STORY: 330,000 Lives Hanging in the Balance — The Anxiety of Haitian Families in Ohio

Maxime Marquette

2026-06-24 13:07:20

A decision by Kristi Noem that the courts have described as arbitrary and capricious

On November 28, 2025, Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem announced the end of TPS status for Haiti, with an expiration date set for February 3, 2026. In a notice published in the Federal Register, Noem asserted that there were no longer “extraordinary and temporary conditions” in Haiti preventing the return of its nationals—a claim that stunned legal experts, NGOs, and even Republican lawmakers. Meanwhile, the U.S. State Department maintained a Level 4 travel warning—“Do Not Travel”—for Haiti and Syria, the two countries whose TPS status was targeted.

On February 2, 2026, on the eve of the expiration, U.S. District Judge Ana C. Reyes of the District of Columbia blocked the administration’s decision in an 83-page opinion. She concluded that Noem’s decision was “arbitrary and capricious,” that it violated the Administrative Procedure Act, and—remarkably—that the evidence showed Noem’s decision had been motivated by hostility toward non-white immigrants. The Trump administration immediately appealed.

Emergency Appeal to the Supreme Court: An Exceptional Procedure

On March 11, 2026, U.S. Attorney General John Sauer filed an emergency petition with the Supreme Court to suspend the district court’s injunction. On March 16, the Supreme Court took a rare step: it agreed to hear the case even before the federal appeals court had issued its ruling, a procedure known as certiorari before judgment. Oral arguments took place in April 2026, and a decision is expected by the end of June or early July 2026. The future of 330,000 people hangs on a few votes by judges appointed for life.

Internal documents from the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), recently made public, revealed that “career staff” had advised against terminating Haitian TPS, and that a “political appointee” had overruled their recommendations. These revelations led attorneys for TPS holders to file a motion on June 16, 2026, asking the Supreme Court to dismiss the case for lack of a factual basis—on the grounds that the discovery of this evidence undermines the administration’s arguments.

There is something deeply troubling about the institutional dynamics at play here. A political official who disregards the recommendations of his own experts—experts who believe that Haiti is not in a position to accommodate the forced return of hundreds of thousands of people—and no one within the executive branch sounds the alarm? This is the kind of dysfunction that Trump criticizes in others, and that he himself has institutionalized.

Vilès Dorsainvil: The Man Who Carries the Community on His Shoulders

From Port-au-Prince to Springfield: A Destiny Shaped by Threats

Vilès Dorsainvil arrived in the United States in December 2020. He had fled Haiti after beginning to receive anonymous threats and demands for money. His mother had insisted: “Leave.” He arrived in Fort Lauderdale with just enough money for rent and the burden of supporting a family back home. The only person he knew in the United States was his nephew in Springfield, Ohio. Within 72 hours, he was there. He applied for and was granted TPS. The status protected him from deportation—as long as the Secretary of Homeland Security renewed Haiti’s designation.

Today, Dorsainvil is the executive director of the Haitian Support Center in Springfield, an organization discreetly housed in the back of a church that serves as a bridge between Haitians and legal, financial, and material resources. He is also a master’s student at Wright State University. And since the Trump administration decided to terminate Haitian TPS, he has become one of the lead plaintiffs in the case before the Supreme Court. His younger brother, Vilbrun—a doctor who became a nurse at Springfield Regional Hospital—is the lead plaintiff in the case Trump v. Miot before the Supreme Court.

The Voice of the One Who Refuses to Be the Last to Leave

Dorsainvil stated during a press conference on the steps of the Supreme Court following the April oral arguments: “The issue before the court is not just a legal one—it is a moral question about who we are as a nation and how we treat the people who have contributed to our communities.” ” These words, spoken by a man who risks his own deportation by speaking out, are not mere rhetoric—they are the words of someone who has decided that his commitment is worth what he himself calls the “ultimate sacrifice.”

In his Springfield office, Dorsainvil shares a windowless room with a colleague. Dozens of yellow sticky notes are plastered on the walls, along with a Haitian proverb: “Piti piti zwazo fè nich li”—little by little, the bird builds its nest. It is both a motto and a testament. When asked why he puts himself on the line like this—even though he is not yet a U.S. citizen—he replies, “I consider myself nothing when I know—when I experience firsthand—how people are going to suffer.”

