Minnesotan Interlopers

So we had a group of six law students come into the office from Minnesota for the week, meaning that for the first time in six months, there were other DUDES in the legal department my age (ish).

Don't get me wrong, I love and respect all my female coworkers as vibrant, complex human beings even though they're almost all somehow vegetarian and have way too many "feelings". But sometimes, it's nice to be surrounded by people who can appreciate things like Googling the phrase "Hmong princess" or burrito-eating contests.

(Just FYI...no one wins in a burrito-eating contest. Especially when the burritos are 18 inches long. There goes my "diet.")

The Baker told me not to get too attached, lest I end up like the kid who grows up on the farm and gets attached to the family pig, only to be disappointed when it comes time to brutally slaughter the pig to make bacon. (Unless he's some pig -- a terrific, radiant, humble pig.)

But when I left work today and said goodbye, I was surprisingly unsentimental. Probably because I'M DONE WITH VOLUNTEER WORK IN A WEEK! My foray into immigration law is coming to a close, as I have a tentative lead on a job. It's a shaky one, though. Worst case scenario, I go back to being "unemployed" for a couple of weeks, go to Waco and DFW, and then go back to volunteering so I don't look like a lazy bum even though I totally am one.

A Quick Lesson on Circuit Courts

Today, I'm going to write about circuit courts -- because I'm a nerd and because I'm waiting for the boss' schedule to open up so I can harass him about a motion I finished two days ago that needs his approval.

First of all, a little background on the way things work: if you're an immigrant and you're getting deported, you don't go to court immediately. Granted, they *call* it court, the "judge" dresses up in "robes,"and all kind of legal mumbo jumbo goes down. But it's not court. Really, it's a no-rules, no-holds-barred, everything goes administrative proceeding, kind of like Survivor: The Department of Justice but not really.

Once everything goes down, if you or the government doesn't like what the immigration judge says, either of you can appeal to aptly-named Board of Immigration Appeals, also a part of DoJ. Then, if you don't like what the BIA has to say (and most immigrants don't), you appeal at the appellate level and go to real court at the circuit level.

The circuit courts are the ones that decide what lobbyists Congress *actually* meant when it passed a law. Each circuit is its own special little snowflake when it comes to interpreting law. There are 13 of them, and each one has a unique personality. Here's a map to give you a better idea of how things are divided up:

13 Special Little Gerrymandered Snowflakes!!!

You have to take these personalities into account when you pick cases to cite in your arguments. For instance, although the Supreme Court usually agrees with the 9th Circuit's logic, you have to take what that circuit says with a grain of salt because the judges there are a bunch of bong-toting hippies from the Northern Marianas Islands who believe in things like human dignity and we don't need a buncha damn Californians telling us how to do things in TEXXX-USS. Also, here in Texas, our circuit hates one of the other circuits. I can never remember which one, but we're not supposed to cite from it. I think they slept with our girlfriend in high school or something.

Anyways, ideally if you are an immigration lawyer in Texas, you want to cite cases from the 5th Circuit (THE FIGHTIN' FIFTH!!!!) which includes us, Louisiana, and Mississippi, for some reason. It's hard to find groundbreaking cases that will exonerate your client from the 5th Circuit because the judges tend to not like to think too hard about complicated things be more conservative. A lot of times they will affirm a lower court's ruling and pass the case onto the Supreme Court so those dudes and dudettes can try to make some sense out of the hot ghetto messes.

Right. So where was I going with this? I honestly can't remember. All I know is that my boss wants me to have an Erin Brockovitch moment and none of the circuits are helping me. If I could just find a case where some activist judge (probably in the 9th Circuit) interprets "illegal immigrants" to mean "penguins," that would really help me out.

But it would also make me sad, because then we'd have to deport millions of penguins. And I like penguins.

/nerdiness

How Getting Deported is Like Taking a Trip to Disneyland

Had immigration court this morning. Time for Miguel Hakim de la Santisima Trinidad to narrate another episode of Law and Order: La Raza. *Puts on law hat*

Case today centered on a Mexican asylum case. Asylum cases, particularly Mexican asylum cases, are tricky. First, it's hard for people to get asylum if they come from countries that the U.S. likes, because basically, the granting of asylum is tacit acknowledgment that a country a). is a jerk or b). can't get it's shit together. Think about it: how awkward would it be at the UN Christmas party if the U.S. told Canada, "by the way, we know about the guy whose balls you strapped to a car battery. We let him stay with us because you're mean." Awwwwkwaaaaard...

Mexico is one of the countries we actually like, contrary to what Glenn Beck says. They gives us tequila and tacos and a steady supply of illegal workers. They also buy a lot of crap from us. If you don't believe me, go to Cielo Vista Mall on a Wednesday and count the number of young guys you see wearing Hollister shirts and pointy shoes. So we can't really state the obvious -- that Mexico is mired in corruption and that parts of the country are blood-laved war zones -- because that would be awkward Oh my GAWD. Plus, we also get into issues of who is a legit asylee or not. Most of the time, these cases involve the cartels or else the police being assholes and killing your family. And yes, the police can be assholes who kill your family, but unless they kill your family because you're a Democrat, a Buddhist, a homosexual, ethnically Armenian, or ideally all those things, you do not qualify to come here under law. If they kill you just because they "don't like you" because you renegged on your drug deal, that's not asylum. That just sucks for you.

