Liliana and Jorge, a couple in their 30s from Michoacán, Mexico, had been operating under the impression that they had a few years to find an attorney and prepare evidence for their asylum hearing in 2029. 

But in mid-August this year, they received an envelope at their home near Modesto, notifying them that their hearing had been rescheduled and that they would have to show up on Sept. 11 at the immigration court in Concord for their asylum interview. 

They tried to find a last-minute attorney, but had no success. So the couple and their four children, 3, 6, 14 and 15, arrived in Concord alone. 

Moving up the timeline of asylum hearings, attorneys say, is the “latest attempt to dismantle due process.” In recent weeks, many immigrants who originally had hearings in 2028 or 2029 are showing up at court unprepared and without lawyers. 

“This is the latest change in the practice of weaponizing immigration courts. It is no surprise that it’s targeting the most vulnerable people,” said Lisa Knox, an attorney and the legal director at the California Collaborative for Immigrant Justice, who has seen this happen to dozens of immigrants in the past weeks. 

Liliana came to the United States in 2024 with her partner and four children in tow. She stays at home with the kids while he works in the almond fields in the Central Valley. Mission Local is using only the first names of Jorge and Liliana to protect their identity.

That Sept. 11 afternoon, the couple sat on wooden benches at the back of the near empty courtroom next to their four sons, all suited up in dress shirts. 

“Tengo miedo,” the three-year-old said to his mother. I’m afraid.

Judge Michael Rapizo, from Florence, Arizona, appeared on a screen at the front of the room, as did Gabriel Galland, the court-provided translator and Devin Garcia, the Department of Homeland Security attorney. 

When Liliana and her family were called to the front of the courtroom, her children squirmed in their seats, nervously giggling and asking questions. 

“If they cannot sit quietly, they will need to leave because it will interfere with the recording,” said Judge Rapizo, his face filling the screen. 

The children left to sit in the waiting room with a family friend. 

Then, it was just Liliana and Jorge. 

The three-hour proceeding began by confirming the names and facts of the asylum applicants, with Liliana and Jorge speaking to the judge through a translator. Each raised a hand and swore to tell the truth. 

Because Liliana and Jorge are not legally married, the two had to submit separate asylum applications. As Liliana’s hearing began, Jorge was asked to leave the courtroom.

Do you have any evidence to present? the judge asked Liliana. 

“I was not ready for this hearing today so I did not bring additional evidence,” she said, explaining that she did not know how to gather evidence and that her attempts to find an attorney to help her had been unsuccessful. Low-cost and free attorneys have been overburdened for years. Most have long waitlists, and prioritize immigrants with upcoming court dates. 

“When you say you are not ready you have been in removal proceedings since October of 2024, so what do you mean you are not ready?” he asked. “The fact that you haven’t submitted evidence appears to be lack of diligence on your part and not circumstances out of your control.” 

“My court date, it was in 2029, I was trying to find an attorney to represent me and they had a long waitlist,” she responded.

“You had 2.5 years to try to find an attorney and prepare your case,” said the judge. “The court finds that it is a very reasonable amount of time to find an attorney.” 

Alone in the courtroom with only a reporter to witness the proceedings, Judge Rapizo asked Liliana to again swear that she was — to the best of her knowledge — giving information truthfully. 

Then the judge offered a five minute bathroom break. “I am nervous,” Liliana said while washing her hands.  

During the next hour, the judge asked questions about Liliana’s asylum application, which is centered around her fear of returning to Mexico because of threats from her ex, and the father of one of her children. He is affiliated with a cartel group in her hometown of Michoacán, she testified. 

When they began dating, she said, she thought he worked cutting trees. But after their child was born, she learned he was involved with the cartel. She left him months later, she said. 

But when her ex found out she was dating Jorge, he became jealous and angry and showed up to her house, punching her in the stomach to force entry. She said he told her “she has to pay for all that he had suffered for having left him and that he would hurt me.” 

“Did he threaten you with any type of physical violence?” asked the judge.

“He said that he was going to kill me.” 

The judge asked Liliana multiple times why she did not report it to the police, to which she responded that the police there protect organized crime.

Jorge, her partner, then testified, telling his side of the story of how Liliana’s ex came to their  house with armed men multiple times and threatened to kill him. 

None of this was enough for the judge. 

He acknowledged that the “incidents are likely unpleasant,” but told them “the court doesn’t believe the harm you describe rises to the level of past persecution.”

“The court doesn’t believe the harm you describe rises to the level of past persecution.”

Judge Michael Rapizo

And just like that, both of their asylum applications and the applications of their four sons were denied. 

“I feel discouraged,” said Liliana, walking out of the courtroom. “We were not prepared.” 

Liliana and Jorge said they plan to file an appeal, due Oct. 14, which will cost the family $2,060. 

With a lawyer to advise them, the outcome may have been different, said the attorney Lisa Knox. 

They would have had evidence showing that in Michoacán, where they are from, the police are connected to the cartels, and evidence of their injuries, such as sworn testimony from family and friends. 

“It’s sort of a Catch-22,” Knox said, “where people can’t prepare their case three years ago because everything will have to be updated. And now they’re saying, ‘Oh, we had all that time to prepare and you should have moved to prepare already.’” 

Clara-Sophia Daly is an award-winning journalist who covers immigration for Mission Local. Previously, she reported for the Miami Herald, where she covered education and worked on the investigative team. She graduated with honors from Skidmore College, where she studied International Affairs and Media/Film, and later earned a master’s degree from Columbia Journalism School.

Her reporting portfolio includes investigations into a gymnastics coach who abused his students for more than a decade — work that led to his arrest.

She also covered the privatization of Florida’s public education system, state-funded anti-abortion pregnancy centers, and the deputization of university police officers under federal immigration programs.

A Bay Area native, she first joined Mission Local as an intern for a year during the pandemic — and is excited to be back writing stories about immigration.

Got a tip? Email her at clarasophia@missionlocal.com. Her signal is clarasophia.13

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