By Murray Newman
Criminal defense attorney in Houston, former Assistant District Attorney in Harris County, and Texas Prosecutors Society member
Editor’s note: Since the Foundation’s inception in 2006, Mr. McClellan was a staunch but quiet supporter. He made scores of donations, almost all in honor or in memory of a colleague. We were always struck by these contributions, which not only financially supported a cause dear to his heart but also publicly honored a friend and coworker. What a legacy to leave behind!
The legendary Lyn McClellan passed away on February 18. He was a retired felony bureau chief with the Harris County District Attorney’s Office, where he served from 1981 through 2008, and it is impossible to overstate the importance and influence he had in that office and the hundreds of prosecutors he trained and with whom he worked. He is easily one of the most beloved and respected prosecutors to ever work in Houston.
Lyn was already a division chief when I started in 1999, and he had already proven himself as a highly skilled lawyer with dozens of capital murders and other high-profile cases he had taken to trial. Soon after my arrival, he became the misdemeanor division chief, where he had the daunting task of teaching countless yahoos baby prosecutors how to do their jobs with knowledge and, more importantly, integrity.
Having Lyn as your supervisor was the equivalent of having Tom Brady coaching your peewee football league. Although he never brought up his insanely impressive trial resume, we were all keenly aware of it. Suffice to say, when Lyn spoke, we listened. But he never seemed to demand or expect that of us. Lyn was a leader who never acted as anything other than an equal member of the group. He always had your back, but he never tried to steal your thunder. He had over 25 years’ more experience than any of us, but his sarcastic yet friendly demeanor let us know we could approach him for advice or a question. His office door was always open and often crowded with younger prosecutors seeking advice.
And like Tom Brady, he had little interest in retiring from trying cases. If a baby prosecutor had a little misdemeanor trial and wanted a second chair, all that person had to do was mention it to Lyn and he would be there with a moment’s notice. It was not unusual to see a defense attorney suddenly want to work the case out on trial day when he saw Lyn at counsel table.
Lyn was the humble teacher who knew the answer to any legal question you might have, but the real lessons he taught us were the ones he taught by example. Paradoxically, he was the loudest quiet man that I ever met. He had a voice that could echo across every floor of the office, but he rarely raised it unless caught up in a story that was making him laugh. I saw him frustrated with many a prosecutor (mostly me), but he never lost his cool with any of us. He pointed out our errors to us with a sense of humor, and we learned from those lessons. He also interceded with the upper echelons if our mistakes were so egregious that we had to answer to the Top Brass.
He was a prosecutor who knew the difference between a defendant who needed a small life-correction as opposed to being removed from society. If a young prosecutor wanted permission to do a drastic deviation from the norm when handling a case, he could run it by Lyn without fear of being mocked or getting into trouble. He would listen and usually agree when it came to the side of mercy (at least he did in the misdemeanor division!) if you could justify your position. Once Lyn approved something, he would take all the blame if it didn’t end successfully.
He taught us leadership in countless intangible ways: Do what’s right. Back up others who are doing what’s right. Don’t blame others. Don’t tolerate bullies. Take responsibility. Take every opportunity to have a teachable moment. Don’t ridicule honest mistakes. Have mercy when it doesn’t offend the conscience. Brag on others’ accomplishments, but never your own. Hear everything before you make a judgment against somebody. Never miss an opportunity to tell or hear a funny story. Always be proud of the team you are on and be there for your teammates.
I could probably list 100 more life lessons that Lyn McClellan taught the prosecutors he supervised. The funny thing is that he taught them all with his example, never through a lecture. The world would be a far better place with more Lyn McClellans in it.
The outpouring of grief, respect, and love for Lyn in his passing has been remarkable—and completely deserved.