Asylum and a Hard Boiled Egg
Today, I went to the Asylum Court to represent an Indigenous woman from Guatemala. My partner and I had been working on her case since October. Our client can only speak Mam Maya, so, we have a translator whose giggles and smiles are as infectious as the poverty and hardships they both fled.
We had breakfast at the cafeteria downstairs. I bought a Nantucket Strawberry Watermelon drink; my partner said it sounded like a lollipop flavor. The translator bought a breakfast bar and put it in his pocket. One is not allowed to eat inside the Asylum Office. When we went through the first of three security gates, our translator kept on beeping through the metal detectors. He forgot that his cell phone was in his pocket. The guard had to pat him down; luckily, they found his cell phone before finding his breakfast bar. He was sweating, worried about his snack being taken away.
I wear a handcuff key around my neck. I always thought it was plastic but it too alerted the metal detectors. Now that I think about it, when I absent-mindedly put it in my mouth, it tastes more like metal than plastic. I took it off, put it in their plastic basket, and walked safely through.
Our client was wearing her Indigenous clothing to make her look more legitimate and credible. The rest of us representing her wore more formal clothes. I had a hole in my tights; I ripped them on my bike. Other then that, I’m sure I looked like a trust-worthy lawyer… and of course, by trust-worthy lawyer, I mean, one who is skilled in circumventing the law.
The Asylum Officer had a little informal room with posters hanging on her wall. One poster had an Iraqi family posing in front of a camera taking a picture of all of their belongings arranged outside of their house. They had a couch and a television… other miscellaneous things were placed here and there.
She also had a hard-boiled egg that she would place on one side of her table, then to the other side, and back during the interview. She was left-handed. Like me.
An important factor about getting asylum is whether you applied within one year of crossing the border. Our client had no physical proof of this; all she had was a detailed testimony. She left her country during the Day of the Dead festivities and it took her a month to get to the States. To verify our client’s time of entry, the judge asked about Christmas lights; our client succeeded. There were, indeed, Christmas lights flickering in Phoenix when she arrived.
Another important factor about getting asylum is whether you have a well founded fear in returning to your homeland. When asked why she can’t go back to Guatemala, our client asked, “by that, do you mean what my well founded fear is?”. The judge complained about our client’s being coached too much. I tried not to laugh.
In my closing statement, I argued that she had a well founded fear of future persecution. I forgot to mention that even without a well founded fear, she would still endure serious harm by going back to a place where she had no friends. She has friends here, I thought. I want to be her friend but I can’t speak with her. I want to know what kind of music she likes and whether she collects butterflies. I want to know what her favorite color is and whether she thinks capital punishment is alright.
When we had our semi-celebratory post-hearing lunch, she ordered a chicken Caesar salad and a Pellegrino Lemonata. I wanted to hug her and ask her lists of inappropriate questions. I settled with my Caprese salad and iced caramel latte.
We find out the Asylum Office’a decision on March 19th. As I write this, I’m also working on my third beer today. If our client does not get asylum, I am taking it as a sign that I should quit law school. Our client will go back to Guatemala and I will go to the Philippines. There, I’ll be a fisher woman.
We had breakfast at the cafeteria downstairs. I bought a Nantucket Strawberry Watermelon drink; my partner said it sounded like a lollipop flavor. The translator bought a breakfast bar and put it in his pocket. One is not allowed to eat inside the Asylum Office. When we went through the first of three security gates, our translator kept on beeping through the metal detectors. He forgot that his cell phone was in his pocket. The guard had to pat him down; luckily, they found his cell phone before finding his breakfast bar. He was sweating, worried about his snack being taken away.
I wear a handcuff key around my neck. I always thought it was plastic but it too alerted the metal detectors. Now that I think about it, when I absent-mindedly put it in my mouth, it tastes more like metal than plastic. I took it off, put it in their plastic basket, and walked safely through.
Our client was wearing her Indigenous clothing to make her look more legitimate and credible. The rest of us representing her wore more formal clothes. I had a hole in my tights; I ripped them on my bike. Other then that, I’m sure I looked like a trust-worthy lawyer… and of course, by trust-worthy lawyer, I mean, one who is skilled in circumventing the law.
The Asylum Officer had a little informal room with posters hanging on her wall. One poster had an Iraqi family posing in front of a camera taking a picture of all of their belongings arranged outside of their house. They had a couch and a television… other miscellaneous things were placed here and there.
She also had a hard-boiled egg that she would place on one side of her table, then to the other side, and back during the interview. She was left-handed. Like me.
An important factor about getting asylum is whether you applied within one year of crossing the border. Our client had no physical proof of this; all she had was a detailed testimony. She left her country during the Day of the Dead festivities and it took her a month to get to the States. To verify our client’s time of entry, the judge asked about Christmas lights; our client succeeded. There were, indeed, Christmas lights flickering in Phoenix when she arrived.
Another important factor about getting asylum is whether you have a well founded fear in returning to your homeland. When asked why she can’t go back to Guatemala, our client asked, “by that, do you mean what my well founded fear is?”. The judge complained about our client’s being coached too much. I tried not to laugh.
In my closing statement, I argued that she had a well founded fear of future persecution. I forgot to mention that even without a well founded fear, she would still endure serious harm by going back to a place where she had no friends. She has friends here, I thought. I want to be her friend but I can’t speak with her. I want to know what kind of music she likes and whether she collects butterflies. I want to know what her favorite color is and whether she thinks capital punishment is alright.
When we had our semi-celebratory post-hearing lunch, she ordered a chicken Caesar salad and a Pellegrino Lemonata. I wanted to hug her and ask her lists of inappropriate questions. I settled with my Caprese salad and iced caramel latte.
We find out the Asylum Office’a decision on March 19th. As I write this, I’m also working on my third beer today. If our client does not get asylum, I am taking it as a sign that I should quit law school. Our client will go back to Guatemala and I will go to the Philippines. There, I’ll be a fisher woman.