The report makes some useful suggestions for improving the system, and it is well worth a look. It also has some significant flaws (at least in my opinion). As I see it, though, the biggest problem–as usual for these types of things–is how to prevent the U.S. government from simply ignoring the report and continuing on its merry way. (more…)
Let’s say you’ve found a lawyer–either based on a friend’s recommendation, through an internet search or maybe from an ad you saw on the bus–and you’ve arranged for an initial meeting. How should you prepare for this meeting and what should you expect?
There are a few purposes for an initial consultation. First, the lawyer should evaluate your case, discuss strengths and (especially) weaknesses, and help you understand your options. Second, you need to know whether the lawyer can assist with achieving your goals. And finally, you need to decide whether the lawyer is right for you. Here, we’ll discuss the initial consultation (affectionately called a “consult”) and hopefully help you get the most out of that meeting. (more…)
It’s not always easy to find a decent immigration lawyer, especially for people who are new to the country, who don’t speak much English, and who don’t really know what to expect from an attorney. What do you do if you’ve hired an attorney and have now lost confidence in him?
Before you take action, you should think carefully about whether the attorney really is failing at her job. Attorneys are busy, and we are not always as responsive to our clients as we might be. We also have to prioritize our cases based on government deadlines, and so some clients’ cases get put on the back burner until we can work on them. In addition, clients often make “small” requests that are not so easy to accommodate: Can you write a letter about my status for my job, school or landlord? Can you help me with the DMV or with the Social Security Office? Lawyers may not have the time or expertise to assist with all such requests, and they may charge extra for tasks that are outside the contract. Aside from all this, the asylum system is a mess. Cases move slowly or not at all, cases get lost, the government makes mistakes. Much of this is outside the attorney’s control, and so blaming a lawyer for systematic failures is not fair. In short, be aware that lawyers often can’t give you everything you want, when you want it, and that there is much that is outside our control.
You should probably fire your lawyer if (a) he’s a nut; (b) he’s Rudy Giuliani; or (c) he’s all of the above.
That said, lawyers are required to communicate in a timely manner with our clients. We are required to be honest with them (and with the government). We are required to do our work competently and on-time. These are requirements of the bar association–they are not optional. If we fail to fulfill these duties, we can rightly be punished. If a lawyer never gets back to you or fails to keep you updated about the case, if he changes the terms of the contract after you’ve signed it, or if he is dishonest with you or with the government, that is a problem. If the lawyer is unprepared for a hearing in court or at the Asylum Office, or if the quality of the lawyer’s work is poor, that is also a problem. If the lawyer refuses to give you a copy of the case to review before it is filed, or a copy of the case after it is filed, that is a problem too.
So let’s say your lawyer really is failing you, what can you do?
First, you may want to talk to the lawyer to explain your concerns. It would probably also be a good idea to put your concerns in writing (maybe in an email). If you are calling your lawyer, and he is not responding, keep notes about the dates and times you called. If the lawyer tells you something orally, write it down and email it to the lawyer to confirm that this is what he said. In other words, document all your interactions (or attempted interactions) with the lawyer. When a lawyer knows he is being watched carefully, he is more likely to behave properly.
Second, get a copy of your complete file from your attorney. Lawyers are required–again, this is not optional–to give our clients a copy of the complete file. Even if you owe the lawyer money, she is required to give you a copy of the file. She cannot “hold your file hostage” until you pay any outstanding fees. Lawyers–including me–don’t love this rule, as it seems unfair to give a client her file when she owes us money. Nevertheless, it is the rule, and lawyers who fail to turn over a file can face discipline (we can, however, charge a reasonable copying fee for the file). If the lawyer refuses to give you the file, you can report that lawyer to the bar association (see below).
Third, find another attorney to review your case and evaluate whether you are receiving proper representation. Lawyers love nothing better than to dis the work of our fellow lawyers–it is one of our guilty pleasures. Hopefully, a second opinion can clarify whether your current attorney is doing her job, or whether it is time to find someone new.
If you do switch attorneys, you will need to get a copy of your complete file from attorney #1, so you can give it to attorney #2. The new lawyer should be able to assist with this if necessary. Also, it is a good idea to get a copy of the file from the government, especially if you do not trust attorney #1 to give you everything that he submitted.
