More press on Artesia: New York Times Magazine cover story: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/02/08/magazine/the-shame-of-americas-family-detention-camps.html?_r=1
Wisconsin Access to Justice Commission Volunteer Spotlight:
http://wisatj.org/volunteer-spotlight-wisconsin-lawyers-help-out-in-artesia?utm_source=Newsletter&utm_campaign=47277216a7-January_2015_newsletter1_28_2015&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_a9de5cef2f-47277216a7
And this beautiful and hauntingly accurate sketchpad produced by a father/daughter team who volunteered together: https://insidewitness.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/click-here.pdf
Monday, February 9, 2015
Monday, January 26, 2015
Summary
Stephen Manning, a founder and fearless leader of Team Artesia, just distributed this amazing summary of the Artesia Pro Bono Project. http://innovationlawlab.org/2014/12/20/the-artesia-report/
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
♫ Libre soy...♫
Home.
Twenty-six days later (twenty-two of which were "on the ground" and four of which were on the road) and I am home. I am determined to carry my gratitude for my own good fortune into the days, weeks - years - to come.
I had the good fortune to work closely with about forty people this month, all of whom left their comfortable homes and families to spend a frenetic week trying to help the detainees make progress toward establishing their new homes. Saying "good-bye" to them at the end of each week was hard; so amazing how close people can grow through working together toward a common goal.
The women and children detained in Artesia left their homes because things were terribly wrong there. Many were victims of horrible domestic abuse; others were victims of gang extortion and violence. All wanted freedom and a better home for their children.
A few of our clients actually said they were content (for the moment) to call the detention facility "home," because, despite the awful food, viruses running rampant, lack of school and restrictions on their movement, they had escaped (for the time being) that from which they were running. While they want to be released on bond, make new homes with their loved ones in the U.S. and pursue their asylum claims from outside the facility, they were sincerely grateful for the temporary home in which they are now living. Imagine - grateful to be detained there.
The stories will haunt me forever, though in a way that can't compare with the trauma to the women who lived them. The faces of the women and children are fresh in my memory, and I will strive to hold onto them - we were not allowed to take photographs.
One memory that brings me to tears is of the children singing along with the theme we all know from Frozen: Let it Go! (I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the movie ran in the background several times per day, so I've heard it at least 50 times over the past weeks.) In the Spanish version, the familiar phrase in the chorus is "Libre soy...." which means "I am free...." One particularly difficult day, amidst mothers' stories of horrible violence, several of the children sang along with the video: "I am free!" We, behind the wall where only the attorneys could be, sobbed together.
Perhaps they are free - free from the horrors of their daily lives in their home countries, and perhaps they will experience even more freedom, if they are allowed to pay a bond and leave the facility. And, if all goes well, they will win their asylum cases and be free to build a new life in the U.S., as our own parents and ancestors did. But, many of them will not remain free. They will not be able to post bond, so they will stay detained. Sadly, some will not win their asylum cases, and will be sent back to the horrors they fear.
Home. Freedom. I hope for both of these for every family.
Twenty-six days later (twenty-two of which were "on the ground" and four of which were on the road) and I am home. I am determined to carry my gratitude for my own good fortune into the days, weeks - years - to come.
I had the good fortune to work closely with about forty people this month, all of whom left their comfortable homes and families to spend a frenetic week trying to help the detainees make progress toward establishing their new homes. Saying "good-bye" to them at the end of each week was hard; so amazing how close people can grow through working together toward a common goal.
The women and children detained in Artesia left their homes because things were terribly wrong there. Many were victims of horrible domestic abuse; others were victims of gang extortion and violence. All wanted freedom and a better home for their children.
A few of our clients actually said they were content (for the moment) to call the detention facility "home," because, despite the awful food, viruses running rampant, lack of school and restrictions on their movement, they had escaped (for the time being) that from which they were running. While they want to be released on bond, make new homes with their loved ones in the U.S. and pursue their asylum claims from outside the facility, they were sincerely grateful for the temporary home in which they are now living. Imagine - grateful to be detained there.
