Justin Stein
In 2002, Farida*, an Eritrean native, learned that her father had been arrested by government agents and had “disappeared” because of his involvement in a persecuted political group. Farida visited the local police station several times demanding that her father be returned, to no avail. A few days after her last visit to the police station, Farida was herself arrested by the police in the middle of the night. She was detained in a political prison for ten days, where she was interrogated about her connection to the group her father belonged to, beaten, and raped by prison guards. They let her go only when her family paid a large bribe for her release. Farida fled to Saudi Arabia only to face further abusive circumstances as a domestic servant and eventually escaped to the United States.
I have known and respected Tahirih’s work for many years. In fact, I was one of the first interns at the Tahirih Justice Center in 1998, when the organization was just getting started. Over the years, I had hoped to once again have an opportunity to work with Tahirih. When I joined Latham & Watkins, I immediately looked for a way to establish a pro bono partnership. I soon became involved in Farida’s asylum case.
In the course of working with Farida, her courage was apparent. While it is sadly true that these sorts of human rights abuses are widespread, it somehow seems unlikely that many victims have Farida’s strength. Not only was she willing to confront dangerous and uncertain situations in order to find a better life, but also she risked everything when she repeatedly demanded her father’s freedom. Farida’s example is undeniably inspiring.
During the course of our representation of Farida, I recruited Mia Sussman and Andrew Stein (also at Latham & Watkins), to work with me on the case. Over the course of several months of interviews, we noted how by the end Farida had become increasingly confident and assertive. However, when we first began working with her, she was quite shy and determined not to share particularly brutal aspects of her persecution for fear that it could ruin her reputation in her local community. We repeatedly made it clear that if it was her wish, we would have the courtroom cleared of non-essential people that she preferred to keep in the dark with respect to the awful details of her story. Surprisingly, on the night before her hearing, Farida called us and said that she wanted her friends to be at the hearing. She felt that the time had come for her to face her fears, realize that what had happened to her in Eritrea was not her fault, and that she should not feel ashamed. She said, “I don’t need to fear my past anymore—I only need fear God.” This was a striking shift in Farida’s disposition, and telling evidence of how she had come a long way in overcoming her persecutors.
As junior associates in a large law firm, working on Farida’s case gave us all invaluable trial court experience. Mia expressed surprise at seeing how her understanding of a legal issue, based on time-consuming research or extensive discussions among our team, could be turned on its head in a moment in the courtroom. Andrew and I had both worked on asylum claims in the past, but this was the first time we were in the driver’s seat. It was a great experience to be able to manage a case from start to finish, through all the ups and downs. It was also good practice to participate in the hearing at the Arlington Immigration Court, which became a heavily contested proceeding with zealous, impromptu oral arguments.
In the end, Farida’s asylum case was long and at many times quite stressful. As attorneys, we are familiar with the flaws of our immigration system; nevertheless, providing an asylee with the mechanism she needs to navigate the bureaucracy and to tell her story to the court is incredibly rewarding. During the hearing, it was difficult to look over and see, despite her strong front, how terrified she really was. This discomfort was surely worth the wait—when the judge finally granted Farida asylum, her face blossomed as the anxiety faded in favor of sheer joy. At that moment, I realized that Andrew, Mia, and I had truly helped another human being, and that is a feeling worth repeating.
*Name has been changed to protect privacy.