Also, you may be entitled to a partial refund from attorney #1, depending on the contract and on how much work the lawyer has already done for you. Some attorney contracts are “hourly,” meaning you pay for each hour (or minute) the attorney spends on your case. For such contracts, you usually submit a retainer (a lump sum payment) that the attorney “draws down” when he works on the case. So if the attorney charges $200 per hour, and works on your case for four hours, your bill is $800. If you gave that attorney a $1,500 retainer, you would be entitled to a refund of $700, which represents the “unearned” portion of the retainer fee.
Most immigration attorneys I know, including me, have “flat fee” contracts, which means that you pay a certain fee for the case. So for example, we might charge $4,000 for an affirmative asylum case. Even in flat fee contracts, however, we have to account for our time. This means if a client pays me $4,000 for a flat-fee case, and then fires me before I complete the case, the client would be entitled to a refund of unearned fees. My flat-fee contract indicates that my time is billed at $300 per hour, meaning if I worked for five hours on the case, I would get to keep $1,500 and I would have to refund the remaining $2,500.
If you fire your attorney, you can ask for an accounting of her time and a refund of unearned fees. This means, she would have to tell you about each task she worked on and how long it took. This accounting is not optional; it is required. And if the accounting seems suspicious (why did it take you three hours to write an email?), you can challenge it.
In practical terms, it is usually not so easy to get a refund, and most attorneys can justify their fees. Often, it is easier for the client to just move on. However, if you feel you were ripped off, you can and probably should pursue a refund.
Further, if your attorney was dishonest, or damaged your case, or failed to properly account for her fees, you can file a bar complaint against her. Bar complaints are also sometimes required to reopen a closed case. What is a bar complaint? All attorneys must be members of a bar association. This is an organization that monitors attorney conduct and provides training and services for lawyers and the public. Each state has its own bar association. The attorney’s contract, letterhead, website, and business card should all list which state bar association(s) he belongs to (hint: if an attorney does not make this information available, he is best avoided). If you Google “bar association” + the state, you should find the bar association website, which should have information about making a bar complaint. Once the complaint is filed, the bar association should investigate the attorney’s conduct (some bar associations are better about this than others) and, if appropriate, punish the lawyer. This punishment can range from an “admonishment” (basically, a public statement that most lawyers would find embarrassing) to disbarment, wherein the lawyer would no longer be able to practice law.
Of course, most attorneys would rather avoid having to deal with a bar complaint, so we try to follow the rules. If your lawyer is doing something wrong–not giving you your file, for example–the threat of a bar complaint might cause her to shape up.
So there you have it. In some ways, lawyers have more power than their clients, particularly immigrant clients, who tend to be less familiar with “the system” than native-born people. But clients are not powerless. You should not feel trapped in an attorney-client relationship that is not working. If your lawyer sucks, take action. Fire him. Move on. These cases are important and often life-changing. Don’t let a bad lawyer destroy your opportunity to remain in the United States.
A recent paper by Neil Graffin, a Lecturer in International Law at the Open University, explores the emotional impact of working as an asylum lawyer. As you might expect, the study found that those of us who represent asylum seekers suffer from burnout and emotional stress. As a “protective mechanism,” we tend to detach ourselves from our clients, and we sometimes become “cynical or disbelieving of client narratives.” More surprising, perhaps, the author found that this “complex reaction” had both positive and negative effects in terms of case outcomes. The paper concludes that “more should be done to protect practitioners working in this area of law,” since “we cannot discharge our duties to asylum claimants, without protecting those who deliver assistance in protecting their rights.”
In researching his paper, Professor Graffin spoke to nine asylum advocates in England and one in the Republic of Ireland. The interviewees had a wide range of experience in the field, from one year to 30 years. Some worked for private firms; others for non-profits.
As we all know, we Yanks tend to be a lot tougher than the wilting flowers in England. Even so, Professor Graffin’s findings largely track with my own experience and that of my colleagues on this side of the pond. So as far as I can tell, the emotional impact of representing asylum seekers is essentially the same for lawyers in the U.S. and for our more fragile British cousins.
It seems to me that Professor Graffin’s findings can be divided into two broad categories: Effects on lawyers caused by dealing with individual clients, and effects caused by “the system.”
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At the individual level, dealing with traumatized asylum applicants is often “emotionally demanding” and “can have a negative emotional impact on practitioners, manifesting in self-reported burnout and emotional stress.” It can also lead practitioners to develop a cynical or disbelieving attitude towards some clients.
