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Monday, April 15, 2024 | Back issues
Courthouse News Service Courthouse News Service

Lisa Brodyaga, legal giant, dies at 81

An attorney of fierce determination, yet a farm girl at heart, Brodyaga founded the first pro bono law office to represent refugees in U.S. immigration prisons.

Lisa Brodyaga, the leading defender of refugees’ rights in U.S. courts for the past 40 years, died Thursday at her home, the Refugio del Río Grande, near San Benito, Texas. She was 81. Her death was confirmed by her longtime friend, Pio Celestino.

An attorney of fierce determination, yet a farm girl at heart, Brodyaga founded the first pro bono law office to represent refugees in U.S. immigration prisons. Her death was universally mourned by defenders of refugees’ and immigrants’ rights.

“That’s terrible news. I’m so sorry for Lisa and for the countless people she has helped over decades of selfless advocacy,” said Carlos César Cuauhtémoc García Hernández, professor of Civil Rights and Civil Liberties at Ohio State University College of Law, and author of “Crimmigration,” a legal textbook and blog.

“There are few people as committed and ferocious as Lisa Brodyaga,” García Hernández said, upon learning she was in hospice. “Whether we know her name or not, immigration lawyers across the United States walk in her shadow and benefit from her creative, brilliant litigation.”

Lisa founded Proyecto Libertad in 1981, to represent refugees imprisoned at the blandly named Bayview Service and Processing Center, the enormous immigration prison outside Los Fresnos, Texas, commonly known as the corralón, or big corral.

“Lisa was loved by all: prisoners and peasants,” said Patrick Hughes, who worked with her in Proyecto’s early days, and for years thereafter, including in El Salvador’s notorious Mariona prison, where thousands of students, political opponents and suspected guerrillas were detained, tortured and murdered in the 1980s, under a series of U.S.-backed Salvadoran governments.

Hughes helped Lisa establish Proyecto Libertad even before he got out of law school.

“Lisa was co-counsel in the U.S. v Jack Elder case, a criminal trial in Houston in 1984 that exonerated the Catholic activists involved in providing comfort and shelter to refugees,” Hughes told Courthouse News.

He continued: “Lisa Brodyaga was the intellectual author of the Salvadoran asylum movement in the 1980s [the Sanctuary Movement]. She was invited to El Salvador in 1986 to work with the leftist FMLN movement and she spent many months there interviewing political prisoners and assisting in the effort to document the torture suffered by Salvadorans who resisted the Reagan-Bush supported regimes of Napoleon Duarte and Alfredo Cristiani 1984-1994. 

“Lisa was the director of a legal project that gave legal help to more than 7,000 Central Americans from 1981 to 1985, when the American Bar Association finally came to her aid and began to fund the effort to stop the deportation of Central Americans.”

Proyecto Libertad represented more than 6,000 Salvadorans, Guatemalans and other refugees in immigration courts under the Reagan administration before even one was granted asylum. (Author’s records: See below.)

Carlos Holguín, general counsel for the Center for Human Rights and Constitutional Law in Los Angeles, told Courthouse News: “I first met Lisa in 1981 when we were putting together the litigation that became Orantes-Hernandez v. Smith. Lisa’s office was a beehive of activity, with her in the middle.”

The Orantes-Hernandez v. Smith federal class action, (which became Orantes-Hernandez v. Meese and Orantes-Hernandez v. Thornburgh,) overturned more judicial rulings than any other lawsuit in U.S. history.

It challenged immigration judges’ summary denial of political asylum to more than 100,000 Salvadoran and Guatemalan refuge-seekers, fleeing repressive and murderous governments friendly to the United States, while judges summarily granted asylum to tens of thousands of Nicaraguans, fleeing a government against which the United States was making war. The final ruling was issued in 1991.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known a lawyer with more energy and drive to fight the good fight,” Holguín said. “In the years since, Lisa’s reputation as a courageous and tireless advocate for immigrants and refugees has only grown. She has consistently been the go-to federal litigator for immigrants and refugees in the Rio Grande Valley.

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“To recall only one such instance, when the Border Patrol decided to fill the Ursula detention facility with ailing asylum-seeking children in the summer of 2019, Lisa stepped in to ensure that children would not perish for want of proper medical care.

“Her example sets a very high bar indeed for those who would practice law in the public interest and for the legal profession as a whole. I am deeply saddened by the news.”

Peter Schey, president of the Center for Constitutional Rights and Constitutional Law, in Los Angeles, told Courthouse News: “I've known Lisa since I was in law school almost 40 years ago and visited the border in Texas to learn about conditions in Border Patrol stations. At that time there was only one progressive lawyer working along the border in Texas focused on protecting the rights of immigrants, and it was Lisa. For the next several decades she never stopped dedicating her energy and time to the struggle to protect the human rights of immigrants and refugees.

