In fall 2025, I began volunteering with the Acacia Center for Justice, a nonprofit legal advocacy group, in its Witness for Justice program. It’s an initiative that trains people to observe immigration court proceedings to restore visibility and accountability to a system that operates largely out of public view — and to ensure that no one faces immigration court alone and unseen.
Eventually, I found my way to the “detained children’s docket,” something I still can’t quite believe exists in the United States. I observed children appearing on camera for their immigration hearings from detention centers and shelters — children who do not speak English, who do not have lawyers, who are in the country alone. These children consistently state that they are afraid of returning to their home countries, yet they are not provided with counsel. They are accountable for finding a lawyer and filing claims for asylum on their own.
On one of my first children’s dockets, half of the cases resulted in the judge ordering the children — age 5 to 17 — removed from the U.S. without giving them an opportunity to have their asylum claim heard. Instead, this particular judge repeatedly ruled that the children were not entitled to present evidence, and that they did not qualify for relief as a matter of law. In one case, a 16-year-old girl had been sexually assaulted by a gang member in Honduras and feared that if she returned, she would be assaulted, kidnapped and enslaved by the gang. The court stated that those fears are “not a basis for protection in the U.S.” and ordered her removal.
I observed a young teenage boy appearing on video from an infirmary at a detention center. He looked sleepy, wore a blue mask and had a puzzle in front of him. He did not have a lawyer. When the judge began asking questions that could establish facts against him, a child advocate intervened and asked that the boy be allowed to meet with a “friend of the court” — a person or organization who could advise him of his legal options. The judge declined and told the boy he had two choices: voluntary departure or order for removal. The boy asked for more time and the judge said, “For what?” The boy responded, “to be able to think.” The judge said, “Unfortunately, no. You’ve had time to think and find counsel.”
I watched another teenage boy ask for more time to find an attorney. The judge declined and said that he had to “move the case along” and the boy would “have to represent himself today.” He then asked the boy, who was appearing from a detention center, to raise his right hand to take an oath. The boy raised his hand over his head like he was waiting to be called on in school. He remained that way for the entirety of the questioning, during which the judge elicited admissions that established his removability.
During the summer of 2025, the federal government effectively defunded the primary source of funding to represent migrant children in court. Simultaneously, it began restricting access for court observers.
From June to September, I was either never admitted or asked to leave at least seven video hearings. Without public access to judicial proceedings, we don’t see these children, and we don’t hear their stories. We should all be able to see how our legal system is treating the most vulnerable who appear before it — children who are alone, detained, without lawyers and unable to understand the proceedings that will determine whether they can remain in this country. Witnessing ensures that what happens in immigration courtrooms is not hidden from public view, and it tells these children that someone is watching and standing beside them — that they are not alone, and they will not be forgotten. There are many children I will not forget.
I will not forget the girl who was afraid to return to Honduras.
I will not forget the boy who appeared from the infirmary pleading for more time “to think.”
I will not forget the boy who, when asked to raise his hand and vow to tell the truth, raised it above his head like he was a student waiting to be called on in class.
I will not forget all the other children appearing from detention center conference rooms, sitting in front of a bulletin board with an illustration of Christ’s hands holding the world, hair combed and dressed neatly, in an effort to show respect within a system that does not reciprocate.
Providing children with counsel protects them. Witnessing holds the system accountable. As the administration works to close courthouse doors to observers and cuts off resources for legal representation, this work has never been more important. It is essential that we continue to show up — to watch, to document, to bear witness — because no child who appears in court should do so alone and unseen.
The post I was a volunteer observer in immigration court. These are the children I won’t forget. appeared first on MS NOW.
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