In the second week of my job as database editor for The Washington Post, a reporter asked for help in finding data on immigrants' hearings for asylum.
He knew the agency operated under strict secrecy, but had in his hands data produced for a similar response from a local lawyer. The database seemed like a gold mine anyway, so I figured I'd try for both the summary data and the underlying case management system.
It started pleasantly enough. Within a week or so, I had an appointment to visit the Justice Department's Executive Offices of Immigration Review. Meeting with the head of the systems department seemed like a dream come true. I left with a deal: She'd have my case management system ready on the following Monday, stripped of sensitive information. And I got to leave with the user manual that showed all of the codes I needed. Everyone agreed this would be simpler for them than to run the statistics we'd asked for.
I was shocked. I'd heard stories of years of negotiations to get simple federal databases. This one even had some sensitive information in it, and they were willing to create something I could use without disclosing the exempt data.
Not so simple
My naivete worked in the agency's favor. Nine months later, we don't have the database. Four months after my visit, the reporter who needed the data for his story won a FOIA appeal and the agency eventually produced the statistics he sought.
The story of how we went from friendly cooperation to a strong denial has been repeated in other agencies here. And these FOIA officers are better than their state and local counterparts in understanding reporters' short attention spans and using every day they can to avoid releasing data.
Our friendly meeting with EOIR went downhill pretty quickly. The following Monday, I was told that the systems analyst was ready to run my extract, read it into an Access database and FTP it to us as soon as the agency's general counsel glanced at the list of fields we'd get. Problem was, the lawyer was out sick and no one else could take her place.
After two weeks of illness, she returned to "higher priority" items. Daily calls to the agency produced nothing, so I offered to write a FOIA request, which would at least put the request in their list of higher priority requests. I still wonder if this was a mistake. The public information officer I was dealing with was delighted - "Sure, go ahead!" he said. The clear implication: It would be taken out of his office, and put into the bureaucratic hopper where I'd be lost forever.
Denials
Soon the FOIA calls started. Did they get it? Do they plan to respond to it? And on the 20th business day, I got my rejection. The reasons were ludicrous. First, the case number incorporated an alien's ID number, which the agency likened to a Social Security number. That, they said, could be used to identify people at risk. The problem is, only that agency "has" that ID number, and it would have to be the one to give out the information that it unlocked. Second, it refused to encode those numbers.
Finally, it rejected the entire package because, it said, the records were compiled for law enforcement purposes and would interfere with their ability to conduct investigations. No one could think of how, other than that "lenient" judges might be chosen by defendants if possible during appeals.
My second FOIA was eventually slightly more effective, but it took eight months of near-constant bickering to produce just a portion of the firearm trace database maintained by Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.
This may sound familiar, but it raises the level of secrecy and the lack of accountability to a new level that I've not seen in even some of the strictest states.
But the fights are worth undertaking. For any reporter who works in a border area, or who needs to compare trends from state-to-state, getting the baseline federal data is still important. Just be prepared to wait even longer, fight even harder and be even more persistent than usual.