LOS ANGELES BACKLOG: 44,596

seeks deportation in nearly every immigration case, said Clarel Cyriaque, a defense attorney who represents Haitians in South Florida. Dozens of his clients were under consideration for prosecutorial discretion based on their years in the U.S., steady employment and clean records.

“That’s off the table now,” he said. “As soon as Trump took office, everything stopped. They got new marching orders. Their prime directive now is enforcement, as opposed to exercising discretion.”

Homeland Security says its attorneys can still practice discretion on a case-by-case basis. But a statement released after Trump signed his executive order on immigration in January says: “With extremely limited exceptions, DHS will not exempt classes or categories of removal aliens from potential enforcement.”

In another courtroom, Judge Rico Sogocio rescheduled until September the hearing of a young Haitian man to give him time to find an attorney. Through a Creole translator, the man asked what happens if he gets picked up by enforcement agents.

Sogocio pointed to a sheet in the man’s stack of documents that proves he has been attending his court hearings: “I suggest, sir, if you want to be as safe as possible, you carry that with you.” On the eighth floor of a skyscraper in Los Angeles, Judge Lorraine Muñoz hears cases so efficiently that lawyers nicknamed her list of cases the “rocket docket.”

Immigrants wearing orange jumpsuits of federal custody answer questions about how and why they entered the country. Lawyers for Immigration and Customs Enforcement challenge their explanations.

One case involved a Chinese man who allegedly flew to Tijuana, Mexico, on a tourist visa, climbed over the border fence and turned himself in to U.S. Border Patrol agents. He was seeking asylum in the U.S., claiming he was persecuted for being a Christian in his rural farming village.

The ICE lawyer asked him to repeat his story multiple times, pointing out changes. At one point, the man said, police officers hit him in the head after arresting him.

“Last time you told us you were only hit in the stomach and chest,” the lawyer said. “So at the last hearing you forgot where you were struck?” His lawyer, who was filling in for another attorney, did not object to the questioning.

Ultimately, the judge denied the man’s asylum request, but he had a chance to file an appeal.

Translators were a problem. In one case, confusion erupted over whether people had changed their stories or misheard the translation.

Yanci Montes, a lawyer with El Rescate, a non-profit that offers free legal services, said that since the new rules were announced, prosecutors are more likely to pursue charges and deportations, and judges set higher bonds.

“Before Trump became president, things were a lot smoother,” she said.

Meanwhile, the cases mount. The backlog at immigration courts has spiked over the past decade as resources poured into immigration enforcement, said Judge Dana Leigh Marks, president of the National Association of Immigration Judges.

Funding for immigration courts increased 70% from fiscal years 2002 to 2013, from $175 million to $304 million, and budgets for ICE and Customs and Border Patrol rose 300% — from $4.5 billion to $18 billion — in the same period, according to the Migration Policy Institute.

“There is concern and frustration” among the judges about the latest guidelines, Marks said. “The people in the field are feeling very disconnected from the decisionmakers and are not aware of much, if any, of the specifics of how these broad, aspirational goals will be implemented.”

SAN ANTONIO BACKLOG: 26,115

Courtroom 7 at the San Antonio Immigration Court is on the fourth floor of a nondescript building, with the few wooden benches almost always full. On a recent afternoon, Judge Anibal Martinez heard case after case of juvenile immigrants seeking asylum. They were from Honduras, Ecuador, Guatemala, Mexico.

Martinez smiled at the youngsters and, through an interpreter, thanked them for their patience. Of the 25 juveniles on the docket, just four had legal representation. About half didn’t show up.

“You’ve been excellent in bringing your daughter to court today,” the judge told one woman. “But if she misses the next hearing, I may order her removal in absentia. Whether or not you have an attorney, you must show up.” The mother nodded in agreement.

Brandmiller, the immigration attorney, said many immigrants are too scared to appear in court. “I try to tell them it’s the opposite — if you don’t show, there’s a greater chance you’ll be deported,” she said. “But there’s such a deep fear out there right now.”

A floor below Martinez, Judge Daniel Santander listened as Juliana Navarro, 51, of Chimbote, Peru, described how she had escaped from an abusive husband last year with her two grown children and crossed from Mexico into the U.S.

Speaking by video conference from the T. Don Hutto Residential Center in Taylor, Texas, where she was being held, Navarro detailed how her ex-husband would beat her with an extension cord and sexually assault her during their 25-year marriage. Through sobs, she said she was afraid that if she stayed in Peru, he would find her, and he frequently threatened to kill her and himself if she left him.

She explained how it took six attempts to cross the Rio Grande into the U.S. and how she initially gave border agents a fake name and said she was from Mexico so they wouldn’t return her to Peru.

Santander listened intently, pausing to allow Navarro to sip water and regain her composure.

After 11⁄2 hours of testimony, Santander asked a few questions, followed by questions from the prosecutor representing ICE who wanted to know why Navarro didn’t move into one of her siblings’ homes in Peru or Chile and what role, if any, the Peruvian government played in her ordeal.

Santander thanked Navarro for her testimony and said he would write his decision and have it delivered to her. The process could take 30 to 60 days.

“What do I do now?” Navarro asked.

“You can hang up the phone, drink some water and let the officers take you back to your room,” Santander said. “Just relax. It’s in my hands now.”