Dorsainvil embodies a kind of civic courage that I find rare, and which moves me deeply. He is not a citizen. He doesn’t have to fight for others. And yet, he has enlisted his own brother in this legal battle, at the risk of both their futures. In a country where so many who have the power to speak remain silent, this man speaks out—and it costs him something real.

Expired driver's licenses: a Kafkaesque absurdity

In Ohio, TPS holders have been barred from driving since March 2026

Here’s a detail that says it all about the bureaucratic trap Haitians in Ohio find themselves in: the driver’s licenses of Haitian TPS holders in Ohio expired in mid-March 2026, and they were unable to renew them. Not because they committed any offense. Not because they suddenly became undesirable. Simply because the state of Ohio, like most states, requires proof of legal status to renew a driver’s license—and that status has been in legal limbo for months, with no clear resolution in sight.

In practical terms, this means that workers who get up at 5 a.m. to report to their shifts at a food-packaging plant, or mothers who drive their children to school, find themselves breaking the law while behind the wheel of their own cars—not through any fault of their own, but because the Trump administration sparked a legal battle whose collateral victims are the most vulnerable. Prior to June 5, 2026—the date on which a federal judge in Rhode Island ruled against the administration—the federal government had also suspended the issuance of new work permits for Haitians and nationals of 38 other countries.

The Vulnerability Created by Legal Uncertainty

Emily Brown, of the Ohio State Immigration Clinic, described the result of this legal vacuum: women and men who have become vulnerable to human trafficking after losing their work authorizations. People who, unable to work legally, are exposed to unscrupulous employers, predatory landlords, and scams of all kinds. “Good lawyers are financially out of reach for many people,” says Brown. “This forces them to choose between paying for their legal case and meeting their basic needs.”

Haitian families in Springfield and Columbus have begun drafting powers of attorney and resolving child custody issues in anticipation of an unfavorable Supreme Court ruling. These are preparations made by people who are bracing for the worst while hoping for the best. They are acts of administrative survival.

A driver’s license that expired because a political judge ignored his own experts—this bureaucratic absurdity sums up the systemic violence of this immigration policy. This isn’t incompetence. It’s calculated. Making life difficult enough that people will leave on their own. What the administration calls “self-deportation,” Haitian families in Ohio call their destruction.

Springfield's Economy: $400 Million at Stake

A City That Has Found New Life Thanks to the Haitians

Before the large-scale arrival of Haitians in the region, Springfield was stagnating. With the influx of some 12,000 to 15,000 Haitians who came to settle in this city of 60,000 residents, the momentum has shifted. The city’s tax revenue has increased, its unemployment rate has decreased, and nearly a dozen Haitian-owned businesses have opened. Between 2021 and 2022, the city generated $9.2 million in income taxes. Haitians in Clark County have expanded the county’s workforce by more than 10,000 workers.

But the uncertainty created by the Trump administration’s policies has already taken its toll. Between 2023 and 2025, the city’s tax revenue plummeted to just $3 million. The city’s chief financial officer stated in June 2025 that the economy was at a “critical crossroads.” Katie Eviston, Springfield’s finance director, told the city commission: “Our general fund is under severe strain.” And this is not a projection—it is an assessment by a Republican city official facing the reality of what Trump’s immigration policy has already begun to produce.

An economic shock estimated at $400 million

If Haitians in Springfield were to be deported, the impact would be brutal. According to available estimates, this would eliminate approximately $300 million in annual spending in Clark County, with a projected total economic impact exceeding $400 million. This is not an abstract figure: it means the closure of businesses, restaurants, daycare centers, and medical services. It means American families—families who work, shop, and pay rent—disappearing from the economic fabric of an entire region.

Clark County has also lost $4.25 million in federal funding since Trump took office, including $2.7 million from a critical grant from the Department of Health and Human Services. The county health department has had to lay off essential staff, including disease investigators and medical translators, and has had to abandon its plans for a new health facility and a mobile clinic.

There is a cruel irony in this economic picture. The very same political forces that claim to champion economic pragmatism, the defense of workers, and “America First” are deliberately sabotaging the economy of an American city by uprooting the very people who keep it running. This is not economic policy. It is identity politics disguised as pragmatism.

