Clinical and Pro Bono Programs

Providing clinical and pro bono opportunities to Harvard Law School students

Category: Student Voices (page 1 of 5)

A semester with the Civil Rights Division

by Melanie Fontes J.D.’20


Melanie Fontes J.D.20


I was fortunate to work at the Civil Rights Division (CRD) of the Massachusetts Attorney General’s Office during the spring semester of my 3L year. I chose to focus my law school work on civil rights lawyering, and this placement offered me the opportunity to understand the role of state actors in this effort. CRD did not disappoint. During my three months at CRD, I worked alongside lawyers enforcing state and federal laws to combat discrimination in everything from housing to education to immigration. I leave law school with a greater appreciation for public service at the state government level.


Over the course of the semester, I supported both the investigative work and the litigation in which CRD is engaged. While much of law school focuses on the appellate process, my time at CRD centered on the work that precedes litigation and the early stages of trial work. I was able to interview Commonwealth residents whose children have been bullied in school and whose employers have unfairly denied them medical leave. I practiced compiling supporting documents by writing drafts of complaints and witness affidavits. I learned how to connect people with resources like non-profit groups to help them get the fastest and most effective legal relief. CRD taught me that litigation is not always the answer and that other forms of dispute resolution are necessary for civil rights lawyering.


My time at CRD also provided me with the opportunity to build my legal research and writing skills. I witnessed collaboration with the U.S. Attorney’s Office and the Consumer Protection Division as CRD pursued a case against an individual engaged in notario fraud. I researched various causes of action in Section 8 housing discrimination and banking practices to understand the viability of escalating investigations to litigation. I even had the chance to work with the legal librarians to conduct legislative history research to defend against First Amendment challenges.


Perhaps most importantly, I am deeply grateful that I was able to support the Commonwealth’s efforts to support residents in the COVID-19 crisis. Although we worked remotely for the second half of the semester, I saw how attorneys and staff quickly shifted attention to supporting hundreds of people facing housing and employment insecurity. It was inspiring to participate as CRD extended itself to support the many people writing into the Attorney General’s Office while simultaneously fighting back against the federal government and corporations’ attempts to infringe on civil rights. I look forward to seeing how else CRD supports the Commonwealth through this pandemic and economic crisis.






My Time in the Employment Law Clinic

by Jared Odessky J.D.’20


Jared Odessky J.D.’20


I came to law school dedicated to pursuing a career in workers’ rights. As a 2L, I was lucky to find a welcome home in the Employment Law Clinic. My placement was at Greater Boston Legal Services (GBLS), which provides free civil legal assistance to low-income clients in the greater Boston area. GBLS is a unique setting for legal practice. Unlike many civil legal aid organizations, it does not accept federal Legal Services Corporation funding. LSC funding imposes significant barriers for legal aid organizations, barring them in many cases from representing undocumented workers, filing class actions, or lobbying. GBLS made the decision to relinquish funding in 1996, restraining its budget but freeing its attorneys to advocate broadly for working people.


In my work at GBLS, I saw the rewards of that difficult decision when I was able to assist with a precedent-setting class action case. In October 2018, the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts solicited amicus briefs on the question of “whether a plaintiff alleging a violation of the Wage Act and regulations promulgated thereunder may bring a class action without satisfying the requirements of Mass. R. Civ. P. 23, as amended, 471 Mass. 1491 (2015), where G. L. c. 151, § 20, and G. L. c. 149, § 150, expressly provide that an aggrieved employee may bring an action ‘on his own behalf, or for himself and for others similarly situated.’” In other words, the Court was to decide whether workers could file a class action challenging their employer’s wage-and-hour violations even if they did not meet the high bar for certification set by Rule 23. My assignment was to draft the section of GBLS’s brief arguing that the Wage Act established a separate and lower requirement.


The issue may seem picayune, but it had tremendous implications. For low-wage workers, class actions are often necessary to outweigh the monetary, information, and retaliation costs involved in filing a lawsuit. Since low-wage workers are also more likely to work in small and medium-sized workplaces or for larger employers who have subcontracted their work to small firms, Rule 23’s numerosity requirement significantly constrains the ability to file a class action. Absent a lower bar, many workers would be unable to vindicate their rights.


Researching and writing the brief was an incredible learning experience. For one, it served as an important reminder that the law’s procedural components are equally as critical to its operation as its substantive rights and protections. It was also useful training for how to write a cohesive and consistent legal work product in collaboration with others, since my portion would be part of a larger brief. While I also provided direct representation to clients during my placement at GBLS, the brief-writing experience showed me how time spent on other types of advocacy, such as amicus writing and policy work, could form part of a broader strategy to benefit our clients down the road.


Unfortunately, in April 2019, the Supreme Judicial Court ruled against our position, establishing that class action claims brought under the Wage Act are subject to the Rule 23 standard. But there was still reason to celebrate. The Court also reversed the trial court’s order denying class certification in the case, reviving the class action despite our inability to win a lower standard. I was proud to play a small part in fighting for workers to win their hard-earned pay and am grateful to the Employment Law Clinic for such an enriching experience.

HLS Advocates Co-Presidents Reflect on 2019-2020

via HRP Blog

by Emma Broches J.D.’20 and Samantha Lint J.D.’20

Emma Broches (left) and Samantha Lint (right) are 2019-2020 co-presidents of HLS Advocates for Human Rights.

On March 9, 2020, HLS Advocates for Human Rights hosted a discussion on the oppression of Uyghurs in Xinjiang China. As murmurs about classes moving online circulated, and US leadership continued to doubt the threat of COVID-19, we held what turned out to be our final Advocates lunch talk of the year.

If we had known this would be our final “big event”, it might have felt bittersweet. As Co-Presidents, Advocates has been the most significant part of our 3L year and our entire HLS experience. Since we joined the organization in our first year, it has served as a place of refuge, community, inspiration, and learning. That week, as information about the law school’s operations changed each day, we focused on the task at hand. We felt proud to have played a role in facilitating such a critical discussion. One of the speakers Rayhan Asat LLM’16, has now shared her story beyond HLS as well.

Although the spring semester changed substantially in March, this event, fortunately, was just one of many of Advocates’ accomplishments. With over 70 members supporting 11 projects with NGOs around the world; seven events; four trainings; and a special anniversary project, Advocates had a productive — even if abbreviated — year!

We revamped Advocates trainings, starting with adding sessions on Human Rights 101 and an introduction to conducting international legal research. These trainings provided greater support and capacity building to members, in addition to creating new opportunities for interactions between project members, supervising partners, the HLS librarians, and HRP faculty.

In honor of our 15th anniversary as a student practice organization (SPO), we also worked to connect with Advocates alums and build our community beyond current JDs and LLMs. As part of this effort, current Advocates members conducted interviews with former members, who shared how the skills, experiences, and communities they developed through Advocates has served them beyond graduation (and how much they miss their Advocates community!).

Of course, most of our energy went to our projects. Advocates worked with the International Criminal Court, the Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law, and UN Independent Expert Victor Madrigal-Borloz, among others. One team culminated a three-year partnership by producing a handbook that uses case studies to recommend the best practices for selecting, preparing, and shaping the impact of strategic litigation against corporations. This handbook will provide insights for practitioners in all contexts where corporate actors are involved in human rights abuses. And as some projects came to an end, other projects are just beginning. Advocates took up three new partnerships this year based on issues that students brought to our attention and relationships with organizations that they cultivated on their own.

Finally, Advocates welcomed Beatrice Lindstrom, our first-ever supervising attorney. Beatrice increased our capacity and ability to serve our partner organizations and the HLS community by acting as a mentor, advisor, and sounding board for us as Co-Presidents, and the rest of the board.

What made our experience with Advocates so special, though, were the relationships. The hours spent at meetings with our dedicated Board, calls with partner orgs across the globe squeezed in between classes, drop-ins with the endlessly supportive Clinical staff (which never lasted “just a sec”), grabbing a drink with tireless project members, and dreaming up our futures working to address the human rights issues we are so passionate about, are what made this year and each year of law school fulfilling and fun. We are grateful for the opportunity to be a part of Advocates and are thrilled to pass the baton to the new leaders and amazing students that form this group.

From the 49ers, to the Dolphins, to the Big 12 Conference

by Chase Brownford J.D.’20

Chase Brownford (left) with Professor Peter Carfagna

As a prospective student, one of the biggest draws of HLS was its robust clinical program. My experience as a student in the Sports Law Clinic has undoubtedly proven to be the highlight of my law school experience.

After my 1L year, I thought I wanted to be a litigator, and my internships that summer reflected this. While my 1L summer was an overwhelmingly positive experience, I knew I wanted to try out the transactional side of legal practice prior to my 2L summer at a law firm. I registered for both of Professor Carfagna’s Sports Law classes during the Fall semester and quickly realized how invaluable the contract drafting skills covered were not only to sports law, but to any type of transactional practice.

