I’ll never forget the moment.
After the parole board told him he’d be released, he reached over, shook my hand, and asked for my business card.
A convicted arsonist. About to walk free. Standing in front of me, asking for my business card—like he might just stroll into the lobby of our 18-story high-rise with a pack of matches in his pocket.
Yeah… that wasn’t happening.
But let’s rewind.
Early in my career, I handled parole revocation hearings at state prisons. No prep time. No case research. Just walk in, grab a thick file, and meet your client—who, more often than not, was shackled at the wrists and ankles, waiting to hear if they’d be sent back to finish their sentence.
It was a crash course in thinking on my feet. A brutal, unfair system, but an incredible training ground.
This case? A convicted arsonist. Six-foot-six. Solid muscle. One eye missing from a fight in prison.
His original crime? Burning down a commercial building—just for the thrill of it.
His parole terms? Stay away from a restricted area. Never carry matches or a lighter.
His violation? Arrested with matches in his pocket. Caught in the exact area he wasn’t supposed to be.
Open and shut case, right?
Except he didn’t want to contest it. He just wanted me to ask the board for mercy.
His reason?
“If they let me go, my grandmother is buying me a new glass eye for Christmas.”
That was his pitch.
So I made the argument. Compassion. The holiday season. A fresh start.
His grandmother—who looked like Aunt Bee from The Andy Griffith Show—showed up and swore it was true.
And against all odds, the board granted his release.
I drove back into my office, told the attorney I was working for what happened, and his jaw dropped.
“I’ve been doing parole hearings for ten years,” he said. “Never won a single one. What did you say?”
I told him. He shook his head in disbelief.
Then came the question:
“So… are you representing him moving forward?”
That’s when I told him about the business card request.
We’re on the 14th floor of an 18-story high-rise office building. No way was I giving my number to a convicted arsonist. I told him I was “out of cards” and left it at that.
Six months later, I saw his name again in the paper. Arrested for starting another fire.
And yes—this time, when he was taken back to prison, he had his brand-new glass eye.
Life is an interesting journey. So is practicing law.
Let me know in the comments if you’d like to see more war stories every now and then.
Mitch | https://bsky.app/profile/mitch.social