At Santa Ana Immigration Court, church members keep a watch on changing deportation policy

There’s nothing grand about Santa Ana Immigration Court. Tucked in the corner of an office park between two county health agencies, you’d hardly know it was there. Which is why a group of volunteer court observers shows up on a daily basis — to keep tabs on immigration policies that seem to change by the week, and to channel resources to people facing deportation.

“People feel comforted by just seeing us there, especially that we are people of faith,” said Jennifer Coria, who coordinates the immigration court observer program for the group Clergy and Laity United for Economic Justice, or CLUE. Observers come from churches and other religious entities across Orange County and L.A. They're encouraged to wear something that signals their faith, or, if they’re clergy, to show up in religious attire.

“We want the judges to know that we are coming from a faith community and they see that there's moral presence in these spaces,” Coria said.

Why now?

The immigration court observer program is among dozens of grassroots efforts that have popped up around Southern California and across the country in response to the Trump administration’s mass deportation campaign. Other groups are patrolling neighborhoods to alert residents of ICE raids, delivering food boxes to immigrant families scared to leave their homes, and posting up at Home Depots to accompany day laborers who have been a frequent target of the raids.

LAist recently spent a morning inside Santa Ana Immigration Court with a group of observers to get a peek into the legal side of the federal deportation campaign. After President Donald Trump’s first full year in office, his administration continues its rapid pace of removals, in fulfillment of his campaign promises.

In an email to LAist, a spokesperson for the Department of Homeland Security said more than 700,000 immigrants had been arrested under Trump and DHS Secretary Kristi Noem, 70% of them with criminal convictions or pending criminal charges in the U.S. That statistic doesn't account for those wanted in their home countries for suspected crimes, the spokesperson added.

LAist has requested clarification on the government’s figures, which contrasts with other sources. For example, the Deportation Data Project estimates that the Trump administration deported fewer than 300,000 from the interior of the country during its first year, not counting immigrants caught or turned away at the border. The project is run largely by a group of law professors and lawyers who publish reports based on government datasets.

Why it matters

In immigration court, the administration’s deportation campaign has meant faster proceedings, and fewer immigrants allowed to remain in the United States, according to data maintained by Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC), a project of Syracuse University. The data also shows that less than 2% of new deportation cases filed in 2026 allege that the person was involved in criminal activity beyond entering the country illegally.

The court observers in Santa Ana aren’t there to protest inside courtrooms or try to block deportation orders. But they say they’ll keep showing up to offer pro bono legal resources and, at the least, moral support for vulnerable members of their community.

“They're my neighbors. It's like, why wouldn't I defend them?” said Diedre Gaffney, one of the court observers.

Immigration court is an administrative court within the Department of Justice.

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Jill Replogle

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LAist

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A day in immigration court

For court observers, the morning starts in the lobby, scanning a wall of electronic displays with the day’s docket. They usually look for courtrooms holding what’s known as master calendar hearings — rapid-fire, preliminary hearings that can have life-changing outcomes for people fighting deportation or seeking asylum.

The observers are familiar with the judges by now, and know which ones might not welcome their presence. Members of the public are generally allowed to attend immigration court hearings. But judges can close hearings or limit attendance at their discretion.

After a brief discussion, the observers decided to head to Judge Wilbur Lee’s courtroom. The room is small and sparse. A flag stands in one corner. A big screen for virtual appearances takes up the other.

The judge sits behind a computer monitor at the front of the room, flanked by a copy machine and a Spanish language interpreter.

Lee had more than 20 cases on his docket for the morning. Some people were seeking asylum; others hoped to adjust their status, which provides a pathway to legal residency, for example, for immigrants who have married a U.S. citizen. Most of the hearings lasted only a few minutes, either postponed to another date, or scheduled for a subsequent hearing. Sometimes language, and the lack of an interpreter, delayed the hearing — there was a Nicaraguan man who spoke only Miskito, an indigenous language, and another from Kazakhstan who spoke Kazakh.

Respondents — that’s the official term for people facing immigration proceedings — had traveled, or video-conferenced in, from Irvine, Costa Mesa, Fullerton, Riverside, San Fernando, Eastvale and Rialto.

One of the court observers spotted something new in the courtroom that day: a bright blue flyer on the desk where respondents sit to answer questions from the judge. It read, in all caps, “MESSAGE TO ILLEGAL ALIENS: A WARNING TO SELF-DEPORT.”