Wanting to get exposure to this type of work in an in-house environment (and, admittedly, escape the Cambridge winter), I spent the 2019 Winter Term with the San Francisco 49ers. Working in the shadow of Levi’s Stadium, I was able to assist in drafting sponsorship agreements for the team and the 49ers Foundation, review vendor agreements, and was able to witness the 2019 College Football Playoff National Championship Game, which the Stadium hosted. My supervisor in San Francisco, Jihad Beauchman (HLS ’09), also had taken Professor Carfagna’s courses, had participated in the Sports Law Clinic, and had spent several years as an associate at a law firm before transitioning to his present role. Jihad’s guidance on the remainder of my time at HLS, life as an associate, and drafting advice was extremely insightful and helped me prepare for my upcoming summer. I left San Francisco with the strong conviction that this was the type of work I wanted to do for the rest of my career.

I hoped to spend the 2020 Winter Term with another clinical placement at an NFL team and was fortunate to be placed with the Miami Dolphins at Hard Rock Stadium. The timing of my placement was unique in that preparations for Super Bowl LIV were well underway when I arrived and continued throughout the three weeks I was in South Florida. The breadth of projects that my supervisors Myles Pistorius and Brandon Briggs provided in three weeks rivaled that of my experiences at full summer internships. In addition to honing my drafting skills relating to the Dolphins, Super Bowl, and Miami Open tennis tournament, I was able to complete various projects working with members of the Youth Programs, Ticketing, and IT departments.

When the opportunity arose to spend my final semester at HLS with a third clinical placement, I jumped at the chance to intern at the Big 12 Conference under the supervision of another one of Professor Carfagna’s former students—Kelvin Smith (HLS ’11). The Big 12 placement involved legal research and memo-writing on a variety of novel issues facing the Conference, the NCAA, and student-athletes, in addition to contract drafting and review. When the coronavirus pandemic upended the sports world in March, I was especially grateful for Kelvin’s willingness to continue to provide me with projects, with an increased focus on the legal and policy implications that the virus has and will continue to create.

Overall, I am confident that my time in the Sports Law Clinical Program will be one of the most meaningful and impactful experiences of my legal career. Words cannot fully express the gratitude I have for my supervisors’ mentorship and guidance at each of my placements, the faith and confidence Professor Carfagna has placed in me from the beginning, and the members of OCP that have made all of this possible.

Q&A with Olivia Barket

by Grace Yuh

Every semester, students at the Child Advocacy Clinic work with organizations serving children as a part of their clinical fieldwork. The Office of Clinical and Pro Bono Programs spoke with Olivia Barket J.D.’20 on her experience with her placement at the Juvenile Unit of the Suffolk County District Attorney’s Office.

OCP: Why did you choose to join the Child Advocacy Clinic?

OB: It was never a matter of if I joined the Child Advocacy Clinic, but when. I have worked with foster youth since I was an undergraduate and a large part of the reason I applied to law school was to be an advocate for children.

OCP: What would you say was the most fulfilling part of your experience?

OB: The opportunity to view the juvenile justice system with a critical lens.  I appreciate being challenged by my peers and the Child Advocacy Clinic created a safe space to talk through the enormous challenges facing many children across the United States.

OCP: Was there anything surprising or unexpected?

OB: I’m not sure if it was totally surprising, but it was enlightening to begin to understand the vast complexity of juvenile cases. It is easy to have our own preconceived notions of how the system should be working, but it is challenging to realize that there is no one-size-fits-all approach to juvenile justice.  There is no one idea that encompasses “the best interest of the child”.  Attorneys are often forced to piecemeal solutions – from finding housing for a juvenile, to attending education planning meetings, finding mentoring programs for youth – activities commonly thought to be outside the legal system.

OCP: What is the most important skill you learned or worked on at the Child Advocacy Clinic ?

OB: How to use my voice – both in and out of the courtroom. I began to trust my judgment and gained confidence in presenting my ideas to my supervising attorney and ultimately, the judge.

OCP: Has there been a particularly memorable moment for you while at the Child Advocacy Clinic?  If so, did it have an impact on you, your clinical experience, or how you think about practicing law beyond law school?

OB: Yes – unfortunately, it was a particularly sad moment. I was in court one morning and a case was called involving a female in her early teens. There were a medley of issues at play in this case, but ultimately the juvenile was detained – not because the prosecutor or defense attorney wanted her held in custody, but because there was no place else for her to go. This outcome was absolutely devastating to me. It would be almost 7 weeks until an appropriate placement was found.

OCP: What inspires you to do this work?

OB: I was raised by a single mother who worked almost every moment of the day to support me. By all accounts, I was fortunate. I had my mom, and a community of neighbors, teachers, and friends who filled in when my mom couldn’t be present. By the time I was in high school, I recognized that this support system my mom and I had created was unusual. Many children in similar situations to mine growing up are in desperate need of this type of community. I want to help youth create the future they have never thought possible – the one of their dreams.

OCP: What is something you would like to share with future HLS students who are interested in joining the Child Advocacy Clinic?

OB: No matter the clinical experience you choose, your eyes will be opened to new possibilities and to injustices you weren’t aware of. Be open to changing your path. Explore what you don’t understand or haven’t experienced. Ask questions. The Child Advocacy Clinic is a great way to start exploring all of the avenues your legal career could take.

Reflecting on my Independent Clinical in Switzerland

by Caroline Shinkle ’20

Caroline Shinkle spent the 2020 and 2019 winter terms at the Bank for International Settlements (BIS) in Basel, Switzerland. At the BIS, she engaged in stimulating and impactful work surrounding tokenization of assets and distributed ledger technology-based securities settlement.


It was a fantastic experience returning to Basel this J-term. Last winter, I conducted an independent clinical with the Basel Committee on Banking Supervision, and this past January, I engaged in an independent clinical with the Bank for International Settlements (BIS) Innovation Hub. While in Basel this J-term, my mission was to provide legal analysis of the various legal issues surrounding distributed ledger technology (DLT) application to the financial sector. Specifically, I focused on investigating the legal issues associated with tokenization of assets and DLT-based securities settlement.


My work was very timely, as many stakeholders at the BIS are very interested and engaged in fintech developments and the potential implications for the global financial system. The BIS Innovation Hub is spearheading these efforts; thus, it was very exciting to work with the group that is on the ground floor of exploring these new technologies and endeavoring to understand how these innovations can be leveraged to promote central bank missions around the world. In addition, because there has been relatively little progress in the development of legal frameworks for these new systems and technologies, it was extremely fulfilling and rewarding to have the opportunity to work in this space and provide insight into potential best practices from a legal perspective.


My independent clinical this year has once again highlighted the importance of the BIS’s work. When working here, one feels as though they are part of a larger mission that transcends geographic boundaries. I was excited to have been a member of the BIS’s team and to arrive to work each day to help take on some of the key challenges facing the global financial system. The work matters, and it is refreshing to feel as though you are having an impact.


I see an opportunity for transformational change in the financial sector through some of these new fintech developments. However, legal uncertainties and complications abound with respect to their adoption. How our policymakers and regulators choose to resolve (or not) these questions will have great consequences for the future. Perhaps, in the not-so-distant future, I, too, may be in a position to weigh in on some of these questions. Until then, I look forward to learning as much as possible about these issues.


Kiwi Climate: Climate Change Policy when the Government Actually Cares

by Lowry Yankwich ’21

Lowry Yankich '21 and supervisor Brooke Cox

While Boston was cloaked in winter, I spent January in Hamilton, New Zealand, working at the Department of Conservation (“DOC”). Coming from California, Hamilton felt like Sacramento – a major city within an agriculture belt, a business center where the business is land. To its north lies Auckland, New Zealand’s megacity, population 1.7 million.  An hour west, over rolling coastal mountains, sits Raglan, a funky surf town with the longest left-breaking wave in the world. An hour east and you approach the Coromandel, a remote peninsula with white sand beaches, winding mountain roads, and whole forests planted for logging. To the south a few hours and you’re literally at Mordor, the volcano into which Frodo Baggins cast his precious ring.

With its natural bounty, New Zealand finds itself at a crossroads. On the one hand, traditional Māori culture, much of which permeates discussions today, places nature at the center of its world and mythology. Take Mt. Taranaki, a gorgeous volcano on the western coast of the north island. Legend has it that Taranaki once lived in the center of the island with the other volcanos. But Taranaki became embroiled in a battle with Tongariro over Pihanga, who they both loved. Tongariro won the battle, and Taranaki fled west, creating a major river where he passed, and a swamp where he paused.