This type of skepticism does not necessarily have a negative effect on case outcomes, however. On the contrary, some study participants observed that “having a cynical or disbelieving attitude could make them better practitioners” because it helped them get “into the minds of the ‘suspicious decision-maker’” and “to spot issues of concern in their claimant’s narratives.” From my own perspective, a healthy skepticism towards our clients’ claims is crucial. We need to imagine how our clients’ stories will be received by government decision-makers and anticipate weaknesses in their cases.
Study participants also spoke about the issue of secondary trauma, which comes from “dealing with individuals on a daily basis who have experienced gross and traumatic violations of their human rights.” One common defensive mechanism for practitioners was to distance ourselves from our clients. Too much distance leads to depersonalization, but too little can lead to burnout. The key is balance: We should aim to be “sympathetic but detached.”
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In my own practice, I often deal with people who have been traumatized. Some have been physically harmed or threated. Others have lost loved ones. Still others are suffering due to separation from family members. While I am sympathetic to my clients, I don’t believe that the main emotional impact I face relates to these micro-level issues. For me, at least, the bigger stress-inducer is the system itself: Too many cases, not enough time, too much bureaucracy, too little control. Professor Graffin also discusses these and other macro-level issues.
One big issue for me, and for the participants in Professor Graffin’s study, is volume. “Heavy caseloads… were cited as a particular concern amongst participants.” This was an issue for non-profits, which are under increasing pressure to do more with less, and for private practitioners like me, who aim to serve the asylum-seeker community and make a living in the process. “On the one hand, while having a smaller amount of cases was described as economically unviable, having too large a caseload created unmanageable pressure on the firm.”
Another issue involves unfavorable changes to the law. Both Britain and the U.S. (and many other countries) are experiencing an anti-refugee moment. Changes in the law have made it more difficult for us to help our clients. Referencing the “constant downgrading of rights,” one long-term practitioner in Professor Graffin’s study notes that for her, it is “easier to cope with [extremely traumatized clients] than the overall feeling that [she] was being disabled as a lawyer.” I agree. Lawyers are trained to learn the law and help our clients navigate the system. But lately, in the U.S., the government has been throwing up nonsensical bureaucratic barriers that make our jobs more difficult. These barriers are not legal barriers, but rather procedural hurdles. So an application that previously took, say, two hours to complete, now takes three hours. To me, this is a deliberate and arbitrary attempt to reduce immigration by making “the system” harder. I have been reluctant to pass on the costs of the additional work to my clients, as I feel that this would almost make me complicit in the government’s scheme. The problem, however, is that this leads to increased stress for my office mates and me.
Asylum Lawyer
Another job of a lawyer is to explain how the system works. If you file a claim for asylum, for example, there should be a predictable series of events that follows. Now-a-days, there is much less predictability in the system. This is in large part due to these same bureaucratic barriers. It is also due to the general dysfunctionality of the system. The end result, though, is that we lawyers have less power to influence outcomes than we should, and this also increases stress levels.
A final issue discussed in Professor Graffin’s paper is the effect of the over-all hostile environment towards asylum seekers. A number of the participants discussed how “negativity towards asylum claimants within some sections of society had an impact on them.” In an ideal world, human rights would be non-partisan. But of course, our world is far from ideal. The rhetoric in the United States and Great Britain is frequently cruel, and quite often untrue. While I can understand why such an environment can be demoralizing for asylum practitioners, I do not think it affects me that way. If anything, it has energized me to work harder for my clients. It is also one of the reasons we held the Refugee Ball back in 2017.
Finally, I of course agree with Professor Graffin’s recommendation that we provide more support for asylum practitioners, “including training and education in secondary trauma and burnout, as well as the potential for structural re-design to support individuals who hear traumatic narratives on a regular basis.” But the unfortunate fact is that most practitioners—including me—do not have time for additional training, and our current government is not about to take action to make our lives any easier. For now, we just have to keep on keepin’ on.
A few last points that were not directly mentioned in the paper: For me, an important coping mechanism is to have a sense of humor (maybe gallows humor) about the whole system. It is not always easy, but it gets me through the day. It is also nice to know that we asylum lawyers are not alone, and that all of us in the system are struggling with similar issues. So send your good vibes, and we will keep moving forward together.
It’s not easy to be an asylum seeker these days. Between the government’s efforts–often disingenuous–to undermine asylum claims, the long delays, and the unnecessary bureaucratic obstacles, the process has become more stressful and more unfair than at any time in recent memory.
