By Ross Pesek

What does it mean to try a case to a jury? I’ve been thinking a lot about it since participating in jury trial this last June, in Douglas County District Court. I’ve been involved in trials before, but this case was different and I could feel it. This case was my first civil jury trial.

In both the material and spiritual sense, I’ve been through trials. In the material, literal sense, I have handled jury and bench trials on a variety of matters in state courts, federal courts and administrative immigration courts. But never a civil jury trial for an injured person.

In terms of spiritual trials, I have repeatedly defended immigrants taken from their family homes at daybreak. ICE agents breaking doors, six-at-a-time to arrest a worker, carrying a lunch pail, wearing steel toe boots and ready for the day’s work. They often leave the wife and mother behind with the children and claim to be compassionate for not arresting the mother and leaving orphans. These spiritual trials are amplified by the lack of access to a jury trial. Immigrants are denied the right to be heard by their neighbors on deportation matters no matter how long they live next to them. Without the power to appeal to the common sense of justice that lies deep in every human heart, injustice reigns.

Where and how can we access the power of a jury to give justice to our community? How can I develop skills that allow me to communicate powerfully what justice demands? To my mind, answering these questions is the work of a trial lawyer. I consider being a trial lawyer to a lifelong experiment full of opportunities to refine my answers and methods.

For example, my first civil jury trial.

In this trial, I was fully aligned with the truth. Based on my prior trials, I knew being aligned with the truth is fundamentally powerful – especially in front of a jury. Jurors are different than insurance adjusters, corporate lawyers and judges. There is an ability to speak plainly, in plain terms. A juror’s mind is not clouded by convoluted intellectual justifications created to avoid the inescapable conclusion they have become an instrument of injustice. With a juror you can speak the simple truth and receive justice.

At least, that is what I was hoping.

During the trial, I started to feel it was working. I spoke plainly and truthfully. Actually, I felt embarrassed to say what I had to say – it felt mean. It is against my nature to be harsh. But sometimes the truth hurts. For example, it did not feel nice to tell the jury the corporation negligently injured a pregnant woman, made her life hell, offered no help, invaded her privacy by obtaining 10 years of medical records, attacked her while deposing her and, by having a trial, was continually salting the wound of their initial negligence by denigrating her good name in court.

But since it was true, when I said it, the jury heard it. Unlike adjusters, lawyers and judges they could sense that no one goes through a trial for fun or even for a “jackpot.” They go through a trial to receive justice.

That’s what I kept telling myself.

And then it came, my cubic centimeter of chance – that opportunity that comes and goes so fast you must be waiting for it to seize it. There it was, my opponent displayed his lack of fidelity to the truth flagrantly before the jury (a mistake I learned to recognize through personal reflection). With calm, we rose, pointed out the medical findings that had been so clearly misrepresented and, in closing, gored opposing counsel’s credibility to the point of no return.

At least, that is what I think happened, with hindsight.

With my opponent’s credibility gored and limping behind me, I had only my final words left to determine victory or defeat. But what of victory and defeat? I say nothing of them. I thought only of justice for my injured client. I prayed the night before closing argument by imagining the truth to be a compass pointing due North to justice.

So what did I tell the jury? I told them I had never asked a jury for money before – it was my first time. I told them I called a mentor with decades of experience for help the night before and he told me not to “blow it.” I looked at each of my most sympathetic jurors directly in the eye and gave them every powerfully true statement I could think of, one at a time, said for understanding not for flair. Although, that doesn’t mean there was no flair. The truth has its own flair and I stayed true.

The case was submitted to the jury at 11:00 am on a Friday. Six hours later the judge called and let us know a deal had been made after six-hours of deliberations allowing a 10-2, non-unanimous verdict. We arrived at the courthouse and the forewoman (it’s a modern world!)delivered the verdict: $60,000 for the Plaintiff as justice for 8 months of temporary hell, while pregnant, caused by corporate negligence.

Do you want to hear the shameless courthouse gossip about what happened in the jury room?

Of course you do – be honest.

A few days later the jury forewoman called to tell me what happened. She was concerned I would get the wrong idea about the hung verdict. The judge’s bailiff commented to her presuming the holdouts were for the Defense. As an aside, the same bailiff previously expressed skepticism to me about beating the offer to confess judgement made by the defense and the possibility I could be taxed with court costs – her cynic nature barely veiled.

