Riding on the Red Line on the LA metro a young man and woman sit down on either side of me. From time to time my attention drifts from my reading to unintentional eavesdropping. I ascertain, based on the way they refer to specific cases and political objectives, that they are both members of an organization working to protect undocumented immigrants from deportation. The woman has a notepad on her lap, and as they move from topic to topic she flips through the pages packed with notes and outlines in a tight, bubbly script. Then she pulls out a packet of documents – legal proceedings, statutes, case histories. The young man describes specific strategies for dealing with police checkpoints, illegal searches and detainment, access to legal representation and community outreach. At first the fact that this discussion is taking place so openly, and on public transport among strangers, strikes me as odd, perhaps even inappropriate. I feel self-conscious being situated in the middle of it. But then I think: why shouldn’t it take place here? Isn’t this a question that concerns everyone? And perhaps this organization, fueled by passionate young people like these two, doesn’t have the budget for an office, maybe they’re volunteers who are holding down other jobs, and their immigration work is done like this, on the fly, where ever and whenever they can manage.