Raising the voices of prosecutors of color (extended version)

By Denise D. Hernandez
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

It did not start with George Floyd. Before him, there were Breonna Taylor, Atatiana Jefferson, Stephon Clark, Botham Jean, Philando Castille, Alton Sterling, Freddie Gray, Eric Garner, Akai Gurley, Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Walter Scott, Michael Ramos, and others—the list goes on. The truth is this has been building up for a while. 

            Watching video footage of Mr. Floyd’s strangulation by Minneapolis police officers was terrible for many of us—and downright devastating for black and brown communities. It hit prosecutors of color especially hard because we are part of the criminal justice system, and we watched agents of that system end the life of a black man in one of the worst ways imaginable. The whole incident magnified the lack of racial equity in criminal justice and even brought to the surface the collective trauma so many BIPOC (black, indigenous, and people of color) feel. 

            It was so devastating that it spurred a conversation—several conversations, in fact, between a handful of black prosecutors and the leadership of TDCAA. Was there a way that TDCAA, as a statewide organization serving all prosecutors, could facilitate a roundtable discussion for black prosecutors in Texas? Was there a way to create a safe, dedicated space to gather with other black prosecutors to talk through what they were feeling in the wake of Mr. Floyd’s death? 

            In response, TDCAA leaders hosted a Zoom meeting for any black prosecutors who might want to join. The call was filled to capacity—Zoom caps all meetings at 100 participants—with several people spilling over onto a waitlist. The Zoom call lasted all evening and could’ve gone on longer if not for the late hour. 

            After that gathering, TDCAA’s Diversity, Recruitment, and Retention (DRR) Committee met virtually to share our own experiences as BIPOC in the justice system, our inner conflicts, and solutions for going forward—which, we agreed, had to include uplifting diverse voices. Three committee members—Kenisha Day, ADA in Harris County; Alexandra Guio, ACDA in Dallas County; and myself (Denise Hernandez, ADA in Travis County)—volunteered to lead those efforts. Three articles bloomed from these conversations (all published in this issue of The Texas Prosecutor journal), and they mostly stem from questions we sent to colleagues across the state. From their overwhelming response, it is clear that the interior struggles we on the DRR Committee feel is mirrored in other BIPOC prosecutors, but the responses also illustrate the diversity of our perspectives and how each of us handles those struggles differently. 

            We publish these articles now to amplify these 23 voices speaking on topics that range from what they love about being a prosecutor, to how the brutality against marginalized communities has affected them. Our hope is that these voices might move you—move you emotionally, yes, but maybe also move you to action.  

            Here’s what they have to say.

What inspired you to choose prosecution as a career?

Alexandra Guio
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

I came to the United States from Colombia when I was 4 years old and grew up undocumented from middle school until my junior year in college. Growing up undocumented presented many challenges in my life, and I was never sure whom I could turn to for help. When I decided that I wanted to become a lawyer, I knew I wanted to choose a specific path where I could help people who felt the same way I did. I chose to be a prosecutor because I knew I could help victims who felt helpless and also help offenders get a second chance at life.

Ciara Parks
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

I was inspired to become a prosecutor because as a child, I saw a lot of injustice around me and I wanted to be able to stand up and be an advocate for justice for those who could not speak up for themselves.

Idris Akinpelu
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

Seeing certain injustices growing up in my low-income neighborhood and influences from high school led me to this career. I was in the Law Magnet at Townview High School, and each magnet school had classes specifically set aside for immersion in our chosen field. In ours, we were able to intern at the Dallas County DA’s Office. I worked in the 265^th Judicial District Court for two years, and my mentor to this day is Judge Keith Dean, who was the presiding judge at the time.

Scott Turner
Assistant District Attorney in Ector County

As a child of the ’70s and ’80s, I find that most of my belief system came television. My favorite television shows were anything that involved some type of mystery to solve. I loved the end of those shows where the detective got all of the suspects together and explained who committed the crime. As a result, for most of my young life, I wanted to be a detective. As I got older, I realized that even though a criminal might not “beat the ride,” he or she could “beat the rap” if the case was not prosecuted well. It was then that I realized that I wanted to be a prosecutor. I knew that I wanted to be the person who made sure that the criminals were punished and not just caught.

Janie Korah
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

I grew up watching my parents help people. My dad is a priest, family and marriage counselor, and psychotherapist. My mom worked as an ICU nurse in a county hospital that treated gunshot wounds and drug overdoses in abundance. I would regularly hear about the casualties of family dysfunction and crime. ​I am a South-Asian, and our community glorified outward image rather than accountability, so instances of family violence, child abuse, and other crimes went unreported over concerns of “what the community would think.” Prosecution embodied my desire to change that mindset, stand up for justice, and seek the truth.

Ty Stimpson
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Tarrant County

Honestly? Working in the criminal justice system is not something I ever thought I would do. The stigma associated with being a prosecutor in the community I grew up in was not positive. However, that all changed for me when I interned with the Dallas County District Attorney’s Office with a prosecutor who is now a sitting Judge. I recall him telling me stories about his upbringing and what lead him to be a prosecutor. His stories resonated with me because it reminded me a lot of my upbringing and my community. It is no secret that people of color, particularly black men, make up a disproportionate number of individuals within the Texas criminal justice system. Despite the large number of black men impacted by the criminal justice system, there are very few black male prosecutors.  So, when I noticed that void I felt compelled to step up and be the change I wanted to see. Being a black male prosecutor does NOT mean I am lenient or not objective when handling cases against black males. However, I truly believe that for our criminal justice system to work in the optimal way we need individuals from every demographic represented within the criminal justice system, i.e. attorneys, judges, probation, etc… Now, when I can give back to communities like the one I grew up in, I encourage young black men to look for voids in our society where they feel inspired to be the change they want to see.

Erleigh Wiley
Criminal District Attorney in Kaufman County

The concept of fairness; to “seek justice” within the law, and not to merely convict. As a prosecutor, you have a duty to do what is right for the community (the state) and the person accused (defendant). 

Ashley Earl
Assistant District Attorney in Fort Bend County

I actually had no plans to be a prosecutor, but I got an internship at a county attorney’s office while I was waiting for my bar results. On my first day I observed a DWI trial, and I was hooked! I knew advocacy was what I wanted to do from that experience. I also had a great mentor who really impressed upon me that justice didn’t mean always getting convictions and jail time, but it meant always doing the right thing. 

John Creuzot
Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

I do not know that I chose it as a career. I’ve been a defense lawyer twice and a judge for 21 years—much longer than I’ve been a prosecutor. My most recent foray into it in 2016 was because I thought I could do a better job than other candidates. My varied experience as prosecutor, judge, and defense counsel gave me a solid foundation to understand and implement criminal justice reform.

Denise D. Hernandez
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

I grew up in a diverse, low-income Houston neighborhood, and members of my community often felt disconnected and under-represented in the legal system. From criminal prosecution to victim advocacy, I heard story after story of the lack of representation and inclusivity in the legal world. This ignited my passion for inclusive representation in the criminal justice system and eventually led to my service as a prosecutor.

Paul Love
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

Criminal law was never my aspiration. Prior to law school, I worked for two nonprofits working with at-risk youth in Houston’s inner city. My educational background at the time was social work. I went to law school with the thought of getting involved in politics to better address the needs of inner-city communities. Once I graduated from law school, my first legal job was working for the District Attorney’s office. When I first started working as a prosecutor, there were not many black prosecutors, and there were no black judges. I soon came to understand the importance of my role in the criminal justice system.

Beverly Armstrong
First Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Polk County

I credit my career in prosecution to Pamela Walker, who recently retired from her position as Misdemeanor Chief in Polk County. I was in private practice and adamant about not handling criminal cases. Pam encouraged me to apply for an open prosecutor position in her office, but I declined. A year or so later, Pam reached out again and asked if I would consider taking a temp position with her office during the military deployment of one of her prosecutors. I accepted, thinking I could do it temporarily and then I would expand my practice by hiring someone to handle the criminal cases.

            However, my first day as a prosecutor sealed the deal—I knew immediately that this was the profession for me. My first day happened to be an ancillary docket day. I entered the courtroom and was immediately enthralled with reviewing and discussing cases with defense attorneys. After court, I talked about cases with officers and reviewed cases for charges and recommendations. All of this on my first day! It was so fast-paced and exciting that before I knew it, it was time to go home. On the drive, I felt good about what I had accomplished and decided to pursue a career in prosecution. My plan was to apply to other counties once my temporary assignment ended, but the prosecutor who was deployed notified the office that he would not be returning, and I was offered a permanent position. 

