“This isn’t about me,” I say, fire rising in my chest. I do my best to keep it under control, but I’m having a hard time. My voice comes out a little louder than it did before. “Or not only about me, I should say. It’s about my sister, Sophie. She’s seven years old—she’s so young, and so… terrified of what’s happening. She cries herself to sleep almost every night, and it hasn’t even been two months since our parents left home. How could she spend the rest of her life without them?”

I pause, not because I don’t have anything left to say, but because the fire inside of me is burning so hot that I can barely breathe.

I look around the courtroom, trying to find a spot to fix my gaze on. I’m trying to calm myself down so I can keep speaking, and that’s when I find Pa’s eyes staring right at me.

It’s as if the courtroom is completely empty except for the two of us. I stare at him, and he stares back, and we say a thousand things to each other without saying anything at all. He thanks me for being here, for fighting for him, for being strong even though this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I say to him that I’m sorry he has to be here, that I’m trying my best for him, that I desperately hope this will be enough to save him.

“Your sister may not have chosen to be put in this situation,” Mr. Gordon says slowly. “But your father did. He chose to come to this country illegally.”

“I don’t like that word, Mr. Gordon,” I say, and the whole room goes quiet—quieter than quiet. It’s as if everyone has stopped breathing. No one moves, no one blinks, no one says anything. Everyone is just staring at me, and suddenly I feel the need to speak up, to explain exactly what I mean, so that the judge won’t think I’m being rude for no reason.

“When you talk about illegal immigrants, you see faceless people in your mind,” I say, staring right at Mr. Gordon. “You see people with no hearts, with no voices. You see them as an evil force, which is just here to take something from you. But when I hear people talk about immigrants, I see my mom and dad. I see my neighbors and my parents’ friends. I see people with stories, with difficult pasts and fears so big that they keep them up at night. I see people with dreams and hopes for a better life.