This post is used as source material for Prof. Blankenship’s courses.
In the quaint town of Mayfield, known for its tight-knit community, lived a meticulous court clerk named Hannah. Her reputation was sterling, her integrity indisputable. She handled all court matters with meticulous precision, and her impartiality and moral rectitude were beyond question.
One day, Hannah found herself assigned to a controversial case involving the town’s popular Mayor, who was accused of embezzling funds. The evidence was mounting, and the town was split between those who believed in the Mayor’s innocence and those convinced of his guilt.
Late one evening, after a long day of work, Hannah noticed a new notification on her phone. An unknown user had sent her a significant sum of money on a private Venmo. Later that day, Hannah received a text message that read: “For the Mayor’s case file to get lost in the shuffle.”
Hannah’s heart pounded in her chest as she read the message again. The money transferred was substantial, more than enough to pay all her debts and ensure the much-needed medical care for her ailing parents. The offer was clandestine, virtually untraceable, wrapped in the anonymity that technology often provides.
Hannah stared at her phone screen, her mind swirling in a storm of emotions. The notion of accepting the bribe was a clear breach of her ethical code, but the prospect of solving her personal predicaments was increasingly tempting. And there was the insidious thought that, if she took the money, it was likely that no one would ever find out.
The battle between her desperate personal circumstances and her moral compass raged on. Hannah, the meticulous court clerk, found herself at a crossroads. Faced with an ethical dilemma in the silence of her home, she held in her hands the power to dramatically alter the course of her life. Her decision hung in the balance, its outcome yet uncertain.
The next day, she walked into the court office with the envelope. She waited until the presiding judge, a stern but fair woman, was in her court chambers alone. With a shaky hand, Hannah presented the envelope and explained the situation.
The judge listened quietly, her face betraying no emotion. Once Hannah finished her account, the judge sighed, “Hannah, you did the right thing bringing this here. We must uphold the justice system, no matter who is involved. That said, Mayor is your friend, isn’t she? I know the Mayor is my friend. Don’t you have a shredder close to your desk?”
Hannah excused herself from the judge’s chambers.
That night, Hannah reviewed the Judicial Code of Ethics for her jurisdiction and confirmed that the judge had the same duty to maintain the integrity of the court – and court records – as she did.
Brandon L. Blankenship is an assistant professor, continuing legal education presenter, and business educator. He and his wife Donnalee live on their hobby farm south of Birmingham, Alabama.
This post is used as source material for Prof. Blankenship’s courses.
Naomy’s cousin, Theadore “Ted” Echols learned about corrections officers from an early age. His father was released from prison when Ted was five years old. Ted listened to his father’s stories about “corruption” officers, what they did day-after-day to inmates and how the officers themselves ended up in prison. Ted doesn’t remember the day he made the committment, but for as long as he can remember he has been committed to being a corrections officer, an honorable one.
Hector had a hard life. By the time he was 24-years-old, he had been arrested over 30 times and spent over half of his life in the County Jail. Hector was known on the street and in the criminal justice system as an honest criminal. His crime of choice was drugs. In Hector’s mind, there’s nothing wrong with selling something to people who wanted to buy it at a fair price. In spite of the fact that Hector was a successful drug dealer, he had never been arrested for a drug crime. All of his arrests came from violence.
Right after his 25th birthday, Hector got into an argument with another drug dealer who was trying to recruit Hector’s “salespeople” away from him. When the argument didn’t go Hector’s way, he pulled a gun and killed the competitor. The shooting was mid-day on a city street and captured on several video cameras.
After a jury trial, Hector was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison.
For the first few years in prison, Hector’s life in prison and his life outside of prison looked pretty similar. He was violent and sold drugs on the outside of prison, he was violent and sold drugs on the inside of prison. Strangely, Hector was respected by both other inmates and corrections officers. Even though it was known that he was a drug dealer, it was also known that if he told you something he was good to his word.
One day, Hector was talking with a corrections officer, Ted Echols. Officer Echols told Hector about some new classes that were going to be offered by the prison in Vipassana Meditation. Officer Echols had watched a few YouTube videos about it and was telling Hector what he had learned. As Hector turned away to line up for his work duty, Officer Echols laughed and said, “You should try it Hector – you might find some inner peace.”
That night, Hector couldn’t sleep. He didn’t like that fact that not only did he not have “inner peace,” he wasn’t really sure what it even was. Plus, this Vip – ass – a – naa would be a distraction from his work detail. He decided to try it.
Months later, Hector was a different person. He talked through most problems that came up rather than using his fists. Every time he had a chance to take more classes, he did. Eventually, he earned his Graduation Education Diploma, or “GED.” He was the first person in his family to graduate, well, anything.
Hector wrote his mother and told her that there would be a small graduation service and he sure would like it if she would come. She wrote back,
Dear Hector,
I am so proud of you. I know your Granny wud be to if she was livin.