The flipside of this veneration of the country’s natural beauty, however, is exploitation. Settlers in New Zealand have long profited off of New Zealand’s natural splendor, and its friendly climate. Huge forests blanket hillsides with non-native trees, all grown to be logged; they grow faster in New Zealand. Dairy farms pepper the north island. Thanks to the efforts of colonial entrepreneurs, who dreamt of making a hunter’s paradise, the country is full of invasive species: chamois and Himalayan tahr; Canadian geese and mallards; catfish and trout; hares, hedgehogs, rabbits, and deer. Some of the prettiest plants are also invasive. Native species have suffered. In particular, endemic flightless birds are like free dinner for non-native predators like possums and stoats. Nearly 80% of native bird species are currently at risk of extinction.

As the agency responsible for managing one third of all land in New Zealand – millions of acres of native forests, alpine areas, wetlands, dunes, coastal ecosystems and estuaries – DOC is at the center of the national debate over what to do with New Zealand’s natural endowment. It is DOC that embarks on eradication campaigns to clear out invasive species, and DOC who negotiates the fragile balance between encouraging tourism and protecting the “unspoiled” nature that draws tourists in the first place.

I worked on the policy side of DOC’s “permissions” team, which is responsible for granting temporary permits for private uses of public lands. While the easiest thing to do to protect conservation lands would be to close them to the public, DOC can’t do that as a matter of law. Instead, it regularly permits helicopter and bus tours, foot races and fishing competitions, film crews and sheep ranchers. DOC “decision-makers,” who sit in regional offices across the country, review applicants’ proposed uses of conservation lands, and consider the effects that such uses could have on the land. A decision-maker can decline an application that is inconsistent with conservation, or set conditions on the use of the land to mitigate adverse effects.

This is where climate change comes in, and where the bulk of my work took place. I studied how the effects of greenhouse gas emissions on climate change could factor into the permitting process, and by what precedential or statutory authority. Last year, New Zealand became one of the first countries to pass a national bill setting stringent carbon dioxide and methane emissions targets. By 2050, the country plans to have “net zero” greenhouse gas emissions, sequestering as much as it emits. The bill is not a total win for environmentalists – New Zealand being a major agricultural economy, there is a carve-out for methane emissions from livestock – but is a major step forward. Interestingly, the bill did not articulate how the country would reach its targets. And, in addressing government departments, the bill said that guidance would come later.

DOC doesn’t want to wait for guidance; it wants to begin addressing climate change now. So what tools, and what authority does it have? My research, derived from statutes and case law governing DOC’s permitting process, supports two contentions. The first contention is that the “effects” a decision-maker can consider in reviewing a permit application are broad, and could conceivably include the effects of emissions, however small, on global climate change. The second is that DOC decision-makers have substantial discretion to impose conditions on permittees, including emissions reporting requirements and reasonable emissions reduction targets.

I found strong statutory support for reading “effects” and the discretion of DOC decision-makers expansively. This could be good news for those wanting to adopt a ground-up strategy for addressing the impacts of climate change; however, it also raises questions about the competence of regional decision-makers to implement national policy. I also tried to argue that, in any case, DOC should act sooner rather than later – that the new emissions targets will ultimately result in liability for government departments that do not consider them. Of course, saying these things is easier than implementing them, but I hope that my work offers my team solid footing from which to begin refining DOC’s permitting process.

New Zealand seems to have all the right ingredients: a parliament attuned to climate change, a culture that venerates the land, a reputation for its wilderness and thus an incentive to preserve it. Yet even in New Zealand, addressing climate change is a daunting challenge. As a nation of five million, how much can it really do to combat climate change? One option, fatalistically, is to do nothing. The other is to do all you can do, leading by example, hoping that even if your action doesn’t make a dent, those it inspires do.


Experiencing impact litigation off the beaten path

by Brendan Schneiderman ’21

headshot photo of Brendan Schneiderman

Law school is a weird place. Year one primarily involves tolerating classrooms with 80 strangers where we’re judged by our ability to answer pop questions about abstract legal concepts. As 1L closes, most of us turn to career pursuits, where the most “prestigious” options involve working at corporate law firms for high salaries. Many students then turn to clerkship prospects, after which life becomes counting down to graduation. In short, the path of least resistance steers us right past the kind of advocacy that inspired many of us to come to law school in the first place.  Fortunately, my independent clinical at the National Consumer Law Center (NCLC) was a perfect departure from that beaten path.

I first came across the NCLC while searching for impact litigation organizations focused on consumer advocacy. During 1L, consumer protection cases consistently outraged me most: mortgagors selling loans designed to default; landlords renting out uninhabitable spaces to poor mothers; foreclosures and evictions triggered by the termination of public benefits. Once I committed to finding an organization working in this space, the NCLC, a nationally renowned organization, surged to the top of my wishlist.

Spending a semester there required formulating an independent clinical. This kind of clinic has several unique benefits. First, it allows students to find an organization tailored to their individual needs. I was interested in seeing a range of litigation subject matter, from consumer protection to administrative law. I also wanted to see what kind of work attorneys do outside the litigation space. On both axes, the NCLC excels: they litigate all sorts of subject matter, including those I was interested in, but they also provide education, policy advocacy and field research services to other attorneys. This interdisciplinary approach made the NCLC a perfect fit. (Independent clinics are also graded Credit Received/Fail, which helps mitigate end-of-semester stress.) The independent clinic experience is also valuable because of its informality. While I was assigned a supervising attorney, I never felt bound to work only with him.  Instead, as I saw emails passed around about projects needing an extra hand, I felt free to offer my services. Moreover, oftentimes independent clinical students will be the only interns at their organizations, giving them higher odds of contributing to the work they are most interested in.

I worked on a wide variety of projects during my semester. The majority of my time was focused on making sure low-income communities aren’t left behind as state and local governments incentivize the purchasing of clean-energy vehicles. For example, some states offer an income tax rebate on these purchases, but a low-income family wouldn’t have any income tax liability, and therefore wouldn’t benefit from this incentive. My research involved outreach to non-profits and state legislators to learn about current policies. I also developed a cost-benefit calculator to show exactly how much a given state’s policies would impact the challenges a low-income consumer faces when purchasing an electric vehicle.

In addition, I worked with a team that was challenging a regulatory action that would re-define the standard for racial discrimination in housing. I researched how a recent Supreme Court decision defining the standard had been subsequently applied by lower courts. Relatedly, I conducted background research on why black families own homes in the United States at a much lower rate than white families. This task inspired my final writing project, which was a deeper statistical dive into the underlying causes of the homeownership gap, and why more research on the phenomenon is necessary.

I also experienced NCLC’s reputation as a first-rate consumer advocacy shop in a more personal way: this year, the NCLC celebrated its 50th anniversary with a big party at the conclusion of its annual conference, to which I was invited. There, I met Congresswoman Katie Porter of California, the keynote speaker and a hero of mine. Other guests included Senator Ed Markey (a former intern of the NCLC himself!), State Representative Nika Elugardo, and Elizabeth Cabreser, an esteemed plaintiffs’ attorney who litigated both the Deepwater Horizon disaster and the VW emissions scandal.

My most important experience at the NCLC, however, was simply getting a taste of its spirit. For me, much of the first year of law school involved biting my tongue or grimacing at insensitive statements made by well-to-do partners. Many conventionally successful attorneys become convinced that procedural technicalities and intellectual puzzles make their work rewarding, and thus never feel the need to reflect on the impact their legal advocacy has on the world outside.

The atmosphere at the NCLC is just the opposite. While people there are incredibly friendly and welcoming, they come to work with a clear motivation to improve things on the ground. Every decision is made out of a commitment to relentless, sober, and diligent advocacy, because that is what is needed in the communities the NCLC serves. While HLS’s path of least resistance may not expose students to such a clear-eyed, ends-driven focus, my time at the NCLC sure did. For receiving that perspective, I will always be grateful.

Growth in Animal Law Advocacy

by Elizabeth Melampy ’21

headshot photo of Elizabeth Melampy in front of an apple tree


During winter term, I began a litigation externship with Animal Outlook (formerly Compassion Over Killing). Animal Outlook is an organization that works to protect farm animals and to challenge the standard industry practices of animal agribusiness. Through undercover investigations, litigation, and consumer and corporate campaigns, they use a variety of advocacy tools to reveal the truth about animal agriculture and promote protections for farm animals.


During my externship, I have had an opportunity to research federal agricultural subsidy programs, allowing me to understand how complex and deeply rooted the agricultural exceptionalism is in our society. I have written memoranda on a variety of topics relating to regulations on farm animal raising and slaughter. I even got to write an Op-Ed relating to a recent decision in Kansas striking down an “ag-gag” law that impermissibly restricted investigators’ First Amendment right to record and publish the operations of industrial animal farms. In conversations with my supervisor, I’ve learned so much about how animal advocacy organizations operate, and how they choose to prioritize their limited resources to achieve the largest possible progress and protections for animals.


