Inside a federal immigration courtroom in New York City last month, an unprecedented event unfolded: Judge ShaSha Xu opted not to disclose the name of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) attorney advocating for the deportation of asylum seekers. This unusual decision has raised eyebrows and sparked concerns among legal experts and immigration advocates alike.
“We’re not really doing names publicly,” Judge Xu stated, a stark departure from the norm where all parties, including government attorneys, are typically identified. This lack of transparency was not an isolated incident; it was noted that another judge, James McCarthy, similarly refrained from naming ICE lawyers in subsequent hearings. Such practices undermine the fundamental principles of accountability and transparency that are supposed to govern judicial proceedings.
Elissa Steglich, a law professor at the University of Texas at Austin, expressed her dismay at this development. “I’ve never heard of someone in open court not being identified,” she remarked. The ethical obligation of the court, she emphasized, includes the clear identification of all parties involved. When government attorneys are not named, it creates a veil of anonymity that shields them from accountability, potentially fostering unethical practices. This lack of transparency can also lead to perceptions of bias, as it may appear that judges are favoring the government’s position.
The courtroom dynamics during these hearings are already fraught with tension. Immigrants often appear with their attorneys—if they are fortunate enough to have legal representation—while government attorneys represent ICE’s interests. The proceedings are designed to uphold due process, yet the omission of ICE lawyers’ names disrupts this balance. Attorney Jeffrey Okun, who was representing a client via video call, described the situation as “bizarre,” while his colleague, Hugo Gonzalez Venegas, criticized it as a “terrible lack of transparency.”
The immigration court system, overseen by the Executive Office for Immigration Review, operates under a different set of rules compared to traditional courts. Judges are appointed by the executive branch, and the prosecutors work for ICE and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), creating an environment where transparency is often lacking. This is particularly concerning given the significant power these courts wield over the lives of immigrants seeking asylum or relief from deportation.
In a typical hearing, the judge would announce their name, followed by the immigrant’s name, their attorney’s name, and finally, the ICE attorney’s name. However, when Judge Xu omitted the ICE lawyer’s name, Okun sought clarification, only to be told that he could message the attorney directly for her name. This workaround not only undermines the official record but also raises questions about the integrity of the judicial process.
The attorney in question, Cosette Shachnow, began her career with ICE shortly after graduating from law school in 2021. Despite her background in civil rights and social action, her role in the deportation process highlights the complexities and moral dilemmas faced by attorneys within ICE. Shachnow did not respond to inquiries about her experiences or the rationale behind the anonymity of ICE lawyers.
The trend of concealing ICE attorneys’ identities is not officially sanctioned; rather, it appears to be a decision left to individual judges. Judge Shirley Lazare-Raphael noted that while some judges have adopted this practice, it has not been formalized through any directive. This ambiguity raises concerns about the potential for widespread adoption of such practices, which could further erode trust in the immigration court system.
Daniel Kowalski, a former immigration attorney, expressed alarm at this new phenomenon, questioning where it might lead. “Are the immigration judges going to be unnamed? Behind a screen?” he asked, highlighting the slippery slope of diminishing transparency in judicial proceedings.
The justification for this lack of transparency often stems from claims of safety for ICE attorneys, echoing DHS’s assertion of a dramatic increase in assaults against agents. However, the statistics reveal a more nuanced reality: the number of reported assaults remains relatively low, and the criteria for what constitutes an assault can be ambiguous. Critics argue that the narrative of danger is exaggerated, serving to justify practices that undermine accountability.
Veronica Cardenas, a former ICE prosecutor who resigned in 2023, shared her perspective on the emotional toll of working for an agency tasked with deporting individuals who may share similar backgrounds. She now advocates for other ICE attorneys seeking to leave the agency, emphasizing the moral conflicts many face. Similarly, Adam Boyd, another former ICE attorney, cited moral dilemmas as a driving factor behind his decision to resign.
The current state of the asylum system is alarming. Under the Trump administration, denial rates for asylum claims have surged, with predictions indicating that these rates could reach as high as 95%. As ICE ramps up its enforcement operations, the implications for immigrants are dire. They face not only the threat of deportation but also a judicial system that increasingly obscures the identities of those prosecuting their cases.
As the landscape of immigration enforcement continues to evolve, the need for transparency and accountability in the judicial process
