The Forty Days

Judge William Wayne Justice passed away on Tuesday, October 13, 2009, at the age of eighty nine.  Appointed by Lyndon Baines Johnson to the federal bench in 1968, Judge Justice served faithfully for over forty years and became one of the most influential judges–if not the most influential judge–in Texas history.  Striving to protect civil rights and equal justice for all, Judge Justice acted boldly at a time where bold action was required, bringing Texas unwillingly into the 20th Century.  His landmark rulings desegregated the Texas public school system (almost twenty years after Brown v. Board of Education), reformed an abusive Texas prison system, and ensured public education for the children of illegal immigrants, just to name a few.  Although his decisions were highly controversial, and eventually lead to death threats and ostracization from Tyler society (where he sat for thirty years), Judge Justice never waivered in his determination to do what was both right and required under the law.  This legendary figure of Texas history, who meant so much to so many, was my boss from August 2008 to August 2009.  I attended his memorial service today.

Like a very lucky few, I had the honor of serving as Judge Justice’s law clerk.  I first met Judge Justice when I hand delivered my application to his chambers.  Having a connection to his then-current law clerk and already working in the same building for a federal appellate judge, I entered his chambers in August 2007 to submit my application as a law clerk for the following year.  I saw a sprightly Judge Justice sitting in a chair near his secretary’s desk, as he was often apt to do, and he beckoned me over to him.  Although I was essentially a stranger at this point, he asked me about my background, and we had a short and jovial conversation about my upbringing, my current clerkship, and pescetarianism.  (Judge Justice loved barbecue but unsurprisingly attracted numerous vegetarian law clerks.)  I could feel the Judge’s warmth, empathy, and decency from the very beginning, and I immediately knew that I wanted to clerk for him.

I returned one week later for my interview.  We again had a pleasant and easy conversation regarding my academic credentials and delved a little further into my background.  He offered me the position after about twenty minutes, and I accepted on the spot.  Although he was eighty-seven years old at that point, he still had a substantial criminal and civil docket and worked a full day at chambers every single day.  In January of 2008, I heard that the Judge fell ill, and he struggled to recover from his illness throughout the spring.  Every day I passed by the door of his chambers on the way to my then-current judge’s chambers, and I remember thinking, “Hold on, Judge Justice.  Hold on so that we can have our time together.”

Judge Justice did indeed hold on.  By the time my clerkship began, Judge Justice had resumed the bench and had begun hearing criminal sentencings again.  Eventually, however, illness kept Judge away from chambers for several months, but throughout this time chambers staff maintained close contact with him.  We would talk with him about a variety of topics–the cases on which I was working, the upcoming presidential election, and Texas Longhorn football.  Much of the time, Judge would regale us with stories about his past.  He loved talking about his late father, Will Justice, a renowned criminal defense attorney in Athens, Texas.  Judge Justice often repeated to me his father’s advice for how to win a case–know more about the facts of the case than anyone else in the courtroom.  I will never forget this advice.

One day, when it was just me and him, he asked me what I thought about death.  I said that I wanted to die at a ripe age and know that what I did on this earth made a difference, that I tried the best I could to do good, and had close and warm relationships with those I loved.  Then I would die with no regrets–I would not look back on my life and wish I had taken a different course.  I don’t know if he agreed with me or if he realized that I was attempting to describe him, and we just sat there quietly and stared into the midday sky.

My clerkship ended in August, and after I returned from Africa, I paid him a visit.  This was the last time I saw Judge Justice.  He had deteriorated slightly from when I had seen him last, but he still seemed in good spirits.  I told him about my trip, read him some news articles, and eventually said goodbye.  I didn’t tell him how much he meant to me or the impact his work and humanity had on my life.  I didn’t say all the things I probably would have said had I known that this was the last visit.  I just left and told him I would be back soon.

Today, I attended his memorial service in a chapel full of judges, old law clerks, family, and friends.  The service was beautiful, poignant, and emotional.  The night before, law clerks and his staff from his forty-one years on the bench gathered together for dinner, and it was amazing to see all these people with this common connection brought together to celebrate this remarkable man.  I was and continue to be jealous of the clerks that worked side-by-side with the Judge when he was fully active, in chambers every day, and brimming with the vigor of the monumental work to be done.  But I was fortunate enough to have my moment with the Judge, and I believe that I was able to form a meaningful and lasting connection with him and his family.  I guess that to ask for more would just be selfish.

Judge Justice represented the best among us.  He was kind, decent, charitable, empathetic, and unafraid of doing the right thing, despite the consequences.  He certainly had his share of critics, who believed that he distorted the Constitution to achieve a desired result.  But Judge Justice believed that he was simply doing what justice and the Constitution required, and if he interpreted it incorrectly, he could simply be overturned on appeal.  And although he has passed, his decisions live on, the reforms he instituted that benefited and continue to benefit the powerless and disenfranchised among us live on, and the effect he had on those closest to him lives on.

Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, Judge.  Rest in peace.  You will be sorely missed.

If you would like to read more about Judge Justice, there were some truly great articles about him in the Austin American-Statesman and the Dallas Morning News.

Photo at top of page courtesy of John Katz.