Growing up in Dallas, sports were my world. My heroes were Troy Aikman, Emmitt Smith, and Michael Irving. But this story is about a different kind of hero. Next to the five heroes highlighted in this blog, it seems silly to call a professional football player a hero, as it strips the word of its true meaning.
Most lawyers have normalized human pain and suffering. The daily grind of courtrooms has made them inured to it. The endless carousel of prisoners are treated like cattle. There is no reserve of compassion or empathy –just a callous indifference and a punitive, business-as-usual mindset. The truth is, most lawyers are impervious to their clients' suffering. It is this mindset that taints the American criminal justice system and renders defense attorneys complicit in the injustices that are being doled out en masse –some even facilitate it. Of course, there are a relative handful of attorneys (who charge six or seven figures) who immerse themselves in every facet of a case and who live and breathe their clients' cases. But that kind of attention and care comes at a hefty price –—an exorbitant price tag that most people cannot afford. It is certainly out of the reach of poor defendants—a segment that makes up the overwhelming majority of people in prison.
More to the point, a six- or seven-figure attorney is what it takes just to be on the same footing as the state or the federal government. The vast number of criminal defendants are outgunned and don't stand a chance. Their poverty is exploited. The justice system is fair in the same way that a game at a fly-by-night carnival is fair—superficially. And, problematically, once someone has been convicted of a crime, it takes years—oftentimes decades—of complex litigation to correct an injustice. Their incessant pleas for help fall on deaf ears, and they are relegated to a life of isolation—the living dead. The problem is that there are so many procedural constraints, traps, and pitfalls, that even if there were glaring legal errors that occurred in a case, it is still like swimming upstream—a futile pursuit. And to think that a prisoner, acting alone (during post-conviction litigation, prisoners do not have a right to even a court-appointed attorney), can possibly reverse his sentence or consequent conviction is a mix of naiveté and ignorance. Even an entire team of the best and brightest attorneys working around the clock is tasked with the near-insurmountable job of reversing an injustice that is cemented in the books. As for the odds of a prisoner receiving a sentencing commutation from the President of the U.S.—well, one would have a better chance of winning the lottery.
So, not only is the system inherently unfair on the front-end, but it is nearly impossible for a prisoner to correct on the back end, no matter how ostensibly glaring any injustices that our broken system of justice has produced. In other words, they are dead in the water. But all hope is not lost. There are five women who are making a dent in the injustices that flourish—often unabated—in this country. They are making the impossible, possible, filling the hopeless with hope, giving the powerless, power, and making broken people whole.
To be sure, there are plenty of people who are well-versed in the law. But there is a fundamental difference between a lawyer who pursues a career in law to feed his family and to make a living, and an attorney focused on justice (and injustice), who must give up time and money, and make sacrifices to help the poor and powerless. Such lawyers are rare, indeed—and that's an understatement. Still, there are a handful of lawyers who have zeroed in on justice (instead of the law) who are doing something radical: they are looking at prisoners as people with innate value, not throw-away criminals of which society needs to dispose.
What's more, injustice at the hands of the American justice system is an issue far removed from middle-class America, and worlds apart from affluent enclaves. People have their own problems to deal with: how could they possibly deal with criminals' problems? But the five women featured here are making it their life's work to help destitute prisoners who are poor and powerless. I call these five women the Angels of Justice. They are going against the grain. Their motivation is not money; instead, they donate time and money to their efforts. They have hearts of gold. They speak for the poor and powerless, for people who have been steamrolled by the powerful state or federal government. Their reward is intangible; their quest is purely altruistic.
Unlike most people involved in the business of law, who don't flinch at the atrocities of the legal system, these women are hypersensitive to them. As part of the status quo, the human toll of unduly harsh imprisonment is casually dismissed, human life devalued, and injustice brushed aside with a dismissive hand. More than that, under the guise of justice, prosecutors routinely crush men and women every day with outrageous prison sentences that are purely punitive, and then go and celebrate. But for these women, watching human suffering and pain at the hands of the American justice system cuts them deeply, and resonates with them in powerful and visceral ways. These five women are laboring to undo immeasurable harm by doing incalculable good. Meet the Angels of Justice.
First, there is Jessica Jackson at #Cut 50, a legal advocacy group. She was a high school drop out with a young child when her husband was given a lengthy prison sentence for a nonviolent, low-level drug crime. That was her spark. She was driven to return to school to earn her high school diploma, complete law school, and then move to California whereupon she began to work on death penalty cases. This woman, who was herself destitute, is now one of the loudest and most effective voices for men and women who have suffered injustice at the hands of the mighty U.S. Government. Jessica Jackson is the living embodiment of resilience.