No, said the forewoman. She had become forewoman specifically to bring justice to my injured client. She knew the anguish caused by a threatened miscarriage to a planned pregnancy. In fact, during voir dire she described how she had never conceived children with her spouse despite years of trying (and was not struck!). She argued for six hours for one million dollars and she was sorry to have “blown it.” She had two allies but lost her last one at 4:30 on Friday afternoon – allowing the 10-2 compromise verdict. She made them wait another 40 minutes after the defection, the full six hours, rather than agree to $60,000 and leave early. I made sure she knew she was my personal hero and thanked her profusely.

There you have it, my first civil jury trial – an experiment with the power of the truth.

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – My First Civil Jury Trial se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

By Ross Pesek

In the bustling corridors of the Douglas County Courthouse, the busiest courthouse in Nebraska and known as the “Hall of Justice,” the Prairie Barrister found themselves face to face with a young lawyer who was clearly in distress. The young lawyer’s voice trembled with frustration and disbelief.

“Prairie Barrister, I don’t understand what just happened,” the young lawyer began. “The judge’s recent order was completely upside down. They cited directly from the defense counsel’s brief without checking their legal citation. The citation was given to the court by the insurance lawyer who knew the case had the exact opposite holding, but the judge never even checked the citation before putting it in their order. I provided the correct legal standard and citation that was key cited and confirmed to be up to date.”

“Ouch,” replied the Barrister, knowing this kind of thing happens more than it should.

The young lawyer continued, “And they weren’t just wrong on the law, they were wrong on the facts too. I provided the evidence that shows the facts cited in the order are wrong. But the judge wrote demonstrably incorrect facts in their order anyway.”

The young lawyer continued, “Was it me? Is it something about how I write? About how I argue? Does this happen to everyone or just me?”

The Prairie Barrister listened patiently, understanding the depth of the young lawyer’s frustration and the personal toll it was taking. Then, with a touch of wry humor, replied, “No, it doesn’t happen to everyone—just civil plaintiff lawyers arguing for negligence victims against corporate power!”

The young lawyer let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “What? But why? Why is it like this?”

“It’s a confluence of several factors,” the Prairie Barrister began. “First, let’s consider the background of most judges. Hardly any judges have ever practiced plaintiff law. A few might have dabbled, but rarely were they a dedicated civil plaintiff trial lawyer who then chose to become a judge. And it took me ten years of dedicated practice to really understand the ins-and-outs of civil litigation, so a judge with minimal or no experience handling these cases can be forgiven for not understanding all the dynamics at play.”

The young lawyer took a breath, “Well, sure, but some of them have civil litigation experience, right?”

“If they have any experience with civil trial practice, it is usually as a former insurance or corporate lawyer turned judge, which is not the same at all. In fact, that can feel like having a second opponent on the bench.”

“Exactly,” the young lawyer interjected, “I have experienced that before.”

The Prairie Barrister continued, “Many judges are former prosecutors who never handled civil plaintiff cases and don’t really understand the intricacies involved. They see their docket and know 99 out of 100 times these cases settle before trial. I’ve had multiple judges tell me they can go a year or more between civil jury trials – which means they may have only handled a few in their entire career.”

The Young Lawyer nodded. “Wow. Because they know the cases usually settle, they know even less cases are appealed. The bottom line is, they know even a wrong decision is unlikely to ever be reviewed so why put too much time and effort into it with so many other pressing matters to address?”

“On that, there is a little bit of justification,” added the Prairie Barrister. “Afterall, the judges are swamped with divorces and criminal cases. It isn’t like they have nothing else to do. These civil disputes usually take care of themselves, so putting their time on other matters can seem smart to them.”

The Prairie Barrister a continued, “But judges miss the larger truth that often, civil justice is the only justice the victims of crimes will receive directly or that the harm caused by simple negligence can be huge and urgent, like death and severe permanent injury.”

The young lawyer sighed, the weight of reality setting in. “And the sympathy they show—it’s surprising. Many judges have dealt with criminal defense litigation tactics as a prosecutor or from the bench and deal with it efficiently and no nonsense. But it is totally different in civil litigation.”

“That’s true,” the Prairie Barrister agreed. “Civil defendants for money damage verdicts receive more leeway to delay, deny, and defend. It’s perplexing, given the civil defendant has sometimes been a criminal defendant that received zero sympathy during no-nonsense criminal proceedings.”

“And the pretrial rulings,” the young lawyer continued, frustration creeping back into their voice. “They always seem to delay the trial. The defense never seems to have enough information disclosed, yet they hardly disclose anything themselves. They make dubious accusations with no proof but so many such accusations, on so many topics, that it makes simple cases seem complex. In the end, the judges end up overwhelmed by unimportant side issues, start to believe there is too much going on to have a trial and continue deadlines and trial – which is all the defense wanted to begin with.”