Sade Mitchell
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Bexar County

I remember being in the fourth grade and making a small argument that led one of my classmates to say I should be a lawyer. Back then, I agreed because I thought all lawyers made a lot of money. At that point, I did not know there were different kinds of lawyers. 

I took my first criminal justice class in high school, and that is when I knew I did not want to just be a lawyer: I wanted to be in the courtroom. I wanted to be a prosecutor. That decision was solidified once I entered law school and immediately noticed how much I loved and exceled at my criminal law classes. I’m nine years in and can see myself doing this for another 10-plus years.

Chandler Raine
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

I knew I wanted to be a prosecutor halfway through my first summer internship at the Harris County District Attorney’s Office. I remember watching the prosecutors I was assigned to as they not only provided a voice to victims, but also worked hard to make sure defendants’ due process rights were protected. TV will tell you that the defense protects liberty and the prosecutor attacks it. That summer internship in 2011 was the first time I realized that the ethical prosecutor fighting to see that justice is done is both the first line of defense for civil liberties—by following the law and never bending the rules—and often the last line of defense for the safety of the community. The two walk hand in hand only in this profession. 

LaQuita Long
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

After various jobs in the criminal justice system, I felt like as a prosecutor I could be the change that I wanted to see occur in the criminal justice system. 

Elissa Wev
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

I started my legal career as a public defender in Dallas, a position I am proud to have held and one which has significantly shaped my views of our current criminal justice system. When it became apparent that opportunities to grow my skill set and advance would be limited (lawyers who work as public defenders are often passionate about their mission, and thus tend to not leave the office very frequently), I looked to the DA’s Office to further develop as an advocate and practitioner. Beyond my self-interest, I also identified a great need for prosecutors who understood the hardship placed on individuals facing criminal charges in the pre-trial phase. I sought to provide a perspective through the lens of poverty-related issues with the hopes of better serving victims and defendants alike.

Nicci Campbell
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

I live my life by the quote, “Be the change you wish to see in the world,” and this ideal has translated to my career. Our criminal justice system has dark, unjust, and racist roots, and my desire is to live in a nation where the system operates justly and fairly for its BIPOC citizens. I was inspired to be a prosecutor because I knew I’d have the ability to make these changes within my community and to—I hope—inspire others to do the same.

Jaustin M. Ohueri
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

I was influenced by the events of Jena 6 and the legacy of Barbara Jordan. The Jena 6 controversy involved a white prosecutor in Jena, Louisiana, who overstepped his role and authority to intimidate black teenagers. In the small town of Jena, racial tensions had been mounting—for example, teachers and students discovered a noose hanging from a tree. The threat of violence by both white and black perpetrators was feared by the community, yet the prosecutor centered his efforts on overcharging black teenagers. His abuse of power enraged me, and I knew then that it was important to have voices of color and leaders of color in the criminal justice system. Barbara Jordan, the onetime state lawmaker and then member of the U.S. House of Representatives, inspired me because she chose to be active in the halls of government and to directly influence policy matters.

Jarvis Parsons
District Attorney in Brazos County

I did not think about law school until I was a senior in college. I was more focused on being a debate coach or a minister, but I couldn’t get into grad school or ministry school. So I thought about law school late because a friend was going. I did debate in college and decided to focus on environmental law, along the lines of being a natural resource defense counsel to protect species and animals. But I got to law school, and environmental law class was so boring.

            A friend of mine was interning at the DA’s office there in Portland, Maine, and she said, “Come hang out with us. They pay you $10 an hour, you can get Chinese food”—there was a great restaurant nearby. And six of my friends and I got to hang out together. Mostly we were doing document review. But it was so fun, and once I saw what it was like in a prosecutor’s office, I started to think about that as a career.

            Before I left the internship, though, I had tried my first case, and I sucked. It was a traffic case, and I was getting beaten by a pro se defendant who was wiping the floor with me. The judge brought me back in chambers and said, “You have got to be better than this. You have to prepare.” I learned a lot from that.

            My intern chief, Deb, said prosecution is the best job in the world because your only duty is to do the right thing. And I thought, oh my gosh, this is what I want to do right here. The reason I had wanted to do environmental law is in part because of the slogan environmental groups had at the time: Think globally; act locally. And I thought what better way can I do that than in prosecution?

Kenisha Day
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

My father went to prison when I was 7. Other family members followed. It wasn’t until my younger brother went to prison that I felt called to become a prosecutor.

            I grew up in Los Angeles during an era when most prosecuting agencies took a “tough on crime” approach to protect the community at large from crime. Unfortunately for my brother and others similarly situated, harsh punishments took priority, with no opportunities for redemption or rehabilitation. The community needs prosecutors who examine all aspects of a case, including the victim’s thoughts and feelings regarding punishment, the defendant’s family and educational background, the circumstances surrounding the offense, and the defendant’s capacity for redemption and growth—not just the offense on its face. That’s why I became a prosecutor, to advocate for the needs of all people regardless of their race, sexual orientation, or socio-economic status.

Jessica V. Huynh
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

There are two individuals who inspired me to become a prosecutor. The first was a former public defender. The second is a county prosecutor.

            The former public defender, who is currently a civil rights attorney, was my mock trial coach at the University of Southern California. He taught me the value of fierce but fair advocacy. He is the epitome of an advocate who zealously defends the rights of the accused while always thinking outside the box. He emphasized the importance of holding the State to its burden. To this day he remains my mentor.

            I met the county prosecutor because I was the victim of a crime. He met with me in-person multiple times as he prepared my case for trial. He never shied away from asking me the tough questions, but he always gave me a safe space to answer them. He reminded me to remain patient as he navigated me through the criminal justice system. My most vivid memory is his closing argument. It changed me. I remember thinking that he was the only person throughout the process who seemed to truly understand what I was going through. He condensed an awful, chaotic event into a precise, cohesive timeline, all while never losing sight of the effect it had on me. He was my voice. After that trial, I knew I wanted to be a prosecutor.

Klarissa Diaz
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

As a child growing up in Los Angeles, I did not know many professionals in my Latino-only neighborhood and most certainly did not know any attorneys. However, I did know that I wanted to be the first person in my family to graduate from college, break social barriers, and assist in criminal justice reform. After seeing multiple people in my family lose their battle with the corrupt criminal justice system, I knew that I had found my forever career, a career that would influence the lives of many people. Becoming a prosecutor has given me the opportunity to use my diverse background to contribute personally and professionally to the people of Dallas County in seeking justice and upholding the laws of Texas and the United States.

What are the greatest difficulties in being BIPOC within the criminal justice system?

Janie Korah
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

Sometimes it is difficult to hear officers and investigators use coarse language to describe defendants, witnesses, or their families. Certainly we all dislike crimes and the harm that criminals do, but phrasing occasionally reveals deeper underlying attitudes. As a prosecutor of color, an outnumbered minority, I hesitate to prod at sensitive topics like race, especially when it can be perceived as tangential to the task at hand. In a year with so much change, though, we should be encouraged to speak up about words that may fall short of being relevant for purposes of our case—but that are pertinent to shifting the culture of criminal justice. It’s incumbent upon us to recognize it and do better. For us and for our allies this means mustering up the courage to awkwardly interject, have uncomfortable conversations, share in learning moments, and—let’s hope—grow together as a community.

Ciara Parks
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

The greatest difficulty I have had being a black prosecutor is seeing a lot of people on the other side who look like me.

John Creuzot
Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

One of the greater difficulties is explaining how the criminal justice system is perceived by BIPOC individuals and how the implicit biases and inequities impact our communities. 

Jaustin M. Ohueri
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

I find the difficulties associated with being a BIPOC are similar to the difficulties with being a BIPOC in any predominately white setting. Our country as whole is painfully uncomfortable with discussing race. The reality is, there is a not a day that goes by that I do not consider the issue of race, from self-examination of how I am treating a defense attorney or defendant; to evaluating perceptions of whether my race as an advocate will play a role in the litigation; to observations about leadership decisions and representation in the legal community. There is not a day that passes where I do not consider race.

            With race playing such a significant role in my life, it is disappointing that our society is so inept at discussing it. The reality is that the voice of white supremacy is loud and clear in this country. In this profession, we should be able to discuss race as easily and boldly as our profession makes appeals to the Constitution, moral clarity, and accountability.

