My law school class spent a week volunteering at a privately owned immigration detention center. The majority of the people there were escaping persecution or torture in their home countries and came to America because they thought they would be safe here. Little did they know that they would be kept in a prison like environment, though they had committed no crime, they would be denied access to information and justice and ultimately, they would be sent home to endure more suffering. This country would turn its back on their suffering.
Access to justice is often discussed in law school and among lawyers, usually we focus on the ideas and theory surrounding this concept. It was quite a stark experience to be confronted with the reality of those who may have the absolute least access to “justice” in our system. I often believe that although our system can be tough and complicated, that there is a real path to justice, especially if you are diligent and tenacious. Much of my experience with the detainees at this center challenged this belief, making me question the humanity of our system and whether or not immigrants have any meaningful access to justice.
It was disturbing to have one of my core beliefs be so thoroughly challenged and upended. Upon later reflection the thing that I found most unsettling about the lack of access to justice was the underhanded manner in which it was often denied. Instead of coming out and saying that immigrants would not be treated humanely or consistently with the principles that our Country often espouses, the system has instead found sneaky round about ways to deny access to justice. This is exemplified in two major themes that I observed at this detention center. First the general treatment of immigrants as criminals rather than blameless individuals fleeing persecution, and second the physical space where they were kept and the constraints not just on their liberty but also on the access by media and legal representation.
A stark building topped with barbed wire, huge cement brick walls and very few windows greeted us as we drove up to the privately owned immigration detention center for our first day assisting unrepresented immigrants. It was an arresting image mainly because I knew that on the other side of the walls were victims of torture and genocide. Not every detainee had a spotless criminal record or even a very sympathetic story but that wasn’t the point. It was that they were being detained, not for committing a crime or for putting others in danger but rather for crossing a border and presenting themselves to immigration officials to seek protection.
The immigrants were dressed in jumpsuits that immediately reminded us of prison or jail uniforms, they were even classified by color as to their criminal records or lack thereof. They were kept separate by gender and yelled at by staff, often in languages they did not understand. Overall the facility and the way that private guards treated the detainees was indistinguishable from my experience in actual jails and prisons. If anything, I have seen more humanity in treatment directed at those arrested for criminal activity. For example, at one point when the law students were pairing off and assigning cases in the first courtroom I watched as a detainee rested his foot lightly on a piece of wood on the ground that was part of the courtroom separator. He was immediately snapped at to put his foot on the ground and complied immediately. The guard was rude and the man was obviously cowed by his experience. The entire exchange made me sick. It was small but it was an example of how the staff at the detention center interact with detainees. The man had done nothing, and the guard had arbitrarily overreacted.
For this quasi-official facility to be able to deprive innocent people, often victims themselves, of their liberty and then to treat them in a worse manner than actual police and prison guards treat criminals made me feel disgusted with the system. It also certainly impacts their access to justice; they are from the start profiled and treated like criminals when they are kept in prisons and dressed as inmates. I noticed how intimidated I was by them the first day I walked into the courtroom to volunteer. I am sure that judges and state officials also view detainees differently when they are dressed like criminals and kept in cages. The facilities and uniforms create a mindset that we are dealing with criminals instead of refugees and this has an impact on an immigrant’s likelihood of a favorable decision by a judge, humane treatment by guards and access to sympathy from the general population.
Not only are the uniforms, facilities and attitudes of guards a barrier to justice but the actual physical location of the facility and the spaces within said facility present obstacles for access to justice. I was shocked by how difficult it was to access detainees when we were there to help them represent themselves. I was also disheartened by the severe lack of resources for said detainees.
First, when it came to the location of the detention center itself access to justice was decreased. We had to drive an hour each way to even get to the detention center and in placing the center so far from likely advocacy programs the government is obviously trying to prevent advocacy and access to justice. When we already have such a disparity in resources between the government and detainees it seems over the top to strategically place these centers far from cities where assistance could be provided. Then when one finally arrives at the location, there are all sorts of inefficiencies and rules that make actually spending quality time assisting the detainees almost nonexistent. Often, we were left waiting for detainees and asking after people who were being kept from us by kitchen duty or simple incompetence on the behalf of the staff at the center. At one point I had a detainee practically dragged away from me as we discussed the fact that he was afraid of being disappeared in his home country.
Not only was space and time very limited but the resources to actually discuss claims and file paperwork were lacking. One of the respondents I assisted spoke a rare language and we needed a phone translator to even say hello to one another. This means that unless he was with me he wasn’t speaking to anyone at the facility, furthermore the cell reception at the facility was poor at best and we were limited in the number of phones that could be brought into the facility. Again, it seems gratuitous to limit the free advice available to someone who can’t afford an attorney, has no access to the internet, and doesn’t speak the language of the country. Not only was cell service limited, we couldn’t bring in computers and had no desks to sit at, yet we were often the only way that these respondents would be able to prepare or type up any documentation to support their case. There was no access to a copier, scanner, a computer or even a printer.
All of these issues themselves are disheartening enough, but then we hide them from the media and the public. The access that we had as free legal help was much greater than the access that our national media has to these facilities. All of this treatment is abhorrent but it may be even worse that these institutions are able to keep it concealed behind closed doors. We couldn’t take photos or record in the facility, our system wants to keep very secret the treatment of these people and their lack of access to justice or help of any kind, just in case it would outrage the nation.
To ask that immigrants represent themselves is, in itself a huge barrier to accessing justice especially when the government is always represented by an attorney. But then to handicap them in every possible way when it comes to access to information and resources makes most of their chances laughable. Under the best of circumstances many of the unrepresented individuals would lose their claims, yet the government wants to underhandedly erect further barriers.
The lack of access to justice and resources at the detention center was infuriating and made me feel hopeless for many of the individuals. It also made me think of the oft heard plea that immigrants “get in line” or “use the proper channels,” and wish that anyone making this point go to a detention center and assist just one immigrant with their case. These people are not criminals and they don’t have access to the greatest help in the very best of circumstances. Even in the few cases when an immigrant has the means to hire an attorney, is released on their own recognizance and has representation the chances of them winning their case are very low. Our system of determining those worthy to immigrate is already pretty arbitrary and limited but when adding all of these additional factors into the mix things become almost impossible.
I found the experience, eye-opening, uplifting and also heart breaking. I still think often of the individuals I worked with and wonder how their cases are going, whether I can do anything more to help and whether they are safe from COVID-19. I doubt it; they are lost in a system that sets them up to lose and makes certain that the American people don’t know anything about it.