Some people just weren’t meant to be cheerleaders.
It’s also become more difficult for attorneys who represent asylum seekers. Given the government’s unpredictability, we can’t easily advise our clients or evaluate their cases. It’s also harder to help them understand the process and to predict how long they will wait for an interview or a decision. In other words, it’s more difficult to serve as a counselor for our clients.
It’s also more difficult to offer our clients encouragement and hope. The long delays and hostile environment have made the asylum process (and the immigration process in general) more stressful. Clients need a sense of hope, and they need to feel someone is on their side. Hence, attorney as cheerleader.
Fulfilling both jobs—counselor and cheerleader—is not easy, and at times, the two roles can be contradictory. So how can we as lawyers provide honest counsel and still offer our clients hope?
First, I have found that even clients in the most dire circumstances appreciate hearing the unvarnished truth about their cases. Especially in the beginning, when it is time to evaluate the case and present the client her options, it is important not to sugarcoat the odds of success or gloss over potential obstacles. I sometimes have a tendency towards pessimism when I evaluate a case, as I don’t want to give the client unrealistic expectations. I also want the client to know what she is up against, so she can make her own decisions about how to proceed.
Also, of course, it is very important for the client to understand the problems in the case. Is there a one-year bar issue? Or other bars to asylum? Are there potential credibility problems? Is there important evidence that will be difficult to obtain? All this we need to know, so that the client and the lawyer together can prepare the strongest possible case.
The client needs to understand the process of seeking asylum, in all its dysfunctional glory. He needs to know how long a case might take, and whether it will likely be referred to court. He also needs to know about the limits of what we lawyers know. The fact is, the system is a mess. Even people working within the system often cannot predict how long a case will take, and lawyers like me certainly don’t know. We have to convey this uncertainty to the client, so he can understand the range of possible events. With the most accurate (albeit limited) information available, the client can make the best possible decisions for himself and his family.
In short, it is very important that the client understand his situation as clearly as possible, so he can prepare his case, make informed decisions, and have some sense of his prospects for success. But once the client understands the case and decides to go forward, he needs support and hope. He needs to feel that success is possible, and that he won’t be stuck forever in limbo. This is where the cheerleading comes in.
The process of seeking asylum is long (despite—or maybe because of—LIFO). It’s also grueling. Many clients want to forget about the bad things that happened to them back home. But for those mired in asylum-land, they cannot put traumatic events behind them. Also, many asylum seekers are separated from their families, which is particularly difficult and stressful for those with young children. There’s also the overall uncertainty of not knowing whether you can stay in the U.S. or you will have to leave. Should you buy a house? Build a life? What if your case is denied and you lose it all? Any human being living through such uncertainty will feel stress, but it’s even worse for asylum seekers, many of whom have suffered trauma, and whose family members may still be in danger. People in this situation need hope.
There is a school of thought—which was already outdated when I was in law school—that the client’s emotional needs are not the attorney’s problem. If the client needs a shoulder to cry on, he should find a friend. Or a therapist. It doesn’t help that we lawyers don’t receive much training in counseling, and that we’re usually super busy and don’t have time to sit and listen to the client’s troubles. There’s also the issue of attorney burn-out. Getting too emotionally involved in a case can lead to more stress and less objectivity, which is not good for the lawyer, or, ultimately, for the client. Despite all this, lawyers can offer clients hope and positivity in order to help them get through the difficult process of asylum.
How to do this? One way is to focus on aspects of the case that are within the client’s control: Obtaining evidence and witnesses, preparing the affidavit, applying for the work permit, trying to expedite or short-list the case. Much of the asylum process cannot be influenced by the client (or the lawyer), and so taking steps that are within the client’s power at least gives her a sense of agency.
We can also encourage clients to live their lives as normally as possible: Get a job, go to school, get married, have children. To the extent possible, it is better to build a life, instead of allowing the uncertainty of an asylum case to rule your day-to-day existence.
Finally, we can try to emphasize the positive aspects of the case. Once the client is going forward with the case and understands the challenges, there is no point in focusing on the negative. If it’s very unlikely that your client can overcome the one-year bar, for example, do everything possible to help the client demonstrate an exception to the bar, but once that is done, offer the client some encouragement: Some Immigration Judges or Asylum Officers will interpret the bar more liberally, maybe the client will get lucky, etc.