Animal law is a niche field, at least here at Harvard Law School. I have spent my time at HLS so far delving deeper and deeper into the field, learning as much as I can at every step. I interned at the Animal Welfare Institute last summer, where I worked on farm animal protection. I also participated in the Animal Law & Policy Clinic last semester, where I conducted legal research, drafted memoranda, and interacted with clients all seeking creative strategies for protecting the lives and well-being of the animals with whom we share our world.


This externship with Animal Outlook has been a perfect complement to my experiences so far. When working with farm animals in particular, legal advocacy requires creativity; there are very few federal or state protections for farm animals, so rarely is there a slam dunk case or even a type of case that lawyers can rely on as a model. I have been impressed with the creativity—and even courage—that I’ve seen during my externship as we brainstorm legal theories.


Many people come into law school seeking to advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves. I have found so much purpose and excitement in living out that goal by working for beings who cannot participate in the legal system, yet who are incredibly burdened by it. There are many kinds of abuse that farm animals endure that are routine and perfectly legal, like dehorning, debeaking, or castration without anesthetizing pain medication. Whatever your views on animal agriculture, practically everyone agrees that they shouldn’t needlessly suffer. Yet getting into court to challenge a practice like that, or getting a bill on the books to prohibit it, is literally impossible for the cows, chickens, and pigs who suffer the pain for their whole lives before they are slaughtered for our lunch.


In many ways, the law ignores the interests, well-being, and worth of non-human animals, and they need lawyers and advocates who are willing to speak a human, legal language on their behalf. I am excited to be part of a rising tide of animal advocates seeking to use the law as a tool for protecting animals and promoting humane treatment. As I continue my externship into the spring semester, I am looking forward to conducting more research, having more conversations, and participating in meaningful advocacy.

Responsibility and Community in Restorative Justice

Profile photo of Kathryn Combs

by Kathryn Combs ’20

I spent part of Fall 2019 semester working as an independent clinical intern at Communities for Restorative Justice (C4RJ). I heard about C4RJ during my time in a clinical seminar with Judge Cratsley, who serves on their board. I had been looking into opportunities to do hands-on work during my last year at HLS. When I realized I could plan an independent clinical placement, I immediately thought of C4RJ and contacted Judge Cratsley to speak with him and Professor Lanni about their research, involvement, and thoughts on restorative justice.

I spent the summer of my 2L year at the San Francisco District Attorney’s office, which often refers cases to diversion programs run by nonprofits. I was glad those cases were being diverted but was curious about the process after a case is sent to one. I was very excited to get the chance to work at C4RJ, which is headquartered in Concord but takes cases from all over Western Massachusetts, and to see one of those programs in action. I was C4RJ’s first law student intern, and as such was able to craft my role along with my supervisors in a significant way so that I could be most useful.

Restorative Justice is a multi-layered concept, but in the criminal context, it focuses on the harm done in a criminal action and agreements made among stakeholders to make right that harm. C4RJ refers to “responsible parties” and “impacted parties” to push the boundaries of the criminal court system’s focus on distinct offenders and victims. C4RJ’s process works through referrals from police departments and District Attorney’s offices, and will take any case where the offender is taking responsibility, and the victim is willing for the process to go forward.

While at C4RJ, I primarily worked conducting legal research for the attorneys who make up the majority of the staff. I researched the impact of Massachusetts’ Restorative Justice provisions in the 2018 Crime Bill, analogous statutes in other states, and the requirements state and federal law place on C4RJ regarding volunteers with criminal records themselves.

I also was given the opportunity to participate in a Boston case regarding a serious felony that was referred to C4RJ due to the victim’s wishes to have the case proceed through Restorative Justice rather than the traditional court process. I sat in the “opening circle” for this case. In an opening circle, community members, C4RJ volunteers, the responsible party, the impacted party, and family of the responsible party sit together and discuss the criminal action, along with its effects on all parties and the harm done. The group then drafts a “restorative agreement” in which the responsible party agrees to abide by while working with C4RJ volunteers. This particular opening circle was very powerful, especially given the intense impact the event had had on the victim coupled with the responsible party’s clear regret and desire to apologize.

Having observed that case, been briefed on all open C4RJ cases, and looked at the files regarding past agreements and cases, it was very meaningful to me to see the process of restorative justice as something more concrete than an abstract theory. I was able to see the ways that victims were served by the process, responsible parties were able to own up to what harm had been done without facing overly punitive consequences in court, and how family members and supporters were able to be meaningful participants.

This, combined with my research on states nationwide enacting restorative justice statutes, was a great balance of seeing the human, on-the-ground work of restorative justice combined with the policy and legal realities needed to make restorative justice practicable. I am very glad that other HLS students will begin working at C4RJ this upcoming spring semester; and am grateful to my supervisors at C4RJ for letting me participate, observe, and research the complex and impactful work of their organization.


2019 HRP Summer Fellow Reflection: Angel Gabriel Cabrera Silva, SJD Candidate

Cabrera Silva spent Summer 2019 at Colectivo Emancipaciones, in Morelia, Michoacán, México

Summer fellowships for human rights internships are a central part of the Harvard Law School human rights experience. During the summer of 2019, HRP funded five HLS students to intern abroad at nongovernmental organizations for up to eight weeks. At the conclusion of their internships, students returned to HRP with a deeper appreciation for the type of work required of human rights practitioners. Over the course of the next month while our summer fellowship application is open, we’ll be excerpting portions from their fellowship reports to provide a glimpse into the kinds of experiences open to human rights students at Harvard Law.

As an SJD candidate studying grassroots mobilizing in human rights, Angel Gabriel Cabrera Silva wanted to immerse himself in a social justice organization working in partnership with indigenous communities. He joined Colectivo Emancipaciones, an NGO that advocates on behalf of indigenous rights. In order to express its democratic goals, the Colectivo organizes itself into non-hierarchical “commissions.” Angel joined the “Litigation Commission” and the “Community Council’s Commission.” In the former, Cabrera Silva worked on strategic litigation on behalf of indigenous communities. In the latter, he worked with communities on socio-political organizing.

He described his work as follows:

“Currently, the Colectivo Emancipaciones is working alongside Community Councils of the towns of Pichátaro, San Felipe de los Herreros, Arantepacua, and Santa Fe de la Laguna to intervene in a legislative process that intends to regulate their budgetary autonomy. The axis of this strategy is to preemptively organize the social and political aspects of a process for free, prior, and informed consultation that will be reclaimed after (and if) this bill is discussed by Congress. As such, my task was to attend meetings with the various Councils, brief them about the legal elements of the strategy, listen to their opinions, and collaboratively think about how to articulate the organizational aspects (like when and how would it be easier to organize a politically efficient process of free, prior, and informed consent).”

Cabrera Silva plans to return to some of the communities that Colectivo partnered with later in his SJD to do fieldwork. Over the summer, he was particularly impressed with the community commitment of the NGO. He explained that working at Colectivo Emancipaciones provided “a clear example of how the outcomes of human rights work change when advocates have direct political commitments to specific social movements (rather than abstract normative commitments or indirect commitments with donors).”

At Colectivo, he said, “the role of lawyers was never to upkeep any norm or to advise the communities about the proper legal avenue to get a favorable decision. Instead, the lawyers were constantly reviewing the political and social usefulness of any legal action. The constant contact with community councils meant that the Colectivo was always in touch with what material solutions were needed, and their work revolved around that aspect. In fact, the very structure of the Colectivo (organized in a Commission) seems to have been learned from the way the Community Councils organize themselves.”

Angel further elaborated on how the funding structure of the NGO provided a positive influence on its culture, saying: “The fellowship also gave me a lot of insights into how NGOs are sometimes influenced by external sources of funding. The Colectivo Emancipaciones has an internal policy of not accepting any money that might condition their work. In this sense, they have almost no external donors. They mostly fund themselves through their own professional independent practice. They have also established collaborative academic research projects as a means to embolden their alliance with the communities. This mode of practice has an important influence on the power dynamics between the Colectivo, communities, and the individual members of the Colectivo, which are much more horizontal and open for reflection.”

Overall, the internship gave Cabrera Silva the opportunity to re-examine what skills are important in human rights work. “Normally, I would think that having expertise in the latest development of international standards and knowing all the international procedures was one of the most important advantages of a human rights lawyer. However, I realize how little this technical knowledge might matter in contrast to developing the skills that relate to political strategizing, community organizing, and even inter-personal support.”