I checked on the bus ticket and it is $68 for me to com.
I love you, but I just ain’t got it. I will be thinkin bout you on that day.
Momma
Hector was dissapointed but he understood. He talked with Officer Echols about how just a few years earlier it would have made him so angry he would have hurt somebody. Now, he was different.
Several weeks went by and the graduation came. When Hector walked in the training room for graduation, his eyes filled with tears and he had to catch his breath to stop from openly sobbing and embarrassing himself. His mother was sitting on the front row. Officer Echols, who had paid for her bus ticket, was standing at the back of the room.
Brandon L. Blankenship is an assistant professor, continuing legal education presenter, and business educator. He and his wife Donnalee live on their hobby farm south of Birmingham, Alabama.
This post is used as source material for Prof. Blankenship’s courses.
Naomy was working 412 files in the prosecutor’s office. The caseload was heavy but she never complained. Many of her friends she went to law school with took months to get a job and some still didn’t have one. She felt blessed to be working as an attorney. She and Rafi could use more money, but the money she made plus the benefits (like health insurance) made their life better.
The file that took the most of Naomy’s time was one Charles Alexander Scott who was known in the neighborhood as “Axx.” Axx associated with a long list of known criminals. He had a reputation of being someone that should be taken seriously. He was suspected of almost every crime in the book but he had never been convicted. Axx was represented by a somewhat academic attorney. He was soft-spoken, early to court, and polite. He never missed the opportunity to challenge the prosecution’s case and most of his challenges – he won.
In her first courtroom battle with Axx’s attorney, Naomy lost. It was a motion to suppress evidence. Naomy had worked hard, fought hard. She had done everything she knew to do. She just lost the hearing. As a result of her loss, the murder weapon in a murder case that Axx had been charged with Not come into evidence. Without the weapon, her boss, the District Attorney, did not believe a jury would convict Axx for murder. The case would most likely be dismissed.
After the loss, Naomy returned to her office and found a bulging envelope. When she opened it, it was full of cash. With a quick count, Naomy estimated there was about $5,000 in the envelope. The envelope was anonymous. There was no note. In fact, there was no writing at all.
Naomy put the envelope in an old lunch bag in the bottom right drawer of her desk, in the very back. She needed time to think about what the envelope might be. About what it meant. After all, several of her co-workers knew that she and Rafi were barely getting by financially. Could it be a gift?
Two days later, Naomy’s boss poked his head in her office door and said, “we have someone in lockup who says he can put the murder weapon in Axx’s possession on the day of the murder. He, of course, wants his charges dropped in exchange for his testimony.”
“Do you believe him?” Naomy asked.
“Not really, but there is something about the fact that he knows about the murder weapon.”
“What do you want me to do?” Naomy asked.
“Interview the witness, see if he is credible or not. Right now, the murder weapon is suppressed. If you want to use his testimony to try to get the murder weapon back into evidence, file a motion to reconsider the judge’s ruling on the motion to suppress. I will leave it up to you.”
As her boss walked down the hall, Naomy thought to herself, “if I filed a motion to reconsider, and lost again, I wonder if another anonymous envelope would show up.”
Why is the role of strategist fading away at a time when it is the most needed?
What is a strategist? The origin of the word strategy is in Greek – the Greek words stratos (army) and agein (lead). “Strategy“ is then derived from the word strategos (a military general). The main meaning of strategy is long-term planning to help achieve an objective. The strategy describes how the objective will be achieved. The person responsible for crafting such a plan is called strategist.
Like a military general, a strategist works with tacticians to carry out strategic plans. In non-military organizations, this work is most efficiently carried out through collaboration with tacticians such as CEOs, COOs, specialists, and project managers, who use a carefully planned strategy to achieve a specific end.
Sun Tzu’s maxim teaches that strategy and tactics work in concert to accomplish objectives. Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy are the noise before the defeat.
Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy are the noise before the defeat. -Sun Tzu
In an ad agency, there is a role for creative integrity. The person filling that role ensures that at each step of a campaign (tactics) the integrity of the strategy is maintained. Otherwise, the final deliverable is unrecognizable because each tactician that touches it re-interprets the deliverable based on their understanding, creative expression, or skill.
In a trial, the case frame, the story, and the sequence of facts is strategic. Tacticians select a jury, deliver the opening statement, examine witnesses, prepare and present evidence and demonstratives, and make the closing argument.
But the strategist’s role is not one-and-done at the beginning of a project, campaign, or trial. The strategist’s role is dynamic. It is constantly changing. Consider a kayaker. As a tactician, a kayaker will have a map of a river as well as notes from other kayakers who have been on the river before. As a strategist, a kayaker will recognize that the water is dynamically changing and the objective is to enjoy the run and reach the take-out point alive. This might mean kayaking areas that have never been kayaked before. It also might mean carrying the kayak around sections of the river that have always been deemed safe in the past.