Alexandra Guio
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

As a Hispanic woman in a field that can be a predominantly male profession, I have been treated with a lack of respect, subjected to misogynistic comments, and not taken seriously. It is difficult when I work hard for my reputation and experience to speak for itself but instead I am judged solely on my appearance. However, I do use those experiences to work harder and also be an example for others to persevere. 

Klarissa Diaz
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

One of the greatest difficulties in being a BIPOC in a profession within the criminal justice system is witnessing the lack of diversity within the legal representation of minority defendants. Statistically, African Americans and Latinos make up the majority of Texas prisoners, and it is difficult to see young minority offenders lumped into this category often due to life circumstance, poor choices, systematic racism, and socio-economic status. Some defendants are, unfortunately, represented by attorneys who are out of touch and uneducated regarding a client’s socio-economic status, race, and life circumstance, which can ultimately lead to an unfavorable disposition of a case.

            Additionally, internal conflict can be a difficulty in that I am required to put my feelings aside, remember the oath I took, and do what is in the interest of justice. As a Latina who comes from a family of immigrants, a prime current-event example of this internal conflict is evaluating a simple non-violent misdemeanor case, where the defendant is a DACA recipient and a conviction may result in deportation. However, as a prosecutor I have the discretion to consider many factors including (but not limited to) criminal history, desires of the victim, immigration status, and any mitigating factors. Ultimately, my commitment is to the people of Dallas County and my oath as a prosecutor is to seek justice, and therefore, I put my feelings aside and complete the task before me.  

Beverly Armstrong
First Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Polk County

I have great difficulty with being accused by other members of my community of harming men and women of my race due to the number of minorities incarcerated. It’s as if I’m responsible for every African-American person who has been incarcerated. It is assumed that every term of incarceration is unjustified and that I, in my position, am responsible for this injustice to my people. Oftentimes, I have been asked how I sleep at night. My response is always the same: It is not fair nor is it reasonable for me or any minority prosecutor to take on that responsibility. I am responsible for the cases that I handle. In reviewing and handling cases, I work extremely hard to be fair and just with my recommendations. However, if a defendant in a case I am handling is sentenced to a term of incarceration, regardless of his or her race, it is because incarceration is a just resolution. I sleep very soundly at night.

            Another difficulty is the lack of respect from others in the legal community. Over the course of my career, when other attorneys encountered me for the first time in the courtroom, they would assume I was the legal assistant or an intern. They were surprised to find out I was the prosecutor and now even more surprised to find out I’m the first assistant. My offers and recommendations have been questioned or challenged over the years. Even some judges perceive me as having a lack of knowledge or skill compared to my counterparts simply because of our racial differences. This is very disheartening.

Denise D. Hernandez
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

The greatest difficulties in being a BIPOC prosecutor, specifically Latinx, is balancing the systematic inequities that exist within the criminal justice system. The cracks of our legal system are undeniably visible when most defendants look like you. That truth is overwhelming and discouraging at times, but I know my voice is necessary to help address the issue. 

Elissa Wev
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

The expectation, whether express or implied, to check identity at the door and maintain a neutral position is burdensome. This conflict, for me, a gay Latinx woman, arises most readily when dealing with defense counsel who are demonstrably racist or prejudiced against the race, sex, or gender identity of their clients. “He’s illegal. Let’s just get this hombre deported and move on,” is both low-key racist and ethically troubling, especially when spoken by a white man.

            When something like this happens, a familiar cycle ensues:  visceral shock (more professional paralysis of reaction rather than clutch-my-pearls-ness), deflection to the merits of the case, and then finding an escape to disengage. Whatever the problematic comment or attitude coming from the defense attorney is, I’m deliberate in using respectful language to describe the client: “Oh, he’s a non-citizen? Did you have his case reviewed by an immigration attorney to learn the complete consequences of accepting this plea? If he’s indigent, the Public Defender’s Office can help you out.” And “Oh, your client is a transwoman? What are their chosen name and pronouns? We can amend the indictment with the right name so he or she isn’t disrespected during the plea.”

            When I think on how my black colleagues endure and rise above these kinds of slights and aggressions on a much more regular basis than myself, I am left in awe.

Kenisha Day
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

Black and Brown people do not feel safe in this country because the criminal justice system historically has been more punitive than fair or rehabilitative. As a Black woman prosecutor, I have received criticism for joining a flawed, carceral system that seeks to punish more Black and Brown people than anywhere else in the world. It is difficult trying to be an effective advocate for the community and county I serve when the default is a flawed criminal justice system rooted in institutional racism. I continue to be a voice in this system because I interact with more Black and Brown victims who desperately need a champion whom they can relate to and confide in, who zealously advocates for their needs, and who also takes time to provide them with the information and resources they need to be fully candid and open regarding their experiences. The greatest difficulties in this profession are the same difficulties that have ignited my passion to ensure that a change does come and that that change creates much-needed reform for the criminal justice system.

Ty Stimpson
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Tarrant County

To me, the greatest difficulty about working in the criminal justice system is the history of institutional racism. Throughout history, the criminal justice system has not always been set up to be fair and impartial (e.g., Batson challenges). Whether intentional or not, there were times in history when the criminal justice system could be perceived as a form of oppression toward BIPOC. Today, each of us work tirelessly to undo any previous mistakes and make sure that the criminal justice system is viewed as fair and impartial. We work day in and day out to ensure that justice is served and our communities remain safe.

            There have been times when I have gone into a courtroom and, despite being dressed in a suit and tie and walking next to my colleagues, the bailiff assumed I was a defendant and he approached and communicated with me as such. There have also been times when I talk to jurors and they tell me, “I thought you were the defendant when I first walked in.” I used to always wonder why people are predisposed to believe a black man in a courtroom is in trouble. Now, I choose to forgive their assumptions and focus on being the best prosecutor that I can. I, and many other BIPOC, work each day to change that stigma and do our part to make the criminal justice system the best it can be.

Jarvis Parsons
District Attorney in Brazos County

The hardest thing is feeling like there is a tension between being a prosecutor and being a black man in America. For me, it means that when you walk into a room and happen to see that the jury box may be majority of African-Americans, you are torn between thinking that is a good thing or not. For many years, I was the only African-American prosecutor in my office. You feel like other people wonder whose side you are on. That is the inherent problem—it feels like, as a black prosecutor, you have to pick a side.

            In 2003, I sat second chair trying my first death penalty case. The defendant was a 24-year-old guy. I was 27 at the time. I grew up in a pretty well-to-do home. Every day during the trial, the defendant’s family and friends were there on one side of the courtroom, and we were on the other side. And because I’m an only child, my parents had to come see their baby try the case. They walk in to the courtroom, and this guy at the back of the room, with the defendant’s family, saw my mom and assumed she was with the defendant’s family. And she said, “Oh no. That’s mine over here.” It feels like you have to pick a side.

            As I’ve been going around teaching cognitive bias to different offices around the country, one question I ask the participants is to raise your hand if anyone has ever confused you with being the court secretary. All the women will raise their hands. I tell the men, “We can never know what it feels to have that happen.” Then I ask the women,”How many of you have ever been assumed to be the defendant?” And only the women prosecutors who are Black raise their hands. I will never be confused as the court secretary, but Black people are assumed to be the defendant all the time. Sometimes, you get the feeling that race is a proxy for criminality. And you can’t change your skin color. There are things that set people apart that might put them in the path of being marginalized, for instance, if you have a name that sounds like it comes from another ethnicity than being white. But Kirk Douglas and Doris Day can change their names. Black people can never change the color of their skin. That is always with them.

            There’s a thing called “code-switching,” where black people feel like they have to speak or act a different way when they’re around a white crowd versus being around other black people. You feel like you can’t bring all of you to a particular place. And in part, this is because as a black person, you are always aware of trying to make sure the door is open for the people behind you—for a younger black person behind you not to have to deal with the same things.

            It’s not just white men. White women have contributed to the structures around us. Like in the case of the woman who made the false report in Central Park about the African-American man who was there to bird-watch. I was talking with someone about it, and I asked: “Hey, did you hear that this guy doesn’t want her prosecuted?” And the person responded, “That’s good.” And I asked, “Why is that good? He was the victim, and chances are she would do it again to someone else.” You want mercy when you’re the suspect or the giver of the hatred, but you wouldn’t want to give that mercy any other time. We lionize Martin Luther King Jr., who urged peaceful protest, and we demonize Malcolm X, who said he would arm himself. Or in the case of Botham Jean in Dallas, who was shot by a female police officer. We lionize mercy, when some of the people who get it would never give it.