These are difficult times for asylum seekers in the U.S. As attorneys, we have to continually push ourselves to be more compassionate and more patient. I know personally how difficult that can be, but if we want to best serve our clients and stand up to the forces against them, that is what we must do.
In the field of immigration law, if you’re a reasonably-priced attorney in private practice, or if you work for a non-profit, you probably do a volume business. You have to, to make a living. And if you hope to get your work done, maintain a social/family life, stay healthy, and keep your sanity, there is one word that you need to keep handy at all times. As you might have surmised from the title of this piece, that word is “No”.
If only saying “no” to clients was as easy as just saying no to drugs
“Can I ask one quick question about my brother-in-law’s visa?”
– No.
“My friend’s lawyer said I can expedite my case if you just call the Asylum Office and ask them. Can you call them today?”
– No.
“I don’t have an appointment, but I stopped by to talk to you about my case. It will only take a few minutes. Can I see you?”
– No.
“You already completed and filed my asylum application, but I’ve decided I want to leave the country and withdraw my case. Can I have a refund?”
– No.
As the asylum backlog has turned into an unpleasant version of the Never Ending Story (without a cute little boy named Bastian to save us), client demands have proliferated. This is not the clients’ fault. It makes sense that they should turn to their attorneys with all their immigration questions (and their family member’s immigration questions) (and their friends’ immigration questions). While it’s certainly understandable, it puts the attorney in a difficult position.
In the good ol’ days, before the backlog, most asylum cases lasted less than six month. Even the slow cases were usually resolved in a year or so. But now, it takes years just to get an interview; never mind the delays post-interview. This means that the number of “active” asylum cases has increased. In my office, for example, I always had one large filing cabinet, where I kept my cases. Now I have three, and I might need to get a fourth soon (if you have one to sell, let me know). I’ve gone from maybe 60 or 70 active asylum cases to over 300.
With more numerous and longer-lasting cases, we lawyers have to spend much more time responding to our clients’ queries. Most of my clients are not particularly high-maintenance people, but even if they call once a month, and it takes me five minutes per call, that’s 1,500 minutes–or 25 hours–per month. That’s time I can’t spend working on other client matters, meeting deadlines or taking my traditional three-martini lunch. Indeed, if I was less protective of my time, I could spend all day addressing client questions, and no work would ever get done.
One way to turn these long-term cases in the lawyer’s favor is to bill the client for the lawyer’s time. That way, every five minute call translates into income. Many attorneys do that, but I suspect few lawyers specializing in asylum bill their clients this way, and it’s not how I do things. I hate keeping track of such little periods of time, and I hate nickel-and-diming the clients. They don’t much like it either.
The alternatives are not much better. Either the lawyer can say “no” to his clients, or he can go crazy trying to answer all their questions.
In my practice, I try to at least say “no” gracefully:
“Can I ask one quick question about my brother-in-law’s visa?”
– I’m sorry, I can’t answer questions that are not related to my clients’ cases. If he wants to come in for a consultation, he is welcome.
“My friend’s lawyer said I can expedite my case if you just call the Asylum Office and ask them. Can you call them today?”
– Actually, it does not work that way. I can email you a document explaining the expedite process.
“I don’t have an appointment, but I stopped by to talk to you about my case. It will only take a few minutes. Can I see you?”
– Sorry, I have a deadline and I cannot meet right now. If you talk to my assistant, she can schedule an appointment for you.
“You already completed and filed my asylum application, but I’ve decided I want to leave the country and withdraw my case. Can I have a refund?”
– Hell no! Get outta here before I call ICE and have you deported!
OK, that last one is not exactly how I would respond (and the subject of refunds is probably worth its own blog post one of these days), but you get the idea. You can say “no” and be protective of your time, at least to a large extent, while still helping your clients (though maybe on your time; not theirs).
And obviously there are real emergencies when the client does need advice immediately, but I find that these situations are rare. Indeed, many client “emergencies” are not urgent at all–the client just wants to know the answer to a run-of-the-mill question, and she wants to know it now. I usually ask the client to email me the basic details of the emergency, so I can decide for myself how urgently I am needed.
As with so many things in legal practice–and in life–the key here is balance. We need to be responsive to our clients, but we also need to protect our own time, so we can get our work done. Learning to say “no” is not always easy, and for me at least, it does not come naturally. But saying “no” in a respectful way is an essential skill for all immigration lawyers.