The stories will haunt me forever, though in a way that can't compare with the trauma to the women who lived them. The faces of the women and children are fresh in my memory, and I will strive to hold onto them - we were not allowed to take photographs.
One memory that brings me to tears is of the children singing along with the theme we all know from Frozen: Let it Go! (I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the movie ran in the background several times per day, so I've heard it at least 50 times over the past weeks.) In the Spanish version, the familiar phrase in the chorus is "Libre soy...." which means "I am free...." One particularly difficult day, amidst mothers' stories of horrible violence, several of the children sang along with the video: "I am free!" We, behind the wall where only the attorneys could be, sobbed together.
Perhaps they are free - free from the horrors of their daily lives in their home countries, and perhaps they will experience even more freedom, if they are allowed to pay a bond and leave the facility. And, if all goes well, they will win their asylum cases and be free to build a new life in the U.S., as our own parents and ancestors did. But, many of them will not remain free. They will not be able to post bond, so they will stay detained. Sadly, some will not win their asylum cases, and will be sent back to the horrors they fear.
Home. Freedom. I hope for both of these for every family.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Day Eighteen: A Shift?
In Hebrew, numbers are represented by letters and a great deal of meaning is read into what word a "number" "spells." "18" spells "life" so it is considered a very lucky number. On this, my 18th day in Artesia, I am cautiously - C A U T I O U S L Y - optimistic that we witnessed a shift. (The superstitious side of me makes me hesitant to even put this into words.
We had a women on our client list today who was surprised that we called her in: ICE had set a reasonable bond amount for her before any of the usual hearings required to set a bond amount.
Why?
Preparing for the hearings is laborious. The AILA project has attorneys all of the country who take the contact information we, on the ground, obtain and contact friends and relatives thousands of miles away in order to prove good character, good connections to a person in the U.S. who will help ensure that the person will attend hearings, the financial means of these people to support a mother and her children; a mother who will not have work authorization.
Then, another team puts together a nearly complete motion for a bond hearing, with all of the supporting documents and a wonderful memo in support of the motion. Late at night, we here in Artesia, finalize these drafts, send them to the court and opposing counsel and get them into our electronic and paper files.
The hearings, a few days later, are the hearings I've been writing about: questions, accusations, inequities, arbitrarily low or high bonds, tears of joy and tears of frustration.
We wonder if the government, after four months of perhaps 20 such hearings a day, has begun to realize that the "going rate" is about $3,000 and that they could save themselves a LOT of money and work, by just granting that bond amount. This would save the expense of the process, but also the expense of housing the families. We will carefully watch the cases to see if, today, we detected a shift in the government's approach.
We had a women on our client list today who was surprised that we called her in: ICE had set a reasonable bond amount for her before any of the usual hearings required to set a bond amount.
Why?
Preparing for the hearings is laborious. The AILA project has attorneys all of the country who take the contact information we, on the ground, obtain and contact friends and relatives thousands of miles away in order to prove good character, good connections to a person in the U.S. who will help ensure that the person will attend hearings, the financial means of these people to support a mother and her children; a mother who will not have work authorization.
Then, another team puts together a nearly complete motion for a bond hearing, with all of the supporting documents and a wonderful memo in support of the motion. Late at night, we here in Artesia, finalize these drafts, send them to the court and opposing counsel and get them into our electronic and paper files.
The hearings, a few days later, are the hearings I've been writing about: questions, accusations, inequities, arbitrarily low or high bonds, tears of joy and tears of frustration.
We wonder if the government, after four months of perhaps 20 such hearings a day, has begun to realize that the "going rate" is about $3,000 and that they could save themselves a LOT of money and work, by just granting that bond amount. This would save the expense of the process, but also the expense of housing the families. We will carefully watch the cases to see if, today, we detected a shift in the government's approach.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Day Seventeen: Justice?