Idris Akinpelu
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

The duality of responsibilities you share with your community and to the community. It kind of feels like we are policing our own, so you need to make sure you’re always doing it the right way and are willing to explain your actions.

Jaustin M. Ohueri
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

I find the difficulties are similar to the difficulties with being a BIPOC in any predominately white setting. Our country as a whole is painfully uncomfortable with discussing race. The reality is, there is a not a day that goes by that I do not consider the issue of race, from self-examination of how I am treating a defense attorney or defendant; to evaluating perceptions of whether my race as an advocate will play a role in the litigation; to observations about leadership decisions and representation in the legal community.

            With race playing such a significant role in my life, it is disappointing that our society is so inept at discussing it. In this profession, we should be able to discuss race as easily and boldly as we make appeals to the Constitution, moral clarity, and accountability.

LaQuita Long
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

We are often seen by other people of color as “sell-outs” or “the man.” We are deemed heroes only when we are fighting for justice for their loved ones and sometimes even then we are accused of not caring or putting forward our best effort. 

Chandler Raine
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

One look at me and you’ll be able to accurately surmise that discrimination based on the color of my skin has not been a major part of my life or my time as a prosecutor. However, I remember my mother being asked what it was like to nanny for that many children (my mother gave birth to seven children, who all look like me), because they assumed that a Black woman couldn’t possibly be our mother. I’ve heard comments that prove the inequalities in our system from people in every role of the criminal justice system—from attorneys on both sides, officers, judges, and their staff—because they viewed me as a safe audience for their biases, based on the fact that I look like them. The “other-ism” that still exists in our system and society often allows others to disregard the obvious signs that change is needed, because they don’t view the problem as one that affects their community. The woman who always got confused and often judgmental looks from others when she brought her own children into the grocery store or a restaurant—my mother—taught us to appreciate, respect, and celebrate that we’re all different in many ways and that we should never judge based on those differences. Our entire system would greatly benefit from fully learning her lesson.

Scott Turner
Assistant District Attorney in Ector County

I think the greatest difficulty of being a minority of any type in a profession within the criminal justice system is the mere fact that we are different. The criminal justice system does not necessarily lend itself to creativity and the acceptance of new things. It is about conformity, procedure, precedent, policy, etc. It is also subject to a lot of “group think” and attracts individuals with similar points of view and backgrounds. When those with a different point of view (because they have a different background) come into these professions, they are often directed (gently or otherwise) to alter their view instead of the establishment changing. It means the individual is forced to decide between remaining true to some personal beliefs or giving those up to conform with the majority.  

Sade Mitchell
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Bexar County

For me, one of the greatest difficulties of being BIPOC within the criminal justice system is finding balance between being proud and feeling ashamed and angry. On one side, I am very proud of the work I do every day. I worked in the special crimes division of our office (it prosecutes sexual crimes, family violence, and crimes against children) for a number of years. Win or lose, there is nothing better than being able to represent those victims.

            On the other side, I am part of a system that inherently treats people who look like me unfairly. I am part of a system that has a very long way to go before I can say I am truly proud of everything it represents. When I see and hear about how the system is failing BIPOC, I don’t want people to associate me with it. There have been times when I did not want people to know where I worked and what I did. 

            In that same vein, I struggle with balancing my true voice. I have a personal voice and a professional voice. Although my ideals and values are the same in both, I often struggle for the right words, words that can express how I am feeling personally without contradicting what I do professionally.

Jessica V. Huynh
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

I grapple with the internal dialogue of “Do I belong here?” With the legal professional predominantly composed of white males, I ask myself “What am I doing here? Am I being fully accepted by my colleagues? Or am I just a token minority to fill a quotaIf I am a token minority, am I capitalizing on this opportunity to be a good prosecutor? And am I putting in the effort to work for my community with the opportunities I’ve been afforded?”

            I recognize those questions come from a place of insecurity, but the fact is I rarely see prosecutors who look like me. Quieting that conversation and focusing on the task of seeking justice can be quite overwhelming and difficult at times. I’m thankful, however, to work for an office that sees the value of diversity and actively recruits people of color.

            But the reality is that work remains to be done. Be it in prosecution or elsewhere, the phrase “representation matters” holds true. It would be easier to eliminate the self-doubt inherent in being a minority prosecutor if there were more people of color in our profession.

Erleigh Wiley
Criminal District Attorney in Kaufman County

Bias. As a younger prosecutor, not always being “part of the criminal justice community.”  There is a feeling that as a minority you can’t do your job – that you have bias in favor of defendants, if they also happened to be minorities. Bias is also exhibited towards you from law enforcement or defense attorneys that do not recognize you as the prosecutor assigned to the case – assuming you were an investigator or a witness in the attorney work room.  Finally, you would find bias within your own office. Not getting moved into the better position or supervisory position in the office, although you had the same or better trial stats.  The unspoken “factor” that the other guy had that you could never have because you were a Black female.

Nicci Campbell
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

The greatest difficulty of being a BIPOC prosecutor is seeing the criminal justice system that I’m a part of continuously fail fellow BIPOC individuals in our country. Just as I begin to feel hopeful and proud of the daily positive changes my colleagues and I are making as prosecutors, tragedies like the murders of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor occur and set our progress and our efforts 10 steps backwards. The overwhelming difficulty I face is fearing the system we’re working to change is broken beyond repair.

Paul Love
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

I have had the fortunate and unique experience of practicing as a prosecutor and for a time as a defense attorney. A defense attorney, in the general public’s view, is seen as a more glamorous position in the criminal justice system, whereas being a prosecutor is not glamorous—and even less so for a black prosecutor. Therefore, for me, the biggest challenge is changing the perception of people who think that a black person who works for a DA’s office is part of the problem or supports an unjust system. It is difficult as a black prosecutor to help minorities or black people understand why it is important for black people and minorities to be prosecutors. Many minorities, black people specifically, have had negative experiences with the system, or they know someone who has. I always get asked the same question: “How can I work for a racist and unjust system?”  My response is always that I can make a bigger difference working within the system than from outside. I am not just concerned about convictions. I do care about the community. I try to explain the importance and necessary value for blacks and minorities to be a part of the criminal justice system because our experiences and knowledge can help change the perception of the decision-makers.

Describe a time when you felt like you didn’t know whether you could stay in prosecution, what caused you to feel that way, and what helped you to overcome that feeling.

Beverly Armstrong
First Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Polk County

When I started prosecuting, my daughter was in preschool and my son was in elementary school. I struggled with working so far away from home and working long hours. I felt bad because they would have to go to the aftercare program at their schools until I or my husband could pick them up. Over the course of my career, I was fortunate to have supervisors who encouraged a healthy work-life balance. I served as president of the athletic booster club, I chaperoned field trips and class parties, I spoke on career days, and I made almost every game, activity, or performance. Nevertheless, I still questioned whether I was a good mom, and I seriously considered leaving prosecution.

            However, when I sat down and really evaluated the situation, I found that my children were fine with everything. They enjoyed the afterschool programs and developed friendships with kids whom they might not have met otherwise. They were proud of the work I was doing and often bragged to their friends that their mommy “put bad guys in jail.” When I discussed with them the idea of leaving my job, they were totally against it. They asked, “What would you do all day?” and “What are we going to tell our friends?” I know many prosecutors with children struggle with this. I would encourage them to really sit down and evaluate the situation. Is it really as bad as you think? Do not let others make you feel bad for pursuing your career goals. If your family is thriving and your kids are healthy, active, and happy, then you are an awesome mom! 

Alexandra Guio
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

There was a case that I had to take to trial three times for reasons out of my control. I felt horrible for the victim, who had to testify three separate times, and I was extremely frustrated with a judge who failed to live up to ethical and judicial responsibilities. The third trial ended in a guilty verdict, and the jury sentenced the defendant to 99 years. Before the conclusion of this trial, I was overwhelmed emotionally and mentally as a prosecutor. But I overcame those feelings of despair because I had a great group of friends and coworkers who supported and encouraged me throughout this experience. In our line of work, I believe it’s vital to have a close group of friends who work alongside you and support you when times get tough.

