Number one, a middle-aged black woman, sneered at her as if she would enjoy putting Zola in her place. “We have our rules,” she said firmly.
Mark and Todd took a step toward the counter. Todd was wearing jeans, sneakers, and an old leather jacket. At that moment, Mark was slightly better dressed in khakis, hiking shoes, and an insulated vest. Todd nodded to Mark, who leaned forward and said in a loud voice, “Look, I’m her attorney, okay? She is an American citizen and she has the right to see her family. We’ve driven two hours for this visit and you will not deny her. Her parents and brother were picked up yesterday and are about to be sent back to Africa. She may never see them again.”
The third one stopped eating. The second one stopped pecking. The first one drew back and managed to say, “I’m afraid you’ll have to see the supervisor.”
“Great!” Mark yelled. “Get him out here!”
The disturbance attracted some attention and two ICE boys came over. One of them, Gibson, said, “Got a problem here?”
“Damned right we got a problem!” Mark growled at him. “My client here just drove from Washington, D.C., to see her family one last time before they are deported back to Senegal. Now we’re told she can’t see them because of paperwork.”
The ICE boys looked at the three clerks. The first one said, “You know the rules. No visitors until they have been processed.”
Gibson looked back at Mark and said, “Well, there you have it. Rules are rules.”
“Can I see the supervisor?” Mark demanded.
“You can stop yelling, that’s what you can do.” He took a step closer, eager for a physical confrontation. Two more agents ventured over to back up their buddies.
“Just let me talk to the supervisor,” Mark said.
“I don’t like your attitude,” Gibson said.
“And I don’t like yours. Why is attitude important here? What’s wrong with allowing my client to see her family? Hell, they’re being deported. She may never see them again.”
“If they’re being deported it’s because a judge said so. You don’t like it, go see the judge.”
“Well, now that you’ve mentioned a judge, you’re playing my game. I’m gonna sue you first thing in the morning in federal court. What’s the first name, Gibson?” Mark took a step closer and eyed his nameplate. “M. Gibson. May I ask what the M stands for?”
“Morris.”
“Okay, Morris Gibson. Write it down, Todd.” Todd pulled out a pen and grabbed a sheet of paper off the counter. Mark looked at the next ICE agent and said, “And what’s your name?”
“Why do you want to know?” he replied with a smirk.
“For the lawsuit, sir, I can’t sue you if I don’t know your name.”
“Jerry Dunlap.”
Mark whirled and zeroed in on the three clerks, all of whom looked petrified. “What’s your name?” he growled at the first one.
She glanced down at the nameplate pinned above her left pocket, as if to verify things, and said, “Phyllis Brown.” Todd scribbled away.
“And you?” Mark said to the second one.
“Debbie Ackenburg.”
Todd asked, “Would you spell it, please?”
She did. Mark looked at the third and said, “And you?”
With great trepidation, she softly said, “Carol Mott.”
Mark turned again and noticed four other ICE agents watching the dispute. “Any of you guys want some of the action? It’s a lawsuit in federal court, filed first thing in the morning. You’ll be forced to hire lawyers, at least one each, and I’ll make it drag on for the next two years. Anybody?” The four stepped back in unison.
A man in a suit rounded the corner and asked angrily, “What the hell is going on here?”
Mark took a step toward him and said loudly, “I’m collecting names for a federal lawsuit. Are you the supervisor?”
“I am,” he said proudly.
“Great, and what’s your name?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Mark Frazier, with the Washington law firm of Ness Skelton. I’m the attorney for Zola Maal, this lady right here. We’ve driven from D.C. so she can see her family. She’s an American citizen and she has the right to see her family before they are deported. Your name please.”
“George McIlwaine.”
“Thank you. And you’re the head guy around this place?”
“I am.”
Todd was still scribbling names. Mark yanked out his cell phone, tapped it, called no one. Glaring at McIlwaine, he said to his phone, “Hello, Kelly, it’s Mark. Get me Kinsey in litigation, right now. Tell him it’s an emergency.” Pause. “I don’t care if he’s in a meeting. Get him now!” A longer pause as Mark stepped closer to a third ICE agent who was standing a bit too close. Over his shoulder he barked at Todd, “Add T. Watson to the list. What does the T stand for?”
Watson glanced around and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Come on, Mr. Watson, you don’t know your first name?”
“Travis.”
“Attaboy. Add Travis Watson to the lawsuit.”
Todd scribbled away. Zola took a step back, a little distance between her and this wild man. Back on the phone, Mark said, “Yeah, Kinsey, look, I’m at the Bardtown Detention Facility and they are denying our client the right to see her family. I want you to prepare a quick lawsuit and file it as soon as possible. I’ll text over the names of the defendants.” A pause as he listened to no one. “That’s right. Start with Homeland Security and ICE, then add the names of, hang on.” He pointed at the three ladies, the three ICE agents, and McIlwaine. “Seven of them, individually.” Mark looked at the other agents and said, “Any of you guys want a piece of this?” They backed away even farther. “Guess not. Do it quick, Kinsey.” Another pause. Gibson and Watson shot fearful glances at McIlwaine. The three ladies were wide-eyed and afraid to move. Back to the phone, Mark said, “Great! File it this afternoon online. Eastern District of Pennsylvania, federal court. See if you can get Judge Baxter. He’ll throw the book at them. Call me in ten minutes.”
Mark tapped his phone and put it in his pocket. He glared at McIlwaine and said, “I’m suing all of you individually for monetary damages and when I get them I’ll enroll the judgment, then I can garnish your paychecks and put liens on your homes.” He turned around and barked at Todd, “Give me those names.” Zola and Todd followed him to a row of chairs against a wall. They sat down and Mark pulled out his phone again. Holding Todd’s list, he appeared to be texting the seven names.
McIlwaine finally moved. He took a deep breath and stepped toward them. With a fake smile he said, “Look, we might be able to work out something here.”
—
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Agent Gibson led them to a small room at the back of the administration building and told them to wait. When they were alone, Todd said, “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“It worked,” Mark said with a smug grin.
Zola managed to laugh and say, “I wouldn’t want you to sue me.”
“Who needs a law license?” Mark asked.
“Well, practicing without one can get you in trouble,” Todd said.