Ukrainians adrift in legal system following Trump orders

When President Donald Trump cancelled humanitarian parole, a temporary admission to the U.S. for people fleeing life-threatening conditions in their home countries, the order targeted people from Latin America and Russia, putting them at risk of immediate deportation.

But Trump’s action also threw out the legal status of 268 Ukrainian refugees in Washington, including that of Yev Breninh, Bainbridge Island dog trainer and daycare leader. Since the community’s parole has been cancelled, it’s been radio silence from federal Citizenship and Immigration Services, which has muddied the already confusing pathways to permanent residency, leaving Ukrainian parolees at a loss for next steps.

An ocean between

Breninh lived in Odesa, Ukraine, before coming to the U.S. Dogs were the center of her life there — her family used to breed Rottweilers, her father and sister are veterinarians, and she had years of experience training dogs in animal shelters and one-on-one using popular Ukrainian methods. She and her then-partner had just bought an apartment; she was ready to put down roots.

Things came apart quickly when Russia started attacking the city in February of 2022.

Over the course of three months, shelling and air strikes by Russian forces destroyed dozens of structures, blocked roadways and killed 31 people. People began to flee, leaving almost everything behind. A neighbor, desperate to leave to safety, scrambled to find homes for her dog’s litter of puppies as she left — which is how Breninh came to adopt Adele, her Bernese mountain dog.

At first, Breninh and her partner wanted to stay and support the resistance effort in their country, but as the war worsened, they decided it was time to leave. It wasn’t easy; not only did they need to gather an extensive series of documents and medical records for themselves, they had to arrange them for Adele, who by now was an almost full-grown 110-lb puppy.

“We went to Poland first, because it was closest and it was safe — there’s no war there, so we could take a breath. But it was so hard when you lose everything. It’s not only our apartment, it’s our friends, it’s our life, our jobs, our work,” said Breninh. “The only way in which I could feel safe was not another city or another country. I needed another continent. I want the ocean to be between me and somebody who kills everything that I had.”

Studying dog training in the U.S. had been a long-standing career goal of Breninh’s, and through former President Joe Biden’s federal program called Unite for Ukraine (U4U), Breninh and her partner were able to expedite their immigration process via humanitarian parole.

They were matched with a sponsor on Bainbridge Island and arranged to fly to Washington in 2023. The journey itself presented its own challenges: Adele’s size and status as a civilian pet (not a service animal) meant she couldn’t fly in the cabin of the plane with Breninh and was too big for the baggage area — so she had to fly in the cargo hold.

But the warm reception Breninh and Adele received on Bainbridge seemed like a moment of relief after so long in survival mode. Her sponsor helped orient her to the island community and Puget Sound region, enrolled her in English language tutoring, connected her with resources for Ukrainian immigrants, and helped her find work.

It was still a big adjustment, and the war at home continued to weigh on Breninh’s mind. Like other immigrants fleeing conflict, she had very little contact with family members who were still in Ukraine — no idea if they were alive, if they were suffering, or where they were. The stress was immense, Breninh said, and the emotional whiplash of the “bad-good-bad-good” immigration process made it difficult to function. She sought therapy and psychiatric support.

“When the war started, I didn’t realize what I would do in the future, because I didn’t know if I would be alive, so I couldn’t form any plan, and I was not protected. After all countries told me that Ukrainians can be protected there, it was a big chance to take a breath, because you’re so stressed, you cannot think logically. You cannot understand what your daily high level of anxiety is,” she said. “[BI] was a big help for us, mentally. I was destroyed, and every person I met tried to support me … But from my culture, it’s really hard — we can give a lot of help, but we cannot take it back.”

After bouncing around between jobs in Seattle, Lynnwood and Bainbridge, Breninh finally landed at the BI Dog Club in 2024. She hit it off with owners Andrea and Brad Bernadt immediately, finding a common passion for dog welfare and a training method that is based on understanding dogs’ boundaries.

“Dogs for me are not just animals, they’re family members, and I am absolutely sure we need to take care of them in an appropriate way. Everybody wants to just let them play, but dogs need breaks; if you cannot provide those breaks, they can become overstimulated, which is why as a dog trainer, I hate daycares. I told Brad and Andrea that I need to take care of dogs first, and I need to create something different,” said Breninh.

“I’m so proud of this project, because this is how we can change the industry: daycare could be different, without fights, without overstimulated puppies. And I’m so proud because I put my soul into that place; because I have nothing,” Breninh continued. “I’m so lucky I found BIDC, because if I did not, I would be lost for all my time here. It’s a big difference; you didn’t see me before, I was upset every day, and this place gives me a reason to live my life.”

Unfamiliar legal waters

In the background of Breninh’s struggle to find her footing in Washington, the future of her legal status became less and less clear over time.

Humanitarian parole is a type of temporary visa that allows a person who is otherwise ineligible for legal immigration to enter and legally remain in the U.S. for about two years.

Parole is granted on a case-by-case basis, on the condition that either someone has an urgent humanitarian reason (such as fleeing a war zone) and a “compelling emergency” (such as seeking urgent medical treatment), or their presence offers a “significant public benefit” (such as participation in a criminal legal proceeding). Whether a person on parole in the U.S. can remain in the country is entirely up to the discretion of the USCIS, which can cancel or extend legal status based on an individual’s circumstances.

Because humanitarian parole is an expedited immigration process, being a parolee comes with benefits and limitations, explained immigration legal experts at the National Immigration Forum.

On one hand, the option can be a lifesaving “tool of last resort” for those in emergency or rapidly deteriorating situations in their home countries, and parolees must still be vetted, pass a background check and receive a full medical screening, which ensures public safety, the NIF leadership team wrote.

