Andrea Goldman, The Daily Record Newswire
I am not an immigration attorney. Most of my experience has been as a construction and business lawyer. However, after reading about the dramatic increase in children crossing the border through Mexico - as many as 57,000 in a matter of months - due to the threat of gang or cartel violence in their native countries, I contacted ProBar, the South Texas Pro Bono Asylum Representation Project that is run by the American Bar Association.
ProBar consists of approximately three dozen attorneys, paralegals and staff, all fluent in Spanish. They are mostly young; recent college and law school grads from across the United States. These legal professionals are intelligent, dedicated and realistic.
Being fortunate enough to have associates and colleagues to keep my law firm running, I committed to three weeks of pro bono work at the Harlingen, Texas, office.
Michelle, the supervising attorney, met me at the office upon my arrival. She gave me two books, a reading assignment and three client files. The stories are real. My files included children who were molested after crossing the border with smugglers, a child who fled his country because a gang member had cut off his father's arm, and someone about to "age out" of the juvenile system. The children range in age from babies to 17 years old.
By the next morning I was at the local immigration court, where Judge Tovar was presiding. The attorneys and paralegals for both the immigrants and the Department of Homeland Security are young. The judge is chatty, asking the ProBar attorney how long she has been in Harlingen, stating that most burn out after a year.
That morning, the immigrants consist of a half-dozen young people from Honduras, El Salvador and Guatemala. They are wearing polo shirts, jeans and sneakers. The girls all have ponytails. Clearly, they have been coached in the process.
The first agrees to voluntary departure. She will go home without any penalty. The others are each called in turn, asked what their primary language is, and whether the Spanish interpreter will suffice. Some speak local dialects I have never heard of, but they are all comfortable speaking Spanish. Most ask for "mas tiempo," more time while their applications are being processed. They are between 15 and 17 years old. One is pregnant.
The attorney matter-of-factly tells me that many of the girls are raped during their journey to the U.S.
The next day I meet up with Henry, a paralegal from Los Angeles, to go to the BCFS detention center in Harlingen, which houses nearly 300 boys, ages 12 to 17. Henry runs a "charla," a know-your-legal-rights seminar for 25 boys in Spanish. He walks the boys through the process and continues for two hours without a script. Henry tells them that they will be deported unless they fall within an exception that will allow them to remain. Nothing is sugar-coated. It is the intention of the U.S. to deport them.
The detention center is surprisingly cheerful, but I do notice that the four boys standing in the hallway who have just arrived appear sullen and dejected. They each have a bag of clothes and are told that they are entitled to clothes, food, medical care, psychological services and classes. There is a dining room, athletic field and gym. They study art, English, history and math.
Other boys who have been there for a while are clean, appear to have had haircuts and sport T-shirts, jeans and sneakers. Eight boys share a bathroom and a room with four bunk beds.
In the afternoon I observe paralegals handle intake and initial screening after the morning orientation. Lauren offers each boy green and yellow Play-Doh along with a wad of tissues as a distraction during the long, and at times traumatic, interview process. The boys snicker about the Play-Doh, but at least half end up playing with it.
Each child is interviewed to flag applicable exceptions that may permit them to stay in the U.S. The four hours are exhausting.
Lauren is extremely sensitive and handles the kids beautifully. The first is 17 and about to "age out" of the juvenile system. He has a 16-year-old girlfriend and a 10-month-old baby. He did not have a father and is trying to escape the poverty of his native country and support his family. He has relatives here. He cries. He may qualify for Special Immigrant Juvenile Status because he has been abandoned by a parent.
SIJS is available for children who have been abused, neglected or abandoned by parents. Some states allow for one-parent SIJS, while others require both. One out of the four boys has been threatened by gang members. Most of the boys seek the opportunity to study in the U.S., or work and send money back to their families in order to escape abject poverty.
Some have borrowed enormous sums for their journeys, and two were robbed by Mexican police along the way. They have very little education. One isn't even sure of his birth date. They have no idea how long they will be in the detention center.
A few have parents who love them and treat them well, but many have been targeted by gangs or the cartel. They all come to the U.S. to live with parents, uncles and/or siblings.
The girls' stories are very different since they are treated as property in their home countries and are subjected to abuse.
At the end of the week I head to immigration court to attend a court tour conducted by Cindy, one of the paralegals. Today's tour has 26 children, ranging in age from 5 to 15. At least one is pregnant. They arrive with their teachers and are all dressed in the same uniform of tees or polos, jeans and sneakers with colorful windbreakers. The younger children are giggling and cheerful.
They go into the empty courtroom and are told that they must be "calledito": quiet and respectful. Cindy tells them bluntly that the U.S. wants to deport them. They role-play. One child is "el fiscal," the lawyer for the government from the Department of Homeland Security. At desks in the front sit "la secretaria or el secretario" (the stenographer); "el interprete" (the interpreter); and "el juez" (the judge). Finally, there is "el nino imigrante" (the child himself). The judge gets to wear a robe and has a toy gavel. The children giggle and they know it is the best role. The interpreter is available to translate to the language they know best.
They will be unrepresented at the first hearing. A lawyer may be there as a friend of the court, simply to state the child's age, name and native country. They will be asked who they plan to live with in the United States and where that person lives. All of the children plan to "reunify" with a parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle. They will be given documentation with their name and identification number.
Very few will become clients of ProBar. Many will ask for more time until they can find a lawyer. Some will request voluntary departure so they will not be prevented from trying to return (deportation carries penalties).
If one didn't know the back stories, this seems like any other school field trip. The children need to be reminded not to run in the courtroom and to stand every time the judge enters or leaves the room.
I have to remind myself that this is very, very sad. All have crossed the Rio Grande River to get here. Some turn themselves in so the United States can complete the journey to their state of choice. Others will be detained by Border Patrol. Most will take voluntary departure, be deported or eventually disappear. Unless they can prove SIJS, a basis for asylum, that they are victims of trafficking, or that they have had a crime committed against them in the U.S., they will not be allowed to stay.
Victims of gang violence will not be granted asylum unless they can prove that they are a member of a targeted group, which can consist of a family unit. The hurdles are arduous and the outcomes uncertain.
ProBar is constantly searching for pro bono attorneys to represent these children when they arrive at their destination. Until the challenge of fixing the immigration system is resolved, I hope that private attorneys will consider representing these children and trying to obtain the best solution for each one. These are not just numbers in a news report. They are children who need our help.
-----
Andrea Goldman is a litigator, arbitrator and mediator who focuses on construction and business matters. She practices at Goldman Law Group in Newton.
Published: Thu, Jan 15, 2015
