The room smelled of paper and dust, the kind of smell only found in old courthouses. Elias sat on the cold wooden bench, staring at the judge who had spent the past year tossing his case around like an unwanted relic. At 26, he’d spent most of his adult life fighting for his father’s citizenship after an unjust deportation left their family shattered.

When Trump won again, Elias felt something shift inside him—not despair, not fear, but fire. The headlines blared everywhere: Trump begins second term as US President: Donald Trump was inaugurated as the 47th president of the United States, vowing to implement an immediate blitz of executive orders.

Elias thought of his father, who now lived in a single room in their old neighborhood in El Salvador, staring at a photo of his children every night. He thought of his mother, who scrubbed hotel floors to keep food on their table. He thought of himself, of all the protests, petitions, and court filings that had led to this day.

The judge cleared her throat. “The appeal is denied,” she said bluntly. “This case is closed.”

Elias stood frozen, his heart pounding. Everything they’d fought for, everything he believed in—snuffed out in a single sentence.

But as he walked out of the courtroom, something inside him shifted again. He didn’t feel defeated. He felt unstoppable.

Four years had taught him how to survive, how to fight in a system that seemed designed to break him. He knew the law now, better than most. He understood what people needed—guidance, hope, a voice louder than fear.

That night, he sat at his rickety kitchen table and opened his laptop. He began drafting the website for his nonprofit—Rise Together Legal Aid. Free legal help for immigrant families. He worked until dawn, fueled by coffee and defiance.

By the time Trump signed his new wave of executive orders, Elias’s first client was already sitting in his makeshift office: a teenager whose parents were in ICE detention. “We’ll fight this,” Elias told her. And this time, he believed it.

For Elias, Trump’s second oath wasn’t a death knell—it was a call to arms. One man’s presidency could build walls, but it couldn’t stop him from tearing them down.