As a recent report by PLP’s Dr Jo Hynes and Young Legal Aid Lawyers uncovers the extent of the sustainability crisis facing the immigration and asylum legal aid sector, one lawyer, who has since left legal aid, shares their experiences of a system nearing collapse. When I worked as a legal aid lawyer I found that cycling to and from work was a simple but essential lifeline: its ability to help me destress at the end of long, and often overwhelming days, as well as the added bonus of it being free, helped mitigate some of the challenges I was facing. And while I no longer work in this field, from what I know, many of these challenges remain. Pressures of the job Being a lawyer is a juggle – you have competing deadlines and your priorities can change with the shortest notice. And none more so than in legal aid. I would often come in to a maddening decision from the legal aid agency or Home Office; like the time my client was refused legal aid because the legal aid agency said her mental health support worker – someone without a legal qualification – should advise her. On another occassion I was refused funding for a judicial review because the Legal Aid Agency just read the refusal documents and used those to justify refusing us – ignoring all our evidence about why the refusal was wrong. It’s frustrating because it all takes time, and lots of it isn’t remunerated. I have had cases where clients haven’t understood their situation themselves and have internalised such a degree of hatred that they haven’t been able to talk to me about something for months. Overwhelming demand For me, a typical day would have involved at least one appointment with a client. I would worry about my clients and whether I’m managing to build a relationship where they feel they can talk to me about traumatic experiences, mental health, and other sensitive things. I have had cases where clients haven’t understood their situation themselves and have internalised such a degree of hatred that they haven’t been able to talk to me about something for months. I can try to refer them for support but there’s always such long waiting lists. Now more is done via video calls which I think is a barrier to building the rapport that’s so key to supporting a client. It’s harder to read non-verbal cues and if a client gets upset or distressed on a video call I’m not there to hold their hand or make them a cup of tea. I hear of enquirers saying they have been trying to get a lawyer for weeks. This is especially worrying given how strict immigration deadlines are. Due to the low fee rates, we would have to limit how much we took on, and the majority of the work was done by the more junior staff who cost the least and who can’t charge the private fee rate senior solicitors can. We would sometimes get over 50 calls in one day from people looking for representation and we would have to turn most of them away. When I used to take these inquiries as a paralegal it was tough hearing how desperate people were and how they had already tried however many firms but were getting nowhere. Sometimes people would be angry and upset and take it out on us. I hear of enquirers saying no one has capacity, that they have been trying to get a lawyer for weeks. This is especially worrying given how strict immigration deadlines are. An unstable financial landscape As most legal aid pays about £50-75 per hour, it’s impossible for firms to pay salaries, rent, insurance, and all the various costs to run a business on legal aid. Towards the end of the day, I would look at my timers to see how much chargeable time I had done. More often than not, it was a disappointing figure. I knew I needed to hit a certain amount to meet targets but there’s so much ancillary admin and contract compliance and supervision after you get a certain level of experience. And this work isn’t remunerated. As most legal aid pays about £50-75 per hour, it’s impossible for firms to pay salaries, rent, insurance, and all the various costs to run a business on legal aid. By way of comparison, lawyers in corporate firms usually charge between £300-400 per hour. As a result, I did more and more private work once I was qualified, have doing almost exclusively legal aid work as a paralegal. Even when we did have capacity to help clients, we weren’t always able to get the result they deserved. The law isn’t always fair and there isn’t always a way out, despite the fact clients come to you for exactly that. People often tell me I am lucky to have such a rewarding job, but the reward only comes after backbreaking work to reverse an injustice or unfair decision that never should have happened in the first place – or the cases where no matter what we do or how hard we work, it’s not enough. Compassion might power you to get going on the work in the first place but you can’t allow it to swallow you up; you need to be able to leave at the end of the day and have some compassion left for your friends and family members. The rewards Some of the work I have done and some clients I have worked with will always stay with me and I feel so lucky to have been involved in their cases. On the other side – getting to tell a client of a good outcome was a real highlight of the work. I always used to phone rather than email so they knew straight away and so I get the pleasure of hearing them get the good news. It’s always a team effort so I would always tell my colleagues and thank them for their advice and help. Some of the work I have done and some clients I have worked with will always stay with me and I feel so lucky to have been involved in their cases. Leaving the sector I no longer work in legal aid and I worry about the sector fading away And this work can be completely life changing. It can take power away from an abusive partner. It can completely change a person’s mental health and outlook. You can get to tell someone they are safe now- they don’t have to live in fear of having to return somewhere they fear terrible harm. You can get to tell someone their sick mother can stay. You get to be part of someone’s family reunion story that they will tell their relatives and children. I no longer work in legal aid and I worry about the sector fading away. Legal aid should be considered part of the social safety net in the same way you should have access to a doctor if you are sick. Already it is becoming dwarfed by charities, corporate pro bono or legal centres run by students. An urgent overhaul of the system is essential to ensure this vital support is available to those who need it most. Read “Overstretched & Unsustainable: a case study of the immigration and asylum legal aid sector”