Rumors of ICE Raids: A City Holding Its Breath

The Daily Fear of Arbitrary Arrest

Emily Brown was blunt about the concrete consequences of an unfavorable Supreme Court ruling: “If DACA ends, everyone expects ICE to carry out large-scale raids in Columbus, Springfield, and other parts of the country where there are large concentrations of Haitians. We could really see this kind of indiscriminate law enforcement. People are really, really scared, and they know it could happen at any moment.” That sentence says it all. This isn’t paranoia. It’s a rational assessment based on what the administration has already done in other places.

Pastor Carl Ruby of the Central Christian Church in Springfield responded to the new evidence of the premeditated nature of Noem’s decision: “This new evidence raises deep concerns about the integrity of the process that has put our Haitian neighbors at risk.” ” Ruby, who organizes the sheltering of families in church sanctuaries and discourages Haitians from attending immigration summonses alone, anticipates a humanitarian crisis rather than large-scale police operations: “We believe a more likely scenario is that we’re going to have a humanitarian crisis with people out of work, unable to pay their rent or buy food.”

The Strategy of Self-Deportation

Dorsainvil articulated with chilling precision the logic he attributes to the Trump administration: “There could be a possibility that the Trump administration will develop new policies to continue making immigrants’ lives miserable, so that they leave or self-deport.” ” This strategy is not mere speculation. It has been articulated by members of the administration itself. Making living conditions difficult enough that people give up on their own—losing their jobs, their permits, their housing—and leave the country without the need to organize massive, high-profile raids.

Nonprofit organizations in Springfield are preparing for the impact: they anticipate an increased demand for rent assistance and food. Churches are establishing themselves as sanctuaries. Families are appointing legal guardians for their American-born children in case the parents are deported. These are preparations for a “soft civil war”—a war waged through regulations, deadlines, and the revocation of legal status.

Self-deportation as a political strategy—it’s an admission that even those who want to rid the country of its “undesirable” immigrants know that visible mass deportation would be a public relations disaster. So they make life impossible. Work permits are revoked, driver’s licenses are allowed to expire, and asylum cases are put on hold. This is cold-blooded systemic violence, and it is all the more perverse because it hides behind administrative procedures.

Haiti: “There is no safe place”

A country in a state of decline that no one can call “stable”

Kristi Noem’s claim that there are no longer “extraordinary and temporary conditions” in Haiti is contradicted by all available facts. The very week that lawyers filed their motion with the Supreme Court, a senior security official and chief of staff to the Haitian defense minister was kidnapped. Haiti is torn apart by gang violence and chronic political instability. More than 1.4 million people have been internally displaced. The U.S. Secretary of State herself maintains a Level 4 travel warning—“Do Not Travel”—for Haiti.

Dorsainvil put it this way from the steps of the Supreme Court: “Persistent instability, a humanitarian crisis, and security concerns continue to make a return dangerous—and in many cases, untenable.” ” Brown confirms: “If TPS ends, I don’t think most of them would simply want to get back on a plane and return to Haiti, because the violence there is so severe at this point that they believe anything would be better than going back.”

An organization founded by Albert Einstein sounds the alarm

An organization of which Albert Einstein was a founding member has published an assessment stating that if Haitians with protected status were forced to return to their country, they would face “one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises.” This isn’t activist propaganda—it’s an assessment based on measurable indicators: access to food, clean water, physical safety, and medical care.

From Dorsainvil’s perspective: “There is no safe place in Haiti.” And when asked what people could do if the Supreme Court rules against them, he responds with a question that encapsulates the full horror of the situation: “I call it ‘to leave or not to leave,’ because where are you going to go?”

Noem said there were no longer extraordinary conditions in Haiti. His own government’s State Department says the opposite. I don’t know how these two positions can be reconciled, except by admitting that one of them is a deliberate state lie. And that lie, if upheld by the Supreme Court, will send people—real people, with families, jobs, and rent to pay—to a country that even official America deems too dangerous to visit on vacation.

The Court Ruling and Its Constitutional Implications

Can a decision by the Secretary of Homeland Security be subject to judicial review?

At the heart of the legal battle lies a fundamental question of constitutional law: Do the courts have the power to review executive branch decisions regarding TPS? The Trump administration argues that they do not—that the decision to terminate or renew TPS is an exclusive prerogative of the executive branch, not subject to judicial review. During oral arguments in April, Solicitor General John Sauer argued that the courts lacked the authority to evaluate the executive branch’s determinations. But when Justice Amy Coney Barrett pressed him with questions, Sauer had to acknowledge that the courts could examine allegations of racial discrimination—which is precisely what the Haitian plaintiffs are alleging.

