Finding Rhythm in an Unlikely Place
The courtroom and the concert hall couldn’t seem more different. One is full of formality, rules, and pressure. The other pulses with energy, rhythm, and release. But for me, as someone who’s spent years as an attorney, public defender, and judge, I’ve found that the space between the two is where I find my balance.
Music has always been a part of my life. Whether it’s live concerts, streaming tunes on the way to court, or just turning up the volume after a long day, music has been my escape, my therapist, and sometimes, my best teacher. Over the years, I’ve come to realize that it’s not just a hobby—it’s a lifeline.
The Weight of the Gavel
Serving as a judge in Warrick County was one of the greatest honors of my life, but it also came with a heavy emotional burden. Every day, I faced people at some of the lowest points in their lives—defendants battling addiction, families caught in custody battles, victims seeking justice, and communities looking for order and fairness.
There’s no manual that tells you how to carry all of that. You try to leave it at the courthouse door, but the truth is, it follows you home. You replay testimony in your head. You second-guess rulings. You feel the human cost behind every decision.
In those moments, music became a refuge. A concert on the weekend, or even a late-night playlist, could do what nothing else could: it let me breathe. It reminded me that there’s more to life than the tension and trauma we see in court. It reminded me of beauty, emotion, and human connection.
The Law Is Precise. Music Is Personal.
The law demands precision. You rely on statutes, precedent, and procedure. There’s little room for improvisation when people’s futures are on the line. And while I respect and appreciate that structure—it’s part of what makes the system work—it can also make you feel emotionally boxed in.
Music is the opposite. It’s expressive. It’s unpredictable. It doesn’t ask for permission. When I attend a concert or lose myself in a great song, I’m reminded that emotion matters just as much as logic, and that balance is essential—not just in the courtroom, but in life.
That’s something I’ve tried to carry into my legal career, especially when working with people through the community corrections system or sitting on drug court panels. Behind every case file is a real human being with a story that’s messy, emotional, and not always logical. Music helps me stay in touch with that truth.
Connecting Through Community
One of the best parts of live music is the shared experience. Standing in a crowd of people, all moved by the same beat, the same lyrics, the same energy—it reminds me that we’re not alone in what we feel. That sense of connection is easy to lose in a profession that so often centers on conflict.
In my legal work and community service, I’ve always believed in building connections—with clients, with colleagues, and with the public. Music reinforces that belief. Whether it’s an old rock show, a blues set, or a new band I stumbled upon, I always come away feeling recharged and more open to others’ experiences.
I’ve even found that music opens doors professionally. Conversations about concerts or favorite bands have sparked unexpected relationships—sometimes with people on the other side of the legal aisle. It’s a powerful reminder that before we’re judges or attorneys, we’re people. And shared joy, even over something as simple as a song, goes a long way in building trust.
Letting Go to Stay Steady
In the legal field, we’re trained to stay composed, to keep our emotions in check. But we’re not robots. We need ways to process, to feel, to release. Music gives me that space. It lets me let go—of the tough day, the impossible decision, the courtroom stress—so I can return the next day steady and clear-headed.
Whether it’s a classic Springsteen anthem or a soulful ballad that hits me right in the gut, music gives me perspective. It reminds me of my younger self, why I got into public service in the first place, and the bigger picture beyond any single case or ruling.
Grounded in What Matters
If there’s one thing I’ve learned after years in law and community service, it’s this: you can’t serve others well unless you take care of yourself. For me, taking care of myself means running to stay fit, volunteering to stay connected, and listening to music to stay sane.
Some might think the law and live music don’t mix. But I’ve found they complement each other perfectly. The bench taught me about structure, responsibility, and impact. The bandstand reminds me about feeling, freedom, and joy. Together, they help me live a more balanced, grounded life.
Whether I’m advocating in court or tapping my foot in a concert crowd, I’m reminded that justice and joy aren’t opposites—they’re both parts of what it means to be human. And for that, I’m grateful.