Interested in learning more about HRP Summer Fellowships? Schedule an advising appointment with Anna Crowe, Assistant Director of the International Human Rights Clinic, and apply to join our 2020 cohort today! Please note that you do not need to have a confirmed placement organization before you apply for the 2020 HRP summer fellowship pool. Applications are due February 1, 2020!

Clinic Stories: Prepping for the U.S. Court of Appeals

via Harvard Law Today

Through Harvard Law School’s Federal Tax Clinic, students have the unique opportunity represent low-income taxpayers in disputes with the IRS, both before the IRS and in federal court. Working individually and in teams, they represent taxpayers involving examinations, administrative appeals collection matters, and cases before the United States Tax Court and federal district courts.

In this video, we follow Adeyemi “Yemi” Adediran ’21, a second year student in the Clinic, as he prepares to argue an appeal on behalf of a military veteran with PTSD in the United States Court of Appeals for the 7th Circuit, in Chicago. The veteran’s appeal to the Seventh Circuit centered on his eligibility for innocent spouse relief under the Internal Revenue Code. Over a three year period, the veteran’s wife embezzled $500K from the Appleton, Wisconsin Blood Bank—where she worked as a bookkeeper. She was arrested and sentenced to jail, but because the couple filed taxes jointly and embezzled money is taxable, they were both legally responsible for back taxes on the money.

As an important part of his preparation, Adediran participated in a mooting session before a panel of “judges” including Keith Fogg, clinical professor and director of the Federal Tax Clinic, and Clinical Professor Daniel Nagin, vice dean for experiential and clinical education and faculty director of the WilmerHale Legal Services Center at Harvard Law School (LSC), of which the Tax Clinic is a part.

You can read more about the Federal Tax Clinic and other LSC clinics and services at

Balancing Optimism and Realism in Attenuated Wins

By Alev Erhan

During my first year of law school, I was eager to get away from the HLS bubble and our classroom hypotheticals by meeting and helping people in Greater Boston. I was thrilled to be selected into the Tenant Advocacy Project (TAP), which provides representation and advice to tenants of affordable housing who are facing eviction or subsidy termination.


Just over a month into my first semester, upon mindlessly refreshing my inbox, I saw that I had been assigned to my first case and promptly forgot how to breathe. I was to advocate on behalf of a mother facing eviction from public housing for allegedly allowing her daughter’s father to stay in her apartment more days than the arbitrary maximum allowed by her lease. My initial shock at the absurd disproportionality between the violation and subsequent penalty was soon diminished by the understanding that my client’s experience was apparently a fairly standard type of case for TAP, for which there is a fairly standard legal solution. I prepared to suggest to my client a “No Visit No Reside” or NVNR agreement in which tenants agree that a particular person no longer visits or (you guessed it) resides in the unit. Though seemingly straightforward, these agreements can be sinister in that they often involve one member of the family being kicked out of the residence, many times forcing parents to ask their own children to leave, in order to prevent the eviction of everyone on the lease.


The next day I met with my client for the first time, waiting until the end of our discussion to launch into my carefully scripted spiel about a possible NVNR. Within seconds her eyes shot wide open and she rolled her chair back, repeating “no, no, no” so vehemently I was reeling to somehow take back every word that had come out of my mouth. Despite diminished odds that my client would successfully overcome eviction proceedings without signing this agreement, our role was to advocate for her goal—and her goal was to ensure that her daughter’s father would still be able to visit the unit while maintaining her tenancy. I never met my client’s daughter but over the following months she became very present in my life, from the late night phone calls from my client I couldn’t bear to ignore to the sense of injustice I felt every time I thought about the case.


All our preparatory work with TAP was leading up to an ‘informal conference’ hosted by the housing authority to supposedly reach a settlement favorable to all parties. While the more ‘formal’ administrative hearings already lack many aspects of due process a person should be guaranteed in court, such purportedly informal meetings are often nothing more than a conference table in which attorneys can wield their gross power imbalance and the threat of eviction to present tenants, who rarely have legal representation, with coercive agreements.


At our conference, my client had two representatives from Harvard Law School (myself and my supervisor), a psychiatrist, and two social workers in the room advocating to keep this young girl’s father in her life. Our request was merely that he be able to visit the apartment on occasion. In response to our concerns, the housing authority attorney leaned back in his chair, put his knee up on the conference table, and scanned the room as he said that with so many supportive figures in this young girl’s life he felt confident that she would be just fine. I don’t believe the attorney could have said this statement if my client’s daughter was in the room and could not stop thinking about how many voiceless people, just like my client’s daughter, are ignored by the eviction process.


Ultimately, TAP was successful in preserving housing for a woman and her child through a negotiated settlement. Our client was empowered to demand an agreement on her terms, refusing to accept the housing authority’s “take it or leave it” approach despite abundant intimidation. However, it would be a disservice to allow these wins to blind us from the absurdity that is a world in which tax dollars go towards preventing a child from hanging out with her dad in her own home.

Setting the Stage for Humanitarian Disarmament Season

Via Human Rights@Harvard Law

By: Jillian Rafferty JD ‘20

The disarmament season in Geneva begins in earnest this month with diplomatic meetings on killer robots, the arms trade, and cluster munitions. To provide a frame for these discussions, Harvard Law School’s Armed Conflict and Civilian Protection Initiative (ACCPI) and the Geneva Disarmament Platform (GDP) recently organized a humanitarian disarmament workshop for diplomats.

The event, which was held last week, aimed to raise awareness and increase understanding of humanitarian disarmament. This approach to governing weapons seeks to reduce arms-inflicted human and environmental harm through the establishment and implementation of norms. Representatives from about two dozen national missions in Geneva participated.

At the workshop, the ACCPI and PAX released a jointly published brochure that examines this cross-cutting approach to disarmament and introduces key arms-related issues to which it has been applied. A new tool for diplomats and campaigners, the brochure also provides a definition of humanitarian disarmament, a timeline, list of key players, and selected resources.

The workshop opened with an examination of the history, definition, and characteristics of humanitarian disarmament, distinguishing this people-centered approach from more traditional, security-focused framings of disarmament. The first session also addressed the effectiveness of humanitarian disarmament and ways in which diplomats can use it to advance their disarmament agendas. Maricela Muñoz, from the Permanent Mission of Costa Rica, guided the discussion with:

  • John Borrie, UN Institute for Disarmament Research (UNIDIR);
  • Bonnie Docherty, ACCPI; and,
  • Wen Zhou, International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC).

Setting aside their national positions, participants then engaged in a simulation. In small groups, diplomats reviewed the security-focused disarmament language of mock statements and discussed how to reframe rhetoric and positions in humanitarian terms.

Other presenters discussed the inclusive nature of humanitarian disarmament, emphasizing the importance of partnerships among governments, international organizations, and civil society. The speakers highlighted the need for open communication and close collaboration across these sectors. Moderated by GDP’s Richard Lennane, the panel included:

  • Austrian Ambassador Thomas Hajnoczi;
  • Beatrice Fihn, International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN); and,
  • Hector Guerra, International Campaign to Ban Landmines-Cluster Munition Coalition (ICBL-CMC).

The workshop set the stage for the Geneva meetings on three disarmament issues that are frequently framed as humanitarian. This week, states parties to the Convention on Conventional Weapons discussed options for dealing with lethal autonomous weapons systems. Also known as killer robots, these systems raise serious humanitarian, moral, and accountability concerns because they would select and engage targets without meaningful human control.

Next week, countries party to the Arms Trade Treaty will hold their fifth annual conference. The theme this year is gender and gender-based violence (GBV), and the conference president will seek agreement on recommendations for states parties to improve gender diversity, understand and address the gendered impact of the arms trade, and improve implementation of the GBV risk assessment mandate by the treaty.

Finally, during the first week of September, states parties to the Convention on Cluster Munitions will convene for their annual meeting. This treaty exemplifies humanitarian disarmament’s combination of prohibitions on the production, stockpiling, transfer, and use of problematic weapons and obligations to remediate the harm caused by past use.


PLAP Appeals MA Parole Board’s Decision to Deny Parole to an Inmate with Mental Health Needs

By: Jarrod Nelson, JD ’21

Source: Pixabay

*Calvin resides in a prison that for him is also a purgatory. For nine years, Calvin has found himself at the center of a legal controversy that involves two state agencies which, despite their considerable power over his life, have portrayed themselves as helpless to assist in his transition back to society.

In 2010, Calvin was granted parole by the Massachusetts Parole Board, on the condition that he be admitted to a Massachusetts Department of Mental Health (DMH) inpatient facility for continued treatment of his mental illness. For years, Calvin had handled his illness well, consistently working at a job in the prison and avoiding any disciplinary issues. “Calvin’s institutional adjustment has been excellent,” the Board said at the time.