“Exactly,” the Prairie Barrister said, a note of empathy in their voice. “Civil defense lawyers are often masters at using delay tactics. They will slow down every step of the process and then turn around and claim that they need more time. When judges buy it, it is a frustrating cycle.”

“But here’s the silver lining,” the Prairie Barrister continued, leaning forward. “The jury is our ultimate saving grace. It may take years of frivolous litigation. You may face headwinds from your opponent and the bench, but that is precisely why the Seventh Amendment exists. So you, the trial lawyer, can argue about truth and justice to your neighbors, the jury, and sideline all the legal gamesmanship and abuse of power. It gives us, the trial lawyers, one shining opportunity to set it all right.”

“The Seventh Amendment is my favorite amendment,” said the Barrister, “It is the reason I try every case I can to a jury. Never to the bench. Certainly, never to my opponents, corporate or insurance lawyers!”

The young lawyer looked up, hope rekindled in their eyes. “So, we just have to be patient and persistent?”

“Exactly,” the Prairie Barrister affirmed. “If you keep your focus on preserving your trial right and trial date, you can deflate the importance of these squabbles and erase every single litigation battle. With this mindset, you’ll gain patience.”

“As an added bonus, if you keep a patient, professional attitude, sometimes a judge will surprise you. One time, a judge sided with my opponent for years during pre-trial litigation but then, during the trial, they realized my opponent was supplying them bad law and their rulings would be reviewed on appeal. The damn broke and the judge started applying the law as it was written, exactly the opposite of how my opponent had been arguing, and we got a tsunami of favorable rulings – just in the nick of time.”

“Ask yourself this, would you rather have the judge give you favorable ruling for years during pre-trial litigation or for a few days at trial?”

“Trial, of course!” The young lawyer responded quickly.

“So, let me ask you a question, on this most recent order you mentioned: Do you still have a jury trial right and a trial date?”

The young lawyer smiled big, “Now that you mention it, yes. I do still have my trial right and trial date.”

“Then you are still in the game,” the Prairie Barrister said calmly.

The young lawyer nodded, a sense of calm settling over them. “Thank you, Prairie Barrister. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” the Prairie Barrister replied warmly. “Remember, you’re not alone in this fight. We all face these challenges, but it’s our commitment to justice and our belief in the truth that guides us through. Despite everything, keep faith in the process, and trust that the jury will see the truth and deliver justice.”

As the young lawyer walked away from the Prairie Barrister, they felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road ahead might be fraught with challenges, but with patience, persistence, and a steadfast belief in the power of the jury, they knew they were ready to carry the torch forward.

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – Does it Happen to Everyone? se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

Every good trial attorney becomes intimately familiar with the facts of their cases. These narratives, steeped in emotion, conflict, and resolution, live within us, echoing the triumphs and tribulations of our clients. It is the sacred duty of a trial attorney to harness these stories, allowing them to take form, and then release them with precision and passion at the most opportune moment—a jury trial. To not merely recount events, but to breathe life into them, making them as real for the listeners as they were for those who lived them. It’s in this careful nurturing of stories and the art of their telling that a trial lawyer sharpens their skills and refines their craft. 

Practicing law, even in the allegedly empty and vast prairie landscapes of Nebraska, is a journey full of moral and ethical dilemmas. Often, the depth and intricacies of these stories are such that even our dearest friends and family might find them overwhelming and “tune out” when confronted with an avalanche of information. Yet, every client, every case bestows profound lessons upon us. But how do we process these lessons if we cannot share these tales? How can we truly understand and grow from our experiences if they remain trapped within us? How can our friends and families understand us if our stories are blocked by a wall of confusing and conflicting facts and arguments? 

Thus, what follows is my attempt to bridge this gap. These are not mere recounts of professional experiences, but parables inspired by them. While not strictly factual, they contain invaluable lessons learned on the path to justice. For any justice seeker, the stories should be true enough to illuminate the path. 

Whether you’re a seasoned lawyer, just beginning your journey in the profession, or someone entirely outside the legal realm, I hope these tales resonate. They aim to embolden those considering following the path to justice revealing both its merits and challenges. For the curious non-lawyers, they might offer insight into the complexities and rewards of a life dedicated to the pursuit of justice. 

The path to justice might be daunting, but it’s also filled with revelations and enrichment. As you turn these pages, I hope you discover not just the legal insights, but also the profound human truths nestled within them. 

