required. He was picked up in Gahanna, Ohio, in March 2024, joining 178 other Venezuelan deportees on a flight that was only possible because deportation flights to Venezuela had recently resumed.Minister Cabello, for his part, pushed back against U.S. characterizations of the deportees, insisting none belonged to the Tren de Aragua terrorist organization. He framed the deportations as an "opportunity" for Venezuelan migrants to "escape adverse conditions abroad" - a spin that would be almost comical if it weren't so serious.The whole saga ended with a simple thumbs-up gesture from Moreno upon landing in Caracas. It's a remarkably quiet end for someone who built his platform on inflammatory social media posts and open defiance of immigration laws.In my years covering immigration policy, I've rarely seen a case that so perfectly encapsulates the challenges of enforcement in the social media age. It raises uncomfortable questions about how we handle immigration in an era where defiance can be monetized through likes and shares.