Arizona Law Clinic Takes Legal Aid For Veterans On The Road

While patrolling a residential area in Afghanistan's Helmand Province during a deployment as a U.S. Marine in fall 2011, Caleb A. Hayter and his fellow Marines found themselves less than 6 feet away from a woman and her child. The woman, dressed head to toe in a black burqa with only her eyes visible, did not look at them.

But the child did, locking eyes with Hayter's for a brief moment.

"It was a look of fear, hostility, a tinge of bitterness, but also some fierce longing and maybe even hope," he said.

In quiet moments during that deployment, which spanned from late 2011 into 2012, that boy's look came back to haunt Hayter. The boy was probably about 6 or 7 years old, he thought, which meant he had spent all his life contending with poverty, war and the U.S. occupation of his country.

Hayter knew he would just have to get through his deployment alive and well. A day after boarding a military plane back to the United States, he would find himself on an American road lined up with fast-food restaurants and car dealerships. But that boy would still be there in the dust and scarcity of southwest Afghanistan.

That deployment forever changed Hayter's outlook on life, he said. It helped him realize he wanted to help people facing difficult circumstances build better lives for themselves. That realization took Hayter, who was born and raised in Washington state and joined the Marines at age 18, out of the military and eventually to law school.

Today, Hayter leads the rural and tribal veterans outreach program at University of Arizona's Veterans' Advocacy Law Clinic, where he spent three semesters as a law student. He divides his time among organizing outreach trips, representing veterans in treatment court, seeking corrections to military records and supervising students.

The clinic offers free legal help to veterans and service members. Its students and supervising attorneys help clients seek disability benefits and discharge upgrades, and they refer clients to other lawyers when their needs fall outside the clinic's practice, clinic director Kristine Huskey told Law360.

"A lot of veterans call us not knowing how to get help or what sort of legal help they might need," Huskey said.

The clinic also represents veterans in the Veterans Court in Tucson, where eligible defendants receive treatment and supervision aimed at addressing problems such as substance abuse and post-traumatic stress disorder. Successful completion can lead to dismissal of their charges, Huskey said.

The Veterans Court is a joint effort of the Tucson City Court and the Southern Arizona VA Health Care System that diverts veterans charged with misdemeanors away from criminal prosecution and into U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs programs that help them with substance addiction and housing, and to find employment. The veteran must agree to a treatment plan. Once completed, charges are dismissed, provided the veteran hasn't since been charged with a new offense.

Hayter left the Marine Corps with an honorable discharge and used the GI Bill to attend college. As he helps fellow veterans navigate the transition to civilian life, he considers himself fortunate.

"I came home from Afghanistan with all my fingers and toes. But I also know a lot of other military members don't have that," he said.

Physical injuries, traumatic brain injuries and PTSD can complicate veterans' transitions to the civilian world — and sometimes scar them for life, Hayter said.

Hayter described clients whose head injuries left them struggling with memory and concentration, causing them to miss required duties and face disciplinary action while still in uniform. Some ultimately received less-than-honorable discharges that could limit their access to benefits such as healthcare, education assistance and VA-backed home loans. In those cases, the clinic works to show that what the military treated as misconduct was connected to an injury or mental health condition, Hayter said.

Upgrading a discharge means the military changes a veteran's original discharge status in the service member's official records from anything less than honorable to honorable. There are six levels of discharge, ranging from honorable to dishonorable. A dishonorable discharge generally bars all VA benefits and can make civilian employment extremely difficult. Bumping up a discharge level can help veterans qualify for benefits they were previously denied.

A veteran seeking a discharge upgrade must submit an application asking the military to look beyond the disciplinary record and consider the circumstances that led to the discharge. Those circumstances may include traumatic brain injury, PTSD, sexual assault or harassment experienced during service, or a discharge based on sexual orientation or transgender status.

"A military service member may have done a great job serving their country, but then they make a mistake and the military kicks them to the curb," Hayter said. "They may have gotten in trouble from the military and committed misconduct and violated military regulations, but there's a legitimate reason why that happened."

A Law Office on Wheels

The clinic grew out of a project that assigned law students to represent clients in Tucson's veterans treatment court. Huskey joined in 2013 to turn what she described as an externship into a law school clinic.

She expanded its pro bono work for veterans and service members beyond the courtroom to include helping them to apply for Veterans Affairs benefits, such as disability connected to their service, and pursue discharge upgrades.

But providing legal assistance in hubs like Tucson did little for veterans who lived hours away, sometimes without reliable transportation or internet access. Arizona, like nearly every state, contains legal deserts — areas where there is just one attorney per 1,000 residents, or none at all, according to the American Bar Association's definition.

Huskey had a long-held desire to reach those communities, but the clinic lacked the money and staff to make the trips, she said.

Thanks to a $300,000 gift from tobacco company Philip Morris International that was announced in August 2024, however, the clinic has been able to hire two additional full-time attorneys and assemble a portable law office, she said.

Teams of students and supervising lawyers began traveling to rural and tribal communities, sometimes driving six to eight hours to offer free consultations.

"Arizona not only is a place of many deserts, but it's also a legal desert," Huskey said. "We go out to where the veterans are."

On outreach trips, two or three law students typically climb into a rented university van with supervising attorneys. They drive to Holbrook, Arizona, and the Hopi and Navajo reservations to staff legal clinics and veterans outreach events known as stand-downs. On the clinic's first stand-down trip, one student marveled at how far they'd traveled from inhabited areas, and into "the middle of nowhere," Huskey recalled.


At these events, which typically last one to three days, VA staff and volunteers provide veterans who are homeless or at risk of homelessness with free food, haircuts, clothing and health screenings, along with referrals for housing, employment, medical care, substance use treatment and mental health counseling. Sometimes, a judge is on hand to quash bench warrants, an exercise of judicial discretion that gives defendants who missed a court date an opportunity to appear in court on a new date without risking arrest.