Why did the families come to THIS country? They do have other choices. Does this country still enjoy a good reputation for, at a bare minimum, justice and humanitarian treatment of people within its borders? Apparently, that is the reputation, but I am not convinced that this country is worthy of that reputation.
Today, this project's fifth asylum case was scheduled here on site. This means the family and the lawyer are here, in one of the temporary metal buildings with an A/V connection to an Immigration Court several states away. The view from here is usually the judge, the attorney for the government and the interpreter, sitting about 15-20 feet from one another, all on one little 20" screen. Each head is less than one inch in diameter. There goes reading facial expressions or body language. Often, the camera zooms in on the interpreter, so that the client has a better chance of understanding what is said. The client nor the attorney can see the judge when this happens.
The attorney representing the mother has left her practice behind for yet another week (she's come back from her first or second week of volunteering, when she met this client. She has flown across the country several days before the hearing in order to prepare the family for the hearing. She pays for all of her own expenses. No small sacrifice.
The hearing starts at 3:00. The attorney questions the mother about the chain of attacks, her abusive spouse for about 80 minutes. One must make a complete record, just in case you need to appeal the decision. At this point, the government's attorney and the judge announce that they stop at 4:30, and the case will need to be continued. The attorney must leave this place by 9:30 tomorrow, so they will try to squeeze the rest of her story, the cross-examination and the reading of the judge's decision into another 90 minutes tomorrow. If that isn't possible, the pro bono attorney will make another trip to lovely Artesia.
This woman has been living in prison-like setting for four months. Today was her opportunity to secure her future here. She could not even see the person listening to her in order to make that decision. The end of someone else's work day shut down her presentation of her painful past. Her attorney may need to sacrifice more time away from her practice and foot her own travel expenses if this is not concluded tomorrow.
Justice?
Today, this project's fifth asylum case was scheduled here on site. This means the family and the lawyer are here, in one of the temporary metal buildings with an A/V connection to an Immigration Court several states away. The view from here is usually the judge, the attorney for the government and the interpreter, sitting about 15-20 feet from one another, all on one little 20" screen. Each head is less than one inch in diameter. There goes reading facial expressions or body language. Often, the camera zooms in on the interpreter, so that the client has a better chance of understanding what is said. The client nor the attorney can see the judge when this happens.
The attorney representing the mother has left her practice behind for yet another week (she's come back from her first or second week of volunteering, when she met this client. She has flown across the country several days before the hearing in order to prepare the family for the hearing. She pays for all of her own expenses. No small sacrifice.
The hearing starts at 3:00. The attorney questions the mother about the chain of attacks, her abusive spouse for about 80 minutes. One must make a complete record, just in case you need to appeal the decision. At this point, the government's attorney and the judge announce that they stop at 4:30, and the case will need to be continued. The attorney must leave this place by 9:30 tomorrow, so they will try to squeeze the rest of her story, the cross-examination and the reading of the judge's decision into another 90 minutes tomorrow. If that isn't possible, the pro bono attorney will make another trip to lovely Artesia.
This woman has been living in prison-like setting for four months. Today was her opportunity to secure her future here. She could not even see the person listening to her in order to make that decision. The end of someone else's work day shut down her presentation of her painful past. Her attorney may need to sacrifice more time away from her practice and foot her own travel expenses if this is not concluded tomorrow.
Justice?
Day Sixteen: Blame
At the end of this entry, I will past a letter from the mayor of this fine town, blaming the lawyers here for the awful increase in releases and decrease in deportations. We are absolutely thrilled with this blame!
In the courtroom today, I witnessed a scene that involved multiple examples of blame. The woman escaped a horribly abusive relationship with her second husband, the father of the youngest of her three children. Her older two, both teenagers, are here with her in Artesia and have been for months.
