We were moved by this experience, written by Andrea, at Peanut Butter Burrito:
"A bond hearing for me didn’t materialize, but my clinic asked if I could come help with cases anyway. I was there about five hours today, working the phones. Calling the El Paso Immigration Court, calling Catholic Social Services, calling the worlds fastest-speaking Ecuadorian to check with her about documents for her husband’s hearing.
But most of my time was spent making "personal" calls to the family members of men who were still detained. One of the lawyers met with a dozen of them this weekend and asked if there was anything they needed, anyone we should talk to. "We’re doing this legal stuff for them," she told me, "but I wanted to offer to do something human, too." One man almost cried as he asked her to check on his wife and kid and see if they had enough money to pay bills and eat, now that he was gone. Two asked if we would call their mothers in El Salvador and just let them know they were okay. So that’s what I did - I called people’s families and said, "He wants you to know he’s okay. And we’re working on his case."
The lawyer tried to apologize to me that it wasn’t legal work, but I wouldn’t let her. We’re not just lawyers and law students, we’re people. Right? People want their mothers to know that they’re okay. So I called. I called Central America, and talked to a total stranger, and a rooster crowed in the background, and I told her that she might not have heard, but there was an immigration raid in Massachusetts, but he’s okay and he has a lawyer. And hung up the phone, and felt…how do I explain? Frustrated, confused, hopeful, human. (Really glad I spoke Spanish.)
On days like this I think that this is what legal services (and its brother, indigent defense) is really about - it’s about the personal,
letting people know they’re okay and you’re in it with them, even if it turns out wrong. And then I bury my face in my hands, because it’s hard. ICE is moving as fast as they can to deport some of the MA people on Friday. The lawyer I worked with said, "My heart is in freefall." I wanted to cry.
And outside our door, probably the toughest, most tenacious lawyer in the clinic laughed a fake laugh and said to someone, "I just feel so defeated, you know? It’s like they hold all the cards…"
Then she rushed to court. The bond hearings and motions to reopen and faxes and calls and referrals go on. Even if it turns out wrong."