The Haitians involved in the case argue that the Trump administration revoked Haitian TPS based on racial factors. Judge Reyes had already concluded that the evidence strongly indicated that Noem’s decision was motivated by hostility toward non-white immigrants. New internal DHS documents, revealing that a political appointee ignored recommendations from career staff who advised against termination, substantially reinforce this argument.

Five Former Ohio Attorneys General Take Action

On April 24, 2026, in a remarkable bipartisan gesture, five former Ohio attorneys general—including three Republicans and two Democrats—filed a brief asking the Supreme Court to preserve Haitian TPS. They argued that Secretary Noem had failed to follow the statutory procedures required by the 1990 law establishing TPS, which mandates that the government conduct a mandatory review of conditions in the country of origin before forcing anyone to leave.

In the House of Representatives, a bipartisan coalition passed legislation in April 2026 extending Haitian TPS through 2029. The bill is now before the Senate. But the White House has made it clear that Donald Trump would veto this bill. This hypothetical veto reveals that the crackdown on Haitians is not a pragmatic immigration policy measure: it is a deliberate political choice, maintained against the advice of members of the president’s own party.

When Republican attorneys general ask the Supreme Court not to deport Haitians, and the White House threatens to veto a bipartisan bill that would protect them, it becomes clear that we are no longer in the realm of rational immigration policy. We are in the realm of punitive identity politics. And this is precisely where American institutions must play their role—or admit to their own decline.

The Haitian Community Faces a Governor Born in Springfield

Mike DeWine, a Springfield native, walks a fine line between caution and support

There is a geographical irony in this story: Ohio Governor Mike DeWine was born in Springfield. The city whose Haitian community is at the center of this national political upheaval is the state governor’s hometown. DeWine has spoken repeatedly about the economic contribution of Haitians to Springfield, and he recently stated: “I’ve been pretty clear regarding policy on what I think is best for Ohio and best for Springfield, and for these people who are working and helping Springfield’s economy move forward.”

The DeWine family itself had ties to Haiti: the Becky DeWine School in Haiti, named in memory of their late daughter, was forced to close in 2024 due to gang activity. This detail speaks volumes: even in the innermost circles of Ohio’s Republican leadership, the reality of life in Haiti is known, documented, and experienced firsthand. And yet, the governor remains bound by a party line that cannot afford to openly contradict Trump.

The Mayor’s Silence in the Face of the Storm

Even more troubling is the calculated silence of Springfield Mayor Rob Rue. When asked by reporters about the Supreme Court’s impending decision and the city’s preparations, the mayor’s spokesperson replied via email that the mayor “is not providing any statements or interviews on the matter at this time.” This is the silence of an elected official who prefers not to choose between his Haitian constituents and Trumpist political pressures—at the very moment when his Haitian constituents most need to be heard.

Meanwhile, organizations such as G92, the Haitian Support Center, and the Ohio Immigrant Alliance are filling the void left by institutions by providing rent assistance, food banks, transportation, and rights education. Marjory Wentworth, a G92 organizer in Springfield, and Lynn Tramonte, executive director of the Ohio Immigrant Alliance, are among those holding the social fabric together while awaiting a decision that could tear it all apart.

I understand the impossible position a local elected official faces when dealing with Trump. But the silence of Springfield’s mayor in the face of 15,000 residents whose futures hang in the balance strikes me as exactly the kind of institutional failure we will come to regret. History remembers the names of those who spoke up when it was difficult—not those who chose to remain silent.

Trump, Cat Rhetoric, and the Reality of Factories

Presidential Lies with Very Real Consequences

You can’t tell this story without mentioning what happened in 2024, during the election campaign. Donald Trump claimed that Haitians in Springfield were eating residents’ pets. JD Vance added fuel to the fire by claiming that Haitian migrants had “kidnapped pets and wildlife.” These claims were false. Local authorities, Springfield’s Republican elected officials, the mayor, and the police chief all publicly and immediately denied them. But the damage was done.

The presidential rhetoric sparked a wave of death threats and vandalism against Haitians in Springfield. Neo-Nazi groups like the Blood Tribe came to town, to the point that the city of Springfield is now taking legal action against them. Bomb threats forced the closure of schools and government offices. Human rights advocates were harassed. This is the tangible human cost of deliberate presidential disinformation.

