10 questions. The Sound of Justice

• Author: Jenny B. Davis
• Pages: 12-13

PHOTOS BY DEVON MACK AND JOCELYN MESITI

The Sound of Justice

From courtroom to concert stage, this criminal defense lawyer

uses her voice to advocate for legal reform

When Danielle Ponder

was 16, two things hap -

pened that set her on her

life’s course: Her dad gave

her a guitar and her older

brother went to prison.

She grew up to become

a criminal defen se attorney

and an internationa lly rec-

ognized singer-song writer.

Her performances add ress

racial injustice, discrimina-

tion and the imp ortance of

criminal justice reform.

Together with her band,

Danielle Ponder and the

Tomorrow People, the

Rochester, New York-based

solo practitioner has toure d

the United States and

Europe. In every show, she

treats audiences to her sig-

nature soulfu l beat layered

with lyric s inspired by the

fi ve years she spent a s a

public defender represent-

ing some of her city’s poor-

est citizens.

You are known for your

artf ul combination of law

and music. The con nection

is clear in your song ly rics,

but how does music play

into your crim inal defense

prac tic e?

For me, it’s about the art

of storytel ling. As a lawyer,

you are telling your client’s

story, and you have to do it

in a way where the jury ca n

feel it. A good singer can

make you feel something in

your bones. That’s what you

want a jury to do, too—t o

say, “Yes, girl, I feel you!”

For me, writing opening

and closing statements is

like writing a song. There’s

a chorus in there that the

jury is going to be repea t-

ing, and you need to have

a good hook. In one of my

cases, the v ictim lied on the

stand, saying he did n’t have

a criminal re cord and that

he’s never used the N-word.

I had all the paper work

showing he’d been previ-

ously convicted of har ass-

ment and had used a racia l

slur. In my closing, I said,

“If you don’t take account-

ability, you don’t have cred-

ibility.” That was the chorus

of the closing—no account-

ability, no credibility. My

client was acquitt ed.

You left the PD’s o ce

in May and opened a solo

practice so t hat you could

have more control over

your schedule and devote

more time to music. How’s

the trans ition been?

It’s been di erent. In the

beginning, I wa s like, “This

is amazing! I can ge t up

and do yoga and have tea

and go for a walk!” But

after two week s, I was like,

“Uhhh … .” I miss having

colleagues; I miss hav ing

the support of my o ce;

and I miss my clients. When

you go to court and a client

tells you thank you, or you

talk to a fra ntic client on the

phone and they feel better

at the end of the conversa-

tion, those moments make

you feel good. I still feel ver y

much like a public defender.

I haven’t fi gured out this

new life yet.

Was there a specifi c

turning poi nt where you

knew you had to ma ke the

cha nge?

It was gradual. Ever y-

thing in my life star ted

leaning toward music.

Every weekend I was either

on stage or in the studio.

Crowds of people were com-

ing to see us. It didn’t feel

like a side hustle anymore—

I realized I ha d the poten-

tial to make a n income from

music, and it became clea r

that this was my pur pose.

But I grew up poor, and I

always thought, “I need to

have a check from some-

where.” I can’t do the starv-

ing artist thing!

I don’t blame you! Now

that you’re an establ ished

performer, have you ever

been tempted to th ink, “I

should have just skipped

law school and gone

directly into music?”

No, I needed to be inside

the system in order to come

out of the system and bear

witness. I am 100 percent

certain th at what I saw at

the PD’s o ce had to be

part of my musical jour ney,

so I can say, “This is what’s

happening,” and say it in a

way that people can feel it,

to say it as an art ist. And I

needed to learn the sk ill set

to make my music business

lucrative.

My dad was an entre-

preneur, and there were

years when we were going

to Disney World and years

where we struggled to ke ep

the lights on. The instabilit y

always scared me. Now I

can have a solo practice a nd

do music. I also work as an

adjunct profe ssor and pro-

fessional speaker.

You’ve incorporated

these personal a nd pro-

fessional ex periences into

a powerful mu ltimedia

show called Fo r the Love

of Justice. Tell me about

that show and how it came

about.

My goal is to use the

power of music to talk about

the crimina l justice system.

In this show, I explore how

three forms of love have

been the anchor ing theme

in my music—whether it be

love for yourself, romantic

love or the kind of love that

propels you forward towa rd

a revolutionary ju stice.

The title, For the Love of

Justic e, was inspired by a

quote from Cornel West:

“Justice is what love looks

like in public.” I wanted to

talk about the justic e sys-

tem in a way that would

feel very personal t o the lis-

tener. Love is something

we all can relate t o. Maybe

a struggle to love ourselve s

or falling in love, and then

there is love for our others,

and that is justice.

We perform songs such

as “Crimina lized,” which I

wrote about the cri minal-

ization of black youth, or

the song “We Live,” which

is about being hopeful in

the face of adversity. We use

12 || ABA JOURNAL OCTOBER 2018

Opening Statements

10 QUESTIONS “FOR ME, WRITING

OPENING AND

CLOSING STATEMENTS

IS LIKE WRITING

A SONG. THERE’S

A CHORUS IN THERE

THAT THE JURY IS

GOING TO BE

REPEATING, AND YOU

NEED TO HAVE

A GOOD HOOK.”

—DANIELLE PONDER