Erleigh Wiley
Criminal District Attorney in Kaufman County

Being supervised by chiefs that you knew didn’t need to be prosecutors or not managing other prosecutors; and yet, they were your immediate boss They wielded their power in ways that weren’t best prosecution practices. Staying at the office (as an Assistant District Attorney) was because someone else started mentoring me. Another court chief reaching out changed the entire experience. They let me know they were available for questions, follow up, and trial preparation. 

Ciara Parks
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

After I witnessed the murder of George Floyd, I was paralyzed. For a week I had no words. Then I had tears. It was heartbreaking to see. I did not think that I could stay in prosecution. Then I realized that me being a prosecutor makes a difference each and every day on every case that I handle.

Denise D. Hernandez
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

When Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) began detaining young children, I felt extremely discouraged and torn about my role in the criminal justice system. As a Latina, many of my family members and friends were undocumented, and I felt morally conflicted. I was able to overcome that internal battle by discussing solutions with fellow Latinx prosecutors and mentors. After many thoughtful conversations, I realized that it’s my job to create inclusive and equitable change. I have a duty to speak out when something is unjust. My seat at the prosecutor table allows me to do just that.

John Creuzot
Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

I questioned my career in prosecution when I worked on the post-conviction litigation of a defendant named Randall Dale Adams. Mr. Adams had been sentenced to death, but the United States Supreme Court reversed his case, and his sentence was commuted to life in prison. In 1989, another ACDA and I represented the State in the post-conviction writ of habeas corpus proceeding. During the proceeding, it became obvious to me that Mr. Adams had not committed the offense; rather the State’s star witness had actually committed the crime. [Editor’s note: The Adams case is the basis for the documentary The Thin Blue Line.]

            My co-counsel, the elected DA, and I had agreed that the judge’s recommendation for Mr. Adams’ new trial was justified by the facts and the law pertaining to the case. But shortly thereafter, the DA made a public pronouncement that Mr. Adams did not deserve a new trial, and he directed his office to fight the effort—this, despite instructing my co-counsel to concur with the judge’s findings. Based on the facts of the case as I heard them in the courtroom, fighting the request for new trial was futile and counterproductive to the perception of justice in Dallas County. The then-DA’s response was extremely disappointing to me, leading me to conclude that I could no longer serve as an assistant district attorney at that time. Soon thereafter, I tendered my resignation and went into private practice as a criminal defense attorney.

            Roughly 30 years of living a different professional life opened my eyes to the potential of our criminal justice system. Through the development and implementation of drug treatment courts, I formed a different opinion of how the system should work. Because of drug treatment courts, I came to see an entirely different side of and learned about forgiveness, redemption, and healing.

Ty Stimpson
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Tarrant County

What inspired me to be a prosecutor was nearly the same reason I once was on the verge of resigning: I did not feel like I “fit in.” My colleagues and I got along great, but as the days, months, and years went by, I realized I could not be more different than a lot of my colleagues. I began to question why I was a prosecutor; I did not look like my colleagues, I did not have the same upbringing, and at times we had completely different views on cases. I started to ask myself, “Why am I even here?” Combine that with a former supervisor who I felt had implicit bias toward me, and it made my life miserable.

            However, one day I was reminded what inspired me to be a prosecutor: I was leaving court when the mother of a black male defendant stopped me in the hallway and thanked me. I asked her why, and she said her son had caused her many trips to the courthouse over the years, and she often saw black men only on the wrong side of the table. She told me she lost faith in the criminal justice system, but seeing me gave her hope that a black man can be on the right side of the table. That stuck with me. I realized that being a prosecutor is not just about me, it is about the perception and the impact when people see BIPOC prosecutors having a positive role in the criminal justice system. Over time, some of my colleagues have become my good friends, I met my wife at the DA’s Office, and my former supervisor is no longer a prosecutor. So I guess you can say it all worked out in the end.

Chandler Raine
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

There is a continuing trend within society that prosecutors aren’t actually the seekers of justice we claim to be. On social media and the news, prosecutors are often denigrated as “win at all cost” renegades who will manipulate the law or break the rules to obtain convictions. There are so many recent events that have strained the relationship between prosecutors and the communities that we serve. To overcome the feeling that staying in the profession isn’t worth it, we have to be the change we want to see on a daily basis. By holding ourselves to the highest ethical standards, by following the law, by never bending the rules, by holding ourselves and police accountable, and by seeing that justice is done—whether that means a dismissal, a plea, or a trial—we prove that prosecution is a noble profession worth our efforts and the years that we give to it.

Kenisha Day
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

It is an isolating experience being a Black prosecutor. After the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis, there was justified civil unrest, which gave me a sense of pride, while I also felt so much pain for his daughter, that family, and the community. Work continued without any conversations regarding discussions on race or providing access to receive emotional support. I felt like I had no one who could understand my trauma from seeing this Black man killed, his law enforcement killers free, and media attention turned from the brutal killing of George Floyd to the destruction of property during the protests that followed. I didn’t know if I could continue to advocate effectively while feeling traumatized and isolated myself.

Jaustin M. Ohueri
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

The most discouraging times have been when members of the criminal justice system act as if the Black Lives Matter movement is wholly against police officers. There is not a requirement that people agree 100 percent on any issue, and in fact, American individualism, along with the advent of social media, have made us particularly primed to value our subjective and distinctive viewpoints. However, one’s level of approval or disapproval with the Black Lives Matter movement is not a litmus test on one’s commitment to criminal justice. And BIPOC prosecutors should not be made to feel as if it is. Discomfort with the correlation of race and prosecution should not be viewed as an impediment to doing one’s job. Similarly to how labor pains give way to new and vibrant life, so should the wrestling and grappling with race push forward new ideas and ways of dispensing justice. So, the question is not whether I can stay in prosecution, but whether prosecution can excise itself of any intentional or unintentional racist practices. And I absolutely believe that it can. I believe the process will be difficult, painful, and jarring, and it will sometimes seem as a mountain too steep to climb, but it can happen. I seek to serve as a sounding board for members in the community. Prosecutors should listen to the community on issues about race, and BIPOC prosecutors should be afforded an opportunity to vocally and openly lift up those voices.

LaQuita Long
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

When trying a particular case, my trial team and I faced many obstacles. The case was very racially divided and the law was very complex. At times I often felt that people were intentionally hindering our progress and deliberately making things as hard as possible to prosecute the case. My team and I knew we were doing the right thing in prosecuting this case; therefore, we focused on that and worked extremely hard to fight for what we thought was the right thing to do when everyone was against us.

Klarissa Diaz
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

Having been a prosecutor for such a short time (18 months), I have not had many moments where I felt I could not stay in prosecution. However, when I was assigned to family violence court, I often felt discouraged with my caseload and uncooperative victims. I would come home frustrated and wonder what I was doing wrong. After speaking with my mentors and peers, I was reminded of why I chose this career, to fight injustice and stand up for what is right, to not only represent the victims of my county, but also provide resources and encourage diversion programs for offenders.

Jessica V. Huynh
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

As I progressed from prosecuting misdemeanors to felonies, naturally the sentences got progressively longer. And in my current position, where I prosecute primarily child abuse and animal cruelty cases, I’m seeing many defendants sentenced to what are practically life sentences. I also see that most of these defendants are people of color. It is in these moments where I wonder if my pursuit of the right and fair outcome is still contributing to mass incarceration namely of people of color.

            I overcome that feeling by looking at my cases on their own individual merits. I also staff my cases with peers and supervisors whom I trust, where we carefully consider all factors in making a sentencing recommendation. The Travis County District Attorney’s Office is also participating in the American Bar Association’s 21-Day Race Equity Challenge, which encourages us to examine and discuss implicit biases that may affect our decision-making. Engaging in resources to identify and correct implicit bias has helped in overcoming the feeling of being a part of the problem.

Paul Love
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

As a young prosecutor, my sense of justice was doing what was right and fair. A person’s race, gender, economic status, status in the community, or who the defense attorney was should not be a factor—I call them “none” factors. I was naïve to believe that everyone felt the same way. I came to realize that these “none” factors did play a role in how some decisions were made.

            I was in court with a judge for whom I had a lot of respect. A well-known and respected defense attorney came to court with a client. The judge changed our standard plea agreement and gave the defendant something far less—over my objection. Dismayed, I talked to a senior prosecutor, who explained who the defense attorney was and why the judge gave the defense attorney a favorable plea agreement. I was not satisfied with the explanation, but I understood that justice did not mean the same for everyone. I would later see that factors that shouldn’t matter sometimes could and would come into play depending on who was handling the case. It made me more aware to speak up if people discussed a case and were basing a decision on such factors.

