Tim Green - Above The Law

"The little girl is only two, Your Honor," Casey said in a pleading tone. "She needs her mother and I think I could show the court extreme hardship that would convince it to adjust her undocumented status."

The ICE lawyer leaned toward the judge from the corner of her table and said something in a low tone, pointing to the file in front of him. The judge put his head down and began to read, moving his lips as he did.

"Well, it's your lucky day," he said, looking up. "Even under the circumstances."

The judge looked back down and selected a paper from the file, which he studied as he spoke. "The government is willing to offer Ms. Torres a voluntary departure."

"Circumstances?" Casey said.

The judge scowled at her. "Your client has links to organized crime, Ms. Jordan. She's a Homeland Security person of interest and the state is giving her a generous offer."

"She has nothing to do with her brother-in-law, Your Honor. I'd like you to hear her on that subject."

"At a minimum, they have the same last name," he said. "As you can see, we have a lot on the docket, Ms. Jordan."

"What's our alternative, Your Honor? Can I get a hearing?"

The judge raised his eyebrows and glanced over at the young woman lawyer from ICE before holding the paper up at Casey. "Of course you can have your hearing. That's your right, isn't it? Probably by the end of the week. That will end with an order of deportation, unless I'm a fool, and I'm not. After that, you can appeal to the Immigration Board in writing. And, right now, those rulings are running about eighteen months. In the meantime, under the circumstances, I can't see your client being reunited with her child."

"She met the brother-in-law only twice in her life," Casey said.

"You can argue that at your hearing," the judge said, looking at the next file, "not here."

"Your Honor," Casey said, raising her voice, "the court can't keep a mother and her child apart for that amount of time without doing irreparable harm."

"The court isn't keeping them apart, Ms. Jordan," said the judge, scrunching up his wizened face. "The offer of a voluntary deportation is extremely generous. Maybe you don't know that."

Casey's cheeks burned. She turned to Isodora just in time to see two tears spill from the corners of her eyes.

"My baby, please," she said.

"If we go along, they're going to put you on the next plane out of here," Casey said in a low tone. "Maybe today."

"To Mexico?" she asked.

Casey nodded.

"But Paquita is American, Miss Casey."

"I know," Casey said. "But she can't help you stay here until she's twenty-one. And if we take the hearing and they order your deportation, you can't get back in legally, ever."

"I just want my baby."

"Maybe I can work on some kind of visa," Casey said, trying to overcome the sinking feeling that nothing would bring this woman back. "There are other ways to get you back. Maybe a green card."

Isodora clasped her hands together, looked down, and nodded yes.

"Ms. Jordan," the judge said, "you may be getting paid by the hour, but the court isn't."

"We'll take the voluntary deportation, Your Honor," Casey said.

The ICE lawyer looked up at the judge, beaming.

WHAT HAPPENED?" MARIA ASKED IN THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE the courtroom.

"We did the best we could," Casey said, watching Isodora as she trudged away down the hall behind the fat man while the three other prisoners she'd come in with sauntered alongside them.

"They didn't let her talk," Maria said.

"They didn't stop her," Casey said. "They offered her a deal and she took it. She wants to be with her baby, Maria. You can't blame her for that."

"Everyone I know," Maria said, "they say she will be let go until her hearing. Now she must leave? This is not right."

"Maybe," Casey said.

"I know this."

"I'm going to try and find out if it's not right," Casey said. "Excuse me."

Casey broke off from Maria and strode down a side hall, working her way through a small maze toward the ICE counsel offices. When Casey turned the corner past the judges' offices, she actually caught sight of the back of the ICE lawyer's tight hair bun up ahead.

Casey took off at a jog, catching the young lawyer just as she reached for the handle to the door of the ICE counsel offices.

"I wanted to thank you," Casey said with her broadest smile.

The lawyer gazed without commitment.

"For offering up the voluntary," Casey said.

"It's the best thing for the child," she said.

"Look, we don't want to embarrass the senator, either," Casey said. "I just wanted you to share that with everyone. That's never been my or my client's intent."

The lawyer stammered for a moment before she raised her eyebrows and said, "I'm sorry?"

"Having undocumented workers there, on his ranch," Casey said. "I'm sure he didn't know. Some people don't understand how hard it is to find good help."

The lawyer blinked and bit down on her lower lip.

"I know we can't really talk about it," Casey said, pressing the tips of her fingers into the young woman's shoulder. "But, unofficially, just pass the word, so they don't worry."

"The staff at his liaison office is great," the lawyer said. "I'm sure they'll be glad to hear it."

JOSe DIDN'T ANSWER HIS CELL PHONE. CASEY TRIED PAGING HIM, but that didn't work, either. She went into the reception area and asked Stacy if she'd heard from him.

"Since when does he answer to me?" Stacy asked. "You're the one having dinners with him."

"How'd you know about dinner?" Casey asked, her cheeks warming.

"I got my sources," Stacy said.

Casey glanced at a young woman sitting by the window, waiting for her appointment, and angled her head, signaling Stacy into her office for some privacy.

"Don't worry," Stacy said. "She can't understand you. So how was it?"

"First time I ever had fried oysters," Casey said, glancing at the young woman.

"Not the food," Stacy said, "Jose. How was it?"

"There was no it," Casey said. "Are you kidding? We had dinner, talked shop, and said good night."

"No kiss?"

"You watch too much TV. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"I would've kissed him," Stacy said. "He's gorgeous, and you probably ran for your car, didn't invite him over for a drink, a walk, a talk, nothing. What about Saturday?"

"He had plans with his daughter," Casey said. "I don't know, I think he's just being nice."

"You've got to be more aggressive. He's hot for you. What? You think he's hanging around here, shagging deadbeat dads and disappearing witnesses for the fun of it? Tina? She baited her hook the other day with that dress and the push-up bra and he didn't even look twice. He's gaga for you."

"Okay, seriously, that's enough," Casey said.

Stacy shrugged. "What do you need him for now, then?"

"Forget it," Casey said. "Nothing I can't do myself, anyway."

"Don't be so touchy."

Casey disappeared into her office, gently closing the door. She tried Jose again, then headed out the back and got into the Benz. She didn't want to give the Wilmer police chief time to prepare for her, so instead of making a phone call, she headed to the southeast corner of the county.

The drive to Wilmer south on 45 took less than half an hour. After announcing herself to a young woman behind the desk, Casey waited in a chair by the door. The receptionist glanced up at her often enough that Casey began to brace herself for a Movie of the Week comment. None came.

When Chief Gage emerged from the back, he was so tall the crew cut on his bullet head nearly chafed the doorframe. Casey felt the same one-way familiarity that she presumed the receptionist had with her.