Hermanio Joseph: The Case That Fueled Hatred

In this context, it is impossible not to mention the case of Hermanio Joseph, a Haitian TPS holder who crashed into a school bus near Springfield in August 2023, killing an 11-year-old boy. Joseph did not have a valid U.S. driver’s license because, according to his own testimony, he had not yet gathered the necessary documents. In May 2024, a jury found him guilty of involuntary manslaughter and vehicular homicide, and he was sentenced to 9 to 13 years in prison. This tragedy fueled fears and hatred among a segment of the local population—which in no way justifies the president’s disinformation, but does illustrate the human complexity of this issue.

The real question raised by the Joseph case is that of integration. It is not: “Are Haitians dangerous?”—they are no more dangerous than any other population. It is: “How does the United States support the integration of newcomers into their communities?” ” And the Trump administration’s response—stripping them of their rights, stalling their cases, threatening their families—is the exact opposite of an integration policy.

The death of an 11-year-old child is an absolute tragedy. And Hermanio Joseph was tried and convicted—the justice system worked. But using this tragedy to justify the deportation of 330,000 people who had nothing to do with this accident is a political manipulation of the families’ grief. Let me be clear: exploiting a child’s death to scare the electorate is morally despicable.

The evidence that could sway the Supreme Court

Internal documents reveal a predetermined decision

On June 16, 2026, attorneys for Haitian TPS holders filed a motion in extraordinary circumstances asking the Supreme Court to dismiss the case based on new evidence. This evidence comes from recently disclosed internal DHS documents. According to the motion, these documents “provide additional evidence that the decision to terminate Haiti’s TPS status was predetermined.” DHS “career staff” had advised against terminating TPS—and a “political appointee” had ignored them, deviating from established procedures.

The motion argues that the Supreme Court does not yet have a solid factual basis on which to rule: “Until discovery is complete, the Court does not have a solid factual basis on which to assess the validity of the defendants’ claims,” it states. This news was welcomed by Pastor Carl Ruby: “This new evidence raises deep concerns about the integrity of the process that has put our Haitian neighbors at risk.”

The ideological divide among the justices mirrors that of the country

Following the April 2026 oral arguments, Supreme Court observers noted that the justices appeared deeply divided along ideological lines. Liberal justices suggested that the termination of Haitian TPS was racially motivated, citing in particular remarks made during the 2024 presidential campaign. Conservative justices seemed more inclined to support the executive branch’s argument that the courts cannot review these decisions. The ruling, expected in late June or early July 2026, could also affect nearly one million TPS holders from more than a dozen countries, since the Trump administration revoked TPS for 13 countries in total.

The case Trump v. Miot—and its counterpart, Mullin v. Doe—therefore potentially constitute one of the most far-reaching rulings of the Supreme Court’s current session. Its impact will not be limited to 330,000 Haitians: it will determine whether a Secretary of Homeland Security can, by unilateral decision, strip hundreds of thousands of people who have been living legally in the United States for years of their protections overnight.

A Supreme Court divided along ideological lines on an issue as fundamental as judicial review of executive decisions—this is an exact reflection of the state of American democracy today. Trump is not the cause of the problem; he is its revealer. American institutions were built to withstand this kind of pressure. But their resilience is not automatic: it depends on the willingness of a few individuals to stand their ground.

Dorsainvil Faces Three Possible Scenarios

What Each Ruling Would Mean for Springfield

Vilès Dorsainvil outlined with rare clarity the three possible scenarios following the Supreme Court’s decision. First scenario: The Court rules in favor of TPS holders. But even in that case, he says, “there could be a possibility that the Trump administration will develop new policies to continue making life miserable for immigrants, so that they leave or self-deport.” A legal victory does not guarantee peace.

Second scenario: The Court gives the administration a certain number of months to end TPS. “During that period, there will be disruptions in the community, and people will still be in limbo,” says Dorsainvil. Third scenario: The Court rules against TPS holders. In that case, “there will be a kind of humanitarian crisis in the community. Schools will be disrupted, manufacturers will be disrupted, and Springfield’s entire economy will be impacted.”

A Man Who Refuses to Flee—and Why

Dorsainvil, who risks his own deportation by doing this work, has been asked repeatedly about his motivations. His response: “No matter what happens, I’ll be the last person to leave because so many people in the community are counting on me on both sides—the Haitian community and the American community. ” It is a declaration of absolute commitment. And it is also, objectively speaking, a considerable risk for a man who does not yet have U.S. citizenship.

