TUCSON, Ariz. One morning last October, Irlando sat hunched over a table in the back of a federal courthouse, looking to a court-appointed lawyer for help. Border Patrol agents had found him the day before, wandering through the desert 150 miles away outside Lukeville, Arizona, and he still hadnt showered. His hands were black with grime and he smelled of dried sweat after spending almost a week trekking in the hot sun.

Irlando had worked as a commercial truck driver in a town north of Guatemala City and fled his homeland after a local gang started extorting his company. First, they killed drivers when the company didnt pay up. Then gang members killed his boss, and Irlando decided he had to escape.

A friend suggested he try to make it through Mexico and into the United States, where he could earn enough money to help support his wife and four children he was leaving behind. His youngest daughter was just two months old. When Border Patrol picked him up crossing into Arizona, hed been thankful just to have a sip of water. But now the reality was sinking in: He was going to be deported back to Guatemala.

Irlandos lawyer, Erndira Castillo, said she was sorry, but none of his backstory would matter to the judge. He wasnt in immigration court. He was facing a criminal prosecution for crossing the border illegally, and this judge had no authority to decide whether he should stay in the country. All the judge would see is that he was arrested while trying to jump the border and that he had a prior conviction for attempting to do the same thing in Texas in 2013.

(Castillo talked to Irlando privately about his right to confidentiality and he decided to waive that right so his story could be told, on the condition that only his first name be used.)

Irlando could accept the plea agreement in front of him, which came with a 75-day jail sentence, or he could take his case to trial, where virtually all defendants lose , and then face two years in prison. Either way, hed almost certainly be deported after his release.

It was about 9:30 a.m., and Irlando needed to make up his mind before the proceedings started that afternoon. After a few minutes of discussion, he took the plea deal, which was typed in English. Castillo verbally translated the document for him before he signed it.

Theres no one to tell that Im here trying to save my life? Irlando asked his lawyer. My baby girl needs three bottles of milk every week. Whos going to give them to her?

Its very sad, but thats the way it is, Castillo replied, patting him on the knee. The law doesnt have a heart.

Improvising An Immigrant-Prosecuting Machine