Gabriela worked pro-bono for the Catholic Charities helping refugee children stay in the United States. During 2017, she spent many mornings in the Earl Campbell Federal Building.
Gabriela’s career changing opportunity all started on a cold, rainy spring morning when Gabriela stuffed her umbrella in her briefcase, ran her fingers through her soaked, curly black, hair, and walked slowly through security. Afer picking up her briefcase, Gabriela ran her fingers through her hair again and hurried to the waiting elevator. She pushed the button for 10, and waited for the elevator to take her to the 10th floor.
When she exited the elevator and walked down the hall towards the court room, her phone vibrated. She left the phone in her pursed. Ten seconds later it vibrated again. This time she reached into her purse and pulled it out and read a text message from Lucia, her assistant:
“Wainwright & Green want to C u now! Get back here pronto!”
When the Parker & McEvoy managing partner and head of litigation want to see a young lawyer, it is never good news, especially if the young lawyer is Gabriela Sanchez. Years earlier, she saved Green and the firm from a potential law suit. Ever since, both of them acted uncomfortable to be around her.
For a moment, Gabriela looked at her phone and then looked at Teena. Should she ask the Immigration Judge for a continuance? No way. She took her seat next to a nervous and trembling twelve-year-old girl. When Gabriela looked into the girl’s eyes, she typed:
“Say I’m in court. Be back right after.”
Gabriela was passionate about helping those who could not help themselves, but that conflicted with her dream of becoming a famous trial lawyer.
Gabriela knew what it was like to be undocumented and fear being sent back. At least one-third of her high school classmates were undocumented. Many of them tried to get pregnant while in high school to increase their chances of staying in the United States.
In Brownsville, the Independent School District opened A school for teen moms to help them finish high school while raising their young children.
Gabriela looked into the Teena’s eyes. Gabriela worked from the day they met to gain Teena‘s trust. She spoke in Spanish to Teena. “Todo saldrá bien – Everything will turn out all right,” she said while she smiled.
The twelve-year-old frowned and put her head down in her hands. Gabriela lifted Teena’s head. At first, Teena resisted, then she bit her lip, rubbed her brown face and twisted her black hair.
Gabriela had seen that expression more than a dozen times. She had never said anything that comforted the children she was helping. She reached down and gave Teena a hug, and leaned back and looked into the girl’s eyes, and shook her head trying to convey that Teena could count on her.
With her law firm’s blessing, Gabriela was one of the first Dallas lawyers who responded to the call from the Dallas and Fort Worth bishops to help with the humanitarian crisis with 60,000 children who had crossed the Texas border. After Teena witnessed a murder, her mother and father paid to have her taken unaccompanied to the United States.
A young Honduran woman with two children facing the Immigration Court Judge caught Gabriela’s eye. The Honduran woman had no attorney, and clearly no knowledge of courtroom protocol. She had let her energetic son walk all around the courtroom and at one point he started to climb the stairs to greet the Judge. Another toddler girl stood watching from the pews squealing “niño, niño, niño.”
After being escorted from the judge’s bench, the crying boy ran to his mother. Gabriela heard the Judge tell the woman to “take him outside and make him calm down.”
When the hearing picked up again, the Judge asked the Honduran mother why she could not to go back to Honduras. Gabriela wanted to jump up and announce, she was representing the woman and her children, with an emphatic, ‘ ‘She‘s afraid for her children!’ But, sadly she couldn’t represent every refugee family.
As her child again wailed in her arms and she tried bouncing him gently, she told the Judge no to the crucial question. At the end, the Judge ordered her and her children to be deported.
The Dallas Immigration Court was one of the toughest, with over two-thirds of the immigrants deported. It was the first in the nation to start the fast-track hearings for unaccompanied children, and clearly not ranking high on the compassion meter.
The refugee mothers and children who were not represented by a lawyer stood virtually no chance of staying in the United States. While 86% of the unrepresented were deported in the United States, 97% of those not represented by lawyers were deported in Dallas. That was why she was there representing Teena De La Cruz.
“Miss Sanchez, are you ready to address The Court?” the Judge inquired indifferently.
