Thread: 'IT'S NOT OPEN SEASON ON IMMIGRANTS': Law firm rolls to new

'IT'S NOT OPEN SEASON ON IMMIGRANTS': Law firm rolls to new heights
By Brian Feagans
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Published on: 09/10/07

**I apologize if this is a dupe. I did a search and found nothing.**

Activists fighting a backlash against illegal immigration in Georgia often feel as if they've entered a shooting war armed with only a shield.

But this is no ordinary shield.

It's fiberglass, 32 feet long and goes by the name "Abogadomovil," or "Lawyermobile." The RV acts as a roving office for Jamie Hernan, Christopher Taylor and Jerome Lee, the boyish-looking barristers whose larger-than-life likenesses adorn both sides.

Ringed with flags from across the Americas, the vehicle rolls into apartment complexes and soccer matches offering Spanish-language tutorials on immigration law. The RV has ferried petitions and protesters to Washington, D.C. And the billboard on wheels always carries the same message. "Hernan, Taylor & Lee," it reads. "Los Abogados Para Ti." (The Lawyers For You.)

The Roswell-based firm's blend of guerrilla marketing and social activism has made it among the biggest —- and most controversial —- players in a state whose illegal immigrant population has swelled to nearly half a million. Fans say the Georgia-raised attorneys are at the forefront of the latest fight for a marginalized group in the cradle of the civil rights movement. Critics call them profiteers whose activism is more about the bottom line. All agree they are the faces of resistance as communities across the region, frustrated with federal inaction, try to do something about illegal immigration.

When Cherokee County barred landlords from renting to illegal immigrants last year, Hernan, Taylor & Lee filed suit and got the county to back off. In July, when Gwinnett County required the companies it does business with to prove their workers are legal residents, the trio raised constitutional concerns. And when Cobb County proposed a crackdown on day laborers last month, the attorneys with the big RV successfully deflected the ordinance.

Anti-illegal immigration activist D.A. King said he has little respect for the firm with offices in Roswell, Canton and Tampico, Mexico. "It bothers me that they have built their entire business around defeating laws and local ordinances that would do something to slow the influx of illegals into this state," says King, president of the Marietta-based Dustin Inman Society. "They're padding their own business by padding illegal immigration."

Hernan counters that local governments have no business meddling in federal immigration matters. That crusade has endeared his firm to Latino leaders such as Venus Gines, a health fair organizer who has borrowed the Abogadomovil for breast cancer screening. "When I hear them talk, it's more than just legalese," Gines said. "I hear real concern for families. They're part of what we call 'La Lucha' [The Fight]."

On a recent Sunday, at Festival Peachtree Latino in downtown Atlanta, Hernan empties five jugs of gasoline into the blue beast parked across from an Ole Mexican Foods stand. The Abogadomovil is thirsty. And so is Hernan.

"I don't remember doing this," Hernan says, smelling of sweat and gasoline, "at King & Spalding."

It's a reference to the venerable Atlanta law firm whose international headquarters gleam in the distant skyline. Hernan, Taylor and Lee left the comforts of the 49th floor there five years ago. They landed in the Spanish-speaking streets.

As Atlanta's largest Latino festival heats up, Hernan, Taylor and the firm's Spanish-speaking paralegals distribute 2,000 hand-held fans with business cards attached.

"Gracias," says one woman, fanning herself under a Salvadoran flag. "Thank you," gasps another festivalgoer, her sweat-streaked cheeks painted in Puerto Rico's official colors.

Shrewd marketing, yes. But once again, as the Latino community feels the heat, Hernan, Taylor and Lee are providing relief.

Taking a leap

The three attorneys, now in their early 30s, didn't know each other well at King & Spalding. But they shared a boredom with corporate law. "We were gripe buddies," Lee said.

Their decision to walk away wasn't easy, however. "A $100,000 salary, wonderful insurance, all that," Taylor said. "To leave that was a hard sell to my wife."

Taylor, who is Mormon, had learned Spanish during a two-year mission in the slums outside Mexico City. And he had long sensed an uneasiness with Latin American immigrants in the South. When he announced he was marrying a woman from Mexico, some friends didn't exactly jump up and down. "I'd get that look," he said.

As a youngster in Alabama, Taylor's best friend was Puerto Rican. "I got to see the kids at school pick on this guy. They'd call him Mexican."

Taylor, who stood up for his buddy then, had a similar feeling one summer day in 2002. He signed a lease on a tiny office in a Roswell shopping center where day laborers congregated.

Hernan, a devout Catholic, said he was in, too. He had been taught to "welcome the stranger." But Hernan felt that wasn't happening in the Atlanta suburbs where he grew up.

Lee was the last on board. Raised Baptist in Columbus, he had vowed to make sure his mother, a nurse, lived comfortably. But she had died recently, so Lee felt free to take a risk. The Harvard economics major also knew an untapped market when he saw one. "Those people were being treated like pariahs," he said. "Nobody wanted to represent them."

Soon, Taylor was out chatting up the laborers —- to the relief of Dan Vargas, a Latino activist who could see Taylor's new office from a labor hall across the parking lot. Vargas had long fielded calls for legal advice from construction workers and landscapers who mistook his advertising agency —- Vargas, Flores & Amigos —- for a law firm. "I'd say 'I wish there was somebody who could help.' Then one day you look up and they're just across the street."

Taylor handed out business cards to the day laborers. Call me, he told them, if you have any trouble. Before long, the burly former linebacker at Chattahoochee High found himself in pursuit of contractors who had stiffed his new clients.

Word spread quickly about the three attorneys —- two white, one black —- who had a heart for immigrants from Latin America.

"They didn't come in with lawyer prices," Vargas said. "They came in to help, to build relationships."