Then there is Amy Povah. Amy was dragged into an ecstasy conspiracy because of her boyfriend. The federal government told her that if she did not testify against him, it would destroy her life. The government was true to its word. Using legal ingenuity, the government exploited a legal loophole and managed to pin a massive quantity of drugs on Amy (drugs sold by other people), and then crushed her with a 22-year federal prison sentence (with no parole). Amy worked tirelessly to shed light on the unfairness of her case, and fortunately, it resonated with people. Her case received a national spotlight and she was granted a sentencing commutation by President Clinton, who ordered her release nine years into her 22-year prison term. That was her spark. Her next stop? The White House.
Like Jessica Jackson, Amy overcame a seemingly insurmountable situation. She went from a prison cell to the White House—and hasn't stopped since. To that end, she founded the CAN-DO Foundation, a potent weapon against injustice. Through her good works at the CAN-DO Foundation, Amy (and her team) has facilitated the early release of many prisoners who otherwise would have been doomed to die in prison. (Notably, Amy is not an attorney; she is a legal advocate who works hand-in-hand with attorneys.)
And we certainly have to mention Brittany K. Barnett, one of our favorites, a hometown Dallas girl. When Brittany was a child, her mother was imprisoned. This stuck with her. And when Brittany was moving up the ladder in big corporate law years later, she came across two drug cases wherein the defendants were serving draconian prison terms for nonviolent drug crimes. She was incredulous. On weekends, Brittany met with them and prepared a detailed Clemency Petition that captured the injustice of their situations. Brittany's efforts were not in vain—she secured both prisoners’ releases (through a sentencing commutation granted by the President of the U.S.). That was her spark. Brittany quit corporate law and began her quest to correct the injustices that abound in this country, one by one. Certainly, this line of work was much different from Brittany's fast-track to partner at a corporate law firm, where she would have made enough money to live any kind of life that she wanted. Instead, she chose the hard road. At one point, Brittany even drained her savings account to fund her work. Most young lawyers who are just starting to enjoy the fruits of their labor and are getting a taste of the money that comes with corporate law wouldn't dream of throwing away such a lucrative career to work pro bono for prisoners. That's unheard of. But this amazing woman sacrificed time and spent money. And she did this when she was young. It's not as though she earned enough money over a long law career and thus had the luxury of helping some prisoners. She was on a fast-track to making the big bucks. She is simply incredible—incredible.
What's more, Brittany founded Buried Alive, an initiative that centers on helping prisoners who are serving grossly disproportionate sentences (or prisoners who have been wrongfully convicted). It brings to the surface the strikingly unfair aspects of their cases so as to secure their release from prison (through a Presidential sentencing commutation or similar vehicle). Brittany's good works and her heart of gold cannot be understated. I could devote 100 pages to all of the good that she has done, and I still wouldn't scratch the surface. (Notably, Brittany was instrumental in securing the release of Alice Marie Johnson, a fact that is often overlooked.)
Of course, there is also MiAngel Cody, the powerhouse of the group. Where do I even begin? MiAngel founded The Decarceration Collective, an organization that works feverishly to secure the release of nonviolent, low-level drug offenders who are unfairly serving draconian prison sentences. During her historic #90DaysofFreedom Campaign, she partnered with Brittany K. Barnett to free 17 federal prisoners who were supposed to die in federal prison. Like Brittany, there was a point where MiAngel drained her savings account to fund her work on behalf of the poor and powerless. To date, she's won freedom for about 40 prisoners who were doomed to die in prison.
MiAngel's accomplishments are simply too lengthy to note here, but she is the real deal. The intensity of her sustained effort to save lives is, simply put, astonishing.
And last but not least, is Kim Kardashian. Kim is currently studying law. She is going through a rigorous legal program sponsored by Jessica Jackson at #Cut 50, which will allow her to practice law. Kim has it all—wealth, beauty, brains, fame, and family. But these things are not what makes Kim special.
It's hardly unfair to say that most people of such status are blind to the struggles of the lower socioeconomic classes. That is, most people who have as much wealth as Kim are detached from the pain and suffering in the world in any real way. Sure, they might attend a fancy fundraiser so that they can donate money, drink champagne, and eat caviar, but they don't get their hands dirty—not like Kim does. Kim has everything to lose and nothing to gain from this new path that she has chosen. In fact, it could be argued that what Kim is doing could hurt her name, which is inextricably tied to her empire and thus, her livelihood. Still, Kim takes the criticism and the risk, and she pushes forward. Kim's spark? Kim was struck by the blatant unfairness of Alice Marie Johnson's case. Alice Marie Johnson was serving a draconian prison sentence for a first-time, nonviolent drug crime—that is, until Kim championed her release. Had Kim not stepped in, Alice would have died in a cold prison cell. Now, she's a celebrated author and an inspiration, the embodiment of a second chance.