Gabriela rose, took a deep breath and began her well-rehearsed remarks. “I am, Your Honor. Teena De La Cruz and thousands of children like her have been and will continue to be, victims of gang and cartel violence, human trafficking and crime in Honduras, the murder capital of the world. Before she left Honduras, one of the gangs wanted her to be a ‘girlfriend,’ which is code for a sex slave for the gang members. Teena De La Cruz witnessed her 16-year-old sister’s murder when her sister fought back while she was being raped. Teena escaped before she was raped. She has endured great trauma just to get here. She began her journey by bus, rode on top of the train known as La Bestia through Mexico and somehow made it to the Rio Grande Valley in south Texas. Many of the children with her never made it. Some fell off the train. Others were abused in the so-called safe houses. For the last month, Teena has slept on the floor of a detention center. Teena’s great aunt lives in Irving and we want her to be able to stay with her great aunt who is willing and able to care for her.” Gabriela stood pole straight, with a calm face showing now smile, but pleading-eyes searching for some empathy from the Judge.
The Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s lawyer had agreed not to pursue the case, so it should have been an easy hearing. But, in Dallas it all depended on the Judge and this Judge had denied the motion a year ago when Gabriela handled her first immigration case. As a result, Gabriela invited writers from the Dallas Morning News to attend the hearing.
That day the Judge dismissed Teena’s deportation case. Gabriela was elated. She was able to breathe easy again. Defending a young, helpless girl was more stressful but more rewarding, than any other work. If she failed, the girl would be sent back to her country where she would be raped and possibly killed to set an example for other young girls. If she was successful, a girl or boy would have a future in America.
Gabriela smiled, gave Teena a big hug and held her by the arms.
“Puedes quedarte en Los Estados Unidos. You can stay in the United States.”
For the first time since she arrived on U.S. soil, Teena De La Cruz smiled. Gabriela hugged her one last time and then hugged her great aunt.
Before Gabriela left the courtroom she sent a text to Lucia: “Tell Wainwright / Green on my way.”
A couple of news reporters cornered her. She asked to be off the record, as she knew her firm would not approve of her being on the front page of the newspaper on this issue.
“Can you tell us about the need for lawyers representing the children in Immigration Court?”
“If anyone in our country needs the best lawyers that money can buy, it’s these children. Sadly, having a top-notch lawyer is more important than their actual eligibility. These children have come to the United States to escape violence and rape in their own country. They are scared to death when they hear they may have to go back. We can’t let them be deported.”
“Why aren’t they provided top-notch lawyers like you?” the clever reporter asked.
“You are kind to think of me that way. That’s a great question. The rich in this country have the top lawyers. Even the poor have court-appointed lawyers. But these mothers and children who fled their country to avoid being killed, raped or brutalized aren’t entitled to a lawyer.”
She continued walking, but she was blocked.
“Why aren’t the children entitled to a lawyer?”
“Ask Congress or the Immigration Judges. I was shocked to learn that one Immigration Judge in a deposition said that the children, as young as 3 or 4, who can’t even speak English, were competent to represent themselves.”
“What?” the reporter asked with his mouth wide open.
“Yes, he claimed he had taught immigration law to 3-year-olds and 4-year-olds and that even though it took time and patience, they got it.”
“Can you name the Judge?”
Gabriela did not want to cause any more of an uproar. “I’ll let you find his name. Just Google what I told you. He was deposed in a case seeking to require the Federal Government to provide a lawyer to the immigrant children.”
“What does your firm think of your volunteer work helping the children?”
“Since we are off the record, my firm encourages me to volunteer because of the positive publicity coming out of my work. I take great joy in having the opportunity to represent the children, so I am very thankful my firm gives me that opportunity.”
Gabriela’s cell phone vibrated. She looked down and it was a text message from her assistant Lucia:
“Wainwright/Green upset. Get back pronto. Go directly to Green’s office.”
Damn, are they going to fire me?
Gabriela looked at the reporters. “I have to go back to my office. I hope you will highlight the plight of the children. They really could use your support.”
Gabriela sent a text: “What do they want?”
“Don’t know. Upset u r not here. Get back pronto.”
Gabriela touched her chest and felt her heart racing. What had she done? In spite of what she had told the reporters, Gabriela knew the firm didn’t approve of her representing the undocumented children. Maybe she was in trouble for representing Teena.