Idris Akinpelu
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

Luckily I’ve never felt like I couldn’t stay as a prosecutor. The only thing that makes me consider leaving is more money and a different challenge. The way I overcome that is just reminding myself of the difference in my community that I’m making every day by just coming to work as myself.

Sade Mitchell
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Bexar County

I never felt like I should not be a prosecutor until the murder of George Floyd. A few days after the murder, I sat in my car and I cried. I cried because I was sad. I cried because I was angry. I cried because I was tired. I cried because I was afraid. I cried because I did not know how I could go on working for a system that allowed this to happen, a system that allowed it to happen over and over again with no consequence. I still feel all of those emotions, but I was able to overcome the feeling of quitting prosecution because I know I belong in this profession. I know that abandoning the system is not going to solve the problem. I know that we need people on the inside to work toward a new system and I want to be a part of the change from the inside the walls.

Scott Turner
Assistant District Attorney in Ector County

I have been practicing law since 1998 in Illinois and since 2016 in Texas and unfortunately, I ask myself why I do this more often than I care to admit. It usually happens when I am dealing with unreasonable victims, judges who ignore the law, or defense attorneys who do not want to talk to their clients. 

            However, what always brings me back is that love of catching the bad guy. I have always been a lover of comic books and have several of them framed in my office. While I am fan of heroes with superpowers, my favorites are the ones who do not have any powers at all—I am talking about Batman or Green Arrow. They are just ordinary humans (their great wealth exempted) who take on the criminals, at their own personal risk, to protect people who cannot do it for themselves. When I think about that, I remember why I started doing this work in the first place: It was to help people who did not have the knowledge, access, money, or strength to help themselves.

Nicci Campbell
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

I had this feeling recently, right after learning about the murders of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Rayshard Brooks, Elijah McClain, and so many others that have come to light in 2020. When the justice system fails Black people in horrific ways like this, it makes me question my being a part of the system and whether I’ll actually see true change in my lifetime. However, I overcome this feeling by reminding myself that true change is made up of several small changes. Centuries of unjust practices may not be overthrown in one lifetime, but we can always start where we are. By working diligently to seek justice every day, advocating for change, and encouraging others to do the same, I am hopeful that real change is closer than it appears.

Jarvis Parsons
District Attorney in Brazos County

When you have big things happen, like, in 2008, when Barack Obama was running for president, it was a really hard time for me in the office, because people who think in terms of criminal justice were making these broad, sweeping statements that had racial undertones, such as how Obama would feel about the criminal justice system. At the same time, incidents involving racism were happening in Harris County. It was a time when I thought about leaving prosecution. Bill Turner, the elected DA at the time, had to talk me back in.

            The greatest difficulty is feeling like, as a Black person, you have one foot in and one foot out. Trying to figure out how to do good in a system that was weaponized historically to do harm to African-Americans. Historically in America, officers were implemented to be slave patrols. After slavery ended, law enforcement evolved to pick up people of color for low-level crimes. And prosecutors went along with that. To try to fit in to a system with that history is a struggle. You try to make progress, little by little and step by step, and then something like George Floyd happens, and it feels like the credibility and progress you tried to build up have gone away.

What is the best thing about being a prosecutor?

Paul Love
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

Like most prosecutors, doing justice for the community and getting justice for victims is the biggest reward. Additionally, a collateral reward is changing the perception of black people among law enforcement, judges, and even other prosecutors.

            Another reward is changing the perception of black people themselves. There have been many times a black person walked up to me and said they respect the way I handled the case—on a few occasions it was the defendant’s own family. They expressed having a different, more positive view of the criminal justice system. If people can see through my actions that the criminal justice system can be tough but fair and justice does mean something regardless of race, gender, and economic status, then by far that is the best thing.

Alexandra Guio
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

One of the best things about being a prosecutor is knowing I have the opportunity to be a positive role model for our profession. Many times, people have a negative view of prosecutors or don’t know what we do on a daily basis. It’s amazing when I can build trust in my community by positively influencing the life of a victim, a defendant, or even a juror. Being a positive role model as a prosecutor is also a great way to influence and encourage the younger BIPOC generation to pursue a career in law.

Scott Turner
Assistant District Attorney in Ector County

The best thing about being a prosecutor is the reaction you get from a victim (not often) when you were able to get a good result for them. It is often a combination of happiness and shock. They are both happy and shocked that the system actually worked in their case. It really makes me feel good when the resolution of the case and what the victim wanted can be the same thing.

Beverly Armstrong
First Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Polk County

It’s not boring. Over the course of my career, I have handled all types of cases. Although the charges may be the same, the facts and details of each case is different. Each case brings its own set of challenges and questions. I have tried more cases than I can count, and I can truly say that I’ve learned something new from each trial. At the end of the day, I’ve helped someone solve a problem, feel safe, or get closure from a tragic incident.

Erleigh Wiley
Criminal District Attorney in Kaufman County

Taking action to make positive change in a victim’s life by using your legal skills to solve the problems that are presented to you in the case. You know what you do matters. Every day at work is a dynamic experience, never boring or static. 

Ashley Earl
Assistant District Attorney in Fort Bend County

When a victim thanks you for believing in them when nobody else did.

Janie Korah
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

We get to act as the gatekeepers of justice and seek out the truth. We get to empower victims of crime and violence and hold them up on our shoulders, but we also get to end nightmares for people who are mishandled by the system. If we can give peace back to one family, a voice to one victim, or improve livelihood for one community, that makes this job worth it.

Ty Stimpson
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Tarrant County

The best thing about being a prosecutor is knowing every day when I leave my house and go to work I am going to make a difference in my community. My job is literally “to do the right thing.” Some days that is difficult but there is truly no better feeling than knowing that everyday your job is to do the right thing, whatever that is. Being able to see the immediate impact you have on someone’s life is very rewarding. As prosecutors, we often meet people at their lowest points, and some whose lives have been completely turned upside down. If I can provide my victims and families some form of comfort and peace in the form of justice, I know that I have done my job. To me, there is no greater feeling then knowing you helped someone who may not able to help themselves. Being a prosecutor allows me to fulfill my purpose on Earth and for that I am forever grateful.

John Creuzot
Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

Free parking right next to the elevator! Just kidding. As the elected Criminal District Attorney, it has been a challenging yet rewarding experience to actually be able to effect change.

Klarissa Diaz
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

The best thing about being a prosecutor is being able to help people. I am passionate about people, the Dallas County community, and the pursuit of justice. I appreciate having autonomy over my cases and being able to evaluate each case individually; I do not look at my cases as numbers in a system. Each case I evaluate is a person with individual liberties at stake, and that is not something I take for granted. I love utilizing my skills as a bilingual individual to reach more people and share a common ground with others.

            However, my favorite thing about being a prosecutor is the deep friendships I have made and relationships I have cultivated. It is important to constantly educate yourself and surround yourself with diverse individuals—being around my peers and colleagues ensures that I never stop learning. The sense of camaraderie at the DA’s office is unparalleled, and I thoroughly enjoy the people I work with. 

Ciara Parks
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

The best part of being a prosecutor has been being the voice for those who have had no voice to speak up for the justice they so desperately need. It has been such an honor to work on the hard cases and see justice done. It has also been a privilege helping those individuals who found themselves in the criminal justice system and really needed substance abuse treatment or mental health treatment and been open to receive that treatment.

Nicci Campbell
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

The best thing about being a prosecutor is having the power to advocate for true justice amidst a system that has historically and systemically failed BIPOC individuals like myself. By taking the time to assess each set of facts and devise a fair and just resolution, especially through my unique lens as a black woman, I feel fulfilled knowing that I’m making positive changes in the system, one case at a time.

Denise D. Hernandez
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

The best thing about being a prosecutor is being a public servant of the community. Our duty is to the citizens within our communities, and that includes undocumented populations and marginalized communities. We represent them and we fight for them, and that duty is the best aspect of this job. 

LaQuita Long
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

The best the thing about being a prosecutor is being in a unique position to effectuate change! That change can be helping a victim or family member seek justice, giving a second chance to a young defendant who made a poor choice, or being the voice for a child abuse victim in a sexual assault case when her mother did not believe her outcry that she was being sexually assaulted by her step-father.

Jaustin M. Ohueri
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

Being able to force 12 members of the community to sit in awe of my trial presence and legal arguments. In all seriousness, though, it is being able to make regular folk in the community feel whole through a just result.

