As they have for the last several months, a gaggle of anti-ICE protesters and immigrant advocates lined the sidewalk outside of San Francisco Immigration Court on Tuesday afternoon.
It was the volunteers flanking the doors of 100 Montgomery St., however, who attracted the most attention as they waved colorful signs scrawled with text. One neon yellow sign read: “Have court? Tienes cita/audencia? We can accompany you! Te podemos acompañar — Free! Gratis!”
The signs caught the eyes of people entering the court, who reacted with a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and suspicion. Nearly all of them were Spanish-speaking immigrants. While some outright declined to engage, others approached the sign-wavers with questions.
Who were they? Why were they offering to accompany them? And, perhaps the most frequently asked question: Was it really free?
One volunteer, Ernesto (who, like everyone else in this story, asked to use a pseudonym for their safety), told one woman that the volunteers were unpaid allies who provide an extra layer of support in case they run into any issues navigating the courthouse. She didn’t need an escort, but thanked him while nodding at other volunteers nearby.
“We’ve been busy lately,” Ernesto, a 20-something with curly locks, told me through their N95 mask.
Standing nearby with a sign was Dan, who had received accompaniment training that same morning.
“I’m just trying to figure out everything I can possibly do, based on the skills and experiences I have. I speak Spanish decently well,” said Dan, who sported a red Democratic Socialists of America pin and a keffiyeh around his neck. “It’s a small contribution within a broken system, but it means something to the individual or family that needs to be there. If things go sideways, we can help pursue the best outcome.”
“If we can be here every day, if we can accompany everyone who wants it, that’s the goal.”
At around 1 p.m., I met a young couple who agreed to let Ernesto and me escort them to their hearing and back. Security guards in the lobby were familiar with the court escorts; we went to the eighth floor, where we were met by several guards at a security checkpoint with a metal detector and an X-ray machine.
As we left the checkpoint and walked to courtroom No. 10, I couldn’t help but notice the horrific vibes in the maze-like, white-walled hallways. It looked dystopian.
The mood in the courthouse was an improvement, thanks to the calm, joke-heavy demeanor of Judge Charles S. Greene III. Still, the anxiety was palpable.
Hoping to quell the nerves, Ernesto made small talk with the individuals we’d accompanied, eliciting soft grins and whispers as they waited two long hours for their turn with the judge. The actual hearing took only about 10 minutes; Greene stamped their asylum documents, set their next hearing dates, and dismissed them with a smile and well wishes. Then he called a 10-minute recess.
ICE continues to abduct people from court hallways across the U.S., including an eight-person sweep at ICE headquarters at 630 Sansome last month, which has much tighter restrictions on public access. Accompaniment volunteers cannot physically interfere in such scenarios due to the risk of federal criminal charges, Ernesto told me. However, it is valuable for a bilingual volunteer to be there to ask immigrants questions, witness the arrest, and document who the detained people are for follow-up purposes.
“There haven’t been any abductions from someone’s appointment since August 20th, which is a success, given it’s something ICE wants to do,” Ernesto explained.
Ernesto witnessed that arrest while escorting a different party, and said that accompaniers in the room worked quickly to document the detained person’s information, which they used to locate them.
“Even just us being out here, and making sure our presence is known inside the court, is a deterrent for ICE coming here,” Ernesto said.
Ernesto and I waited in the hallway while the couple took an opportunity to consult with a pro-bono lawyer from the Bar Association of San Francisco, as recommended by Greene in their hearing. We caught the attention of a woman who had arrived at court alone. She explained to Ernesto in Spanish that she wasn’t sure whether to trust the accompaniment, and waved off volunteers at the entrance.
Seeing those volunteers sitting and talking with clients in the courtroom, however, changed her mind. She bubbled with newfound energy while describing the weight of the fear for immigrants in court, especially undocumented people seeking asylum. The notion that a stranger would step up for her, even in a small way, was moving, she told Ernesto.
That feeling was later echoed on the street by Em, who regularly volunteers at 100 Montgomery. In addition to escorting people in and out of court, Em has waited with family members and children outside the building, keeping their spirits high with conversation, snacks, and even toys. She showed off some finger puppets that a street vendor had woven from yarn.
“I’ve talked to so many people in my community who are scared and feel helpless, and I think this work is one of the best antidotes. People coming to court feel very alone, very isolated. For them to see that their community wants to look out for them is sometimes a shock,” Em said. “But we are not powerless. Nobody has to be alone in this.”
Thankfully, there was no drama waiting for the two people Ernesto and I accompanied. They were able to leave court and return to their lives, at least for the time being, with their next hearing in April.
“We were scared,” the man explained with a smile. “Thank you for accompanying us. We felt supported as soon as we arrived.”
