office in Manhattan on Oct. 10, his fingers mechanically folding pieces of white legal paper into tiny triangles.

"Of course I have faith in America, now that I'm out," says Wu with a faint smile while Jun Wang, another pro-bono lawyer for Wu along with Helen Morris in Washington, translates for him.

The road to freedom for him started in 1991 when Chai-Ern Huang, Wu's wife of seven years then, learned she was pregnant with a second child. Frightened because they violated China's one-child-per-couple policy, Wu quit his job - designing sets and lighting for the Fujian Operatic Company - and went into hiding.

But China's "birth-control authorities" caught up with the couple. Chai-Ern Huang was forced to have her abortion at seven months and was sterilized against her will.

Fearful ofrather than faceless stereotypes," Mr. Westerman adds, "you have to recognize the humanity they have, and then it becomes harder to throw them in jail and forget about them."

Wu's new status enables him to file for permanent residence. Assuming he got the coveted green card, he could work here - and bring along the wife and 11-year-old son he has not seen for four years.

Mr. Assadi, one of Wu's pro-bono lawyers, says he hopes the legal victory will pave the way for the remaining 46 Chinese aliens still incarcerated in York to be released based on their artistic ability too.

"Congress passed the special law for artists of extraordinary ability like Mr. Wu so that they could produce their art in freedom, not in an immigration jail," he says.

But