Bench & Bar January/February 2026

FEATURE: SENIOR LAWYER ADVICE

THE HARD LESSONS Every lawyer, no matter how skilled or sea soned, will lose. Some losses are expected — the ones you see coming as the evidence stacks up against you. Others hit harder: the cases you believed in, fought for, and carried home in your chest long after the courtroom emptied. Early on, I took every defeat personally, convinced that a client’s disappointment was proof of my inade quacy. It took time — and more than a few sleepless nights — to understand that car rying a client’s burden is not the same as carrying their case. The law demands com passion, but it also requires boundaries. We serve best when we bring clarity, not when we drown in shared emotion. The advice I give young lawyers is this: care deeply, but don’t confuse empathy with ownership. You are the advocate, not the outcome. The client needs your strength, not your sorrow — your steadiness, not your sleeplessness. Earlier in my career I tried a case, and I got a decision from the judge that I was con vinced was wrong. I was so upset, and my client was so disappointed, that I agreed to appeal the case for free. After investing sig nificant time and energy in the litigation, the Court of Appeals upheld the judge’s decision. The key lesson here is that the hard cases, the losses, the sleepless nights provide a space where true professionalism can grow. The best lawyers I know aren’t the ones who never fall; they’re the ones who rise quietly and walk back into the court without anger or bitterness, but with perspective. I have learned that the tools that truly matter in this profession aren’t found in a briefcase or law library. They are the skills and qualities that give meaning to every thing else we do. The art of storytelling — the ability to translate facts into human truth — can move a judge or jury more than any citation ever will. Kindness to staff, the people who keep the gears of our practice turning, is not a small courtesy; it’s a reflec tion of our character. And respect — for clients, for colleagues, for the court — is the currency that builds a lawyer’s reputation THE TOOLS THAT MATTER

date. Everything seemed to be working out just fine. At that moment, the judge turned to the clerk and asked the clerk for an even number. Not knowing that the clerk was about to give the judge a pre-trial date on an even numbered day, I spoke up and said “10.” The judge said “Counselor, 10 is an even number, but I was talking to the clerk.” Everyone in the courtroom started to laugh, even the defendants in stripes. I was humili ated and could not get out of the courtroom fast enough. The key lesson here is to not take yourself too seriously. The practice of law is human work and not just legal work. We are all going to make mistakes. Be humble and reach out to others who have already walked the path you are on. Some of the most powerful lessons in law don’t come from lectures, but from quiet teachers — the people who rarely announce that they’re teaching at all. Judges, for instance, often reveal their wisdom not through rulings, but through restraint: a raised eyebrow that reminds you to slow down, a gentle admonition that reminds you to prepare better next time. I remem ber appearing in front of this well-respected judge on a family law case, prior to the advent of family courts, where I was making a very strong argument and was very close to being held in contempt due to the tone of my voice. The judge could have easily found me in contempt, but instead, he called me to bench and gave a bit of good advice. He said, “Saying it louder does not make your argument any better.” He took the time to teach me rather than embarrass me. The key lesson here is keeping your cool at all times. Your professionalism is more important than your overzealous advocacy. Clients are among the most profound teachers a lawyer will ever have, though their lessons often arrive wrapped in frus tration, fear, or grief. Early in my practice, I thought my role was to fix problems — to deliver outcomes, not absorb stories. But with time, I learned that every client carries a deeper truth about the human condition: the limits of control, the cost of pride, the resilience that emerges in loss. Every client has their own story to tell. A client’s tears in THE QUIET TEACHERS

the hallway can teach more about empathy than any seminar on professionalism. Their gratitude after a difficult verdict can remind you that dignity sometimes matters more than victory. Spending a day with a client during difficult mediation and reaching an acceptable result is achieved in no small measure by learning to listen to your client. And their silence, when they no longer trust the system, reminds you why our integrity must never bend. In their struggles, clients hold up a mirror — showing us not just what the law can do, but what it means to serve another person with compassion and respect. The key lessons here are that a wise lawyer is one who will represent the client with healthy detachment and will listen for what is not being said. The unspoken lesson can be a powerful one. Even opposing counsel or colleagues can be some of our most effective, if unintentional, teachers. The best of them reminds us that advocacy and civility are not opposing forces — that you can argue fiercely with out ever losing your respect for the person across the table. I’ve learned from those who came armed with sharper arguments than mine, forcing me to prepare harder, think deeper, and never mistake bluster for strength. I’ve learned, too, from those who practiced quiet decency — who picked up the phone before filing a motion, who shook hands after a bruising hearing, who understood that today’s adversary may be tomorrow’s ally. And yes, I’ve learned even from the difficult ones: the bullies, the chronic interrupters, the ones who con fuse volume with persuasion. They teach patience, professionalism, and the discipline of not matching tone for tone. In the end, every opposing counsel adds something to your education — whether it’s a new argu ment, a new strategy, or a reminder of the kind of lawyer you never want to become. The key lesson here is watching how other lawyers practice their cases, both good and bad. Over time, I’ve come to see that law is an apprenticeship in awareness. The more you listen, the more you realize that everyone around you — from the most seasoned judge to the most anxious client to the most difficult opposing counsel — have something to teach if you’re quiet enough to hear it.

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