One Monday morning in the summer of 2022, I was greeted at work by my boss eagerly telling me today I would be meeting the defendant in the self-defense case I just started working on. After anxiously waiting until lunch, I watched with surprise as a young boy—barely five foot seven and still sporting a baby face—walked through my door and told me he was just seventeen yet was being tried as an adult for second-degree murder. 

A year earlier, a man had lunged at the defendant’s father with a knife outside their home. In a second of instinct, the defendant grabbed a bat and swung, unintentionally causing the man’s death. Despite the boy’s young age and clean record, the Providence Family Court deemed him beyond rehabilitation. Shaking his hand, I felt a deep sense of disappointment. Just two years younger than me, the long-haired boy lived only fifteen minutes from my high school and acted out of a desire to protect his family. His case would likely take years to go to trial, both undermining and exploiting his youth in the process. 

I realized that the very framework designed to serve and protect the innocent was, in practice, prematurely condemning and overlooking the complexities of the defendant’s specific situation. Meeting people like this defendant has shown me how the law often fails to reflect the compassion and understanding that true service demands, driving me toward a career in advocacy.

While I knew I wanted to be a lawyer from a young age, I often struggled to answer the question of “Why law?” Growing up with a police officer father, service has always had an acutely strong meaning for me. The countless evenings spent on our brown leather couch watching 60 Minutes or at the kitchen table debating legal issues not only sparked deep curiosity about the justice system but also taught me that true service means meeting people in their worst moments where they are, rather than imposing what someone thinks is best. 

In my family, service is not just a weekend hobby or one-time project, but a lifelong commitment to supporting others. However, it wasn’t until I saw firsthand the ways this notion of service is absent in certain facets of our justice system that I found myself able to answer the question of “Why law?” 

Over the past few years, conversations at my kitchen table changed from merely fostering my curiosity to instilling a deeply rooted desire to take action in cases like this defendant. Through countless hours drafting memos on motions to dismiss, researching case law to decrease sentencing, and advocating for additional jury instructions—often met with rejection—I have learned to recognize significant missed opportunities to uphold liberty and serve human dignity in our justice system. 

As a result, I have grown an unshakeable sense of duty to the individuals and families subject to our judicial system’s often cold, disheartening, and sterile nature. 

This realization marked not only a moment of personal reflection but also the start of my deeper exploration into how I could make a meaningful impact. Through Mock Trial, leadership in the Bellarmine Law Society, and my time on the Law Review, I sharpened my advocacy skills and learned the power of listening to others, understanding their stories, and crafting arguments rooted in truth. 

Building a house and engaging with the community of Greenwood, South Carolina during spring break of my junior year further deepened my commitment to service and reinforced my belief that true advocacy thrives when meeting people where they are. These experiences, combined with my academic formation at Boston College, laid the foundation for my legal studies, emphasizing the value of using education and skills to serve others. 

Working on cases like that of this defendant, I discovered that being an attorney is more than writing an air-tight cross-examination or presenting an opening statement about what verdict the jury should find. 

It’s about the hours spent sitting with individuals, asking them who they are beyond what brought them to the courtroom before they even become clients. It’s about being fully present with those around you and listening to their words rather than what you want to hear, whether they are on the witness stand or sitting across from you. It’s about the intimate human connection that occurs when you go the extra mile to make people feel comfortable, seen, and heard during every step of due process. It is this newfound understanding of what being a lawyer means that propels me to lead a career that centralizes true service and unwavering advocacy for the liberty and understanding of individuals and families overlooked in the system.

In 2023, I shook the hand of the defendant for the last time. 

After I spent countless hours preparing him for questioning and readying materials, the statewide grand jury decided to drop the charges in his case. Though relieved by the ruling, the disappointment from that Monday I met the defendant still remains. Instead, it reaffirmed my goal of centralizing the value of true service in my career in the justice system so that all Americans are better protected and advocated for, long before a conviction is made. 

I am deeply grateful to arrive at Boston College Law School, a place that commits to educating not only the professional but the person. Here, hands-on opportunities to help people like this defendant, professors who challenge and believe in me, and the Jesuit values that ground every classroom and conversation ensure that my legal education is never detached from the people it is meant to serve. Whether in a study group, a law firm, or a courtroom, these values will guide me to meet others where they are, to listen before I speak, and to practice advocacy with compassion and conviction. At BC, I have found not just a place to prepare for a legal career, but a community that strengthens my resolve to pursue justice with humility and integrity.

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Bella Calise is a first-year student at BC Law. Contact her at calisei@bc.edu.