Trial Magazine
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Joining Together
When the travel ban went into effect, chaos immediately rained down on airports around the country, separating families and jeopardizing people’s futures. Then lawyers showed up, ready to help.
October 2017On Friday, Jan. 27, President Trump signed an executive order barring people from seven predominantly Muslim countries from entering the United States for 90 days.1 The order was effective immediately, depriving those people of their right to enter the country—even those who were en route on transatlantic flights, without a clue about what had just transpired. American airports turned into detention centers, and detainees were denied due process and access to counsel. Chaos ensued across the country.
On Saturday afternoon, a friend—also a lawyer—called and asked me what I was doing to help people being detained inside the Dallas/Fort Worth airport. I didn’t have a good answer, and I didn’t want to get involved. But he wouldn’t give up and insisted that we were going to the airport on Sunday morning.
When we arrived, we saw something incredible: 50 lawyers in suits, ready to go. And by noon that day, there were more than a hundred. Although there had been little to no coordination, American lawyers had spontaneously answered the call of duty. I had never handled an immigration case, so I did the only thing I knew how to do as a trial lawyer: I got to work and set up a war room. Within hours, we had created a spontaneous law firm inside the airport, setting up an intake team outside the customs exit and assigning tasks such as legal research, drafting writs of habeas corpus, and speaking to the media.
Officials would not release any information about the detainees, including their identities. The only way we knew who was being detained was through relatives who hired us as they waited for hours—and then days—for their loved ones trapped inside the airport. When we tried to give representation forms to U.S. Customs and Border Protection officials, they would push them back to prevent any documentary record of representation.
We quickly learned that we were fighting on the frontlines of a crisis over the future of our democracy and our Constitution. Even as courts across the country issued injunctions against the executive order, and government officials claimed that nobody was being detained, families with loved ones held inside the airport continued to retain us. Our single most effective tool was releasing information to the media about the detainees. More people were released as public pressure built.
By Tuesday evening, more than 2,000 protesters were in the terminal: peaceful Americans of every race, religion, and national origin. A Jewish group put up a sign that simply read, “We Remember.” At night, they brought us warm food. And one of the protesters had a sign that I will never forget: “First they came for the Muslims . . . and the lawyers showed up.” Standing in front of the crowd, someone put me on the phone with an airport official who threatened to arrest us if I didn’t send the protesters home. I told him that I hoped he had enough handcuffs.
Late that night, as officials were still publicly claiming that no one was being detained, a baggage handler walked over and stood beside me outside the customs exit. He told me not to look at him. Then he explained that there was a man in a wheelchair who had been detained all day—and who was in severe pain and in need of medication. The customs officials were trying to get him out of the airport, but they could not get permission from Washington, D.C.
That man was Labeeb Ibrahim Issa. For more than six years, Mr. Issa had been a driver for the U.S. Army in his native Iraq. Because of his service to our country, he had been targeted by a roadside bomb and had been catastrophically injured. Mr. Issa had been granted a special immigrant visa, available only to those under imminent threat in their home country because of their service to the United States.
A group of lawyers stayed up all night and filed an emergency writ of habeas corpus at 5:20 a.m. Twenty minutes later, Mr. Issa was rolled out in his wheelchair. He said, “I love America. Because of you, I have another chance to live.” His story became international news.
I believe that had it not been for the resistance of lawyers across the country—who showed up at the airports to stand hand in hand with Americans of all races and with religious leaders of all faiths—we could have quickly found ourselves on a dangerous path that threatened the future of our democracy. The role of the judicial branch, as a check on the executive and legislative branches—as well as on corporate power and misconduct—remains under serious attack. As lawyers, we are officers of the judicial branch, and we have an obligation to protect the Constitution.
The fight is not over. In March, President Trump issued a revised executive order, which substantially altered and limited the scope of the original ban by exempting all current visa holders and legal permanent residents. The Fourth and Ninth Circuits held that the revised executive order was still unconstitutional and issued stays.2 In June, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the stay but limited its scope to foreign nationals who lack a “bona fide relationship with any person or entity in the United States.” The Court has agreed to hear arguments on the merits of the cases this month.
In all my life and career, I never thought I would hear crowds of people chanting, “We love lawyers!” in unison, as they did in the days following the first travel ban. Through leading by example and demonstrating the highest American ideals of selfless service in sacrifice for a greater cause, lawyers can show the true importance of our profession—and change the course of history. Now, more than ever, America needs its lawyers to show up.
Christopher S. Hamilton is a partner at Hamilton Wingo in Dallas. He can be reached at chamilton@hamiltonwingo.com.
Notes
- Protecting the Nation From Foreign Terrorist Entry Into the United States, Exec. Order No. 13769, 82 Fed. Reg. 8977 (Jan. 27, 2017).
- See Int’l Refugee Assistance Project v. Trump, 857 F.3d 554 (4th Cir. 2017); Hawaii v. Trump, 859 F.3d 741 (9th Cir. 2017).