Elissa Wev
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

Prosecutors ought to be in a position to accomplish the most good. When you hit that sweet spot, which seems few and far between, where everyone is able to walk away in a better place than how we found them, that is the best thing about being a prosecutor.

Chandler Raine
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

There are so many positives about the work, but one of my favorite things about being a prosecutor is the sense of community. Not being a native Houstonian, most of my friends here are people that I’ve met through the DA’s Office, both prosecutors and defense attorneys. The bonds that are created while doing this work together will last a lifetime, even when someone goes to another county or the defense bar or runs for the bench. I suppose it’s because being a prosecutor reveals so much about the nature of an individual. How you treat defense attorneys, defendants, victims, court staff, your support staff, those you supervise, and your cases, reveals parts of your character. Being in court together is an easy way to learn whom you want to spend your time with outside of court, as well.

Jarvis Parsons
District Attorney in Brazos County

For me, the best thing is being able to look at a victim, from the talk you have with them in the beginning, working with them through the ups and downs (especially victims of sexual assault or molestation), going to trial, seeing their nervousness, and getting a good verdict, and seeing their eyes light up, like their feeling is: “I was believed.” Even in the case of a difficult victim, sometimes you see that person later around town, and even if they don’t acknowledge you, they give you a nod, like, “That guy’s OK. I don’t like the criminal justice system, but in this small moment in time, someone was there to fight for me.”

            Prosecution is great because I can do something for somebody—it goes back to the “think globally, act locally” approach. I had a case once where the victim, who was a prostitute, and the defendant had a dispute over the acts that were going to happen. The defendant ran her over and was coming back to run her over again when someone intervened and pulled her out of the street so she wasn’t killed. She had been on crack for 25 to 30 years. Another prosecutor and I went to try to find her, and when we did, she said, “What are y’all doing here?” And we said, “We just came to see you and see how you were doing.” She said, “You could have just called.” And we said, “Yeah, but we wanted to SEE how you were doing.” And she burst into tears, that someone cared enough to do that. And to be able to get some justice for her, in that moment, was a great feeling.

            As the elected prosecutor, I get to see problems from a 30,000-foot level and have power to try to solve them. I get to study implicit bias and have the freedom to go and speak about that all over the country. I get to implement a pretrial diversion program to help first-time offenders with drug cases. On domestic violence, I get to deliver a message to my office and the community that we are trying to protect women and children in this county. And I get to train the younger prosecutors to handle all these cases like this, to do justice and help victims.

Jessica V. Huynh
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

Humanity. To me, the best part about being a prosecutor can range from listening and helping victims have a voice in the courtroom, to showing understanding and mercy to a defendant where it is due. Humans can be messy and complex, and that is never more often seen than in our cases. Justice is not one-size-fits-all. It takes many forms, all of which are fulfilling. Our community has entrusted us with the ability to make decisions that affect the course of peoples’ lives in a profound way, and using our discretion to better our community is the best part of this job.

Idris Akinpelu
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

The fact that your job is just to seek justice. It makes it easy to lay my head down at night because all I have to do is seek the truth and act accordingly. It’s how my personality is naturally, so it’s perfect that my job feels like an expansion of my life.

Kenisha Day
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

Listening to witnesses recount an offense. Everyone has a story. I love hearing the stories of witnesses and survivors of crime. Learning how the worst day of people’s lives impacted them (and continues to impact them) and listening to the ways in which they cope gives me a sense of purpose and pride. More often than not, these people want to see the accused person change, to receive some form of mental health or drug help as opposed to incarceration.

Sade Mitchell
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Bexar County

For me, the best thing about being a prosecutor is being able to represent a wide range of people. Although there are times when I don’t want people to know what I do, there are more times when I want to tell everyone how I play a small part in making the community a little safer.

How have current events impacted you as a prosecutor? What have you done to cope with the effects?

Klarissa Diaz
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

Current events have impacted me as a prosecutor in many ways. I have taken this time to have difficult, raw, educational discussions with peers and family members about race in America and criminal justice reform. I have brought this knowledge to my case evaluation and taken a deeper look to ensure that I am doing my due diligence and analyzing cases properly.

            Current events have also impacted day-to-day logistics. Not only are trials and court proceedings postponed, but learning how to manage a virtual docket is also challenging. I have to educate myself on the technological hurdles that come with working in the midst of a pandemic, but I continually rise to the challenge.

Idris Akinpelu
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

They affected me the same way as always. I’ve always been culturally and racially sensitive. I’m just glad it’s now a mainstream issue. While I don’t feel like it is intentional, I feel people from other walks of life have cultural blind spots, which may lead them to make unconscious racial and cultural decisions that disproportionally affect BIPOC. How I do my job will never change. I seek justice in every case.

Sade Mitchell
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Bexar County

As I stated earlier, the current events bring all types of emotions to the surface. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Exhaustion. As a prosecutor, I am looking at my cases under a new light and looking at how implicit bias played a part from the case’s inception. In all aspects of life, I have a bad habit of internalizing my stress. I know that isn’t healthy, so I am trying to use my feelings as fuel. I am working at getting more involved in trying to effect change. There are so many people and organizations fighting for reform from outside of the system, and it encourages me to want to do more inside the system.

LaQuita Long
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

The current events have disappointed me in those law enforcement officers who chose not to protect and serve members in their communities. Watching these events unfold solidified my career path as prosecutor because I have the ability to administer justice when an injustice occurs. Unfortunately, injustices can occur from various entities within the criminal justice system, so I try to train younger prosecutors on how to report behaviors that may cause them a concern. Outside of the workplace, I cope with all stressful events through prayer.

Ciara Parks
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

The current events have forced me to accept the fact that racism is a part of American culture. This realization has been devastating to me. I would have thought that after all of this time things would be different in our country, that people would be different. I have learned that racism has not gone away but merely adapted into different forms, which make up systematic racism.

            I am a woman of faith, so I pray a lot for peace and guidance in this climate. I have also begun to educate myself as a person of color in this country. To really learn and stare this history in the face has been heartbreaking. To see the hate and disrespect that has been shown to black people has been so hard to deal with, but I am glad that I am educating myself and actually dealing with the feelings that I have so that I can move forward and educate my children and others in my sphere of influence.

Jessica V. Huynh
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

It hasn’t been easy to be a prosecutor with the current events. I have plenty of friends and colleagues in law enforcement, and I know plenty of folks in the community who have a lot of disdain and distrust for law enforcement. Being a prosecutor feels like you’re caught between many movements, and I myself have had several conflicting emotions. I cope with this by reaching out to my coworkers and realizing that they are experiencing the same sort of conflicting emotions. It truly helps to commiserate with people who are also having the same experiences and emotions. 

            But honestly, coping looks different from day to day. On some days, when I have the bandwidth, I engage my friends who dislike law enforcement to try to give them another perspective. On other days, I talk to law enforcement about how we can reform standard practices. And on other days, I take care of my mental health by taking a break from social media and from those conversations, knowing it is important to recharge to stay focused down the line.

Beverly Armstrong
First Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Polk County

The response from other members of the legal community has been the most impactful. On one hand, some posts on Facebook and other social media sites have been shocking, discouraging, and disheartening, while others have been encouraging, motivating, and inspiring. Ultimately, I have greater insight on how the people I work with or have worked with truly feel regarding social justice and change. Admittedly, I have struggled with how to assist other minority prosecutors with what was happening. As a manager, I want to be encouraging and supportive without overstepping my bounds or being insensitive to others’ feelings.

            First, I had to address the concerns raised by my 22-year-old son and 19-year-old daughter, who were strongly affected by what they were seeing. I had to remind them of our previous discussions regarding what they should and should not do when engaging with law enforcement. I explained to them my concerns regarding their safety should they attend marches and protests, and I encouraged them to express themselves in other ways. I’ve reached out to other minority prosecutors to address any concerns or issues they may be having. I’ve encouraged family, friends, and acquaintances to register to vote and exercise their right to vote. Most recently, I joined the National Black Prosecutors Association (www.blackprosecutors.org). I hope to become an active member and build relationships and connections with prosecutors who have experienced the issues that minority prosecutors face.

Denise D. Hernandez
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

The current events have been extremely painful. Most painful is watching fellow prosecutors deny the racial disparities that exist within our criminal justice system. We can’t deny the racism that is embedded into our legal system. It’s time to accept the racist history of our legal structure, learn how to address the inequities, and move toward healing our communities. To cope with the effects of the current events, I started doing research on how I can be a more equitable and just prosecutor. I started reading more academic journals on racial disparities, reading more books on progressive change, and accepting that we can always do more.