After seeing the impact that this had on Alice, there was no turning back for Kim. Kim blazed a path to help as many prisoners (who have suffered an injustice) as she could. Kim's foray into law pervades every area of her life. It represents time spent away from her kids and family. She has invited cold and intense scrutiny from strangers. She is constantly criticized, ridiculed, and attacked. To learn the law as Kim is, is laborious and tedious. It's far from fun. It consumes her time and detracts from her empire, time that she could be investing in growing her successful businesses and brands or investing in new endeavors, which could generate a fortune many times over. This is what sacrifice looks like. Notably, most lawyers make sacrifices in law school and work long hours, but they do so because of the big payday at the end. The kind of sacrifice that Kim is making is fundamentally different, as there's no payday in it for Kim—it's purely altruistic. Most people shake off without a second thought the injustices that flow freely from the American criminal justice system machine, but not Kim. Yet because of her heart and a sense of doing what's right, she persists, the consequences notwithstanding.
I have no doubt that Kim's father (who was an attorney) is beaming from Heaven with pride—not because of Kim's wealth and status, but because of what she has chosen to do with it. My prediction is that Kim will go down in history as one of the great humanitarians. We've all seen her build an empire in a few short years. Just imagine what she is going to do in law over the next 30 or 40 years. The sky is the limit. People scoff at and underestimate Kim. Still, she is undeterred, a testament to her character. Plainly, sometimes it takes an outsider with a fresh perspective to precipitate a fundamental paradigm-shift—Kim is that person.
So, why would a high school drop out with a small child and a husband in prison decide to obtain her high school diploma, attend law school, and uproot her life and move to California to work on death penalty cases? Why would a woman who just received Clemency after serving nine years in federal prison devote her life to helping prisoners and build from scratch a foundation that gives them a voice? Why would a woman who is on the fast-track to earning big money in corporate law abruptly change course, drain her savings account, and devote her life to doing pro bono work on behalf of prisoners? Why would a brilliant attorney leave a six-figure job to spend her money and time to work around the clock to help prisoners? And why would a wealthy-beyond-most-people's-dreams celebrity in a Southern California bubble of paradise care about a Black woman who received a raw deal in the courts? Why would she step away from her empire and family to study law so that she can be more effective in her pro bono work on behalf of prisoners? One word: compassion.
These special women share a discerning eye for injustice and an acute sense of compassion for other people. Most important, they act. They sacrifice. They are overwhelmed by a sense of unfairness and injustice—so much so that they cannot sit idly on the sidelines. It is their heightened sense of empathy and compassion that has driven them into this selfless line of work, for which they are met with hostility and criticism. Their only reward is, effectively, to save a human life. But it is not merely a side-project or hobby to make them feel better about helping people—this work has become their mission in life.
These women represent humanity at its best—the perfect model for humanity, in fact. Unfortunately, they are outliers. But these five women have created massive change. Perhaps they haven't come close to erasing the larger problem (yet), but they have certainly changed many lives in a dramatic and fundamental way. Their collective output of good is radically disproportionate to their small number. If there were more people like them, the world itself would be a markedly different place—for the better. It goes without saying that these women do not discount a human life simply because the person is imprisoned, as most people do. In their eyes, a prisoner is not reduced to a number, someone to be thrown away and simply forgotten. They realize that a grand act of compassion is powerful, in that it can overflow someone's heart with gratitude and compel them to help others—once they have been rescued themselves. The value of compassion is a point that these amazing women fundamentally understand.
Simply put, they are the antithesis of apathetic lawyers who drone away day after day, blind to the glaring injustices that abound in the modern-day criminal justice paradigm. And they couldn't be any more different from the prosecutors who heartlessly crush people and tear apart families, punitively ratcheting up prison sentences far beyond what is proportional to the crime.
It is said that there is a special place in Hell for people in power who abuse their power to unfairly destroy people. If that is true, well, then there must certainly be a special place in Heaven for these five women, remarkable women who use their power to breathe new life into people. They are the lifeblood of a nationwide movement for substantive criminal justice reform.
What's more, these women are not merely an inspiration to young girls everywhere; they are an inspiration to humanity as a whole. In fact, to measure the amount of good that they do, take away their efforts, and what we have left is untold human pain and suffering, broken families, crushed spirits, and fatherless and motherless children, because innately good people are languishing in a cage for no good reason.
In sum, these women find people at their darkest hour, reach down to pull them from a deep pit of despair and hopelessness, and breathe new life into them. In every sense of the word, these five women are Angels of Justice.