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – Foreword to the Reader se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

The Prairie Barrister sat at his desk and surveyed his office. When he started the journey, he had nothing except the licenses on the wall. Even with such a humble beginning, the Prairie Barrister had always been determined to seek justice. Every day, the Prairie Barrister diligently went about pursuing justice, task by task, always focused on growing his own ability to seek and find justice in the law. While the Prairie Barrister’s current office was nice, it couldn’t compete with the trappings of corporate or government power. Still, every day the Prairie Barrister removed fear from his own heart, learned to speak truth to power, and pursued justice. In this way, the Prairie Barrister was satisfied.

The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court where the Prairie Barrister practiced law had commissioned a legacy project: a brand-new Hall of Justice with dozens of courtrooms, deliberation rooms and jury boxes. The night before the inauguration the Chief Justice had a dream. Lady Justice appeared to the judge and said, “I cannot attend the inauguration of the Hall of Justice tomorrow.” Lady Justice continued, “The Prairie Barrister is delivering a closing argument and needs me to be present. The Prairie Barrister is my most faithful servant, it would be wrong if I did not respond to his call. Besides, I will visit your Hall of Justice when the time is right. If I did not, the Hall of Justice could never live up to its name.”

The Chief Justice was highly disappointed. What could one lawyer be doing that would match the power of the Chief Justice’s lifetime achievement, the Hall of Justice? The Chief Justice heard the Prairie Barrister was in trial outside the city, so he went to find him and see for himself what was happening. The Chief Justice found the Prairie Barrister in a beautiful, but small, one room courthouse on the prairie. The courthouse was so small it was only operating one week per month and with a traveling judge. Before he could think anything else, the Chief Justice saw the Prairie Barrister in the hallway, preparing to deliver his final argument without an associate attorney, clerk or assistant. But the Prairie Barrister was not alone, he was speaking with his client, and this is what the Prairie Barrister
said:

“You have waited years for justice. You have doubted if justice can even be found in a courthouse. You have been doubted, by friend and foe alike. They have whispered that your hope for justice is naïve, or worse, delusional. Even now, the air is thick with the fear of injustice. But you have refused to give up hope that justice is real. You have taken action that displayed faith in justice, that sought justice, and kept the flame of justice alive. I cannot guarantee you we will glimpse justice today and, I admit, sometimes justice does not appear when I expect. But I have been seeking justice for years, I have heard her whisper in the wind, she has visited my dreams and she is our ally. Have no fear in your heart. Now is the time for justice. Now is the time for wrongs to be righted. Give me your trust
and confidence. We will call for lady justice and fill this courthouse with her presence.”

The Chief Justice realized then that Lady Justice was right to miss his inauguration. In his heart, the Chief Justice spoke to Lady Justice and said, “It is no matter that you miss my inauguration. I only ask that you appear in the moments of truth and power in the new Hall of Justice.”

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – The Inauguration se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

By Ross Richard Pesek

In Memory of Richard “Rich” Pesek August 19, 1941 – July 1, 2020.
An original “South Omaha Boy” and legendary grandfather.

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes
Indeed you’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

Bob Dylan – 1979

It was the spring of a faraway time and the ritual game of musical chairs known as “on-campus interviews” at the University of Nebraska – College of Law were wrapping up. Job offers were being made. The chatter in the air was thick with anticipation and fear. Who got offers? Where? Who was disappointed? Who would be without a chair when Ol’Bob Dylan’s music stopped?

But, for now, the music was playing, and I was dancing on nothing but instinct – who would I serve? It was dawning on me how little I knew about the legal community. I was a first-generation law student. I didn’t know a lawyer personally and I had no idea how law firms were organized. I was in law school because, apparently, I was better than most at academic testing. A full-tuitionscholarship to law school was a big enough push for me to keep stumbling forward. Somehow, and to my amazement, this was the road unfolding before me.

For on-campus interviews, I wore my dad’s old suits from his days as a traveling salesman. It was lucky for me we were both 6’4. But, he wore the suits at 220 lbs and I weighed in at a slim 195 lbs. With a little tailoring by grandma, the suit would stay on me. Even so, I was swimming in my new environment as much as I was swimming in my suit.

But when the music stopped, I was one of the lucky ones. I had choices. Still, with my limited knowledge of the legal landscape, my vision was blurry. There was one thing I could see clearly: how much I would get paid. I scored an offer at a large corporate firm paying top dollar in my hometown, Omaha. They offered to pay me, and 12 others, $1,600 a week for our time. Considering Pizza Hut had been paying $6.00 an hour, plus tips for each pizza delivered, as I toiled through community college and state college, I jumped on the opportunity.

