AIC:

Rebekah Wolf, The American Immigration Council

Three LGBTQ Iranians came to our southern border together a year ago, seeking asylum. All three had experienced similar harm: brutal abuse as children by family members for perceived rejection of gender norms in deeply religions families, and persecution by Iranian officials as adults.

They fled Iran together and came to the United States at the same time, in the same location. All three were detained in El Paso-district immigration detention centers. Their cases were intertwined—they were witnesses to each other’s persecution. 

Today, one of these people has been granted asylum. Zain1 plans to enroll in school to use his training as a hospital nurse here in the United States. He looks forward to taking English classes and being able to work. The other two, Ali and Adel, are languishing in detention over a year later. Denied asylum in proceedings that were fundamentally unfair, they are now struggling to have their cases reopened to be considered. 

How could three cases that are so similar end so differently?
Zain had a lawyer.

Noncitizens going through immigration court proceedings (formally called “removal” or “deportation” proceedings) have a right to an attorney, but not a right to a free one, as we commonly see in criminal cases (“if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you” is a line most people have heard on a police drama). Immigration proceedings don’t come with similar protections. 

They are “civil” proceedings, and therefore—theoretically, at least—lower stakes than a criminal case, where a person is facing a possible deprivation of liberty. For asylum-seekers in particular, though, the stakes could not be higher. “[D]oing death penalty cases in a traffic court setting” is how one immigration judge described it. 

When an asylum-seeker is detained, it is even more difficult to win their case. While federal courts have ruled the immigration judge is supposed to assist an unrepresented asylum-seeker in presenting the relevant evidence they have available to them, in practice immigration judges regularly fail to do so. 

Imagine, a person locked in a jail, who doesn’t speak English, is required to gather evidence to support their claim for asylum. If they have evidence like police or medical records from their home countries, they are required to get this translated into English, with formal certifications. They are required to complete the asylum application form in English, or it will not be accepted by the court, and they will automatically be ordered deported. 

In all three cases, there was a complicated legal question about whether they had a bar to asylum because they lived in another country as refugees for some time. In Zain’s case, the attorney was able to present clear evidence of that country’s laws and demonstrated that there was no bar to asylum. Neither Ali nor Adel had the ability to look up a foreign country’s immigration laws. In both their cases, the judge got it wrong.

An asylum-seeker is required to present all evidence to support their claims that they can reasonably obtain. In Ali and Adel’s cases, the immigration judges refused to allow them to present their witnesses (each other). 

Without the witness of an attorney, immigration judges have essentially free rein over the proceedings. Review of the audio recording in Adel’s case is startling: the immigration judge made disparaging remarks about the abuse he faced on account of his sexual orientation, and misstated the legal standard that Adel had to meet. Ali reported similar treatment during his hearing.

Ultimately, neither Ali nor Adel had much of a chance. Since the United States has recently resumed deportations to Iran, both men have been on the brink of deportation to a country where their sexual orientation is illegal, and punishable by death. While attorneys have now taken up both cases, it is an uphill battle to have their cases reopened, and there is no guarantee that any judge, anywhere, will review their cases with fully presented evidence. 

Ali said to his current Council attorney, “I wish we had found you sooner. Please save our lives.”

Bekah Wolf is the director of the Immigration Justice Campaign at the American Immigration Council. She represents Zain, Ali, and Adel. To volunteer as a pro bono attorney with IJC, please visit: Immigrationjustice.us

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