It’s been a while since I heard chains rattling in court; the last time was back in 2012 when I served as a prosecutor at the Department of Homeland Security. Back then, at Barrick Immigration Court in New York City, shackles were pretty much reserved for individuals deemed a threat to public safety or those who might try to escape the court, often because they had prior arrests.
But, wow, 2025 brings a whole new perspective. Senator Alex Padilla from California, Newark’s Mayor Ras Baraka, and other local officials have found themselves in a tight spot—they were arrested last month while trying to advocate against immigration enforcement actions. Take, for instance, the incident where an ICE agent used handcuffs on New York City Director Brad Lander as he was attempting to join a routine court appearance alongside immigrants.
With each passing day, ICE seems to ramp up its activities—now even targeting citizens who express solidarity with those facing deportation.
While I’m no longer with ICE, I still stand up for immigrants. Yet, watching clients navigate ICE check-ins and court hearings feels increasingly invasive. What used to be a space for justice now often feels like a place where those challenging policies are threatened and pushed out.
The militarization of immigration enforcement during Trump’s presidency created a landscape riddled with due process violations, confusion, and fear—something that’s still very much present today. Chains have returned, but now they’re wielded differently. Detention seems to revolve less around actual security threats and more about arrests made in court, all part of a broader effort to reshape the immigration system without any real discussion.
Every new policy introduced seems to stifle the voices of those questioning the proceedings in court, as principled experts tend to resign. This quiet departure should concern not just non-citizens, but all of us. If no one in these systems remains to challenge abuses, we could witness the disintegration of immigration courts as we know them.
The atmosphere in today’s immigration courts is increasingly tense and perilous. Since 2017, over 300 immigrant judges have either resigned, retired, or been pushed out amid political pressures that undermine judicial independence. Just earlier this year, the Justice Department abruptly let go of 20 immigrant judges, a move widely criticized as politically motivated.
New judges, trained under Trump-era policies, now function under intense scrutiny, often denying even standard requests for continuations—a stark contrast to previous norms. In April alone, judges managed to deny over 11,000 asylum cases, marking a new record high with rejection rates surpassing 80%. These decisions appear aimed more at managing caseloads than justly handling cases, prioritizing swift deportations to meet ICE’s ever-growing removal quotas.
The decline in judicial expertise mirrors a severe funding imbalance: for every dollar spent on immigration courts, approximately $24 goes toward ICE and Border Patrol. This disparity leaves judges overwhelmed and under-resourced, all while ICE is buttressed by significant funding, pushing for a rapid removal agenda.
The culture in these courts has shifted—now, with fewer independent voices, there’s a rush to sentence rather than to listen, creating yet another urgent crisis. There simply aren’t enough immigration lawyers left to manage the ballooning caseload, and the lack of oversight regarding ICE’s courtroom tactics adds to the already stifling situation.
A national survey among asylum and immigration lawyers has revealed striking levels of burnout and secondary traumatic stress—worse than what’s often seen in fields like social work or nursing. Many report symptoms like depression and insomnia, which can be particularly pronounced for those advocating on behalf of unaccompanied minors and trauma survivors. They feel that emotional burden acutely, often wrestling with a sense of moral injury from witnessing injustices without the power to intervene.
While data on government workers, especially ICE lawyers, is sparse, troubling signs are apparent. There’s no official count of resignations or dismissals, but those remaining face immense political pressure and workload increases, all without discretion. The legal division of ICE is tasked with prosecuting millions of immigration cases, but unlike federal prosecutors in criminal courts, their lawyers lack much public accountability.
The loss of immigration judges raises alarms, yet the internal issues within the office often go unnoticed. Meanwhile, the departure of skilled, ethical lawyers leads to more inexperienced or ethically questionable figures being left behind, expected to enforce policies regardless of legality or personal beliefs.
One stark example is James Joseph Rodden, an ICE attorney in Dallas, who has recently come under scrutiny for running white supremacist social media accounts even as he prosecutes immigrants. ICE has refrained from commenting on his employment status.
What we need now is courage from judges, lawyers, and officials who are committed to upholding the rule of law.
When those who advocate for constitutional rights step down, and people like Rodden remain, loyalty to justice takes a backseat to loyalty to power. It’s crucial for our country to strive for a system that revolves around principles of fairness.