I remember my first days. A note pad with my name custom printed on it. A fireplace in an 8th floor corner office over-looking the Douglas County Courthouse. Dinners at the best restaurants downtown. Tickets behind home plate at the College World Series. Oh yes, and the legal work. I was told it would be “interesting, challenging and complex.”

First, review every bill being considered by the banking and finance committee of the Nebraska legislature for a corporation. Next, review some articles of incorporation. After that, research whether a corporation stole trade secrets. Edit these documents for typos, fast, because a closing deadline is coming. Brutal honesty, I gazed out my office window the way I had in middle school: with a longing to be free of my beautiful office and walk on the green grass under a clear, blue summer sky.

Then came the day where the “interesting, challenging and complex” legal work arrived and sent a jolt through me: how can we help that asbestos manufacturer avoid liability for knowingly causing untold numbers of blue collar workers to die painfully and prematurely from mesothelioma?

Oh, what a jolt. As grandson of a South Omaha bricklayer, wearing the suit of a traveling salesman that was tailored by a woman who had worried aloud of grandpa’s lungs, the jolt left me stunned. ‘Sure boss, let me look into that,” was all I could muster while I considered what just happened.

In those days, I had a brilliant combination of earnest naivete. I thought, “This is terrible, I’m sure the partner in charge of the case can offer me some words of wisdom.” So, I waited until we were at a lunch and looked for a good opportunity. We had an entire table, lawyers from different departments and a couple other “summer associates.” The conversation had broken into smaller groups, the partner was next to me so I said, “So, these companies, they are accused of knowingly exposing workers to cancer causing materials for decades and for profit, how do you feel about defending them – morally?” It seems either my timing was off, or my question was so loaded the entire table quieted, heads slowly turned, and the partner looked at me and paused.The partner, a little surprised, spit out his response, “They are good clients, nice people. They pay good rates and have unlimited work. If we could have had the tobacco companies as clients, we would have loved it.” There it was: an unequivocal submission of service to the largest, most systematic corporate defendants in the history of humanity. It was then, I knew I had to make plans for next summer.

By August, I had made plans to put my scholarship on hold at the College of Law and spend a year wandering the streets and museums of Mexico City. I got a phone call in my apartment, “Well, the fall stock market crash means we won’t have a clerkship program next summer, sorry.” I asked, the financial services floor was wiped out by the collapse of major Wall-Street investment houses. But what about the litigation department? “Oh, they are fine,” came the report. “In fact, they are working hard to pick up the slack and save jobs.” Regardless, it was a graceful exit for me.

I wonder if they ever knew what was happening on the other side of that phone line. I was no longer gazing out the window of a gilded office but resolved to learn Spanish by trial and error out on the street in the whirring buzz of humanity in one of the world’s largest cities. I wanted to bring back a talent for the people of Nebraska, South Omaha, Columbus, Schuyler, Crete, Lexington, Sioux City and anywhere else. I would serve the bricklayers like my grandfather, factory workers like my great-grandmother, bus drivers like my great-grandfather and salesmen like my father. No, they have not all been saints. But, in the end, it may be the devil, or it may be the lord, but we all have to serve somebody.

In 2014, Ross started his own law firm, Pesek Law LLC. As a private attorney, Ross focuses on accident an injury cases, often for Spanish speakers. He was recognized by the Nebraska Bar Association as the Outstanding Young Lawyer of 2013 and by the University of Nebraska Alumni Association with the “Early Achiever” award. Most recently, he was awarded the Seeds of Justice Award from the Nebraska Appleseed organization. Ross’ volunteer experience includes being an advocate for immigrants and their families and offering free legal services. He has established a free legal clinic at Our Lady of Guadalupe church in South Omaha where he has provided thousands of free legal consultations. Ross also established the True Potential scholarship program, a registered 501(c)(3) program. Since 2014, True Potential has awarded more than 100, one-year scholarships to immigrant students attending community colleges who would otherwise not be eligible for financial aid, based on their immigration status. Ross serves as a member of the Nebraska Association of Trial Attorneys Board of Directors.

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – Serve Somebody se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

In the solemn atmosphere of the Woodbury County Courthouse, under the soft illumination from the impressive, vaulted, stained-glass ceiling, the Prairie Barrister faced a jury panel. It was a moment of truth, the beginning of Voir Dire, where potential jurors’ beliefs about civil justice would be artfully probed.