When she left the Federal Building, she hurried from Commerce Street to the Ryan Office Building on Ross Avenue. She jumped on the first elevator and punched the thirty-fourth floor. Thankfully she was the only one on the elevator. When it arrived at thirty-four, she stepped out, placed her entry card on the pad and opened the door. Less than a minute later she arrived at the secretary station for the northwest corner office.
Chuck Green’s assistant motioned to her. “They’re waiting for you.”
#
Gabriela struggled to catch her breath and her hair was a windblown mess. Should she brush her hair? No, Wainwright and Chuck Green would care less. She knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
She took another deep breath, remembering what it had been like the first time she was on a roller coaster slowly making its way up to the steep top of the hill. She was afraid what might be on the other side of that door. She slowly opened it and surveyed the scene.
Chuck Green was standing talking to Jack Wainwright, the Parker & McEvoy managing partner. They both looked deadly serious. That scared her even more. She saw goose bumps rising on her bare arms.
“Gabriela, come, sit down,” Green said in a serious tone.
“Ok,” but she didn’t move. She smelled his Polo aftershave, his favorite. Gabriela and her friends were convinced Green owned stock in Ralph Lauren.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. You’ve done nothing wrong,” Wainwright said as if to assure her.
When she first joined the firm, she first went to orientation. During her two-day orientation, Wainwright spoke to the group of lawyers, legal assistants, secretaries, and clerks. When he looked at Gabriela, he asked, “Which firm lawyers are you assisting?”
At first she had been confused, but she figured out Wainwright had assumed she was a new secretary since she was the only Hispanic woman lawyer in the firm. Gabriela smiled and simply replied that she didn’t know yet. But, from that first day with the firm, Wainwright had been uncomfortable around her.
“We’re not planning to fire our ‘Rising Star’ today,” Green chuckled, making fun of her firm title.
D Magazine had named Gabriela one of the Top 10 Most Beautiful Women in Dallas in its December 2012 issue. In the heading with her name and photo, D Magazine had pegged her as the ‘Chicano Rising Star’ in Dallas’ rapidly growing legal profession.
Since the issue hit the newsstands, Green and several of the firm’s partners, had taken great delight in making her feel uncomfortable with her title. This was especially ironic, in that Gabriela did not want to be nominated. She wanted the firm to nominate for D Magazine’s: “The Best Women Lawyers in Dallas” but, the firm’s Public Relations team had insisted on the beautiful category.
Like most large law firms, Parker & McEvoy had developed a reputation for chasing away their top minority and women lawyers. That led to the firm hiring her, and moving her to Dallas from the Rio Grande Valley.
Gabriela was one of the few young lawyers at Parker & McEvoy after seven years. That made her a prized “twofer,” meaning she met both the woman and the Hispanic minority criteria. That was more important than her class rank, or federal court clerkship.
Being the most camera-friendly lawyer in the firm, Gabriela was featured on the law firm’s website. She was asked to be on the diversity committee and the recruiting committee. She was sent to law schools throughout the country to interview minority students. She was the face of diversity at a large Texas law firm that had very little diversity.
Even though Chuck Green rarely assigned Gabriela to work on any significant cases, she had more trial experience than any junior partner. She started her career trying cases with her father in Rio Grande Valley, and since joining Parker & McEvoy, she had tried a variety of small cases that no partner in the firm wanted to handle.
“I hear you are doing outstanding work on your cases,” Chuck Green mentioned casually as if he was just trying to avoid the real purpose of the meeting.
Gabriela looked at his face to see if he meant what he had said. She couldn’t tell. “That’s good to hear,” she responded nervously.
Chuck Green was a top-notch trial lawyer. In Texas, he was known as the “Bet the Company” trial lawyer, a title he had been awarded in 2010 by the American Trial Lawyers. He had been on the front page of both Texas Monthly and D Magazine with feature articles about his successful trials. He had a reputation for winning cases no one believed could be won. He charged clients $1200 an hour as a result, and those who needed him were glad to pay it.
But, Chuck Green didn’t look like a famous trial lawyer. He looked more like a rocket scientist who rarely came out of his lab, with his flat top and horned-rim glasses. What he lacked in charisma, he made up for by his unmatched preparation, his ability to read jurors, and a cold heart. Gabriela thought jurors were so intimated by him that they found for his client.
Gabriela respected Chuck Green, but she didn’t like him, and she wasn’t alone. She had saved him from embarrassment during her first year with the firm when he had shown up unannounced and blitzed at a social event for law students at the Hotel Ramon. When his bleary eyes met Gabriela’s, she had told him he needed to go home.