The firm's breakthrough came in nearby Doraville, when Latino cabdrivers said they were being singled out under a new city ordinance. Hernan, Taylor and Lee investigated and discovered that one officer was largely responsible, even citing drivers for smelling bad and failing to wear collared shirts. They threatened a lawsuit, met with Doraville police Chief John King and worked out a compromise. The drivers would pay reduced fines. And the chief would rein in his officer.

Remedios Gomez Arnau, consul general of the Mexican Consulate in Atlanta, sent the attorneys a "thank-you" letter. "We sat in our office," Taylor said, "and said, 'We did something right.' "

Soon Gomez Arnau sent something far more important: clients. The consulate put Hernan, Taylor & Lee on retainer.

The attorneys found that many of their cases boiled down to one basic challenge: assuring their clients' constitutional rights weren't trumped by their immigration status. They won child custody for parents who, while in deportation proceedings, were told their children would be better off in a foster home in the United States. In one case, an illegal immigrant from Mexico was crippled in a roadside accident caused by a tractor-trailer. The trucking company tried to suppress the damages because the man had entered the country illegally, but Hernan, Taylor & Lee won a settlement of nearly $3 million.

Then, amid protests and counter-protests last year, the firm found itself in the middle of an intensifying national debate over immigration reform.

Hernan and Taylor were invited to a meeting of Latino leaders trying to organize a march in Atlanta. They arrived at a Smyrna restaurant expecting an army of attorneys but found only one. By the end of the meeting, Hernan and Taylor had agreed to secure a marching permit. Suddenly, it dawned on them: They were the legal muscle of the movement.

Going to bat

The firm's profile rose with that of its clientele, which includes former Mexican Consul Teodoro Maus and pro bono clients such as muscular dystrophy patient Fernando Benitez, a Mexican national from Norcross who faced the loss of life-saving equipment and medicine when the state ruled he no longer qualified for Medicaid.

But no case drew more attention than that of VIVA 105.7 FM's "Yogi y Panda." Another Clear Channel morning duo —- 96rock's "Regular Guys" —- secretly taped Yogi and Panda in a bathroom and mocked them on air. Hernan, Taylor & Lee sued. The Regular Guys, whose stance against illegal immigration was a hit with fans, were fired days later.

Hate mail poured into the law firm. "One guy said he hoped we got the Ebola [virus] and died," Taylor said.

The firm also began preparing for what it hoped would be sweeping federal immigration reforms. The attorneys led a caravan of protesters to Washington. And earlier this year, they returned to Congress with a petition bearing 35,000 signatures in support of an overhaul that included a legalization plan for those who had entered the country without authorization.

During Sunday evening sessions at a Roswell hotel, Taylor gave free updates on activity in Washington, then asked participants to fill out information forms that could ease processing should reforms pass Congress.

Charles Kuck, an Atlanta attorney and president-elect of the American Immigration Lawyers Association, said the sessions underscore his belief that Hernan, Taylor and Lee are motivated more by cash than conscience. They were compiling a database of potential clients. "Ultimately, it's all about marketing," said Kuck, who goes to the same church as Taylor and passes the Abogadomovil on his way to work.

Hernan, Taylor and Lee —- whose revenues come largely from family, criminal, personal injury and workman's comp cases —- say they are helping people gather documents and personal information now so they don't waste time if the laws change. There's no obligation to use their services. They say their crusading didn't stop when negotiations on overhauling immigration laws broke down in the Senate.

Whatever their motivations, the attorneys' risks have paid off. They say they make more now than if they had stayed at King & Spalding and achieved junior partner. And less than two years after moving into a new office suite off Holcomb Bridge Road, the 16-person firm has already outgrown the 3,500-square-foot space. In October, they plan to open a new headquarters off Jimmy Carter Boulevard in Norcross. It will be twice as large.

Victorious in battles

Hernan stands before the Cobb County commissioners in an unusual position: He's happy.

A month earlier, Hernan had raised constitutional concerns about a proposed loitering ordinance designed to rid streets of day laborers. Now the Cobb commissioners have decided to yank it.

"I hope this will set an example for other local governments in Georgia that it's not open season on immigrants," Hernan says. Perhaps this is turning point, he tells the commissioners. "We will teach them our language, our culture and what makes America a blessed place."

Last year, Hernan moved to Cherokee County, the cradle of Georgia's crackdown on illegal immigration. State Sen. Chip Rogers (R-Woodstock), who authored Georgia's toughest-in-the-nation immigration law, lives in the county. And Cherokee was first in the region to try tackling the problem through local ordinances.

Hernan says these attempts are misguided and come from a good-hearted but misinformed public. A conservative who opposes abortion and tends to vote Republican, he recently stood his ground during an immigration debate before the Cherokee Republicans. "Undocumented immigrants are being treated as three-fifths of a person," he said. "I know Georgia to be different."

Hernan looks forward to the day when smiles outnumber sneers as he drives the Abogadomovil across the state.

In the meantime, the RV's license plate will continue to send a message. It reads "PARA TI," or "For You." And it's registered in Cherokee County.

HERNAN, TAYLOR & LEE

Jamie Hernan

> Age: 32

> Residence: Canton

> Family: Married, two children.

> Education: St. Pius X Catholic High in Atlanta, Auburn University, University of Georgia, Duke University School of Law

Chris Taylor

> Age: 31

> Residence: Roswell

> Family: Married, three children.

> Education: Chattahoochee High in Alpharetta, Brigham Young University, Emory Law School.

Jerome Lee

> Age: 33

> Residence: Roswell

> Family: "Girlfriend with a capital 'G' "

> Education: Brookstone School in Columbus, Harvard University, Stanford Law School.

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