CIUDAD JUÁREZ, MEXICO — Margaret didn’t know what was going to happen when she approached the bridge between Juárez and El Paso, but she knew she couldn’t wait anymore. Six months since fleeing her home after being raped and repeatedly beaten for the crime of being a lesbian, the 20-year-old Ugandan was barely holding onto the last shreds of hope.

Since arriving in Juárez in March, Margaret had waited, waited to get a number from Grupo Beta, the government organization that’s frequently accused of corruption as it oversees the unofficial “line” tens of thousands of asylum seekers unable to pay their bribes are forced to wait in for months in order to cross the bridge, waited inside the walls of the Buen Pastor shelter deep inside one of Juárez’s most dangerous neighborhoods, waited for someone, anyone to help.

So when New Mexico-based lawyer Nancy Oretskin came to the Buen Pastor that September morning and suggested bypassing the line and trying to cross, she quickly agreed. Although she was physically safe within its high, concrete block walls, the neighborhood is violent, and gangs had already killed several people within blocks of Buen Pastor. And while Margaret appreciated the help the shelter had given her, life was still difficult: Almost no one spoke English, and the cramped conditions had resulted in an outbreak of chicken pox. In many ways, Buen Pastor had become a prison.

The plan was simple: Oretskin would accompany Margaret and her friend Kodi, a political refugee from Cameroon, to the bridge shortly after noon that day, when fewer pedestrians would be crossing, giving Oretskin a better chance to make their case. There’s little love between immigration attorneys and Border Patrol agents, but Oretskin has long sought to avoid open conflict when possible, and has an uncanny knack for charming the normally hostile officers. Read more via Rolling Stone