However, this seemingly straightforward condition turned out to be anything but. Massachusetts is a state of over 6 million people but has just over 2,500 inpatient psychiatric beds for them. Thus, when DMH denied him services, Calvin found himself between the rock of knowing he had qualified for parole, and the hard place of not being able to claim it. DMH’s denial of services meant that Calvin had his conditional parole rescinded.

It was at that point that the Harvard Prison Legal Assistance Project (PLAP), jumped in on Calvin’s behalf. PLAP is a student practice organization in which HLS students volunteer to represent state prisoners in parole and prison disciplinary hearings. Since 2014, six student attorneys from PLAP have appeared before the Parole Board on Calvin’s behalf, and finding no adequate resolution there, have filed suit in the Superior Court. The case was being handled by Regina Powers ’19 and Justin Kenney ‘19, who were supervised by Joel Thompson, one of two attorney supervisors that work with PLAP. The parole process has been marked by the Board’s insistence that DMH be involved in any potential placement for Calvin, and DMH’s insistence that Calvin does not qualify. A Board-appointed forensic psychologist made his own determinations about Calvin’s treatment and potential release plan, noting that Calvin’s case represented “a classic example of bureaucratic rules overcoming common sense, and an unnecessary correctional system expense with no clear end-game to break the deadlock.”

Unfortunately, the psychologist’s report fell on deaf ears. When the Board last saw Calvin, in 2017, it flatly denied parole, postponing his next parole hearing for three years. Moreover, and seemingly without irony, the Board suggested that Calvin apply for DMH services while he awaited his next hearing.

PLAP appealed the Board’s decision to the Massachusetts Superior Court. This is not the first time that PLAP students have sought judicial review of an agency’s decision. It is the first time, however, that PLAP has pled in not one but two agencies: the Parole Board and DMH.

Along with a claim that the Board’s decision was arbitrary and capricious, the lawsuit alleges that the Board and DMH have each violated the Americans with Disabilities Act by failing to develop a workable release plan, essentially keeping Calvin in prison because of his mental illness. The claim follows a recent PLAP victory in a case involving the ADA’s application to the parole process, Crowell v. Massachusetts Parole Board.  In that case, the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts confirmed that the mental disability of a parole candidate must be accommodated as part of the parole process.

Powers and Kenney successfully fended off a motion to dismiss from DMH. Oral argument was recently held on the question of whether the Board’s latest decision is arbitrary and capricious, with further development of the ADA issue to follow.

Calvin is 61 years old. He has been in prison for 22 years. For the last nine of those years, he has been advised that, with the right treatment plan in place, he could be released on parole. It is hoped that, with a favorable outcome in court, he will not have to wait any longer.

*Names changed to protect the client’s confidentiality.

Going Against the Government at the Public Defender in D.C.

By: Alyssa Bernstein, J.D. ’19

Alyssa Bernstein ’19

“There should be a copy of the Guidelines  in your office,” my supervisor at the Assistant Federal Public Defender told me. There wasn’t a copy of the Federal Sentencing Guidelines in my office. If there had been, it would have been hard to miss. It’s a red tome, published in paperback  because it becomes obsolete every few years. The back cover features a giant table with roman numerals indicating an individual’s criminal history level and 43 rows determining months of sentences ranging from 0-6 months to 360 months-life. The 2018 edition comes in at about 600 pages and eight pounds. It makes a satisfying thwack on a desk when you throw it down in vexation. For a first-timer, it can be a bit overwhelming.

It was a week into my semester-long clerkship at the Federal Public Defender for the District of Columbia. Instead of shivering in Cambridge all spring, I’m in the Government Lawyer: Semester in Washington program. There are about a dozen other 2- and 3Ls who don’t mind missing a semester of Wasserstein lectures and non-pizza lunch each year. Instead, we work full-time in government offices across the federal branches.

But being a public defender in the government is not synonymous with representing the government. I’ve drafted numerous motions against the government on a number of issues, including arguing that a pre-schooler’s muffled statements should not be the basis of probable cause for a car search and why spending 90 days transporting someone 250 miles for a mental health evaluation (when a statute permits 10 days) cannot be justified as a “reasonable delay.”

I did eventually delve into those Federal Sentencing Guidelines. My assignment was to analyze how the guideline for illegal possession of a firearm (§ 2K2.1) developed over time. The guideline originally gave nine offense levels in 1987, but today goes as high as 33. Moreover, I found that the length of recommended sentences under the guideline has only increased in its 30 years of existence, with increases added as recently as 2015.

The Sentencing Guidelines are the standards that judges use to decide how long to send people to prison. There is an entire government commission to develop them. There is a smaller NGO dedicated to deciphering and reforming them. The whole set was first developed in 1987, at Congress’ behest. Congress was concerned about two things: wide disparities in sentences meted down on defendants for the exact same crime; and the prevalence of early release for good behavior – a practice that many representatives viewed as too lenient.

The Sentencing Commission confers with the Department of Justice and other agencies before revising guideline ranges. While, technically, public defenders have an opportunity to also provide feedback, my research revealed that the Sentencing Commission has not historically heeded their input, at least for the firearms possession guideline. Instead, the Sentencing Commission seems to always respond to the voices of law enforcement and prosecutors, justifying its changes in the name of “increasing deterrence” and “enabling law enforcement.”

Regardless of my personal positions on gun ownership, I believe that the law should be administered equitably across geographic areas. Prohibited weapon possession is a broad category, however. One of the problems with the prohibited possession laws is that they are disproportionally levied against those who are also subjected to the most intense level of police surveillance and searches –that is, communities of color.

D.C. recently changed its criminal gun policy. In order to obtain harsher penalties and sentences, D.C. now prosecutes gun possession charges in federal court, instead of D.C.’s equivalent to state court. It’s fair to surmise that the change in D.C. policy is intended to protect the people in neighborhoods where gun violence is more prevalent. But the targets for gun possession searches are almost always people of color – in fact, every firearm possession case I’ve worked on has been for a client who is a person of color.

Unfortunately, the very communities that are the most affected by the Sentencing Guidelines have the least influence over their determination. During this clerkship I’ve watched trial attorneys work every day, from meeting a client for the first time to attending their sentencing.

Sentencing is a sobering experience that couldn’t be farther from analyzing cases in class. More than any other experience at law school, this clerkship has shown me how the legislative, executive, and judicial branches can form structures whose course and policies are difficult to re-direct, especially for those with the least access to effective democratic mechanisms. Perhaps my classmates on the Hill who listen and respond to constituent input feel that our government is for and by the people. In the Public Defender’s office, the gap couldn’t be wider.

Reflections on the U.S. Attorney Clinic

Medha Gargeya ’19

Judge Merrick Garland wrote, “The great joy of being a prosecutor is that you don’t take whatever case walks in the door. You evaluate the case; you make your best judgment.”

This semester I was fortunate to work at the United States Attorney’s Office for the District of Massachusetts.

Initially assigned to the public corruption unit, I was unsure what to expect when I moved to the major crimes division my first week. Over the past semester, I worked on international kidnapping, homicide, armed robbery, and food stamp fraud cases. Through reading records, attending trials, and speaking with FBI and other law enforcement agents, I tried to learn about the defendants. In the myriad cases I worked on, I felt that my supervisors were thoughtful, deliberate, and compassionate in considering the aims of federal prosecution, defendants’ histories, and their best chances at rehabilitation.

My experience may not have been the norm and reminded me that several things that need to be improved in the criminal justice system, but it affirmed my deep respect of the bureaucratic norms, independence, and integrity upheld by the attorneys in the office.

My time at the USAO taught me that doing justice is extremely difficult, but ultimately an aim worth pursuing.

— Medha Gargeya, J.D. ’19


Pamela Gaulin ’19

I chose to participate in the United States Attorney Clinic because I knew it would provide an experience unlike anything I would get in my first few years as an Army Judge Advocate. While in the clinic I was able to work with both the major crimes and appeals units and found both aspects extremely rewarding. In the major crimes unit, I was given the opportunity to sit in on numerous court sessions, interview and prepare witnesses for hearings, and attend meetings in the judges’ chambers. It was beneficial to see just how different each lawyer’s advocacy style is, and that regardless of how I choose to style my own advocacy for clients I can be successful. As part of my work in the appeals unit I was fortunate to help draft a response brief for a case involving charges of material support to a terrorist organization. This case was particularly rewarding for me because of my background in the military, and also because it gave me a chance to help create the end product that was eventually argued in the circuit court. The feedback I received on my writing and research for the appeals unit was far superior to any of the feedback on legal research and writing that I received elsewhere during my time at Harvard Law School. This experience helped to strengthen my writing skills and provide confidence for me in my abilities to research and craft persuasive and effective arguments. Lastly, in April I was invited to come back to the courthouse to watch my supervisor argue the brief at the circuit court. I also found that the lawyers, legal, and administrative staff at the office were fantastic people to be around. Not only were they passionate about their work, but they were intent on ensuring I was given a robust and rewarding experience in my short time with the clinic.