Among lawyers, there’s a certain skittishness when it comes to discussing fees. Speaking for myself, I don’t much care for the money-side of the business. We’re not trained to deal with client payments in law school, and the guidance we receive afterwards—from the bar association, for example—is related more to complying with lawyer-trust-account rules than to determining how much to charge.
If the lawyer spends more time counting your money than working on your case, you probably paid too much.
In the field of asylum law, attorney fees vary widely. Within my little community, for an affirmative asylum case, I’ve heard about lawyers charging anywhere from $900 to $10,000 (or more). For defensive asylum cases (in court), prices are usually higher. Sometimes these fees are flat fees, meaning you pay a set fee for the entire case. Other times, fees are hourly, meaning you pay for the lawyer’s time–the more time the lawyer spends on your case, the more you pay.
In my office, we charge a flat fee of $3,000 for most affirmative cases, which is fairly competitive with those few attorneys in Washington, DC whose main practice area is asylum. Our fee for defensive cases is usually $4,000 [update 01/10/18 – please note that these fees were from 2016 and no longer apply]. What’s ironic here is that lawyers who do not specialize in asylum—and who consequently have less experience in this area of practice—are actually able to charge more for each case (I remember telling one such lawyer about my fee and she burst out laughing; I took that as a sign that I should raise my rates – maybe one day). In our firm, the bread-and-butter cases are asylum, and so we need to do a lot of such cases. Thus, we have to keep the prices down. If our main practice area was business immigration, for example, we could charge more for each asylum case, since we would not need to do a large number of such cases to make a living.
So how do you know what is a fair fee for an asylum case? And what exactly do you get in exchange for giving money to an attorney?
The first question is difficult to answer. Hiring an attorney is not like buying a new car. Whether you buy the car from one dealership or another, it’s the same car. With a lawyer, you are paying for his work. Some lawyers are brilliant, honest, and hard working; others are poorly trained, lazy, and dishonest. Paying more money for a lawyer does not mean that you are hiring a better advocate. In fact, I find that there is little relationship between the amount of the fee and the quality of the service. Indeed, lawyers who charge higher fees for asylum are sometimes more interested in earning money than in helping their clients.
I suppose the first thing you’d have to know in deciding whether an attorney’s fee is fair is the quality of the service she provides. There are certain things a good attorney should do. For example, a good attorney will listen to your story and try to evaluate the strengths and weakness of your case; she won’t sugarcoat the case in an effort to get your business. A good attorney will make sure you understand the asylum process, the problem of delay, and the possible results in your case. She should also explore any alternatives to asylum that might be available to you. A good attorney will help you put together your case, write your affidavit with you, and advise you about what supporting evidence you should obtain. This point is crucial: The affidavit (or declaration) is the heart of your case, and an asylum applicant may not know what information is legally relevant to include in that document. If the attorney does not spend significant time helping you prepare the affidavit, she is not doing her job. Without a properly prepared affidavit, the odds of success go way down.
Also, a good attorney should prepare you for your interview by discussing possible questions and answers, and by helping you think through answers to problematic portions of your story. A good attorney should be relatively easy to reach; if you call and leave a message, she should call you back (pet peeve alert: If you call and don’t leave a message–like some of my clients–the attorney likely will not call you back, as she won’t know that you’ve called her – so leave a message!). If your lawyer is not providing these services, she is not doing her job, and whether her price is a lot or a little, it is too high.
A final point, and this is key: A good attorney will never encourage you to lie or agree to represent you if you tell him that you want to lie to the U.S. government. Any attorney who does that is untrustworthy and dangerous. If they are willing to lie to the government, you can bet that they will lie to you.
If your attorney is providing all the essential services, if you feel comfortable with the attorney, and if you can afford the fee, whatever it is, you are probably getting a fair deal. Maybe that is a cop-out answer, but as I’ve said, it is quite difficult to place a monetary value on a lawyer’s services.
I truly believe that there is little relationship between price and quality among asylum lawyers. If you find an attorney that you like, but his price is too high, then look for another attorney who is more affordable. Good, reasonably-priced lawyers are out there. But remember too that these cases are a lot of work. Most asylum lawyers who are dedicated to the field don’t expect to get rich, but we do need to make a living. And you do need to pay a fair price for their work. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to earn the big money… or not.
