I Am A Trial Lawyer

I cannot carry a note. I cannot play a musical instrument.

I am a trial lawyer. To be specific, I am a criminal defense attorney. I have been trying cases for almost 30 years. When I was younger, most of my fellow lawyers had three aspirations besides winning trials. They wanted to play in a rock band, write a book, or teach the law. Happy hour often meant long, amusing discussions of possible band names and future book titles, none of which held much interest for me at the time. Then I got a call from UCF where I had been a volunteer on various projects and programs. Would I be available to teach a class? Yes, I would love to. I began teaching the very next week, and have since been an adjunct professor for twenty years. I hope to continue to do so for another twenty years. Teaching has made me a better lawyer in the courtroom and a better person in our community. An unexpected benefit has been how much I have learned from my students, how much I continue to learn from my students.

Standing up and giving a lecture was daunting, and creating and grading exams was completely foreign to me, but somehow I knew I enjoyed this teaching process. Teaching is not about the grade; it’s about the education. Learning is not confined to the classroom; it’s what the students take with them when they pursue their goals. It is so rewarding it is to meet a former student for dinner that is now attending law school. The first thing that he wants to share with me is, “All those things you told us about being a lawyer make so much sense now.” I am so touched by the emails that begin, "You may not remember me, but I took your class and you motivated me to....." Such a heartwarming moment to read a former student’s essay on who she admires in the legal community and find out she wants to be me when she grows up.

I remember showing up to teach for the first time. Challenge one: finding a parking space. Challenge two: finding the classroom. So far, so good… Next, I stood facing thirty- some students not much younger than myself. Some were older and wiser, with far more life experience. Luckily, a professor I looked up to as a mentor had shared his class syllabus and the key exams. I had spent almost ten years selecting juries and arguing cases in courtrooms. Some cases were won, many were lost. I very much wanted to win this new type of case. These “jurors” were going to judge the material I taught and my presentation.

I decided to teach using the Socratic method. I began to question my “jury panel.” What legal experience do you have? What do you hope to do with your degree? And then, the inevitable question from one of them, how do you defend ‘those people?’” I explained that defense attorneys preserve the integrity of the system. They make certain that law enforcement officers, prosecutors, and judges follow the rules. It is a noble profession to defend and uphold our Constitution. After a brief pause, other students jumped in and shared their opinions. A lively discussion was had and the feedback was both surprising and enlightening. Some minds were changed, but the best result was that my students began think critically about the justice system, learning the law all the while.

I tried to interact with each and every student. We learned together from the book and our talks about current events in the law. Over the years we discussed the O.J Simpson trial, we examined the Michael Jackson trial, and we dissected the Casey Anthony trial.

Thoughtful questions from my students cause me to examine my personal views as a defense attorney. I enjoy encouraging them to articulate their beliefs and discover the reasons behind them. At nine o’clock on Thursdays I leave the UCF campus, both inspired and hopeful that these young (and not-so-young) students will go forth and seek justice for themselves and others. As I mold their future, they continue to inspire me to share my knowledge and real life experiences with the next group of students. I continue to ask myself, “Am I making a difference?” I know the answer is yes.

Gideon v. Wainwright holds that state courts are required to provide counsel to criminal defendants who are unable to afford their own attorneys. While my colleagues aspired to be authors, professors, and rock stars, I only wished to uphold this case. I thought it was the clearest path to making a positive impact. Twenty years later, I find myself an adjunct professor and author of a college-level textbook on criminal law. I did not foresee the countless benefits of teaching, but now I’ve learned to think beyond the courtroom when trying to become a better attorney. I think I shall name my rock band The Gideons.