— Pamela Gaulin, J.D. ’19

My Time in the State Attorney General Clinic

By: Sharon Kelleher, J.D. ’19

Sharon Kellher ’19

One of my most meaningful experiences at Harvard Law School was serving as a clinical student with the Consumer Protection Division (CPD) of the Massachusetts Attorney General’s Office in the fall of my 3L year.

As a part of the State Attorney General Clinic, my three months at CPD provided firsthand exposure to the variety of ways in which the Attorney General protects the Commonwealth’s most vulnerable consumers through civil investigations, litigation, and policy work. I now more fully appreciate the expansive ability of the Attorney General to advocate for fairness in the treatment of consumers by organizations that do business in our state. I also gained valuable legal research, writing, and advocacy skills and a significant glimpse into public service within state government, which is a career path I am now interested to pursue.

Throughout the semester, I reviewed consumer complaints for investigations of unfair and deceptive practices by debt collectors, observed depositions and interviews, and conducted legal research to support arguments in litigation over data breaches. I also had the chance to observe court appearances, draft motions, and learn more about the legislative side of CPD’s work, such as advocating for consumer protection policies. I was introduced to nearly all facets of CPD’s practice areas during my clinical experience, and each project proved educational and eye-opening. I appreciated the unique latitude the team afforded to me in contributing to CPD’s efforts.

Of all the experiences during this clinic, I was proudest of my legal research and writing projects. By receiving active feedback from attorneys throughout the process, I honed these skills and contributed to ongoing matters at CPD. While these projects often revealed the difficulty in advocacy work, I felt energized to craft the strongest argument or to master the law on a niche issue presented. I am more confident entering my legal career having had this experience and, as a Massachusetts’ native, am proud and honored to have contributed to the important work CPD handles every day on behalf of citizens.

States where HLS students have worked through the clinic over winter term.
Credit: Melissa Courage Korta

Besides the substantive work, I also felt welcomed and appreciated by the attorneys working in the CPD. Through the leadership of the clinical program and CPD supervisors, I hit the ground running and felt part of the team from day one. The attorneys included me in case meetings, conference calls with opposing counsel, and court visits. These opportunities provided vital insight into the interpersonal, analytical, and judgmental skills necessary to work in a division that deals with a variety of pressing, and often publicized, legal issues.

I am so grateful for my time working with the Consumer Protection Division of the Massachusetts Attorney General’s Office. Few experiences in law school have so significantly contributed to my understanding of the power of lawyers to make positive changes in our communities, and I hope to continue seeking experiences that provide a similar balance of intellectual rigor and public service.


Prosecuting a Jury Trial

By: Joseph Rosenberg, J.D. ’19

Joseph Rosenberg, ’19

“An hour-and-a-half?” I repeated over the phone. “But the trial is starting now!” Today, I was prosecuting an operating under the influence (OUI) jury trial, but the state trooper who arrested the defendant had forgotten. Now he was on the way, his day off interrupted.

I relayed this information to the judge in Boston Municipal Court’s Dorchester District Court. He was more understanding that I thought he would be. While we waited, we could return to the problem more immediately at hand: a surprise witness (the complaining witness, no less) had shown up at 8am after not responding to our summonses for months. He recounted some observations and third-party statements that weren’t in the trooper’s report. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I thought I had better tell defense counsel immediately. The defense counsel told me he’d object to at least the new third-party statements because they were hearsay.

“Your honor, that’s actually not hearsay. It’s not being offered to prove the truth of the matter asserted but rather to show its effect on the listener,” I argued. I was an Evidence scholar just weeks removed from my final exam. That third-party statement was excluded.

After the evidentiary hearing—while still we waited for the trooper—the judge suggested that we begin the trial. Before long, I had conducted voir dire, opened, and put on the complaining witness.

It was speeding by. Now the trooper was here. I met him, and then he took the stand ten seconds later. I had prepared an examination for him and hoped to meet with him beforehand to prepare. Alas! This would have to do. It went better than expected. He was an expert. He’d done this a hundred times.

I rested my case, defeated a motion for a directed verdict, and closed. I couldn’t believe I had just done all that. I had no idea what I was doing; I was sure I’d lost. I was happy that I would lose, actually. True, the defendant was drunk— breathalyzer results that the jury couldn’t see confirmed that he was twice over the legal limit—he was driving, and he caused a crash. But he was younger than I was, he had no record, and his parents were there in the courtroom to support him. He held the courtroom door open for me once. I  was happy for him: he had the good fortune to come up against me. He could move on from this mistake, never drink and drive again, and no harm would have been done.

The jury returned after about an hour and found the defendant guilty. I didn’t react on the outside, but my mind was racing. “I won?! Good for me—he has a private lawyer. But poor guy. Now he’s been convicted. I convicted him.” I couldn’t look at him or at the jurors. When the jurors finally filed out, the judge said:  “Alright, shall we proceed to sentencing?” “Sentencing?” I asked. “Of course, your honor,  just one moment.” I hadn’t had any idea that sentencing for OUI convictions takes place right then and there. I turned to my supervisor and asked her what was going on. She said to ask for one year of probation with mandatory attendance at alcohol counseling: the standard sentence for a first OUI offense. “Can I ask for six months?” I asked. “Sure.” My proposed sentence—crafted at counsel table the moment before it was offered—was accepted by defense counsel as “generous.”

I picked my things up off the table and finally turned to the defendant. He was facing the back of the courtroom. His head was buried in his parents’ chests, and they held him tight. His whole body heaved as he sobbed. I shook defense counsel’s hand and walked out as quickly as I could.

At 5:30, I left the courthouse and started my walk towards  the Shawmut stop on the Red Line. I called my girlfriend and my parents to tell them about my day—the good, the bad, the I-still-don’t-know-what.

Looking for Tools to Change

Via the Harvard Dispute Systems Design Clinic (Harvard Negotiation and Mediation Clinical Program (HNMCP))

Margaret Huang ’19

Margaret Huang ’19 came to law school looking for tools for change. Inspired by seminal Supreme Court cases like Roe v. Wade and Brown v. Board of Education, Huang set her sights on finding her particular path into change agency. At the time, law school seemed like the best way for her to acquire the skills to combat systemic racial and economic inequalities. However, by providing new frameworks for analyzing problems, law school has complicated her theory for how change happens.

HNMCP: When you were a student in the Negotiation & Mediation Clinical Program (HNMCP), you worked on a project with the New Hampshire Judicial Branch Office of Mediation & Arbitration, which oversees alternative dispute resolution programs in the state. Your project looked at the use of alternative dispute resolution models in the family division specifically, focusing on the process for handling re-opened divorce and parenting cases. But this wasn’t your first hands on experience with clients, was it?

Margaret Huang: In undergrad I volunteered as a telephone counselor at the Women’s Law Project. My role was to provide legal information and referrals when people called in with their stories. It was the first time that I truly began to understand how interconnected problems in people’s lives were. Divorce, parenting, domestic violence can affect safety, shelter, and food insecurity, as well as be affected by them. This experience helped me in thinking about the project with the New Hampshire court because it gave me a deeper understanding of divorce and parenting disputes.

HNMCP: What was it about HNMCP that made you choose it for a clinical experience?

Margaret: I wanted to do more work in alternative dispute resolution. The Negotiation Workshop and the Harvard Mediation Program influenced the way I looked at disputes. These experiences taught me that sometimes the truth can be impossible to determine, but they also gave me the tools to figure out how to move forward despite that. And then the clinic, HNMCP, does a good job of providing a framework in which to analyze how individuals act within a system. By figuring out how a system influences the people who are within it (e.g., through the options it provides, or the difficulty or ease of taking a certain path), we can figure out how we might shift things for a different experience.

HNMCP: How did you see this fitting in with the work you want to do after law school?

Margaret: Like many people at this law school, I feel an urgency in the work of reforming the criminal system. The criminal system is both a result of, and a force in, perpetuating trauma and racial and economic injustice. But because of the power that prosecutors have, I also believe that to implement effective change, we need progressive prosecutors. After law school, I am going to the New York City Law Department’s Family Court Unit to work as a prosecutor in the juvenile court system, with the diversionary programs that exist there, and its focus on rehabilitation. When I worked there last summer, I learned about all the alternatives to placement programs like job training, family therapy, etc. to help keep a child from going back through the system. I think it’s a good model on how to handle juvenile cases and I am thinking about how can it translate into the adult system. No matter how gung ho individual prosecutors are, at the end of the day the outcome is supposed to be the least restrictive. Understanding systemic models better will help me move into policy work at local and state levels in the future.