Anyways, the immigration lawyers in El Paso take on these almost impossible asylum cases because they believe in opening the floodgates to mass immigration, crashing the U.S. welfare state, and reclaiming Aztlan for the angry Serpent-God Quetzalcoatl helping people. The proceedings are interesting, at least to nerds like me. Basically, the attorneys for both the government and the immigrant bicker like children on a road trip, and the grandfatherly judge just rolls his eyes and sighs. You really feel for the guy. There were times I thought he would say "if you two don't shut up, I'm turning this courtroom around and we're not going to Disneyland!" (I wanted to compliment His Honor on having a great, Christmas-y Grinch tie, but I imagine that law slaves interns are discouraged from engaging in banter with the Bench.)

Witnesses ramble. The interpreter translates incomprehensible legalese from English to Spanish. You freeze your ass off in the conference room they dressed up to look like a courtroom. The asylum lawyer brings in a expert witness who vaguely reminds you of Velma from Scooby Doo. And eventually, everyone ends up leaving angry, hurt, and, confused, like a teenager who got rejected as a prom date.

So what's my opinion on Mexican asylum cases? Eh. Doesn't really matter, anyways, I'm not a judge or a lawyer.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm going to law school. Then I realize it's because I have nothing of value to contribute to society. Must...finish...applications...

Peccados Deportados con El Señor Miguel

In the immigrant justice system, indigent clients are represented by two groups of people: the non-profit attorneys who argue the cases for peanuts and the interns who try to prove that somehow, some way, the firm's clients are being chased by El Chapo. These are their stories.

*METAL CLANGING SOUND*

So since graduating from college in May, I've been waiting out the economic crapstorm by volunteering to advance La Causa. My mission: trying to keep people from being deported to Mexico, a.k.a. 300 feet *that* way. I'm going on my fifth month at the center now. I got a T-shirt y todo, and if I roll up the sleeves I can show off my slowly growing but still pathetic arms. 'Sta bien chida.

Most people would find the ins-and-outs of immigration law to be boring. But me, I like to think of my volunteer work like it's all part of some primetime novela. Think Law and Order: La Raza. Granted, we don't get to carry guns or have intense dialogues, but some of the shit we pull would make Jack McCoy himself say WTF?

In the 400-plus volunteer hours I’ve logged as Kirk the Law Slave hotshot legal assistant Miguel Hakim de la Santisima Trinidad, I have done the following things:

• Compiled a 300-page cancellation of removal case that hinged on menopause being considered an “exceptional and extremely unusual hardship." The judge didn’t bite, but he did admit it was a valiant effort after he ordered my client deported. (As an aside, I hope I NEVER have to hear the phrase “submucosal fibroid” EVER again. *Shudder*)
• Worked on an appeal involving a Somali guy who is not a pirate.
• Wrote bitchy motions to the Department of Homeland Security arguing that embezzlement – if it WAS indeed committed *scoff* – isn’t REALLY a crime of moral turpitude.
• Talked my way out of going to a client's house at a nun's behest when she explained that there might be a slight possibilty that her jealous boyfriend might stab me. Yeah. Nuns work at our office
  
• Caught myself using scare quotes when referring to things like “good moral character” and “national security exceptions under FOIA law”
• Translated Arabic documents containing phrases such as “in the service of building our Eritrean homeland,” “trusteeship of our departed martyrs,” and “victory to the masses!”
• Sat in and listened to various people claim that the Juarez Cartel/La Familia/La Linea/Colombian coke lords/the Mexican military/the Mexican police/the FBI/Santa Claus are out to get them and they need asylum
  
• Learned how to use phrases like "esteeee" and "oye, dame la account number, yeah?"

All in all, this is just another one of those things on my resume that means I will never be able to run for President or get a government security clearance. Lord knows that working there, chances are I've met someone knows a guy who knows a guy who shoved another guy into an oil drum full of diesel fuel and set him in on fire because he owed Vicente Carillo Fuentes a Snickers bar.

And in spite of all that -- I kind of like it. Sure, my family is probably sick of hearing about "the system" and I should talk about other things. But the fact is that the gym isn't exactly a hotbed of activity, the gossip well from Alma Mater has run dry, and any and all crazy nights out are protected as privileged information under the Bro Code. Plus I'm at that age where I have to start watching what I say and being "respectable" and "discreet" and whatnot. As a result, Kirk's tawdry stories will go untold online, but Miguel Hakim will keep on fighting the good fight.

So yeah. In conclusion, que viva la raza!

(EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: DICK WOLF)