The immigration judge cleared her throat and called Layla’s* name. The 8-year-old girl jumped up from her seat in the back of the courtroom and skipped up to the front. Layla was wearing shiny white shoes and a fluffy pink dress. Her long black hair was neatly brushed into two bouncing braids. She took a seat at an empty table at the front of the courtroom. Across the aisle sat an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) attorney in a suit. He stared into his computer screen where he read information about Layla—my future client—as they began her deportation proceedings.

Layla was born in El Salvador but fled to the United States after suffering sexual, physical, and psychological abuse in her home country. When Layla was 6 years old, her mother moved to New York in search of a higher income after years of struggling as a single mother. She left her only daughter in the care of family members in hopes of giving her a better life with the money she sent from abroad. To her horror, Layla’s mother later discovered that the girl was repeatedly raped, beaten with a broom, and forced to sleep on a towel on the floor of a closet while living with family. One day Layla’s teacher contacted her mother in the United States and told her that her daughter showed signs of severe neglect. Layla’s mother was terrified for her daughter’s life and knew that the treacherous journey to the United States was safer than having Layla remain with her abusive relatives.

Two weeks later Layla left El Salvador with nothing but the clothes on her back in search of safety, stability, and a better future.

The child made the dangerous journey from Central America to the United States by car, bus, train, and on foot with a group of strangers. When she walked over the border into Texas, Layla flung herself into the arms of a border patrol officer, thinking she was finally safe, she told me later. Her mother is here in the U.S., and that was enough for this place to be a beacon of safety. And although this is what most of our clients experience, it is actually a false sense of security considering the hurdles they face once in this country.

Because she did not have a valid visa, however, she was immediately placed in deportation proceedings. Layla was released to live with her mother in Brooklyn, pending her imminent deportation hearing in New York immigration court. Because the U.S. government does not provide free attorneys to refugee children like Layla, they are forced to appear in immigration court alone.

On the day that I met Layla, she was wearing that pink fluffy dress and sitting at the front of the courtroom by herself. She tried to answer the judge’s questions and understand ICE’s explanation for why she is “removable as charged,” which is a difficult task for a trained immigration attorney like myself, not to mention an 8-year-old child.

I stood in the back of the courtroom and observed the hearing. While part of me was stunned by the sight of a little girl alone in court, I had also grown accustomed to this familiar scene. I am an attorney at the Safe Passage Project, a nonprofit in New York City that provides free legal representation to immigrant children facing deportation. We are housed at New York Law School and, since our inception, have been located just a few blocks from the immigration court in New York. Our team of 20 people is currently providing free legal representation to more than 700 children just like Layla.