The objective for a trial lawyer as a tactician, for example, may be to win a trial for a sum certain or more. The objective for the strategist may be to resolve the conflict to minimize the collateral costs of trial (like publicity, inviting additional claimants, and so forth).
For the strategist, a trial may be a necessary tactic to bring the parties or the process to the point where negotiation is possible. And once negotiation is possible it becomes the new tactic to achieve the overall objective of resolving the conflict.
I am not suggesting that the strategist and tactician roles cannot be played by the same person. I am suggesting that in organizations and teams the differentiation of the roles has value. I am suggesting that where strategists and tacticians dynamically collaborate, objectives are achieved more effectively.
Brandon L. Blankenship is an assistant professor, continuing legal education presenter, and business educator. He and his wife Donnalee live on their hobby farm south of Birmingham, Alabama.
As a single mother, Jane balanced her responsibilities with the precision of a tightrope walker. But even the most skilled acrobat can lose their footing, and one fateful day, Jane found herself on shaky ground.
It was a hectic morning, as many were. Jane had just finished her overnight shift and was rushing to take her three-year-old daughter, Bella, to daycare before catching a few hours of sleep. In her exhaustion, she buckled Bella directly into the back seat instead of her usual car seat. Even though Bella only weighed 35 pounds, getting her in the car seat was exhausting sometimes. It was a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgment.
As Jane pulled out of their driveway, she noticed the flashing lights of a patrol car in her rearview mirror. Her heart sank; she knew immediately what she had done. She knew that Section 32-5-222 required Bella to be in a car seat. The officer who approached her car was Officer Davis, a colleague, and friend from the department.
“Jane,” Davis began, his expression solemn, “you know I can’t ignore Bella not being in a car seat.”
Jane nodded, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I know, Davis. It was a mistake. I’m just… I’m really tired.”
Davis looked at her sympathetically. He understood the pressures of their job and the struggles of parenthood. He let out a sigh, then made a decision. “I’m not going to write you a ticket, Jane,” he said. “But you need to correct this immediately. I don’t want to see Bella riding without a car seat again.”
Jane thanked Davis and drove straight home to fetch the car seat. She thought that was the end of the matter. However, a passerby captured the incident on video, and it soon reached the upper ranks of the Midtown Police Department.
A few days later, Jane was summoned to the office of her superior, Captain Hayes. “Jane,” Hayes said, “We’ve received a complaint about an incident involving you, your child, and a missing car seat. As a police officer, you’re expected to uphold the law, not break it.”
Jane felt her stomach drop. She explained the situation, her exhaustion, and her split-second decision. But Hayes remained unmoved. “Regardless of the reasons, you’ve violated the department’s code of ethics, Jane. There will be consequences.”
In the following weeks, Jane faced an internal investigation. She was formally charged with an ethics violation.
Brandon L. Blankenship is an assistant professor, continuing legal education presenter, and business educator. He and his wife Donnalee live on their hobby farm south of Birmingham, Alabama.
Jacob L. Moreno introduced the phrase cultural conserve to describe anything that has the effect of preserving valuable cultural memories, such as skills, discoveries, concepts, or moral values. Culture is conserved by culture carriers, that is, those who carry something forward from one generation to the next.
One way culture is conserved is tradition. Tradition is acknowledging that I have a history. Tradition is acknowledging that for hundreds and hundreds of years before I existed, people existed before me. Those people, like me, wanted to flourish and to a large degree wanted to promote human flourishing.
To promote human flourishing they created customs and beliefs, created or accumulated tools, and bought and maintained property. Some of these things were woven into tradition as a remembrance of something good or noble. Some of these things were woven into tradition as a warning or reminder that some things are bad. These traditions are what make my most intimate community. It is the songs we sing, the dances we dance, the food we eat, and the way we support and care for one another.
To break with tradition is a contemplative act. To some extent, I have to say to myself and others that I have figured something out or been enlightened in some way that they were not. Rather than an act of hubris, breaking with tradition is an act of humility. It is saying to the many that came before me that I somehow got it more right than they did.
But for there to be a place for tradition, culture carriers have to do just that. Culture carriers have to meaningfully examine which parts of the culture, which traditions, they will carry forward into the next generation. To refuse to carry forward no culture is to unhinge from the generations upon generations that did carry forward their part for human flourishing. It is choosing unnecessary suffering and death for this generation.
There is a place for tradition. To choose tradition does not mean that we have to keep the bad along with the good. We can choose to carry forward the tradition that promotes human flourishing and leave the rest to history.
Brandon L. Blankenship is an assistant professor, continuing legal education presenter, and business educator. He and his wife Donnalee live on their hobby farm south of Birmingham, Alabama.
