After two years at Harvard Law School and the School of Government, I had real doubts about the practice of law.What I had experienced was very interesting and intellectually engaging but also pretty alienating. There seemed to be a distance between what lawyers discuss and understand and what they believe, what animates their life. For some law professors and lawyers the distance was great and for other lawyers the distance shorter, but it was always there. What I saw made me question whether law practice could really be fully affirming. I ultimately began to persuade myself that I could navigate the distance; I could reconcile myself to some dissonance between work and life, between what was in my head and what was in my heart. When I met Steve Bright all of that changed.
I flew to Atlanta in December 1983 as part of Professor Betsy Bartholet's course on Race, Poverty and Litigation.
I had elected to spend the January term working as an intern with the Southern Prisoners Defense Committee, now the Southern Center for Human Rights. I changed planes in Charlotte, North Carolina, and that's where I met Steve. We flew to Atlanta together and immediately I knew there was no distance between this man's life and his career. He was passionate, dedicated, fearless and completely absorbed in what he was doing. He was funny and engaged by lots of things besides his work but his heart and his mind were aligned with the plight of the condemned and those who faced unjust treatment in jails and prisons. There was something unforgettably comforting about talking to someone who was describing very difficult and demanding work with such clarity and vision. Some of what Steve described was intimidating and heartbreaking, but it was crystal clear that he was fully engaged and completely committed to fighting for incarcerated and condemned people to whom he had offered his extraordinary talents.
Steve made me laugh easily on that flight. He had an insightfulness that made me feel less overwhelmed and anxious about complex and terrifying realities. He exhibited a purposefulness that most professional people, and certainly most lawyers, I had met until then didn't seem to share. When we arrived in Atlanta, after meeting Steve, I knew things would never be the same.
I am one of hundreds of lawyers for whom Steve Bright has been a model, mentor and teacher. He has literally inspired a generation of young people to believe you can be "all in" when it comes to helping the poor and be grateful for the opportunity that your work provides. I've had the great privilege of working closely with Steve. I slept on his only couch every night for over a year after I passed the bar exam. For four years we nightly went to the cheapest Chinese, Mexican and soul food restaurants we could find in Atlanta because we couldn't really afford much else. I learned from Steve that doing effective life-saving work for condemned people means that you'll have to work very long days week after week, month after month and year after year.
Steve and I have shared the torment of execution and the thrill of legal victory. No matter what the circumstance he has always been purposeful in a way few people ever are. He is relentless, unyielding, passionate, dedicated and committed; he is also brilliant, tactical and creative. He has a mind and a heart for persuasion and advocacy that is unique and profound. He is the most courageous lawyer I know. Steve has taught me that sometimes you have to stand when everyone else remains seated, sometimes you have to speak when everyone else is quiet.
It pains me that there aren't more people like Steve because just a few more advocates like him could absolutely balance the scales of justice. Steve is exactly the kind of friend, mentor, colleague and advocate who deserves our highest praise, our greatest admiration and our most sincere gratitude.
Most people with Steve's skills and abilities would insist on being an amplified, highly paid superstar lawyer with only the "most important people" as clients. While he is a superstar in the metrics of justice that really matter, he is not highly paid and he doesn't need nor does he seek amplification. However, he has taught all of us through his extraordinary 30 years of leadership at the Southern Center for Human Rights that the poor, the incarcerated and the condemned are the "most important people." For me, this is Steve's legacy and wisdom and it has changed and saved the lives of many advocates, lawyers and condemned clients alike.
Bryan Stevenson
October 2012
