‘A Beautiful Soul:’ This Philly lawyer helps undocumented children transition to the U.S. with safety, stability and hope

When Taina De Sousa thinks about the arc of her life, she can pinpoint the moment everything changed.

“It’s crazy how one person can just change someone’s life like that,” she said. De Sousa arrived in the United States from Brazil at age 10, alone. With her parents absent, she said spent much of her childhood being “tossed around to different family members.”

When De Sousa finally reunited with her grandmother in the U.S., the struggle was far from over.

“We didn’t have any status and just [a] very hard, difficult life,” she said. “We struggled a lot, especially [in] my childhood, trying to adapt… to a new life, a new country, new school, new friends.”

And because she was undocumented, with no Social Security card or work permit, her dreams felt out of reach.

That future began to shift the day she crossed paths with Rachel Rutter, an immigration attorney who founded Project Libertad.

“I didn’t have any plans for the future before I met Rachel,” De Sousa said.

An attorney who refused to look away

Rutter started Project Libertad ten years ago to provide free legal and social support to young immigrants facing deportation.

“We have kids that don’t have secure housing, don’t have a reliable food source and need mental health care,” Rutter said. “And I found myself doing all of these things, really being a social worker, for my clients.”

Rutter has served clients as young as 2 or 3, but most are teenagers. She said what they all share is profound vulnerability. Many have fled Central American regions controlled by gangs, where violence is a constant threat. “We have a lot of boys who are being threatened that ‘If you don’t join the gang, I’m gonna go kill your family or I’m gonna kill you,’ and those are real threats.” Rutter said. “For girls, that often looks like being forced to be like a girlfriend… to an adult male gang member — So basically sex trafficking.”

When these young people arrive alone in the U.S., they enter a complex legal system that offers few clear paths to safety.

“The biggest thing that most Americans have no idea about is that there is no legal path to citizenship or legal status for the vast majority of people,” Rutter explains.

Some minors may qualify for special immigrant status due to abuse or abandonment, but the backlog stretches years. While they wait, deportation remains a constant possibility.

“Neither political party has done right by immigrants,” Rutter said. “Now it just seems like everybody’s a target. Everything is very unpredictable.”

Filling the gaps no one else will

In that uncertainty, Project Libertad steps in — not only with legal representation but with the basic human support required to stabilize a young person’s life.

Case managers help secure food, shelter and clothing. Mentors connect students with school resources. Staff coordinate mental health care, often in the young person’s native language.

And most importantly, they show up — consistently.

“While they’re waiting [for the legal process],” Rutter said, “I want to see them being happy, healthy, being able to go to school, being able to do the things they want to do and feel safe.”

Her colleagues say that commitment goes far beyond paperwork.

Heidi Roux, director of immigrant justice for Welcome Project PA, nominated Rutter for this Good Souls honor.

“The work she does, her passion, her drive is astonishing,” Roux said. “She gives her all, and she does such good work. I know of a number of youth that she has helped. That if she had not helped them, they would have no one else.”

Roux came to the U.S. from El Salvador at age 6, fleeing civil war. Now, she’s a U.S. citizen — one who understands intimately what a lifeline people like Rutter provide.

“It’s because of good souls like Rachel that I think that I — and many other children — have been given the opportunity to create wonderful lives and be part of our amazing society and community,” she said.

A calling that started early

Rutter’s journey toward this work began long before she was an attorney. Growing up in Lancaster, she was first exposed to young immigrants while at Gettysburg College. The experience deepened during her Peace Corps service in Costa Rica, where she saw how deeply young people’s lives could be transformed by access, stability, and care.

But it wasn’t until she was in law school at Drexel that she found her calling.

“Working with the kids and just falling in love with them and wanting to support them was like the biggest turning point for me,” she said.

Even before she founded Project Libertad, Rutter routinely went beyond her job.

“I would buy kids groceries, buy them clothes,” she said. “And that wasn’t something my work was gonna pay me back for… we weren’t supposed to be doing it.”

In 2020, after years of balancing her career with her growing passion project, she made a leap of faith and committed to Project Libertad full-time.

Today, the organization has a staff of seven and reaches more than a thousand young people each year through legal representation, Know Your Rights training, newcomer school programs and community partnerships.

“I don’t feel like it’s just a job,” she said. “I definitely feel like it’s more of a calling and that’s something that I’ll continue.”

Changing the Path for the Next Generation

For Taina De Sousa — once a child facing deportation — having a Social Security number and a job as a case manager at Project Libertad has given her a new vision for her career.

“I wanna be an attorney and I’m gonna go to law school,” she said. “It’s a whole nother person than what I was before I met Rachel.”

Her gratitude is simple but powerful.

“I would say Rachel is an amazing, beautiful soul,” she said.

For Rutter, that transformation — from fear to possibility — is the hope that guides every case.

And for the hundreds of young people she reaches each year, her dedication isn’t just legal support. It’s belonging. It’s community. It’s a chance to grow into a life they once couldn’t imagine.