Justice Is in the Doing

Joe Booker worked in the dim glow of his laptop. He had spent another long day at the Leighton Criminal Courthouse for a client who’d already lost everything but hope, and that too might be lost when the trial resumed in the morning.

Joe leaned back in his chair, worried about what the jury might be thinking. His eyes wandered to the portrait of Abraham Lincoln on the far wall, which had watched over him in quiet judgment since he started practicing 18 years ago. Tonight, though, Lincoln’s penetrating gaze appeared heavier, more insistent. 

“Mr. Lincoln,” Joe muttered, almost in defeat, “The quest for justice feels overwhelming. How did you keep going?”

To Joe’s astonishment, like a shadow coming to life, a figure stepped out from the portrait: tall, gaunt, a face etched with deep lines, and with eyes filled with a tired wisdom of having been through so much.

“You’re asking the wrong question, Joe,” said Lincoln, his voice gentle. “The question isn’t how I kept going. The question is what kept me going.”

Joe blinked, waiting for Lincoln to say more.

“I held to the belief that right will triumph in the end,” said Lincoln with a sadness in his tone. “No great cause is won in a single moment, nor achieved without enduring setbacks. I resolved not to let disappointment deter me but rather to use it to embolden my determination to push forward.”

Joe paused before responding. “But the challenges are relentless. It’s like swatting a swarm of hornets. Even if I get rid of one, another appears, and then another. I can’t help wondering whether trying to attain justice is worth the sacrifices.”

“Justice is in the struggle itself,” Lincoln answered. “The law, as you know, does not always yield a just outcome. Yet justice is there, in the effort, in the commitment, in the resisting of misgivings that seek to weaken our spirit.”

“So you’re saying it’s not about the result?”

Lincoln’s eyes widened with recognition. “More than the result, it’s about showing that someone or something is worth fighting for. You’ve done it—when you stand up for a client and advocate for them. Every time you tell a judge or jury, ‘This person deserves justice,’ you’ve already altered the course.”

“Clients do not come to you because they believe in the law; they come because they believe in you. They don’t know the law. What they do know is that you’re there for them. That’s justice, Joe. It’s not some grand, noble thing handed down from on high. Justice happens when lawyers manifest principled ideals driven by a sense of purpose.”

“Tell me—” Joe hesitated a moment. “How do I keep believing in justice?” Lincoln looked straight at Joe. “The probability that we may fail in the struggle ought not to discourage us from a cause we believe is just. Indeed, in that struggle, we become part of something bigger. And if you ever doubt it—remember, you’re not alone and that the struggle for justice calls for guiding strength. The law is just words on paper until someone like you steps in and gives it voice and meaning.”

Then, for the first time, Lincoln gave a friendly smile. “Justice is in the doing. Heed my words, justice is in the doing.”

With that, Joe Booker was alone again, staring at the portrait once more. He didn’t feel as hopeless, knowing that justice resides in pursuing what is just. That was enough for Joe.

This article was originally published in CBA Record for Nov/Dec 2024. It is republished here with permission.

Justice Michael B. Hyman, a member of the Bench & Bar Section Counsel, sits in the First District Illinois Appellate Court.