This man abused her mercilessly and exploited her teenage daughter. When asked why she had only her two older children with her, she broke down and told the court that her youngest, 6, had been killed in a car accident a year ago, while her abuser was driving and texting. Everyone in the room cried with her. Though he was not present, we all blamed this man for everything she had described.
Then, the questioning turn to factors more related to the decision as to her bond. Just to be clear, the bond assessment is an analysis as to how likely the person is to show up for the hearings down the road, compared with the risk of her living in the shadows. Remember, these mothers want nothing more for themselves or their children than a path toward U.S. citizenship. With representation, the vast majority of the women show for their hearings.
One of the lines of questioning is about whether the woman paid a smuggler for any part of her trip. If she did, this is a strike against her, as the government argues that the money goes to gangs. Another line of questioning goes toward the connection between the person paying the bond and the woman. Will that person always know where to find the woman, and will the person help ensure that the woman will appear for her court hearings?
This woman did pay a coyote. Strike one. She is viewed to have contributed to a "national security risk" for our country. This despite the evidence that making the journey without assistance is incredibly dangerous and far less likely to be successful. They coyotes exploit the travelers, to be sure.
This woman's bond sponsor is her brother's friend. Her brother is undocumented and hasn't enough money to post a bond, but his friend, a U.S. citizen, was willing to help in this way. Strike two. This man won't always know how to find her and won't have an interest in ensuring her presence at her hearings.
She doesn't have an attorney secured for her family in the northeast. Strike three.
So, this tiny, grieving, brave woman who escaped an extremely abusive husband, one who abused her older child and is responsible for the death of her youngest, and made the dangerous trip to Texas, is unlikely to be released, as her bond was set too high for the sponsor to pay.
Who bears blame?
In the courtroom today, I witnessed a scene that involved multiple examples of blame. The woman escaped a horribly abusive relationship with her second husband, the father of the youngest of her three children. Her older two, both teenagers, are here with her in Artesia and have been for months.
This man abused her mercilessly and exploited her teenage daughter. When asked why she had only her two older children with her, she broke down and told the court that her youngest, 6, had been killed in a car accident a year ago, while her abuser was driving and texting. Everyone in the room cried with her. Though he was not present, we all blamed this man for everything she had described.
Then, the questioning turn to factors more related to the decision as to her bond. Just to be clear, the bond assessment is an analysis as to how likely the person is to show up for the hearings down the road, compared with the risk of her living in the shadows. Remember, these mothers want nothing more for themselves or their children than a path toward U.S. citizenship. With representation, the vast majority of the women show for their hearings.
One of the lines of questioning is about whether the woman paid a smuggler for any part of her trip. If she did, this is a strike against her, as the government argues that the money goes to gangs. Another line of questioning goes toward the connection between the person paying the bond and the woman. Will that person always know where to find the woman, and will the person help ensure that the woman will appear for her court hearings?
This woman did pay a coyote. Strike one. She is viewed to have contributed to a "national security risk" for our country. This despite the evidence that making the journey without assistance is incredibly dangerous and far less likely to be successful. They coyotes exploit the travelers, to be sure.
This woman's bond sponsor is her brother's friend. Her brother is undocumented and hasn't enough money to post a bond, but his friend, a U.S. citizen, was willing to help in this way. Strike two. This man won't always know how to find her and won't have an interest in ensuring her presence at her hearings.
She doesn't have an attorney secured for her family in the northeast. Strike three.
So, this tiny, grieving, brave woman who escaped an extremely abusive husband, one who abused her older child and is responsible for the death of her youngest, and made the dangerous trip to Texas, is unlikely to be released, as her bond was set too high for the sponsor to pay.
Who bears blame?
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Day Fourteen: An inspirational thank you letter.
Today, this letter arrived, with many VISA cash cards for the families' expenses while traveling, after being released. I thought you would enjoy reading it. I'm particularly hanging onto the clause at the end, "even just a little bit."
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