“Do you believe in civil justice? That is, in appraising harm caused by negligence and assigning a monetary value to it?” the Prairie Barrister asked, opening the floor for the jurors’ honest thoughts.

One juror’s response cut through the lingering silence, “I don’t believe in civil justice. If someone negligently killed my loved ones, I’d rather go to their house and deliver street justice myself.” The statement, stark and raw, hung in the air like a challenge to the very foundations of the courthouse.

Another panel member chimed in, skepticism etched in their voice, “Isn’t this just a money grab?”

“I don’t want to hurt the defendant. They will never be able to pay a big verdict and I don’t want to ruin them financially,” admitted another, their reluctance evident, showcasing the complexity of human emotions that legal proceedings evoke.

“This is just going to make the lawyers rich, nothing else,” another juror added, voicing a common critique with a mix of resignation, suspicion and a hint of disgust.

Despite the barrage of skepticism, the Prairie Barrister remained calm, understanding that these initial reactions were not rejections of civil justice but reflections of unexplored thoughts on the subject. In fact, the Prairie Barrister knew before they asked the question, these were the answers they would get from any jury panel. Still, the Prairie Barrister proceeded, allowing these thoughts to be aired and coaxing further discussion without any fear.

Later, in the quieter, less imposing setting of the courthouse hallway, Barrister’s young associate attorney expressed their worries. “Was that a good questions to ask? Hearing the panel, I’m concerned. Do they reject the very idea of civil justice? Is there such a thing as a fair, neutral jury? And, everyone heard it, if they were neutral before, they won’t be after hearing all that! I didn’t hear one person say they agree with civil justice. Do you really think we can win?”

The Prairie Barrister, ever the beacon of assurance, addressed the associate’s concerns with a wisdom that seemed to draw from the very walls of the courthouse. “It’s understandable they feel that way. Most likely they have never even thought about civil justice before today. But remember, this courthouse, this ‘temple of justice,’ has a transformative power.”

“The jurors will sit for days in this sacred space, surrounded by the symbols of justice. The jurors will listen to witnesses, weigh the evidence, and participate in the courtroom’s rituals. They’ll be exposed to the rules and laws that lead to civil justice and ordered to follow them. It’s a process that elevates the conversation from individual retribution to collective responsibility,” the Barrister continued, their voice imbued the confidence born of witnessing the transformation take place many times.

“The jury instructions, in particular, are like a compass pointing towards justice. They are more than just guidelines; they are a distillation of our collective wisdom on how to right wrongs in a manner that is fair and just.”

The associate listened, the Prairie Barrister’s words slowly dissolving their fear, replacing it with a burgeoning sense of hope.

The Barrister continued, “By the end of the trial, after they’ve been immersed in the entire process, I believe they will see the higher possibility of civil justice. It’s about

transforming pain and suffering through acknowledgment and action. Civil justice is the middle, higher path between turning a blind-eye and doing nothing or seeking an eye-for-an-eye retribution. It is the path toward true justice.’”

The Barrister’s faith in the system, in the jurors’ capacity to understand and embrace the principles of civil justice, offered a new perspective. “The courtroom is not just a place of legal battles; it’s where understanding deepens, perspectives shift, and the higher ideals of justice are realized.” The Barrister continued, “It is our job to help this happen. It is our job to allow the power of civil justice to work upon our neighbors’ minds and spirits. It is our job to guide them toward civil justice.”

At the end of the day, after the jury had been selected, the young associate felt a newfound hope, inspired by the Prairie Barrister’s belief in the power of the courtroom to educate, enlighten, and ultimately, to deliver justice. It was a reminder that the pursuit of civil justice was a noble endeavor, one that sought not just to compensate but to restore and heal, guided by the wisdom embedded in the very fabric of the law and the sacred space of the courtroom.

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – The Temple of Justice se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

Each Warrior of the Light contains within him the spark of God.

His destiny is to be with other Warriors, but sometimes he will need to practice the art of the sword alone; this is why, when he is apart from his companions, he behaves like a star.

He lights up his allotted part of the Universe and tries to point out galaxies and worlds to all those who gaze up at the sky.

The Warrior’s persistence will soon be rewarded. Gradually, other Warriors approach and they join together to form constellations, each with their own symbols and mysteries.

Paulo Cohello – Warrior of the Light

The Prairie Barrister stood alone on a pitch-black night in the most remote area in the continent, somewhere in the vast expanse of the Nebraska prairie. Far removed from the blinding light of the city, he looked up and saw the night sky in its full glory.

