“They’ll never return to the clothes they have on their back when they’re detained,” said Fr. Michael Gallagher, S.J. “The devil, the terrible demoralizing parts of all of this, is in the details.”

Nearly every day, around 7 a.m., Fr. Mike walks 15 minutes from his residence in Sacred Heart Parish to the old federal courthouse on San Antonio Street in El Paso, Texas.

The doors won’t open for another hour, but he arrives early to meet with asylum seekers who have done the same for their court appointment.

Fr. Mike opts for a plain pair of pants and a button-down shirt, leaving his clerical attire behind. “There’s enough stress,” he explained, “folks don’t need to go through another mental hurdle of trying to figure out who I am and my intentions for talking with them.”

Fr. Mike is one of the linchpins in El Paso’s migrant accompaniment community. He, along with the rest of JRS/USA’s team at the U.S. southern border, helps asylum seekers and refugees as they arrive and try to navigate our legal system.

Fr. Mike has worked with JRS for more than 30 years, first spending time as a managing attorney in El Paso, country director of Zambia, and regional advocacy officer in South Africa. In 2010, he began serving as JRS’s representative in Geneva, a post he held for 10 years.

When the first Trump Administration was installed, Fr. Mike returned to El Paso to support JRS/USA’s, then new, domestic program developed to respond to the increasing needs of asylum seekers fleeing their home countries.

He continued working at the border throughout the Biden Administration. Before the Trump Administration dismantled the U.S.’s asylum process, Fr. Mike would visit up to 14 migrant shelters a week throughout El Paso and across the border in Ciudad Juárez, providing legal consultations and presentations. He would walk people through their paperwork and provide more information about what they should expect in the coming months.

Now, he spends his weeks walking the halls of immigration court or standing outside the building offering whatever information, clarity, or solace he can to those in need. In this cruel period in U.S. immigration history, Fr. Mike can tell from the forlorn, despondent faces who needs his help.

Fr. Mike is almost alone in his work. The Trump Administration cut off funding to a local NGO that used to provide legal orientations to people before court.

Each day, he updates the El Paso team on what he sees in the courthouse:

I’m just back from Imm. Ct. One of the guards told me that yesterday afternoon he had to go inside to not hear the children crying as they were being arrested.

ICE was lurking in the halls of imm. Ct again today, both morning and afternoon sessions. One agent scoped out people as they lined up for court. He was partially hiding on the other side of the atrium (which runs from the ground floor to the roof of the building). There were 2 more agents on the ground floor.

Moving amid the ICE agents and guards, Fr. Mike offers practical, specific guidance. “First, I tell folks to take a picture of their A-Number,” he explained. A-Numbers are assigned to non-citizens by the Department of Homeland Security and serve as that individual’s identifier throughout their case in the immigration system.

Once they enter court, they can no longer access their phones. With the likelihood that their case will be dismissed and they will be detained by ICE, there is a real chance they will not be able to access their possessions again.

“Coming out of court, you’re caught with what you’ve got on you,” Fr. Mike said. “It’s all the sorts of practical things that compound the cruelty of what we’re doing.”

“I tell them to send the picture to their friends and families before they enter court so that if they are detained after their appointment, their loved ones can quickly locate them,” Fr. Mike explained. “The intent there is to provide a little hope and stability; it is disconcerting to be told you might be arrested in the next two hours.”

He also tells them to make sure the ICE agents know if they are fearful for their lives if they are deported to their home country. “Say you want a credible fear interview,” he said, “because they aren’t going to ask you.”

Third, Fr. Mike tells them to object if the U.S. Attorney tries to close their case. “Unless the U.S. Attorney can show that there has been a change in circumstances to justify closing it. If not, if nothing has happened here in El Paso but something has happened up north, that’s not a change in your case, that’s a change in their policy…So ask the judge to deny the motion.”

“There’s a lot of tears beforehand, a lot of fear, I can see it in people’s eyes…it’s like telling people they have cancer. You don’t want to do it but it’s information they must have.”

There seems no clear pattern or rationale behind who ICE agents decide to arrest or not arrest on any given day. Fr. Mike wonders if their randomness is just another means of stoking terror.

“None of us, not even the court personnel, are happy about this.” Fr. Mike described a recent Friday when he arrived at court and one of the security guards told him “The banditos [the bandits; the bad guys] haven’t shown up yet.”

He also meets with the volunteers observing court who conduct, as he calls it, “the hardcore accompaniment” of being with individuals as they are arrested, offering to take their car keys, asking who they should contact.

“‘My two children are back in Midland,’” Fr. Mike said, recalling a conversation between a mother and volunteer during a recent arrest. The volunteer responded: “‘Who can we call? Let them know that you’re detained.’” This moment is what keeps Fr. Mike up at night: young children waiting for their mother to come home, unable to understand why she hasn’t.

He described the families who show up: Everyone, even the littlest children, dressed to the nines, unaware that this could be their last hour free and together; that they and their mom will be shipped somewhere in South Central Texas while their dad will go to the Otero Processing Center in New Mexico.

Fr. Mike recently worked with a Cuban family who qualified for legal permanent resident status. “I encouraged them to pursue that. The next day, I heard they were arrested.”

“I find that just sickening. These people complied with the law, they’ve shown up, completed their application, paid their fees, they’ve been here a year and a day and yet…It’s difficult to watch cruelty in action.” Then, in true alignment with his Jesuit charism, he added, of the ICE agents, “I think it’s also probably difficult for them to be cruel. That’s the duality there.”

While Fr. Mike sticks to providing legal assistance, he has watched how the greater El Paso community has rallied to respond to the personal needs of those in the courts over the last few months.

He noticed how the community has organized to make sure there are volunteers in the courtroom, loved ones are contacted, children left behind are looked after, and families know they are not alone, even as their worlds are torn apart. “That’s rather tremendous, huh?” Fr. Mike remarked.

Fr. Mike also warned against the pervasive misinformation about immigrants and immigration. “It’s a lie to say the United States is being invaded. It’s a lie to say asylum seekers are bringing in all the drugs. It’s a lie to say that people born in the United States are not citizens. Those who foster those lies and know that they’re lying should eventually be held accountable.”

Until then, there is always work to be done. “I’m mad as hell about what’s going on,” Fr. Mike admitted when talking about how, at 76, he keeps going, “but there are still folks that need help. The work we’ve been doing here all along has been important. Helping people. Getting them information they are not getting elsewhere and doing it in a friendly fashion.”

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You can learn more about accompanying migrants to immigration court here.