The Haitian proverb displayed on the walls of his office—“Piti piti zwazo fè nich li”—takes on special significance in this context. Little by little, the bird builds its nest. But what happens when the nest is destroyed? What happens when the rules change in the middle of the game, when the legal tools a nation has offered are revoked with the stroke of an administrative pen? That is the question 330,000 people are asking America right now.

I often return to this quote from Dorsainvil: “I consider myself nothing when I know how people are going to suffer. ” There is a kind of self-effacement there that strikes me as the hallmark of true activists—those who do not seek the glory of the struggle but who simply refuse to remain silent in the face of injustice. I do not possess that same degree of courage. But I can at least ensure that their voice is heard.

What This Crisis Says About America—and the West

A democracy is measured by how it treats its most vulnerable

It’s easy, from Paris or Brussels, to view U.S. immigration policy as a distant spectacle. But what’s happening in Ohio—in Springfield, Columbus, and Dayton—is a matter of principle that concerns the entire West. TPS is a legal mechanism that embodies a value: the idea that democratic nations do not deliberately send people back to war zones or areas of humanitarian crisis. That the rule of law is not a revolving door where rules can be retroactively changed by political decision.

The West is the center of the world—not because it is perfect, but because it has built institutions designed to protect the most vulnerable from abuses of power. These institutions—independent courts, judicial oversight of the executive branch, individual rights enforceable against the state—are precisely what Trump has attacked, not only on the issue of Haiti, but on a much broader front. To defend them is to defend the very idea of what the West stands for.

Trump: A Necessary Evil That Destroys Safeguards

I have said this elsewhere and I repeat it here: Trump is a necessary evil for the West insofar as he has forced democracies to face their own vulnerabilities head-on. But he remains a scourge. His immigration policy against Haitians is not firmness—it is institutionalized cruelty. Deliberately targeting a legal community—made up of people who work, pay taxes, and obey the law—on the basis of national and racial identity is not an immigration policy: it is a policy of persecution.

The Haitians of Springfield do not pose a threat to America. They represent a promise—that of people determined to rebuild their lives in the face of adversity, to contribute to a community, to send their children to school, and to hold down jobs that no one else wants. The Supreme Court now has the responsibility to decide whether this promise deserves to be protected or destroyed.

I’m not naive about the real tensions that immigration creates—the strain on public services, cultural tensions, the challenges of integration. These are realities. But in Springfield, Ohio, what I see in the documented evidence is a community that has risen to these challenges, that has contributed, that has built. And now they want to tear it down for reasons that have nothing to do with these real challenges—and everything to do with the electoral politics of Trump and Vance. This is an injustice that I refuse to normalize.

Conclusion: A decision that will define the character of a nation

The Final Countdown

By the end of June 2026, or early July at the latest, the U.S. Supreme Court will issue its ruling in the cases of Trump v. Miot and Mullin v. Doe. This ruling will determine whether 330,000 Haitians living legally in the United States will retain their protection from deportation, their right to work, and their right to drive—or whether they will lose all of that overnight, in a country they have helped build. For the 30,000 Haitians in central Ohio and the 12,000 to 15,000 in Springfield, this decision is not an abstract concept. It is the roof over their heads, the food on their children’s plates, and the jobs that support the families they left behind in Port-au-Prince.

Emily Brown summed up the sentiment of her professional community and her clients: “People were so afraid as February 3 approached, and I think it’s exactly the same now—but even worse—because the Supreme Court… you can’t necessarily count on it to do what’s right. ” This isn’t defeatism. It’s the clear-eyed perspective of someone who has seen how institutions function under political pressure.

What History Will Remember

History will remember the names. It will remember the name of Vilès Dorsainvil, a man from a broken country who chose to fight in the courts of the very country that wanted to deport him. It will remember the name of Emily Brown, a lawyer who chose to represent, pro bono, those whom the system seeks to crush. It will remember the names of the elected officials who voted to extend TPS despite the White House’s orders, and the names of those who chose to remain silent.

The question before the Supreme Court is not merely a legal one. Dorsainvil said as much from the marble steps: “It is a moral question about who we are as a nation and how we treat the people who have contributed to our communities.” 330,000 lives hanging in the balance await the answer.

Signed, Maxime Marquette, columnist