The flyer, which was also posted in the courtroom lobby, laid out benefits (“leave on your own terms,”) and consequences (“immediate deportation,” “no opportunity to get your affairs in order”) of taking or not taking the government’s advice. A QR code on the flyer led to a website for the government’s self-deportation incentive program, which includes a bonus for immigrants who choose to self-deport. The amount was upped in January from $1,000 to $2,600. Some news outlets have reported problems with the program, including people not receiving the promised bonus once back in their home country.

The observers’ evolving mission

The fliers are the latest example of how quickly policies and procedures are changing, often without warning, adding to the dizzying nature of the proceedings.

Last summer, when the Trump administration began its crackdown in earnest, ICE officers would often sit inside, or just outside courtrooms, and take people into custody as soon as their case was dismissed. At the time, the court observers concentrated on getting personal information from the detainees so they could contact their families and help them locate their loved ones in ICE facilities.

These days, observers say they haven’t seen ICE agents in courtrooms since the fall. So the observers’ mission has shifted to trying to get legal representation for people facing deportation proceedings without a lawyer.

About half the people facing deportation proceedings in California do not have a lawyer, according to data compiled by TRAC at Syracuse University. Without a lawyer, respondents are more than three times more likely to face a deportation order than those who have one, according to the data. By law, there is no requirement to provide legal representation.

Now, when the volunteer court observers notice that a respondent is facing the judge alone, they follow them out of the courtroom and text or hand them a list of pro bono attorneys — often with an explanation aided by Google translate, or a few memorized lines in Spanish.

“I tell them to call everyone on the list,” said Erin Moncure, a court observer from Lake Forest, noting that immigration lawyers are overwhelmed with the onslaught of cases over the past year.

Moncure, who doesn’t speak Spanish, said she’s nevertheless talked to hundreds of strangers at immigration court to try and connect them with pro bono attorneys. Often she asks for their cell phone number so she can text them a list.

“There really is no reason for them to trust me,” she said. “That’s how desperate people are.”

Rapidly changing policies

The new flyer in immigration courtrooms urging people to self-deport is just one of many changes court observers have noted since they’ve been attending immigration hearings in Santa Ana over the past six months.

Now, rather than detaining people at courthouses, the Trump administration is focusing on other ways to speed up deportation. One of them is by increasingly sending asylum seekers already in the U.S. to third-party countries to seek asylum there instead. The first Trump administration signed deals in 2019 with Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras to re-route people seeking asylum in the U.S. to those countries.

The Biden administration ended these agreements, and Trump reinstated them again last year. He’s also made new agreements with other countries to take asylum seekers and deportees, including with Ecuador, Paraguay, Belize and Uganda. In DHS’s statement to LAist, a spokesperson wrote that the third country agreements “ensure due process under the U.S. Constitution” and “ are essential to the safety of our homeland and the American people.”

Government attorneys and immigration judges are facing increasing pressure to use this option to cut off asylum cases early in the process, said Blaine Bookey,  legal director at the Center for Gender and Refugee Studies at UC Law San Francisco. Many of the cases on Lee’s morning docket involved a request from the DHS lawyer to remove the person to a country other than the one they had left to come to the U.S.

What this actually means

In one case, a woman and her teenage daughter were seeking asylum after they said their lives were threatened in Guatemala stemming from their relatives’ involvement in local politics.

They hadn’t yet had a chance to plead their asylum case to remain in the U.S. when the judge began to ask them hard questions: if they feared returning to Guatemala, what about being sent instead to Honduras? The women seemed caught off guard.

Ultimately, the judge determined that the two didn’t have a legally valid fear of being sent to Honduras, and ordered them deported there to seek asylum.

The DHS spokesperson told LAist that ending cases before they have a hearing, called pretermission, “is nothing new or unusual” and that the mechanism prevents prolonged custody for immigrants who have been detained while they await the outcome of their legal case.

"We are applying the law as written,” the spokesperson wrote. “If a judge finds an illegal alien has no right to be in this country, we are going to remove them. Period. All aliens in ICE custody receive due process and have any claims heard before a judge.”

Outside the courtroom, the two women from Guatemala fought to contain tears as they digested the news.

“What kind of life can we expect in Honduras? It’s pretty much the same as Guatemala,” the mom said in Spanish.

Bookey, from the Center for Gender and Refugee Studies, said the women's concern was a legitimate one, especially with regards to third-country asylum deals with Central American countries.

