3 Alb. Govt. L. Rev. 149 (2010)
Bruce J. Einhorn
During my almost seventeen years as a United States
Immigration Judge (IJ) in Los Angeles, I often felt as if my
colleagues and I were still smarting from the curse incurred by
the hubris of our common ancestors (who apparently became
among the first reported refugees). We were fellow judges and
friends; we shared our lunches and reveled in our bull sessions
caffeinated by twice-cooked coffee only a litigation-addict could
love. Indeed, among the more than 200 IJs in courts across the
United States, I counted many men and women whom I had
known, respected, and liked from our days as lawyers to our time
on the bench. Notwithstanding my close relations with my fellow judges, or perhaps precisely because of them, I was constantly confounded and confused by our conversations on the subject of asylum law. I was even more lost for words (no small matter, given my nature) by the manner in which many of my colleagues approached asylum applicants and adjudicated their cases. In fairness, I note that my colleagues were just as unable to understand much of what I did in my courtroom in my own proceedings.