By the end of the business day Friday, the three floors of 100 Montgomery St., which have housed the majority of San Francisco’s immigration courtrooms for years, had closed.
As the day came to an end, a small group of attorneys and a former immigration judge gathered with flowers to honor the court’s legacy, both good and bad, and its dismantling. A Department of Homeland Security attorney even stopped by to see what was going on and say hello to the judge, who was one of 19 judges fired, retired or re-assigned since President Trump took office.
Marco Ambron spent almost every day for 15 years at Montgomery St as an immigration attorney. On Friday, surrounded by colleagues holding flowers, he recalled representing a woman from Guatemala, who had been abused by her partner and how winning her case made him think: “we can indeed make a difference.” That was 14 years ago.
Fast forward to the present, and the last domestic violence case he presented to the judge was dismissed before it was heard on its merits. “It’s humiliating, dehumanizing and heartbreaking,” he said.
“Now, it’s all gone.”
After the group shared stories and concerns, they placed flowers on the pavement outside the court, which for decades has been housed in a nondescript office building in San Francisco’s financial district.
Mission Local broke the news in January that the court, which was the site of heated protests in the first year of the Trump administration, was scheduled to close by the end of 2026. But that timeline was cut short: In April, the Executive Office of Immigration Review said the court would close by the first of May, in order to save money.
Immigration attorney Javiera Rivera, who stopped by the court on Friday to review a 2013 case file only available on paper, said the court’s closure will complicate matters for immigrants, attorneys and court staff alike. Most will now have to commute to the Concord Immigration Court, where many of the cases will be moved.
“The damage done by closing this court is long-term,” Rivera said.
The court’s final day
Friday started with business as usual. On the eighth floor, except for a box of pastries a federal attorney had brought for security guards for their final day, little was notable.
Water cooler talk from the guards focused on gopher-infested gardens and lost cats. One guard, who has worked at the Immigration Court for over a decade, advised an immigrant who had shown up at Noon for a 1pm hearing, to go and get something to eat, because “sometimes court can extend to 5pm.”.
“They pass out if they don’t eat,” said the guard, explaining that over the years he has seen immigrants and attorneys faint from a mixture of stress and hunger.
Later on in the day, fired judge Jeremiah Johnson showed up to the court in sneakers to say hello and goodbye to some of the staff. “Are they hiring?” he joked to the security guards and another administrator in the room. He also lamented about how some of the fired judges were having trouble getting their retirement benefits.
“The retirement people retired,” he laughed.
That’s when one of the guards, known for lightening the mood, started singing, “Old McDonald had a farm, E-O-I-R O.”
Inside the court rooms, hearings that can change the trajectory of immigrants’ lives were proceeding as they have for decades.
In one hearing, a man from Nepal whose father-in-law had made a small clerical error filling out his green card application explained to the judge the complication in his case. He ultimately received a favorable decision and will be able to get his green card.
One immigrant who showed up Friday, entered the waiting room, walked through security, and presented his papers at the filing window, was told his hearing was actually in another location.
That may happen more often in the coming weeks: Cases originally set for 100 Mongtomery are being reassigned to other courts, or rescheduled. The immigration court in Concord, a 45-minute drive or an hour-long BART ride, is taking many of the cases.
Immigration attorneys and advocates worry that the closure of 100 Montgomery St., at least absent a public campaign announcing it, will cause some immigrants to accidentally show up and miss their hearings, which could mean an automatic order of removal from the country.
Advocates are encouraging immigrants to keep their contact information current so they don’t miss court notices. A paper flyer saying as much was pasted on the wall on Friday in English, Portuguese and Haitian Creole, hanging below a framed portrait of President Donald Trump staring over the small waiting room.
During the final hearing of the day, an immigrant who came in with an ankle monitor sat in front of the judge and pleaded their case.
At the end, the judge made one of the only remarks on the court’s closure: Judge Frank Seminerio said it happened to be the last hearing for 100 Montgomery St. There were audible “awes” from the audience, said an attorney who was in the room.
A court’s lasting legacy
Gabriela Gonzalez, 45, was one of the thousands of immigrants whose case has gone through this court.
Gonzalez fled her hometown of Jerécuaro, Mexico in 2019 after her husband was murdered and she was kidnapped by cartels looking to steal money from her family’s small business, she said.
When she received asylum in 2021, the status granted Gonzalez and her two children a green card and, with it, tranquility.
“If they close the court they close opportunities for many people who come looking for help and want to be legal here and want protection,” said Gonzalez in Spanish over the phone.
“It’s complex to grieve the legacy for the institution that has bred so much positivity and also so much harm,” said Julia Pilkington-Alexandre, who organized the gathering to lay flowers outside the building. “We remember the bravery this building has known. The joy. The pain. We commemorate this complex legacy and lay this court to rest. And we will fight another day.”