THIS IS NOT JUST AN “ABOUT US” PAGE.
THIS IS MY STORY.
My name is Wilfredo H. Pineda. I was a businessman based in Palatine, Illinois.
My life was about working, working, and working. I was a workaholic. My world revolved around my businesses, my employees, my customers, and my responsibilities.
I was focused on making money, meeting payroll every Friday, growing my two companies, building a reputation for myself and my businesses, and perhaps, one day, building a family.
Somehow, along the way, I forgot about God.
Then one day, without asking me, the government of the United States made changes to my life that I could never have imagined. When I was arrested, the documents I had with me should have been more than enough to explain my situation and, in my view, should have prevented charges from being brought against me.
But that is not what happened.
Instead, I believe the government twisted my story and presented its own version of events. In their version, I was no longer the businessman I had been. I was portrayed as a common criminal — someone who had supposedly been willing to risk everything for eight thousand dollars.
That was not who I was. And it was not the life I was living.
When I was arrested, my mind was not focused on the seriousness of what was happening to me. I was still thinking about my businesses. I was worried about my customers' production. I was worried about getting their orders completed and delivered on time. I was thinking about collecting money and continuing with my life.
During the first two days after my arrest, I was completely disconnected from reality. I was calling my office collect from custody, giving instructions about where to buy ink, where to buy plain shirts, where to obtain raw materials, and how to keep production moving.
I was, in a sense, living in another world.
Perhaps it took me about a week to mentally understand that my life had changed.
When reality finally began to sink in, I was disoriented and had no idea how to navigate what was happening to me.
Approximately eight months later, while I was in federal prison, I came to understand something I wish I had understood on the first day: I should have demanded a lawyer. If I had been thinking clearly, I had the financial ability to hire one. I could have paid a lawyer $50,000. I even had my checkbook with me.
But I was not thinking like someone who had been accused of a crime. I was thinking like a businessman who believed that somehow everything would be explained and everything would return to normal.
I was not a criminal. I had never intended to hurt anyone.
That was part of my problem.
I could not mentally focus on defending myself because I could not understand why I needed to defend myself in the first place.
Eventually, I returned to El Salvador.
By then, I was mentally exhausted from fighting against a system that I believed had taken my life away from me. And somewhere along that journey, I realized that I had put the priorities of my life in the wrong order. God should have been first. My family should have been second. My work should have come after that.
I did not try to rebuild Publi-Ser or Así Es América.
I simply walked away. By then, I was physically sick as well. While I was in federal prison, I suffered an accident that ultimately resulted in the loss of my left foot.
Twenty-five years passed. For twenty-five years, I did not tell people what had happened to me in the United States.
I closed that chapter of my life. Or at least, I tried to.
The truth is that I was mentally broken. There was a period of my life when I became medically disconnected from reality. I spent an entire year hospitalized at ISSS (Instituto Salvadoreño del Seguro Social) It took me approximately fifteen years to begin overcoming what had happened to me.
I tried to move forward.
I tried to forget.
I tried to live with the past.
Then, in 2025, Norma contacted me. It had been approximately twenty-six years since I had last seen her. She contacted me to tell me something that changed my life once again:
My son had died.
I never had the opportunity to meet him. He was twenty-five years old — a young, handsome man — when he was killed.
I never got to know my son.
I never got to hold him.
I never got to hear his voice.
I never got to tell him that I was his father.
And that is a pain I carry with me every single day of my life.
But there is another reason why I have decided to tell this story now. Years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer — multiple myeloma. In 2024, I was given devastating news. My wife was told that I could die at any moment.
There have been many times when I have found myself without enough money to buy medications and medical supplies that I need. And those moments have made me think about my past all over again.
They have made me ask myself:
What would my life look like today if the government had simply acted with integrity back then?
What would have happened to my businesses?
What would have happened to my family?
What would my life have been like if my story had been presented honestly?
I cannot change the past.
But I can tell the truth about what I believe happened. And at this point in my life, I am no longer afraid of making someone angry. I have already lost so much.
I have nothing more to lose by telling my story. What happened to me did not have to happen. I believe much of the suffering that followed could have been avoided if the government officials involved in my case had acted with integrity.
That is why I am speaking now.
For twenty-five years, I carried this story alone. Now, I have decided that I cannot remain silent anymore. I am telling my story because I believe the people of the United States deserve to know what happened to me. I believe there are serious questions about the way my case was handled in the Northern District of Illinois.
I believe evidence was withheld from me that could have affected the outcome of my case.
I believe there are serious questions that deserve to be examined, documented, and answered. I am not asking anyone to believe me simply because I say these things. I am asking people to look at the evidence.
Look at the documents.
Look at the testimony.
Look at the timeline.
Look at what happened before, during, and after my arrest. And then make your own judgment.
For twenty-five years, I carried this story alone. Now, I am ready to tell it.
My name is Wilfredo H. Pineda. This is my story. And this time, I am not going to remain silent.