In his own

country, Arsim Prokshi was a target.

Especially

with a last name like that, since his father and brother

both served in the Kosovo army.

"If I

tell them my real name, some police kill me,"

Prokshi said. "Too many people kill."

That's why

the current Peachtree City resident was forced to change

his name. Blerim Blakaj wouldn't draw as much suspicion

as Arsim Prokshi.

The trick

worked, and Prokshi eventually fled to America, escaping

war-torn Kosovo almost a year ago. He left behind his

family, his friends and his fiance, Lujeta. He abandoned

his second year of law school, coming to America with

nothing but the clothes on his back.

But

America's judicial system was able to return to Prokshi

something he left behind in the village of Drghica: his

name.

It happened

in Fayette County Superior Court Friday morning after a

brief hearing before Chief Judge Ben J. Miller.

The judge's

approval was a huge relief to Prokshi. He had worried

days before that the judge might take another action

entirely.

"Wednesday

and Thursday, I think I go to judge and he say, `You go

back to Kosovo,'" Prokshi said.

But the

nightmare didn't come true, as Judge Miller signed off on

what he later called "one of the few good things a

judge can do for someone."

"He

was very nervous. He didn't know what to expect,"

said Andrea Bowman, a corporate attorney for Delta Air

Lines who volunteered her time to represent Prokshi. She

is a member of Holy Trinity Catholic Church in Peachtree

City, which sponsored one of the Kosovo families that

sought refuge in Peachtree City.

In fact,

Prokshi was originally flown to Las Vegas after being

processed with other refugees when he first set foot on

American soil. His best friend, Mili, came to Peachtree

City and tracked down Prokshi, encouraging him to move

here for a better chance of getting a job.

Both now

work at Hoshizaki, and Mili recently got a substantial

promotion and raise for passing a test. Of the refugees

in Prokshi's apartment Wednesday evening, Mili is easily

the most fluent with English.

Mili also

knows Prokshi well enough to vouch that his best friend

misses Lujeta in a terrible way. "He tells me

everything," Mili says.

These days,

the only contact between Prokshi and Lujeta is a phone

call once every two weeks.

Don't feel

sorry for Prokshi, though. He has already flown back home

for a visit with his parents after not seeing his father

for eight years.

Prokshi is

taking two English classes a week so he can stay here,

earn his green card and eventually become a lawyer.

The green

card will also allow him to bring his bride-to-be to the

States. Perhaps most importantly, it will bear something

Prokshi is most proud of: his real name.

Not bad for

someone who could have died because of who he was.

"I am

so happy," Prokshi said as the expression of content

on his face crossed all language barriers.

America may

be just the place for his dreams to come true.