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It makes perfect sense that Kathia Quiros-Medina has spent her entire legal career helping immigrants navigate a confusing, complicated, and often downright frightening justice system.

She is, after all, an immigrant herself, having fled her native Lima, Peru, for America in her early 20s.

Such a legal career did not, however, make perfect sense to Quiros back when she was attending the at 51�ԹϺ���. After putting aside a career in dentistry — she finished dental school in Peru at age 21 and worked in dental offices after arriving in the U.S. — Quiros enrolled in law school because she viewed it as the quickest path to her ultimate goal: becoming successful in business.

Indeed, Quiros was dead set on being a corporate lawyer on the day that Boyd professor David Thronson approached her about working in the school’s new Immigration Clinic that he founded. Quiros, who was in her second year at Boyd, had zero interest in accepting Thronson’s offer.

“I immediately thought to myself: ‘No way. I am not going to live my difficult immigration story over and over again,’” she recalls.

After talking with some friends, Quiros had a change of heart — but not for the reason one might assume. She realized working in a clinic would look great on the resume she planned to ship off to large corporations after completing her degree.

Sure enough, that decision altered the course of Quiros’ life. Because one day Thronson directed Quiros and other Immigration Clinic students to observe immigration hearings in a Las Vegas courtroom. Near the end of a line of defendants walking into the courtroom was a young teenager from Brazil.

The instant Quiros saw him, she was overcome with emotion.

“I remember it like it happened yesterday,” says Quiros, who at the time had two young children and was pregnant with her third. “He looked terrified. His beautiful eyes locked with mine, and I felt his pain and thought immediately of his mother's pain. Tears started rolling down my face. Then I started sobbing so uncontrollably that I had trouble breathing. I couldn’t stop.”

Judge Harry Gastley, who presided over the hearing, ordered Quiros to leave the courtroom, and she retreated to a waiting area. After the hearing, Gastley came out to console her. But what he really did was light a fire under Quiros that burns hot to this day.

“He looked at me with kind and merciful eyes and said, ‘Honey, this is not for you!’ And at that very moment I chose to become an immigration lawyer.”

In fact, Quiros fast-tracked her coursework, completed her law degree a semester early, passed the state bar, and promptly opened her own firm, GWP Immigration Law. 

For the past two decades, Quiros and her firm have helped clients around the world in their quest to experience the American dream. In addition to her legal work, Quiros created and hosts Immigrando con Kathia, a daily Spanish-speaking online show designed to educate Latin American immigrants on various U.S. immigration laws and procedures. 

The show boasts more than two million followers across multiple social media platforms with Quiros fielding questions and providing clients real-time advice.

“Since the day I broke down in Judge Gastley’s courtroom, the goal has always been the same: Change the lives of underserved immigrants, and with them the lives of American children living in fear of their parents being deported,” Quiros says. “Giving peace and calm to those children has been my secret mission. And to this day, it’s the spark that ignites my work.”

When did you know you wanted to pursue a career in law?

I come from a family of lawyers, but I never thought I would be one. I became a dentist at 21 and studied journalism before I came to the U.S. After arriving, I worked as a dental assistant and later became the office manager and helped open several additional dental offices. 

At that point, I realized I was good at business management and decided to go back to school. One day I looked at a list of famous CEOs, and next to their names I saw “JD” and “MBA.” I asked my boss at the time, “What does JD mean?” He told me those are lawyers. That’s the precise moment when I decided I would be a lawyer.

I had no idea where my life was heading, but God had bigger plans for me than running other people’s businesses.

What was it like growing up in Lima, Peru?

I am the oldest of four siblings. My father was a lawyer, sociologist, and agricultural engineer. My mother has degrees in business management, elementary education, and holds three master's degrees in public administration, business administration, and public education.

Coming from very educated parents, my siblings and I had no option but to pursue higher education. I was never asked what I wanted to be as an adult. The question was always, “What degrees are you going to obtain?”

And while I was raised as a privileged child, my parents instilled in me the desire to serve those in need. I was told to work hard to serve the less fortunate; that was my responsibility as a privileged child.

So after graduating high school at age 16, I decided my service would be as a dentist and entered dental school. 

What prompted your decision to leave Peru for the United States?

My country was changing because a terrorist organization known as the Shining Path was taking over, and as a result terror and fear were consuming my people. When I graduated dental school, the damage inflicted by the Shining Path was greater than expected, and a big percentage of my generation had already fled Peru in search of peace and calm. 

