06/26/2026
I was digging through some old files today and ran across this little time capsule — the first draft of my mission statement from before I ever opened the doors to my law office back in 2002.
Back then, I had more confidence than money, more dreams than furniture, and a law office that looked like it had been decorated by a broke trial lawyer with a Sam’s Club card and a prayer.
I remember thinking I was going to build something special. I did not know exactly what it would look like. I just knew I wanted it to matter.
This old piece of paper says things like:
“To be a good steward of all that is given to me.”
“To be uncompromising in our professional standards.”
“To inspire and be inspired.”
“To achieve greatness in a world of mediocrity.”
And my personal favorite:
“To be creative and at times be struck with divine genius.”
Now, I don’t know if I have ever been struck with divine genius, but I have been struck by panic, caffeine, courthouse vending machine food, gassstation hotdogs and the occasional judge who looked at me like I had lost my mind.
Close enough.
I can still see that younger version of me. Full of fire. Trying to sound wise. Wearing a new Brooks Brothers suit I couldn’t afford and shoes that hurt my feet. Believing that if I worked hard enough, fought hard enough, and cared enough, I could build a law firm that did more than just handle cases.
I wanted to build a place where good people could do hard work. Where clients were not just file numbers. Where we could fight for folks when they were scared, accused, hurt, broken, or standing in the worst moment of their life.
Twenty-plus years later, the paper is a little yellowed. The font looks like it came off an old church bulletin. But the mission still feels right.
Be a good steward.
Hold the standard.
Help people.
Give back.
Dream bigger than what one person could do alone.
That young lawyer had no idea what was coming. The wins. The losses. The sleepless nights. The jury verdicts. The heartbreak. The clients who became friends. The cases that aged me. The moments that reminded me why I started.
But I’m proud to say this old law dog still believes every word.
And I still wouldn’t trade this calling for anything.