“Chuck, you need to go home,” she whispered softly.
He stumbled and almost fell. “I’m not going home. I am having fun. Gabriela, you look hot. Let’s dance.”
“Chuck, please, let me get you a cab so you can go home.”
“I said no.”
He grabbed her. “Dance with me, Gabriela. You’re a sexy Latina girl.”
Everyone was staring at him, but thankfully, it appeared no one else heard the ‘sexy Latina girl’ remark.
Still trying to pull him away from the others, Gabriela responded, “Chuck, I don’t dance.”
“That’s a lie. You’re Latina. I know you dance,” he said more loudly than before.
Gabriela wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t feel like dancing with a drunk partner in front of 50 or more associates and law students. All of a sudden without thinking she said, “Ok Chuck, you win. Let me show you how to Salsa.”
Gabriela wasn’t sure if Green heard her.
“Chuck, I’m going to count to 8. Follow my steps and pause on number 4 and number 8.”
They were standing close together with his arm around her, as she started instructing him. “Right foot, left foot, right foot pause. Then, left foot, right foot, left foot pause.” After a few times, Chuck was slowly getting the idea and obviously having a good time.
Chuck Green wouldn’t have been light on his feet if he had been completely sober, but being drunk that night meant he could barely stay on his feet. When he fell and looked up to see young lawyers and law students laughing, he let Gabriela help him up. She finally walked with him out to the entrance where she finally put him in a cab.
Over the next week, the firm conducted a sexual harassment investigation of the incident. Each person at the event was interviewed by Connie Schmidt, one of the firm’s labor and employment partners.
Prior to the interviews, Gabriela met privately with each person. She told them it would be bad for everyone if Chuck Green got into trouble. She advised them to say he had been drinking, and that Gabriela volunteered to teach him the Salsa if he would let her put him in a cab after one dance.
Gabriela was the last person Connie Schmidt interviewed. It hadn’t gone well. When Schmidt asked if Green had harassed her or if she felt uncomfortable with Chuck Green’s behavior, Gabriela laughed, which upset Schmidt.
“Sexual harassment is no laughing matter,” Schmidt said. “We need to stop male partners from taking advantage of our young women lawyers.”
Green had acted like a jerk, but she was determined to not be the young woman responsible for a sexual harassment complaint being filed against him. That would have ruined her career before it got started.
“Look, I didn’t laugh about sexual harassment, I laughed because I was trying to avoid a sexual harassment problem. I was the one who asked Chuck Green if he wanted to learn to Salsa, and when he said yes, I taught him. He didn’t harass me or any other young woman who was at the event.”
“Several young associates and law students saw him dirty dancing with you,” clearly baiting Gabriela to agree. Instead, Gabriela held her ground.
“It is more accurate to say I was dancing with him, and there was nothing dirty about it. I was showing him the Salsa. Look, I’m telling you he didn’t harass me, or anyone else. You are making a mountain out of a molehill,” she said hoping to end the interview.
“It is no molehill. Chuck Green could have gotten the firm in major trouble and made us the laughing stock of Dallas lawyers and law students who are working in Dallas. How are we supposed to recruit the best and the brightest young women, when we have partners who just show up drunk at an event for young lawyers and start making inappropriate advances with the young women? You are covering for him.”
“He didn’t make inappropriate advances towards any young woman. End of story.”
Schmidt stood up and stared at Gabriela. “If anything comes of this, it’s on you.”
Was that a threat?
“Then, I should have nothing to worry about, because nothing is going to come of this.”
That was the last conversation she ever had with Connie Schmidt. Thankfully, nothing came of it. While Chuck never mentioned the incident afterward, he took Gabriela under his wing and taught her trial strategy, which she used while trying the small cases she was assigned.
“Gabriela, did you hear me? You look like you were daydreaming.”
“Oh, sorry, I must be in a daze.” Green looked the same way he had looked that night, only he was sober. Something was clearly wrong.
Finally, after what seemed like at least a minute, Green spoke.
“We have a very sensitive case, and our client has specifically requested that you help me defend him. Sit down so we can tell you about it.”
Gabriela was puzzled. What client? How does this client know me? What kind of case? Why does he want me to help Chuck defend him?