So a year after becoming a dentist, I departed for the U.S. and left my parents, my family, my friends, my job, my identity, and my soul in Peru.

My journey in the United States wasn’t easy. I went from being a privileged child in my home country to experiencing an empty pantry where rice and ketchup were my only options. But I never gave up. I went from cleaning dental chairs to running the dental office despite my limited English. 

Although I was depressed and homesick when I first arrived in America, I quickly realized that this was a place where you could conquer your dreams with hard work and determination. 

That said, I never detached from my roots — my soul still lives in the mountains of Peru. However, my contentment comes from the smiles of the people I serve in the United States. 

What led you to the Boyd School of Law at 51�ԹϺ���?

I was living in Las Vegas, married and pregnant with my first child, Daniel, when I decided I wanted to be a lawyer. Despite my limited English, I took the LSAT, earned a strong score, and started receiving invitations from other schools. But it never crossed my mind that I would leave Las Vegas, so I waited for 51�ԹϺ���’s decision.

When I received the letter of acceptance from Boyd, I got scared, largely because of my English. But I figured I would learn at law school. The first year was brutal. I was in the full-time program, but I also had a full-time job and a 2-year-old baby. Then three months into that first year, I became pregnant with my second child, and one of my professors recommended I switch careers because my English was so poor.

I still remember the moment the professor said that. I walked into a trailer that served as the library during the law school’s early years when it was located at Paradise Elementary School, and I could not stop crying. I thought my world was crumbling into pieces. Then a [third-year law student] walked into the room and tried to console me. He opened my eyes to the idea of putting my pride aside and requesting help from my peers. 

I wiped my tears and took that advice to heart. My friend Shane Clayton, who was an English major and a great car salesman, became my English teacher — and without realizing it, he became my therapist, too. He taught me English and boosted my confidence. Another classmate gave me speech lessons on how to soften my accent.

It was difficult, but eventually I got through that first year and managed to get accepted into Law Review. By the time my second child Nicholas was born, I had full confidence that I could complete my law degree if I kept working hard. 

The immigration hearing — and what the judge said to you afterward — spurred you to switch gears from corporate law to immigration law. What else do you recall about that life-changing day? 

At the time, I was pregnant with my third child, and because of that, I didn’t drive to the hearing; I rode with my classmates. So when Judge Gastley kicked me out of his courtroom, I couldn’t go home.

While sitting in the waiting area, I finally composed myself enough to ask the bailiff about the boy who had stirred up these emotions in me. I learned he was 16, from Brazil, and a victim of a human trafficking operation. The Department of Homeland Security had found him working on the construction of a bridge in Chicago, and they detained him. 

My first thought was, “What was he doing in Las Vegas, alone, at 16?”

Then after Judge Gastley told me, “Honey, this is not for you!” I came home and told the father of my children I had decided to save young kids with beautiful eyes for the rest of my life. Then I started crying again — remember, I was very pregnant. 

That’s when God sent me a second sign. The father of my children said: “No way; those lawyers don’t make any money!” Needless to say, an immigration lawyer was born. I was no “honey,” and nobody could tell me “No way!”

Few young lawyers begin their careers by launching their own law firms, but you did. Why did you make that decision, and how challenging was it?

I received some great job offers after graduating law school, but I could not accept them. The billable hours were impossible to achieve considering I was breastfeeding one child, changing diapers of another, and helping my third with his homework. Realizing my unique situation, I decided to open my own firm. 

I consulted with professor Thronson, who told me, “You can do it!” And I believed him.

Then a new angel showed up at the law school: professor Leticia Saucedo. She convinced me that opening my own practice was the right thing to do.

If not for professor Thronson and professor Saucedo, I would not be here today. They instilled in me a passion for what I was doing. They held my hand and helped me stay afloat every time I thought I was drowning. But most importantly, they taught me that my life was meaningful.

Every time I felt exhausted, defeated, overworked, and overstressed, they reminded me that love was the superpower that ignited my brain and my soul.

In addition to your full-time job, you volunteer for several immigrant-related nonprofits, including the Citizenship Project and the Immigrant Home Foundation. What’s your message to today’s Boyd students about the importance of community service?

I learned at a very young age that serving others was a privilege, and that only wise and smart people understood that service was the key to living grateful and abundant lives. I am grateful for the opportunity to serve others, and for the opportunity to receive the love, affection, and respect of the people I serve.

I would tell students that public service is not so much about giving back; it’s about receiving love, happiness, and blessings from those you serve — at every stage of the process. So do not miss the opportunity to be of service to others who desperately need your help