An immigrant child’s nightmare does not end the moment they are released from detention. Whether the child crossed the U.S. border unaccompanied or was separated from his or her parents as part of the Trump administration’s “zero-tolerance” policy, children who are released must still navigate the nation’s wildly complicated immigration system. And many of them must do so without a lawyer. “Yes, it is entirely possible for a nine-year-old to be in court with their 23-year-old mother—neither of whom speak English—without a lawyer, trying to navigate the immigration process,” said Sarah Valdes, the supervising attorney of the children’s program in the Austin office of Refugee and Immigrant Center for Education and Legal Services (RAICES), who has worked with children in immigration proceedings for the past six and a half years.

On Wednesday, amid intense and still-building national outcry, the president signed an executive order calling for immigrant families to be detained together indefinitely, potentially ending the policy of forcibly separating children from their parents (the new policy may conflict with a 1997 consent decree that prohibits the government from imprisoning immigrant children for more than 20 days). But the government has already quietly transported hundreds of separated children—including babies—from the border to shelters and foster systems in Michigan and New York, with little to no notice given to local authorities. Advocates are deeply concerned about how—and, indeed, if—these children will be reunited with their parents, and what fate awaits them in the meantime. “After having been traumatized, separated from their families, and after finally having been able to live with an aunt or their parents who have been released from detention and finally trying to acclimate and build their lives, they still have an entire immigration proceeding ahead of them,” Valdes said.

Organizations such as RAICES, which typically receive funding through a blend of grants and donations, represent children after they have been placed with a sponsor. Valdes gave V.F. a glimpse into how the lawyers who do represent immigrant minors go about the work of legally advocating for children who have arrived in a foreign country, and who may or may not comprehend their situation. The answer involves, among other things, special communication tools and lots of crayons and toys.

Vanity Fair: What are some of the challenges and complexities in working with this child population?

Sarah Valdes: It’s a child-focused approach to legal representation. It’s not only using age-appropriate language, but even if I say the word “courtroom” to a child from a rural area, even if I’m using the exact, right word in their language, it still has no significance to them. There’s a lot of drawing pictures. There’s a lot of testing, wherein I present one piece and ask them to explain it back to me, to see if they understand. You have to see if a child can articulate the difference between a truth and a falsehood. What’s the difference between something that’s imagined and something that’s real? Kids have to be [able to] explain to me that they recognize and know the difference.

These kids are traumatized, so [we focus on] talking about the trauma in a way that doesn’t re-traumatize them. We do grounding exercises together. We try to give the children as much agency as possible. If I have a client who gets super upset while telling me about a traumatic experience, a grounding exercise will be, “Hey, let’s take a break. Let’s take some deep breaths. Put your feet on the floor. Tell me: where are you right now? Do you feel safe? You are not there—that thing that you told me about is not happening right now.” I have toys in my office. I have a ball. I have pipe cleaners in my office, so that they can channel their nervous energy into something in their hands. We have crayons. We have things to color. Sometimes, I give my kids sparkly notebooks, so if they have trouble talking about something, they can write it down instead.

How do you speak to them about their cases?

We’re constantly learning the best language to use. For example, we’re supposed to avoid saying, “I’m sorry that that happened,” and instead say, “Thank you for being brave enough to tell me that.” There are lots of metaphors—we talk about immigration in terms of a bus ride or a soccer game. We’ll ask them where they want to sit. We’ll tell them, “You’re the boss of me; you can tell me when this is over.” We’re not supposed to say words like “secret” when explaining confidentiality, because that’s a common term that abusers use.

What are some of the differences between advocating for immigrant children, and advocating for children who are United States citizens?

The children are not eligible for the same kinds of relief or public benefits that U.S.-citizen kids are eligible for. They’re not eligible for Medicaid, they may have more difficulty enrolling in school because they don’t have school records, or they’re illiterate, so [school districts] don’t want to put a 15-year-old in a class with 12-year-olds.

What are the age ranges of your clients?

It’s all ages. If we have pregnant teenagers who come, then if the mother is under-age and the infant child is under-age, they’re both considered unaccompanied children. So we could both be representing both the mom and the baby. It’s anything from a baby until a 17-year-old who is about to turn 18. And as the cases last, I have cases where the clients are in their early twenties, because it’s not like I stop being their lawyer the day they turn 18.

Attorneys in immigration court have a duty to advocate for the child’s expressed interest. But how great of an understanding can a five-year-old have of his or her own interest?

We’re definitely going to be having discussions with the adults in their lives. We say “five-year-old,” but the other thing about working with unaccompanied children is that age is not the best indicator of what the kids are able to understand and to articulate. I have had 10-year-olds who can be very clear with me, and I’ve had cognitively delayed 14-year-olds who are not understanding the process and cannot articulate what it is that they want.

How do you anticipate the “zero-tolerance” policy will affect your work?

The sheer numbers. I anticipate that I am going to see the ramifications of this in a month or so, when, God willing, the children will be released to their family members and living at home. And they’re making unaccompanied children. Those children were not unaccompanied; they’re making them unaccompanied. There are more kids now, because where previously they used to be released or detained as a family unit, they’re now being detained separately.

What else do people need to understand about this issue?

These kids are not guaranteed an attorney. I do specifically represent some of these kids, but it is a drop in the bucket compared to the number of kids who need lawyers. The success rate for people who are represented versus those who navigate the system on their own is markedly different.

The other thing I would say is that they are kids. I represent children. It has been difficult to talk about in mixed company. These are kids. They are kids who are afraid. The kids who come by themselves are escaping extreme violence and poverty. The kids who came with their parents, I imagine, it’s the exact same thing. To your readers who are parents, I would ask: what would you do if you couldn’t send your kid to school, because they were going to get kidnapped along the way, or if they were going to be pressured to sell drugs, or if you had to pay a monthly extortion rent to keep your house safe, and still had to try and put food on the table? What would you do?

And the children who came along with their parents certainly had a lot less agency in that decision. We should think about how we are treating children. We can’t get complacent or comfortable with this. Regardless of whose fault it is, it is fundamentally unfair to children.