Ty Stimpson
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Tarrant County

There is a duality that all minority prosecutors face: You are a minority but you are also a member of law enforcement. At times that duality can be difficult to navigate. For me, I am a black man but I am also a trial prosecutor and a member of law enforcement. I’m proud to be American and a Texan but I’m also proud to be a black male. They don’t have to be mutually exclusive, despite the perception that is currently floated in society. I love America just as much as my non-BIPOC counterparts, but that doesn’t mean America has always treated BIPOC fairly. I support police officers but that doesn’t mean that every officer gets it right every time. Injustices have happened throughout history and recent events prove that injustices are still happening today. As prosecutors and community leaders, it is on us to continue to fight the good fight and work to make society whole as we rectify injustices and wrongdoings as they come up.

            In terms of coping, it sounds so simple, but talk. I acknowledge what is happening and what is currently going on, and the gravity of it. This is a movement not a moment. I make an effort to check in on other minority prosecutors and see how they are handling current events and the current environment in their respective counties. Lastly, I serve as a resource to non-minorities and explain and help those with questions understand why BIPOC feel the way they do and what non-minorities can do to help.

Alexandra Guio
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

Personally, the current events have been heartbreaking to watch and experience, but these feelings are not new. As a prosecutor, I struggle with the conflict of knowing there are great warriors of justice within the criminal justice system and then balancing that with the fact that not every person within this system respects the rights and lives of others.

            Of course, having a close group of friends and family whom I can talk to has been helpful. But I’ve also found that increasing my involvement in organizations outside of my work has also helped ease the stress of these events. There’s comfort in knowing my friends and my community want to take every opportunity possible to make a positive change.

Jaustin M. Ohueri
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County

The current events have made me proud that the Travis County District Attorney’s Office has a Civil Rights Division devoted to prosecuting police misconduct. Most people are disheartened by police killings because they believe the criminal justice system will not redress the wrong. Being on the right of side of justice also means supporting moves that elevate the entire consciousness of our community by holding all accountable. I am also comforted by my ability to peacefully protest. Many Americans relate to being the object of indifference, disdain, or disregard about their bodies, voices, or interests. The protests serve as a way to communicate the frustration of this unfair treatment.

Ashley Earl
Assistant District Attorney in Fort Bend County

These past few months have been exhausting, but it has also allowed for more open conversations with others about social justice. Speaking with others, especially other prosecutors, about shared experiences can relieve some frustration and anxieties.

John Creuzot
Criminal District Attorney in Dallas County

This year has brought us many challenges. Between the changes necessitated by a global pandemic and the atrocities committed by people in power against BIPOC, we find ourselves in a volatile environment. COVID-19 forced most court proceedings to become remote. Jury trials have been halted. Courtrooms as we knew them could be a thing of the past.

As to the issues of peaceful and civil protests, my office refuses to prosecute peaceful protesters despite the fact they may have been in technical violation of the law, directive, or order from city, county, or state officials.

Ciara Parks
Assistant District Attorney in Travis County
The current events have forced me to accept the fact that racism is a part of American culture. This realization has been devastating to me. I would have thought that after all of this time things would be different in our country, that people would be different. I have learned that racism has not gone away but merely adapted into different forms, which make up systematic racism. I am a woman of faith, so I pray a lot for peace and guidance in this climate. I have also begun to educate myself as a person of color in this country. To really learn and stare this history in the face has been heartbreaking, but I am glad that I am educating myself and actually dealing with the feelings that I have so that I can move forward and educate my children and others in my sphere of influence.

Beverly Armstrong
First Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Polk County

First, I had to address the concerns raised by my 22-year-old son and 19-year-old daughter, who were strongly affected by what they were seeing. I had to remind them of our previous discussions regarding what they should and should not do when engaging with law enforcement. I explained to them my concerns regarding their safety should they attend marches and protests, and I encouraged them to express themselves in other ways. I’ve reached out to other minority prosecutors to address any concerns or issues they may be having. I’ve encouraged family, friends, and acquaintances to register to vote and exercise their right to vote. Most recently, I joined the National Black Prosecutors Association. I hope to become an active member and build relationships and connections with prosecutors who have experienced the issues that minority prosecutors face.

Janie Korah
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

The events have made me pause and deeply reflect on what we do every day. As an Indian-American I cannot equate my experience to what Black Americans and Hispanic and Latino Americans are experiencing in the criminal justice scope. Coping comes in the form of listening to colleagues who are struggling internally with the issues that affect them and other communities of color.

Erleigh Wiley
Criminal District Attorney in Kaufman County

Knowing that your community feels a lack of public trust in the institution of law enforcement and prosecution is difficult but understandable. Prosecutors may not be making arrests, but the public views prosecutors as “hand and glove” with the police. It makes me want to do my best to be available for my community. We are enforcing the law but allowing people to express their concerns that are real and legitimate.

            If you want to know how people feel, you have to listen. I have fielded phone calls from concerned citizens, attended a protest rally, and listened to all citizens express concerns about our local monuments. Personally, I have turned off some of the media coverage and meditated and prayed more.

Scott Turner
Assistant District Attorney in Ector County

I was born in 1972, and people of color have been losing their lives at the hands of law enforcement under suspicious circumstances since long before I was born. The only difference today is that technology has made it impossible for those officers to concoct a believable story that contradicts body-cam footage and witness statements. In a lot of ways it makes me feel good that this particular issue has gotten the attention it deserves.

            That said, the selective treatment of minorities and people of color by law enforcement has always affected the way I reviewed police reports and handled cases. One of the good things that prosecutors can do is perform our “gatekeeper” function. There is a reason why prosecutors have the discretion to review cases and reject or dismiss ones that do not pass the “smell test.”

            With regard to how I cope, I do it by being present. I deal with it one interaction at a time. I have taken the opportunity to attempt to have “tough conversations” about race with anyone in my office who is willing to have one. I am a big believer in communication. It is much harder for me to treat you poorly if I know you and we have had conversations. So many of our problems arise from the inability of individuals on both sides of the conversation to feel comfortable asking questions. When there is a gap in knowledge, the brain will guess at how to fill in that gap to create a full picture. In many cases, a gap in knowledge is filled by stereotypes, prejudices, or anecdotal evidence or examples. When we have more “tough conversations,” we learn that those generalities are just that. They also give individuals better options for filling in those gaps of information.

Paul Love
Assistant Criminal District Attorney in Galveston County

Probably more than ever, I have defended myself for working as a prosecutor. With the current events, the public, blacks, and minorities have even less trust for those of us who work in the criminal justice system. The perception is that prosecutors help perpetuate the injustices committed against blacks and minorities. Nothing can be further from the truth, and there is a lot of work to be done to restore the trust. I make it a point to be part of any discussions on race and the justice system. That may take the form of engaging in a Zoom forum or simply having an individual conversation with someone in the public.

Nicci Campbell
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

The current events impacted me by serving as a painful reminder of how far we still have to go as a nation. In addition to leaning on other BIPOC attorneys for support and protesting with my community, my main coping mechanism has been education: Taking the time to do some more reading, listening, studying, and research has helped me channel my focus on the major problems still at hand and devise potential solutions.

Kenisha Day
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

I’ve become very introspective: spending more time reading articles, listening to podcasts, and having more conversations centered on eliminating attitudes and practices that encourage “color blindness.” Color blindness denies the experiences of others. It is counterproductive because it allows people to ignore doses of discrimination. We must see and recognize race in order to cope and work to eliminate systematic racism. Now more than ever, it’s important to recognize our differences.

Chandler Raine
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County

So many times as prosecutors we see things that are just wrong. We hear comments that bolster a system of discrimination. We see body-cam footage with inappropriate behavior. We watch as decisions are made that do not lead to equal outcomes. Recent events have been a stirring and tragic reminder that we cannot sit idly by.

            I was struck by a cartoon that I saw several weeks ago, though. There were two men going up a mountain. One, a white man, had his hands on his knees catching his breath, having just climbed up a path called “Realizing There is Systemic Racism,” and he states, “We made it.” The other, a  black man, pointing up to an even higher slope called “Racial Equality,” told him, “We’re only just beginning.” Conversations are only as important as the action that they inspire. We can’t let the dialogue be the end of this moment.