Just then, something struck the Prairie Barrister, he was enveloped and surrounded by darkness. The vast darkness extended all around the prairie but also light-years into the void. All that could be seen were tiny pin pricks of light, breaking through the darkness and shining so bright they traveled seemingly infinite distances to his eyes.

Since he was alone, the Prairie Barrister ruminated silently and thought, “Just as space is full of darkness, human experience is full of suffering.”The Prairie Barrister wondered, “And what does it take to be a light in the darkness? To ignite joy amidst suffering?”

The Prairie Barrister thought of those fellow Prairie Barristers who had fought the good fight. These men and women were points of light, rare and brilliant, inspiring to those who dared to believe they too could fight and win the good fight. These Barristers, past and present, showed their brilliance so that others might join them in the good fight.

Somehow, the Prairie Barrister understood that stars burned with an internal furnace so intense the darkness necessarily receded. The Prairie Barrister knew there was infinite space, infinite raw materials for stars and galaxies but only in certain circumstances did a blazing star emerge to transform darkness to light.

The Prairie Barrister thought of his colleagues. There were many lawyers who possessed the raw materials and opportunity to shine but never spontaneously combusted into a brilliant star lighting up the night sky. What were these people missing? Forgetting others, and focusing on what was within his control, he wondered, “What can I harness so I might join my heroes, shine brightly and fulfill my destiny?”

He considered his past battles and the rare moments he had witnessed the spark of justice, the flash of possibility, the hope for illumination and transformation of darkness to light. In those moments, it had been action to relieve human pain and suffering that had sparked the light. It had been transformation of injustice to justice, of pain and hurt into righteous joy that sent out light in all directions. It was the courage to believe transformation was possible combined with the knowledge that, although darkness was pervasive and expansive, it was not inevitable or inviolable. These were the ingredients that caused spontaneous combustion within his fellow warriors for the light, and, he hoped, within himself.

With these thoughts in his mind, the Prairie Barrister once again looked deep into the night sky. He resolved to shine as brightly as possible and as often as necessary. The Prairie Barrister understood the meaning of the good fight and knew in his heart he would not be alone on the prairie forever, he would find companions in due time.

.

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – Warrior of the Light se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

No more thieves I believe in the goodness of heart;

It’s return, let it burn, let ’em know who we are;

An ancient tribe of the sky, the redeemer of men;

Sound the song, evil gone, there’s no need to defend.

Trevor Hall – The Mountain

The Prairie Barrister, normally enjoying the lush prairie hills on the banks of the Missouri river, embarked on a journey that led westward towards the river headwaters in the mountains. This venture wasn’t born from whimsical fancy but was a pilgrimage to gain wisdom, to polish existing skills, and to reach new heights in the pursuit of civil justice at jury trials. The mountains, known for their imposing strength and tranquility, mirrored the barrister’s quest to unlock their fullest potential. They sought to commune with a tribe of kindred spirits, fellow justice seekers, who shared the same dedication to their calling.

In the hush of a cool mountain night, the Prairie Barrister sat by the fire, its crackling flames pushing back the darkness. Above, the stars twinkled like ancient eyes of justice, while below, clouds rolled into the valley, bringing with them a serene sense of quiet. Across the fire, sat a trial lawyer with unparalleled credentials, renowned for his wisdom and successful track record. The glow from the flames dancing in their eyes, as they engaged in a thoughtful conversation.

The Prairie Barrister began, a hint of frustration seeping into their tone. “It irks me, the tactics that our opponents resort to. It’s not just about winning, there’s a line they cross far too often. It’s maddening sometimes. Don’t they realize they are obligated, by the law, to pay fair compensation to negligence victims? That every moment, every day, every week, month and year they delay, deny and defend they needlessly prolong the suffering of extremely vulnerable humans?”

Listening quietly, the seasoned lawyer recognized the anger, disdain and frustration clouding the Prairie Barrister’s mind. He responded, his voice calm against the whispers of the mountain wind. “Remember, my friend, the nature of our profession is adversarial. Yet, it’s important to maintain kindness. Yes, even towards our opponents who resort to dark tactics. Perhaps especially for these foes.”

The seasoned lawyer continued, “The law can be a force for good, and we should reflect that in our practice. But, to truly gain the power to win just jury verdicts, you must have an equanimity that radiates from the core of your being. Just like the mountains around us cannot be moved by the strongest storms, neither can you allow your mind and heart to be moved by the winds of anger, disdain or frustration. While I cannot deny the injustice our clients face and our opponents perpetuate, in order to transform this suffering into something better, our minds, hearts, actions and words must be clear of these things.”