“She was relentless in her pursuit of fairness, justice, and the humane treatment of immigrants. At the root of her human rights convictions was an even more profound faith in the basic goodness of people and the possibilities for positive social and political change.

“Many of the immigrants’ rights movements that have sprung up over the past few decades were inspired by Lisa’s ideas, leadership, and passion, and many young lawyers today taking up the banner of immigrants’ rights have been inspired by Lisa’s vision, tenacity, and imagination.”

Attorney Peter Upton worked with the Haitian Refugee Center in Miami in the 1980s, representing refuge-seekers imprisoned at the Krome Detention Center. As the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS — now known as Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE) found it more difficult to summarily deport refugees from Texas, because they were represented by Proyecto Libertad’s pro bono attorneys, “We learned there were so many Salvadorans, Guatemalans and other asylum-seekers imprisoned there that the INS had to start transferring them out of the Rio Grande Valley to distant places like Miami,” Upton told Courthouse News. “And we learned from these transferees about Lisa Brodyaga and Proyecto Libertad.

“Anyone doing this kind of work felt the anxiety of getting asylum-seekers out of detention before they could be deported,” Upton said. “Proyecto Libertad, led by Lisa, did this work tirelessly and valiantly. They were so effective that El Corralón could not clear out the many asylum-seekers imprisoned there. It became a bottleneck. INS had to ship them out of the Valley to places like Miami.

“Always in the eye of the storm of more and more refugees being caught at the busiest border, Proyecto Libertad took on for many of us an almost mythical status, because we knew how hard the work was and how much time and effort each individual case required. Lisa was there at the middle of it all,” Upton said.

He concluded, in a long email to Courthouse News: “Reflecting back, who knows how many thousands of asylum-seekers found themselves delivered out of potentially dire or fatal circumstances by Lisa and Proyecto Libertad. She and her coworkers were on the front line of an effort that sought, in its own way, to provide the justice that refugees were denied by lawless authorities in their home countries and by unsympathetic authorities in the United States. 

“There are countless heroes out there that have and still are taking on immigration injustices that don’t seem to cease. Yet at a time when wars and unrest drove north the first large wave of Central Americans fleeing for their lives and well-being, Lisa Brodyaga and Proyecto Libertad were there in the most embattled front in this country to extend their hands, hearts and ingenious legal acumen to those in need. Lisa and her coworkers’ passionate work have earned for themselves a proud and much-admired place in our history.”

Full disclosure: I met Lisa in September 1984, after I quit my job teaching on an Indian Reservation to work without pay as a paralegal in immigration prisons. As I stepped into Proyecto Libertad’s office on my Day One, Lisa was reading the riot act to her staff, in Spanish.

She told them how important their jobs were, and that they had to be absolutely scrupulous about everything they did. She scared the pants off me.

I proceeded to work as a paralegal for Proyecto, then at three other immigration prisons, because no one knew, in those days, except for a few dirt-poor lawyers, what was happening in our immigration prisons on the border — a tremendous prison system that has crept, far from the public eye, farther and farther inland, and farther away from legal oversight.

I got into the prisons honestly, as a paralegal, and worked, and looked around. And took notes. I entered two other immigration prisons as a reporter, and was refused entrance at another, and witnessed the chicanery and outright lies that have become a custom of 40 years standing on the border.

Clare Cherkasky, a longtime attorney for Proyecto Libertad, now in private practice in Alexandria, Va., remembered Lisa for “her brilliance and creativity, her love for all living beings, and many, many, many lives changed for the better.”

Lisa came to see me two years ago in Denver. It was the first vacation she’d taken, I believe, in more than 20 years. That’s when I learned she was a farm girl at heart. I could see it in her eyes when she talked about horses, and her farm and trees, and played with my dogs.

After Lisa left Proyecto, 30-some years ago, she founded the Refugio del Río Grande, a refuge for torture victims in south Texas. Lisa leaves behind her beloved boxers, a pair of white llamas, a flock of chickens, a small, spoiled herd of cattle, and a white horse.

Lisa was light in darkness for dozens of human rights and civil rights attorneys who carry her torch. She saved thousands of lives: poor people, strangers, refugees. If it’s true, as the Torah says, that she who saves one life saves all mankind, then Lisa saved a medium-size planet.

She’s gone now, and her flame must be carried by others, against Lisa’s opponents, many of them in our own government, who still — phony Christians — use their money, power, connections and shamelessness, to try to snuff out the flame that Lisa helped to light.

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