Immigration enforcement officials operate under multiple layers of oversight. Yet immigration attorneys can inflict severe harm on individuals, and the public deserves to know how often misconduct is actually punished.
As a deportation officer, I managed cases from start to finish. From initial filing through custody determinations, immigration court proceedings, appeals, travel-document requests, and finally to the point of departure, I stayed with each case.
We evaluated every matter on its merits alone—without regard for race, nationality, religion, or politics. Only what the file contained and what law permitted guided our decisions.
A rule that exists only on paper offers little real protection.
Anyone who approaches such work responsibly knows it is subject to constant scrutiny: by the Department of Homeland Security Office of Inspector General, Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s Office of Professional Responsibility, the Office for Civil Rights and Civil Liberties, detention inspections, congressional oversight, federal litigation, and a press corps that often jumps in before cases are even resolved.
I have never contested this level of oversight. The power to enforce immigration laws demands rigorous examination—something I affirmed under oath.
What puzzles me is why this scrutiny consistently stops at the government’s side of the table.
On the other side sits a disciplinary system that is far from weak in theory. Federal regulations impose consequences for misconduct such as grossly excessive fees, solicitation through runners for financial gain, frivolous filings, false statements, and other violations. A lawyer’s signature on a filing confirms they have read it, made reasonable inquiry, and have factual and legal grounds to submit it.
In essence, the rules already acknowledge this problem.
And the misconduct is not just theoretical.
In Illinois, immigration attorney Robert DeKelaita was convicted by a federal jury of conspiracy to commit asylum fraud, making false statements in asylum applications, and procuring perjury during interviews. Prosecutors stated that applications filed through his firm contained fabricated accounts of rape, murder, torture, kidnapping, and bombing. Some clients gained asylum, lawful permanent residence, and eventually citizenship based on these lies.
In New York, a Queens immigration attorney received five years in federal prison after submitting more than 100 asylum applications with false persecution narratives, criminal histories, and travel histories. Prosecutors charged she invented stories, forged clients’ signatures, and falsely notarized affidavits.
In Georgia, an attorney went to federal prison after filing false documents for employment-based immigration matters, surrendered her law license, and forfeited $100,000 in fees.
These are the high-profile cases. The more common misconduct can be equally devastating for individual families.
Illinois disciplinary records describe an attorney who allowed nonlawyer office managers to practice law within his firm, failed to diligently represent clients, withdrew from others without adequate protection, and did not return tens of thousands of dollars in unearned fees.
While this does not make national headlines, it can devastate a client who has invested savings.
An enforcement officer has two critical concerns:
First, each fabricated claim consumes real resources: adjudicator time, docket slots, government-attorney preparation, and often years of delay. Fraud also poisons the well for genuine applicants whose stories are repeatedly dismissed as fabrications.
Second, I have seen families pay lawyers for cases that were doomed from the start, then get billed again at every court hearing as the years slip away. Immigration law is complex enough without desperate clients being sold false hope.
The issue is not that immigration lawyers are uniquely corrupt—most are not. Nor is it that government officers deserve less oversight. They do not.
If ICE officers are subjected to the same rigorous scrutiny as described, then immigration attorneys whose conduct can determine whether a family loses savings, whether false claims enter the system, or whether genuine applicants face longer waits must also face meaningful consequences.
There’s a straightforward way to measure whether this accountability exists:
How many practitioner complaints does the Executive Office for Immigration Review receive annually?
How many are substantiated?
How many result in discipline, suspension, or disbarment before immigration court proceedings?
These are not classified questions—they are fundamental oversight metrics.
If the numbers indicate a functional disciplinary system, publish them and let the public see. If there’s a significant gap between complaints and outcomes, Congress should investigate why.
A rule that exists only on paper is not much of a safeguard.
Immigration enforcement deserves scrutiny because government power can ruin lives when misused. Immigration representation also demands scrutiny for the same reason.
Scott Mechkowski is a visiting fellow at the Oversight Project and a former deputy director for Immigration and Customs Enforcement in the Department of Homeland Security.