His words floated into the night, leaving the Prairie Barrister with a profound realization. Anger and disdain were smudges on the clear mirror of the Prairie Barrister’s perception, blurring their vision and potentially limiting their effectiveness in the courtroom. The Barrister nodded, “You’re right. I confess, at times I’ve let my emotions cloud my judgment. It’s not just about winning, it’s about transforming pain and suffering for the people who have asked us for help. I can see I have more work to do to give my clients the representation they deserve.”

With a renewed commitment, the Prairie Barrister pledged to clear their mind and heart of anger, disdain, and frustration. Instead, they vowed to foster clear perception and kindness, crucial elements to achieving results that transformed human suffering. Under the mountain’s watchful eyes, the Prairie Barrister began a new chapter in their journey, ready to bring back the lessons learned from the mountains to the plains.

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – The Mountain se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

“No more thieves I believe in the goodness of heart;
It’s return, let it burn, let ’em know who we are;
An ancient tribe of the sky, the redeemer of men;
Sound the song, evil gone, there’s no need to defend.”
Trevor Hall – The Mountain.

The Prairie Barrister, normally enjoying the lush prairie hills on the banks of the Missouri river, embarked on a journey that led westward towards the river headwaters in the mountains. This venture wasn’t born from whimsical fancy but was a pilgrimage to gain wisdom, to polish existing skills, and to reach new heights in the pursuit of civil justice at jury trials. The mountains, known for their imposing strength and tranquility, mirrored the barrister’s quest to unlock their fullest potential. They sought to commune with a tribe of kindred spirits, fellow justice seekers, who shared the same dedication to their calling.

In the hush of a cool mountain night, the Prairie Barrister sat by the fire, its crackling flames pushing back the darkness. Above, the stars twinkled like ancient eyes of justice, while below, clouds rolled into the valley, bringing with them a serene sense of quiet. Across the fire, sat a trial lawyer with unparalleled credentials, renowned for his wisdom and successful track record. The glow from the flames dancing in their eyes, as they engaged in a thoughtful conversation.

The Prairie Barrister began, a hint of frustration seeping into their tone.“It irks me, the tactics that our opponents resort to. It’s not just about winning, there’s a line they cross far too often. It’s maddening sometimes. Don’t they realize they are obligated, by the law, to pay fair compensation to negligence victims? That every moment, every day, every week, month and year they delay, deny and defend they needlessly prolong the suffering of extremely vulnerable humans?”

Listening quietly, the seasoned lawyer recognized the anger, disdain and frustration clouding the Prairie Barrister’s mind. He responded, his voice calm against the whispers of the mountain wind. “Remember, my friend, the nature of our profession is adversarial. Yet, it’s important to maintain kindness. Yes, even towards our opponents who resort to dark tactics. Perhaps especially for these foes.”

The seasoned lawyer continued, “The law can be a force for good, and we should reflect that in our practice. But, to truly gain the power to win just jury verdicts, you must have an equanimity that radiates from the core of your being. Just like the mountains around us cannot be moved by the strongest storms, neither can you allow your mind and heart to be moved by the winds of anger, disdain or frustration. While I cannot deny the injustice our clients face and our opponents perpetuate, in order to transform this suffering into something better, our minds, hearts, actions and words must be clear of these things.”

His words floated into the night, leaving the Prairie Barrister with a profound realization. Anger and disdain were smudges on the clear mirror of the Prairie Barrister’s perception, blurring their vision and potentially limiting their effectiveness in the courtroom. The Barrister nodded, “You’re right. I confess, at times I’ve let my emotions cloud my judgment. It’s not just about winning, it’s about transforming pain and suffering for the people who have asked us for help. I can see I have more work to do before I give my clients the representation they deserve.”

With a renewed commitment, the Prairie Barrister pledged to clear their mind and heart of anger, disdain, and frustration. Instead, they vowed to foster clear perception and kindness, crucial elements to achieving results that transformed human suffering. Under the mountain’s watchful eyes, the Prairie Barrister began a new chapter in their journey, ready to bring back the lessons learned from the mountains to the plains.

La entrada The Prairie Barrister – The Mountain se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.

Read more about attorney Ross Pesek’s winning trial strategies to use when representing undocumented immigrants, in this article published by the Nebraska Association of Trial Attorneys ?

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La entrada Winning trial strategies when representing undocumented immigrants se publicó primero en Pesek Law LLC.