OTLA Trial Lawyer Fall 2020

2 Trial Lawyer • Fall 2020 President’s Message Tim Williams “We don’t develop courage by being happy every day. We develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.” — Barbara De Angelis By TimWilliams OTLA Guardian A s I begin my year as president of OTLA, I realize many members don’t know me well. I have spoken with many of you, either at the annual con- vention or a CLE. I have communicated by email with many of you. I have called many of you on the phone to solicit donations, for OTLA, AAJ or another worthy cause. Yet, how well do we really know each other? In the coming year, we face the threat of an ongoing pandemic and continued court closures. Our work as justice advo- cates is being tested to the highest degree. I think it important I take the time to get to know as many of you as possible — beyond just surface level . Something more. Something deeper. I believe the better we know each other, the more trusting we can be as we join together to face the challenges ahead. To get the conversation started, I’ll share with you some very personal things about my life. It is not a pleasant story. However, everything I’ve been through has contributed to the trial lawyer I am today. The challenges we face Early life To say I experienced a rough child- hood is an understatement. My father and mother divorced when I was an in- fant. I was adopted by my father’s second wife when I was two. They had four children of their own, then divorced when I was eight. My father soon married a woman with two kids from previous relationships, then when I was 15 they divorced. After that, it was just my dad and me. My father’s marriages were not easy, the divorces even worse. I didn’t see my biological mother more than two or three times until adulthood. While she was not a direct factor in my life, her absence left me feeling unimportant and unwanted. My father’s relationship with his second wife didn’t do much to mend that feeling. The two fought constantly. They often separated, during which time I was pulled between two locations. My dad worked and didn’t talk to us kids. My second mom used drugs and hung with unsavory characters, one of whom mo- lested me when I was nine. My siblings and I had minimal parenting, minimal supervision and minimal safety. We were on our own. Because I was adopted by my father’s second wife, the two of them shared custody of me after their divorce. As a result, I would spend two weeks with one, then two weeks with the other. They weaponized me against one another to do each other harm. Being young and impressionable, I distinctly recall the pit in my stomach for the two or three days leading up to each handoff to the other parent. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I’d have panic attacks. To add insult to injury, my second mother’s new husband molested my sisters, causing yet another divorce. He later committed suicide. My second mother developed a serious drug addic- tion and prostituted herself. Out of ne- cessity, I became the parental figure for my younger siblings. I remember scrounging for soda cans to turn in so I could buy dinner for the family each night —usually either ramen noodles or macaroni and cheese. Meanwhile, my second mother was in a drug-induced haze, often kicking us out of the house from dawn to dusk. My father’s third wife was no better. She would often tell me I was no good, would never amount to anything and shouldn’t even think about going to col- lege. She said I shouldn’t expect much from life, that I’d be lucky to get a job in a local mill. In her view, I should be I planned to go into federal law enforcement. I felt I had something to share with the world...