The clinic's team brings legal expertise, and the dedication of a selected group of students who wish to hone their lawyering skills with live clients. The students enjoy attending the stand-downs, because they observe all the complexities of helping low-income clients, who often present multiple legal issues that are interconnected, Huskey said.

"We try to attend stand-downs where we can rely on people in the community and services in the community to really help that veteran holistically," she said.

Students and supervising attorneys sit down with veterans to identify their legal needs, explain the available options and help complete paperwork. As often happens with legal clinics, some veterans arrive unsure how to describe their problem or unaware of benefits they might qualify for, Huskey said.

In the van, Huskey and her team keep a Wi-Fi hotspot and a printer to print documents and informational materials for clients, so that they don't have to get them online.

"You might say, why do you bring a printer?" Huskey said. "Because the internet, let me tell you, is not really reliable, particularly on the tribal reservations."

Lack of access to broadband is an access to justice issue of its own. Unreliable internet service is a particularly common problem in rural areas, including on tribal reservations, which cover one-quarter of the state of Arizona.

In Apache County, which includes portions of the Navajo Nation and the Fort Apache and Zuni reservations, only about 29% of residential and business locations have access to reliable broadband, compared with about 98% in Maricopa County, home to Phoenix. These figures come from the Arizona Commerce Authority's broadband map, which uses Federal Communications Commission data published in June 2025.

At the clinic's first stand-down in Holbrook, a couple had borrowed a car and drove 70 miles to get there, Huskey recalled. They went to the clinic's table first. After answering their legal questions, a law student walked them around to meet other service providers.

For Huskey, those introductions matter. Local providers who meet the clinic's team in person know whom to call when another veteran needs legal help.

"They know us. They trust us now because we've showed up," Huskey said.

The outreach team has attended three events since September, including stand-downs in Holbrook, at Twin Arrows Navajo Casino Resort and on the Tohono O'odham reservation. The team plans to return to the Tohono O'odham reservation on Nov. 18 for a stand-alone legal clinic organized with tribal partners, Hayter said.

"The work is never done," he said. "There's always more to do."

Huskey said the clinic receives funding from various sources, and she's always looking for more, but that Philip Morris International's donation gave the biggest boost. Thanks to the tobacco company's funding, the clinic was able to expand its legal services and presence, which in turn led to more engagement. The clinic has become more visible, attending more events than it has in the past, and making new connections with military and veteran-adjacent organizations. Individual donations have increased in volume and amount as a result, Huskey said.

"I think that's because we're out in the community across Arizona more, all due to PMI funding," Huskey said.

Connecting Hopi Veterans With Lawyers

After 30 years in the U.S. Air Force, Eugene Talas wanted to keep supporting people who, like him, had worn a uniform. Talas, a member of the Hopi Tribe who retired from the military in 2004 with a rank of chief master sergeant, turned that desire into action when he began leading the tribal government's veterans services office.

With a staff of three people including himself, Talas has been serving veterans across a reservation spanning 2,500 square miles of high desert tablelands in northeastern Arizona. He drives them around the state to reach medical appointments and connects them with food banks and agencies that provide benefits, housing and financial assistance. For veterans struggling with homelessness or living far from services, that outreach can be a lifeline.

But some problems require a lawyer, and finding affordable legal help can be difficult for veterans living on the reservation. A partnership between Hopi Veterans Services and the Veterans' Advocacy Law Clinic has helped address that need, he said.

"That was kind of the missing piece," Talas said. "It's a win-win as far as bringing them up here."


Two or three months before the clinic's van arrives, Talas and his staff start spreading the word to the veterans on the reservation. At outreach events and by email, they tell veterans what help will be available and which records to bring. For someone seeking a discharge upgrade, that can mean bringing discharge papers and any documents from a previous attempt to change their status.

Talas hopes to expand the legal clinic's scope and participation further. He would like to bring more legal providers to future events, including representatives of the Hopi courts, and open the clinics to other tribal members as well as veterans. Between visits, his office hands out the guides and contact information the law clinic left behind, so people know where to turn when a question comes up.

Some of the questions Talas hears most often concern older veterans. Families may need help preparing a will or arranging a power of attorney so they can pay bills or handle other affairs for a relative who can no longer manage them on their own, he said.

"We have our own issues, social issues, but we are working on bridging that gap of service and connection for our veterans, with our partners that reside off reservation, and I think that's the challenge going forward," he said.

At veterans events on Hopi, family members come up to Talas and tell him who in their family served and when. They're proud of that service, but the relationship between the tribe and military service is complex and nuanced, he said.

For Hopi veterans, returning home after military service can involve more than navigating the practical challenges of civilian life. It can also mean reconciling their military experiences with the cultural traditions of their community. Unlike many other Native tribes in the United States whose identity is tied to the idea of warfare, Talas said, Hopi culture is more deeply rooted in the value of life.

"Killing is not Hopi," he said. "Through the years, we've always kind of looked at us as maybe being more defenders instead of warriors."

Still, Hopi members understand that by serving in the armed forces, there is potential for violence and taking life. Talas said cleansing ceremonies are part of how Hopi veterans return to community life after military service.

These ceremonies vary from one Hopi community to another. They may involve washing the hair and body of a former service member using crushed yucca roots to symbolize spiritual rebirth and the washing away of past trauma. Sometimes it involves giving the returning veteran a new Hopi name.

Talas described an additional practice he learned about from older Hopi veterans. They told him they buried their uniforms and other military belongings away from their villages, then underwent cleansing before returning to village life. Talas said cleansing continues today in smaller forms.

"We still go through the cleansing cycle," he said.

--Editing by Tim Ruel.

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