My legal career began in the trenches as a public defender in Brooklyn, New York. I quickly learned that the criminal justice system was a machine designed to process criminal defendants in a cold and mechanical manner, leading to a seemingly predetermined outcome. My job was to try to put the brakes on this process while making judges and jurors understand that each of these people was a human being with their own unique story.

While I couldn’t fix a broken system, I could ensure the people I represented felt seen and heard. I listened to their fears, challenges, and hopes for the future. I made sure they knew that someone cared enough to fight for them—not just for their case, but for their dignity. Many of my clients had spent their lives surrounded by people who gave up on them. I always refused to be one of those people. I wanted them to know they mattered too, that their voice carried weight, and that they truly had someone in their corner who wouldn’t let them down.

The 11 years I spent as a public defender shaped me as an advocate. I learned that being a lawyer isn’t just about arguments or verdicts—it’s about the person at the heart of the case. It’s about understanding who they are, what they’ve endured, and what justice truly means for them. When a client walks into my office, I know they’re not looking for a lawyer who will talk at them about the law but rather someone who will listen, see and recognize their pain, and fight like hell to make sure their story is never ignored again.

One of the moments that shaped my commitment to representing sexual assault survivors came early on in my career. I was representing a young woman who had been charged with attempted murder after a confrontation in a subway station. On paper, it looked bad—she had pushed a man onto the train tracks after he grabbed her arm. The prosecutor painted her as aggressive and unpredictable, someone who was dangerous and “overreacted” in a public space. But as I got to know her, the real story began to emerge. In one of our first conversations, Sara hesitantly told me she had been sexually assaulted two years earlier. The man who assaulted her had followed her home from a subway station late at night, leaving her with scars she carried silently ever since. She never reported it. She didn’t think anyone would believe her, and she blamed herself for being alone at that hour. Since then, riding the subway had become a daily source of panic, and she avoided eye contact with everyone. On the day of the incident, a man reached out and grabbed her arm while she was waiting for the train. It was a moment that brought her back to her assault in a flash of terror and instinct. She didn’t think—she just reacted. What the prosecutor saw as aggression was really fear, survival, and years of trauma boiling over.

Listening to her story was a turning point for me. It was clear that Sara’s struggles weren’t isolated to this one incident. The trauma of her assault had seeped into every fiber of her being. She struggled with severe anxiety, couldn’t focus enough to keep her job, and avoided close relationships. The legal system didn’t care about any of that. To them, she was just another case file. But to me, she was a young woman carrying an unbearable weight on her own, and she deserved more than to be defined by a single moment born out of fear.

That case taught me how often survivors are misunderstood or outright dismissed by the systems meant to protect them. It solidified my resolve to be the kind of advocate who listens, who sees the whole person, and who fights not just for justice in the courtroom, but for the dignity and humanity of every client I represent.

I’m here to fight for your voice, your humanity, and your future—not just in the courtroom, but in every step of your life moving forward. I’ve been in this system long enough to know how difficult, complicated, and retraumatizing the criminal justice system can be. I also know the million unforeseen ways that litigation, media attention, family dynamics, or any number of other things can take a victim by surprise. Your energy should be focused on your recovery. I can be your shield against the unexpected which you’ll undoubtedly encounter as you navigate this new world. This will allow you to focus on what matters most – yourself, your loved ones, and your healing.