“Given the sort of porous borders in that area … you're basically returning someone to their home country directly because their persecutor can easily track them down or find them there,” she said.

Now, the only recourse for the two women from Guatemala is to appeal their case, normally a costly and lengthy process. But even that right might be curbed in the future: the Department of Justice plans to implement a rule next month that will shorten the amount of time respondents have to file an appeal, and raise the bar for granting them.

A judge’s perspective

In the highly politicized climate over immigration, judges are in a tough spot. Immigration courts are under the executive, not the judicial branch of government. Immigration judges have the legal authority to make independent decisions, but some say that independence is being challenged by the current administration.

Judge Jeremiah Johnson was one of around 100 immigration judges abruptly fired last year. He told LAist judges are under intense pressure from the Trump administration to fall in line with its policies.

“Judges are terrified of losing their job,” said Johnson, who still serves as the executive vice president of the National Association of Immigration Judges, a voluntary labor organization.

The loss of judges, and the administration’s shifting priorities, has meant a constant shuffling of case dockets among remaining judges, causing delays and backlogs, and also, increasing pressure to end cases quickly, Johnson said. Currently, there are more than 3 million immigration cases pending across the country, according to TRAC, around six times more than courts were facing a decade ago.

Johnson said the pressure to close cases, including by sending asylum seekers to other countries, threatens people’s right to due process.

“Due process to me is a full and fair hearing,” he said. “These are life or death claims, and so you really need to make sure you get this right.”

Recently, the administration began recruiting for “deportation judges,” including a signing bonus, to replace the immigration judges who were fired or resigned. Johnson called the change in job title “insulting” and a mischaracterization of the role.

“It's not an enforcement position, it's to adjudicate the laws fairly,” Johnson said. “I took the job to uphold the law. That oath was very solemn to me and all the judges on that bench,” he said.

What the observers are trying to accomplish

Court observers have seen some positive changes at Santa Ana Immigration Court since they started observing last summer. On the day LAist visited Lee’s courtroom, many of the respondents had lawyers — a big change, observers said, from just a few months ago.

CLUE also started a fund to pay bonds for non-criminal immigration detainees, and they’ve been able to release more than a 100 people from detention while they wait for their day in court.

Jennifer Caria, Diedre Gaffney, and Nate Hadinata, immigration court observers with Clergy and Laity United for Economic Justice, CLUE.

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Jill Replogle

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LAist

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Nate Hadinata, from Saddleback Church, sees his role as a “ministry of presence,” and not just for immigrants at risk of deportation.

“ I'm actually here for everybody in the courtroom,” Hadinata said, “because I start to see that the judges are frustrated with the remote lawyers on WebEx, where the internet connection for some reason is shoddy, … the DHS attorneys, I could see they’ve got cough drops on the table, so they're working through illness,” he said.

Earlier this month, a DHS lawyer in Minnesota, exhausted by the avalanche of work, made headlines after telling a judge, “This job sucks.”

Hadinata said attending court proceedings has also allowed him to share his first-hand observations about the current immigration crackdown with his fellow parishioners.  

“When you think that people are criminals in here and you actually get firsthand accounts, you actually start to realize, ‘Oh, I just see families,'" he said. “And aren't we all about strong family?”

Biweekly vigil for the 'disappeared'

Besides the court watching and the bond fund, CLUE holds a bi-weekly prayer vigil in front of Santa Ana Immigration Court. Last Thursday, Nathan Hill, pastor at Church of the Foothills in North Tustin, stood in front of the courthouse next to a sign that read, “We are people of faith praying for the disappeared.”

Hill, wearing a cream-colored stole with brightly embroidered crosses, led a group of nearly 30 people in prayer and song. Some of the attendees wore pink bandanas, an homage, they said, to the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, women who demonstrated during Argentina’s so-called “Dirty War” to pressure the military dictatorship for information about their disappeared children.

Hill began the vigil:

María Elena Perales,  with the Sisters of St. Joseph of Orange, said she helped start the prayer vigils in June as a way to show public support for local families targeted in the immigration raids.

“Many of them do not go grocery shopping, many of them do not send their kids to school. Kids are being traumatized as we speak,” she said of the raids’ effect on immigrant families. “A lot of people do not understand, maybe, what our families are suffering. This is an opportunity to engage people and say, ‘come and join us in prayer, and hear about the stories.’”

As the prayer vigil wound down, people began to trickle through the doors of immigration court. The afternoon session would soon begin, and with it, dozens more lives in the balance.