However, it can create complications upon arrival in the U.S. Parole doesn’t guarantee a pathway to permanent residency, such as citizenship or a green card; parolees cannot apply on behalf of their family members, including their spouse or child; some cannot apply for a work permit; and most are unable to access public benefits, like cash assistance, food stamps, or case management assistance that is earmarked for legal refugees.

And even if a parolee seeks other pathways to residency, such as refugee status, asylum, an employment visa, a green card or an extension on their parole, the immigration court system is so backlogged that the process can take years, leaving immigrants in legal limbo.

Breninh falls into this category. She reapplied for parole in November of 2024, just before the election, and was granted a six-month stay on her occupancy called Temporary Protected Status while the agency reviewed her application. But the new administration turned everything upside down, and though her six months were up April 24, she has not yet heard back from the USCIS about her case.

“In a process with a lawyer where you review what to do next, you have to start your process two years before your program will end. That’s why now it’s a big mess — because we don’t have a gap to be prepared for the next step,” said Breninh. “It’s not like the immigration system. It’s not like, ‘So, the step one, you move here and get this paper, the step two, you get this paper, and the step three, you get a green card.’ No; it’s a lot of other options… And the immigration system cannot give you a fast decision.”

Through the storm

On Jan. 20, Trump signed Executive Order 14165, a national security measure which aimed to “marshal all available resources and authorities to stop this unprecedented flood of illegal aliens into the United States.”

With it, Trump authorized massive deportation efforts, the construction of the southern border wall and cancelled all parole programs. But the sweeping action has had varied fallout for immigrant communities, explained Larry Chin, director of legal services at Kitsap Immigration Assistance Center.

“It’s important to distinguish between the program that was cancelled and what is currently in place. Parole, the mechanism through which people came to this country, has ended. There are no more new people arriving,” Chin said. “Many people have been paroled into the United States. Unlike Ukrainians, the administration cancelled parole for over a million people who have been directed to leave immediately. These groups include Cubans, Haitians, Hondurans, Mexicans, Nicaraguans, Russians and Venezuelans. There are different lawsuits that have been filed challenging the cancellation of parole, but these people remain at real risk of deportation.”

The re-parole process for Ukrainians was paused Jan. 20, and the USCIS is not processing applications submitted after October 2024, per the Ukrainian Immigration Task Force, but individuals can still reapply on the chance that it reopens. But that’s just one step of an extensive, complex and costly process to citizenship.

KIAC serves about 3,000 people annually, usually seeing about 450 new legal clients every year. After five months in 2025 under the Trump administration, KIAC has 645 legal matters currently active.

“There has been an increase in demand for immigration legal services. We have been taking cases to the extent that our capacity allows, but do have a waitlist currently and are working towards increasing our legal representation capacity so that we can take on more cases,” Chin said.

This is one area of the federal government that has avoided budget slashes from the Department of Governmental Efficiency, Chin noted, but KIAC legal professionals have observed certain types of benefits being repeatedly denied. The point of these actions is clear, and it’s not to save the government money or promote public safety, he added.

“There are disturbing developments that affect everyone nationally, and specifically impact our clients, such as increased enforcement action, including removal to third-party countries and the expanded use of expedited removals. The intentions of these programs is to create fear and confusion in the immigrant community,” said Chin.

Breninh doesn’t place blame on the USCIS officials. Leading the daycare at BIDC has shown her that dogs, like people, react to stress in myriad ways. If she met her immigration agent in person, she’d tell them to have a rest.

“The people who work there, they’re just people. It’s a lot of pressure on them. They told me in an email we don’t have enough resources to cover all the applications — they have like 200,000 applications every two years; in another two years, you’ll have that same amount, and maybe more, because everyone needs to continue their permission to stay here.”

Going with the flow

While Breninh waits for a response from her immigration agent, she is doing everything she can to be an integral part of the BI community in the best way she knows how: through dogs.

As a trainer, she specializes in teaching puppies how to self-regulate and redirecting reactive dogs that struggle with aggression. It’s taught her a lot of patience and understanding: dogs are sensitive, she explained, and often overstimulating environments or bad experiences in their youth can condition them to react poorly to stressors.

In Ukraine, the first training philosophy Breninh learned emphasized a firm relationship between the dog and its person, using methods and devices that use negative reinforcement, like prong collars. She quickly realized that while the tools had their uses, the philosophy didn’t foster the type of bond she appreciated between dogs and people.

Breninh has found that the dog-friendly culture of the U.S. is much more conducive to her skills in training. Most dogs just need to understand the rules of their living space and the boundaries that other people and dogs have, but you rarely need more tools than treats; it’s all in the voice and body language, she explained.

Her work has certainly made an impression on BI’s dog community. As Breninh and Adele sat down for an interview with the Bainbridge Island Review, every dog entering and leaving the BIDC came up and greeted her at the nearby table, tails wagging and happy panting. She knew each of them by name.

One dog, a black and tan Australian shepherd named Luis, came up and visited with Breninh before following his owner into the dog club. He gave a nice sit for Breninh, hoping for a treat, but settled for friendly pets and saying hi to Adele while his owner chatted with Breninh a bit.

Once they left, Breninh shared that brief moment was the result of massive progress in training: just a few months ago, Luis was fearful of daycare, afraid of Breninh, distrustful of leashes and strangers.

“I really love the positive relationship, especially since I had this bad experience when I taught dogs how to be afraid of the owner, and I taught people to be angry at their dogs. It was crazy,” she said. “Dogs are really good creatures, and they have a really strong adaptation mechanism. That’s why every pet parent needs options; the trainer should be able to explain the difference between consequences, because we don’t have any bad methods or good methods, we have just consequences from everything.”