HNMCP: While respecting client privilege, what were some rewarding and challenging experiences you had in your clinical work that you felt helped you move forward in your growth as a lawyer?

Margaret: I was amazed at how the people we worked with in the New Hampshire Court System were so forward-thinking. I feel like the way law school teaches the common law means there is a focus on the past, a mentality of ‘we do things this way because this is the way we’ve always done things.’ But the people we met in New Hampshire were constantly innovating and trying new models to help the people who go through their system. They were so inspirational!

The most rewarding part of the clinic was when [my project teammate] Michael [Haley] and I presented our findings and recommendations to the court administrators. Our analysis was objective, presenting both the positive and negative things that we had seen, but the court administrators were excited about our findings and seemed energized to start fixing some of the problems that we had found.

We did have challenges. As part of the project, we spent time calling folks who went through the New Hampshire system to get stakeholder feedback. Not all of them were very happy that their number had been given to us and one guy called around 15 times in 10 minutes to complain.

Margaret Huang & Michael Haley

HNMCP: So you had that on-the-ground learning of interacting with folks who had challenging experiences in the system and you were the one who had to talk to them and take that blow back.

Margaret: Yes. This is one of the places we got support from our supervisor. I learned a lot seeing Rachel [Krol] talk to him and calm him down. It was so admirable.

HNMCP: You also participated in the Harvard Mediation Program (HMP), a student practice organization. What was it about alternative dispute resolution as a discipline that attracted you to spend so much of your time in law school focusing on these skills?

Margaret: It was learning that 90% of cases settle out of court that made me want to learn about ADR. I stayed with it because of the experiential learning model and the practical skills I was receiving. Black letter law classes teach one set of skills, so studying ADR gave me that continued learning.

HNMCP: You started in HMP your 1L year, served as Training Director your 2L year, and by your 3L year you served as co-President (along with Laura Bloomer). What are some important leadership lessons you’ll be taking with you into your career?

Margaret: One of the gifts of being co-President was being able to see the organization in the long term. It also gave me the opportunity to tackle some of the problems I saw as a 1L.  As Training Director, I had the ability to address issues, make changes right away, and move forward quickly. But as co-President, of course, I had to run things by the Board and Staff, and know that I might not see changes before I graduated. Hearing [Advisory Board Member] Florrie [Darwin] share with me the growth she’s seen in the organization over the years, helped me understand that despite the fact that I could not immediately see the progress the organization was making, the changes Laura and I tried to implement might have an effect in the future. I also learned that working with colleagues who are committed and caring makes a huge difference.

HNMCP: What did you learn about yourself in your work in HNMCP and HMP?

Margaret: In both HNMCP and HMP I learned how to receive feedback, which is much harder than people acknowledge. But I needed to acknowledge where my weaknesses were in order to improve. So now I hear feedback as not about what’s wrong with me, but where I can get better.

I know I have said this a lot already, but HNMCP and HMP has influenced how I think about change. I used to believe that it was extraordinary individuals who were change-makers. Not to diminish the extraordinary things these individuals have done, but the picture is much more complicated. I now understand that because ADR teaches people how to analyze situations as stakeholders with their interests and agendas, I can see that change happens when some stakeholders agree on a solution that fits their needs. By using this framework, one can make change by influencing stakeholder agendas, by empowering certain stakeholders, finding creative solutions, and countless other possibilities.

I’ve also become more aware about how people make choices in a system. I was at the Prison Abolition Symposium that the Harvard Law Review put on earlier this year, and one of the speakers, Angel Sanchez, said something that really resonated with me. Paraphrasing, he said, “we should allow people to be normal.”

We should allow people to be normal. How can we construct a system where people do not need to be extraordinary to “make it?” How do we construct a system where people are allowed to make mistakes?

HNMCP: How have you found these skills translating into your own life?

Margaret: I’ve become a much better active listener [laughs]. In law school, we’re taught to provide solutions when people come to us with problems, but sometimes that’s not what someone needs. Sometimes it’s better to just acknowledge what’s going on and help them figure out what is the best solution for them.

HNMCP: Anything you want to add before we go?

Margaret: A big shout out to the 5th floor of Pound Hall [where HNMCP and HMP have their offices] for being so welcoming!

“They Don’t Teach You This in Law School,” Moments in the Domestic Violence and Family Law Clinic

By: Tara Louise Casey, LL.M. ’19

Tara Louise Casey LL.M. ’19

As an LL.M. student who has recently finished my primary law degree in Ireland – where there is not a great amount of emphasis on practical legal  education – I was eager to explore clinical and pro-bono opportunities at Harvard. I had previously studied domestic violence from an academic perspective and completed an internship at a prominent family law firm in Dublin so a clinical program that combined the two sounded like a perfect fit.

While I had previously participated in a clinical program at the University of Texas while studying abroad there during my primary law degree, working at the Legal Services Center (LSC) was unlike anything I had done before. From the very beginning, my supervisor Nnena Odim made it clear that the cases I would be working on would be my own, that I would be responsible for the vast majority of the case – keeping the client up to date, getting information from them, communicating and negotiating with opposing counsel and representing the client in court. Being thrown into the deep-end was at first rather intimidating, but the community spirit at LSC was a great help. Surrounded by other law students – some in the Domestic Violence/Family Law Clinic, some in other clinics, some returning students, some first-timers like me – I quickly got to grips with drafting documents in the correct form, who to call at the court house for certain information and appropriate tones to take with opposing counsel, parties and my own clients on the phone.

My favorite aspect of the clinic was without doubt meeting with the clients. Before our meetings, I would generally read up on their case and try to ascertain where they were at procedurally, what was the most recent thing they had asked for and what further information we needed to get from them for our next filings with the court. I often thought about my academic study of domestic violence, trying to remind myself to keep in mind its multi-faceted nature. When I met with the clients, however, oftentimes all of my forethought would go out the window. There would be a new issue we had never heard about before – she had received a document from the court that did not make sense,  the visitation  arrangement for her child  was drastically different from that ordered by the court or she had a separate legal issue that could be dealt with by other clinics at LSC. These were classic “they don’t teach you this at law school” moments and I relished them. The skills that would come out of these interactions, I have come to learn, are some of the most fundamental that any lawyer can have – adaptability, understanding and basic people skills.

While it was fantastic to have the opportunity as a law student to speak to a judge as an authorized student attorney and argue on behalf of my client against seasoned opposing counsel, it was the meetings with clients where we could chat about what was going on in their lives now, what they wanted and what it was that I could do to help them achieve their goals that stand out as the highlights of my clinical experience at Harvard.


From Student to Lawyer: My Time in the Environmental Law & Policy Clinic

By: Heather Romero, J.D. ’19

Heather Romero ’19

Looking back at the many opportunities afforded to me as a student at Harvard Law School, the one that was undeniably the most rewarding and impactful to my understanding of how to practice law was participating in the Emmett Environmental Law and Policy Clinic. Coming to law school, I knew that I was interested in environmental law but did not have a strong idea of what my area of focus could be. The Clinic gave me the space to explore different areas of environmental law and develop a set of skills that I can apply to the practice of law in any setting.

I was nervous when I first enrolled in the Clinic. I did not have an academic or professional background in environmental science and in many ways felt like an imposter among my classmates who had dedicated years of study and work to environmental issues. However, my apprehension was unnecessary. The faculty in the Clinic were, and continue to be, incredibly supportive and worked with me to leverage the skill-set I brought with me and build the skills I needed not only to be an effective environmental lawyer, but a strong advocate for my clients in general.

During my first semester in the clinic, I had the opportunity to work on an amicus brief written on behalf of farmers injured by the pesticide dicamba, which was eventually filed in the Ninth Circuit. Though working on the brief taught me much about legal writing, what was most impactful to me was being able to use my legal education to represent the interests of people who suffered real harm. I was also able to explore the ways just one pesticide can have long-lasting, wide-ranging effects. My research on this brief was my first exposure to the effects of modern agricultural practices on wildlife. Though a minor point in the brief, that research motivated me to explore the issue more in depth through two other course papers outside the clinic.

Additionally, one of the experiences in the Clinic I have found most valuable is the opportunity to work on interdisciplinary teams. After my first semester in the Clinic, I enrolled in Professor Jacobs’ Climate Solution Living Lab. The Lab consists of several teams comprised of diverse sets of students: my team included six students from five different Harvard graduate schools and MIT. My team’s assignment was to develop a project to mitigate climate change in the agriculture sector via a behavior change strategy. The Lab was the most challenging class I took at HLS. However, it also taught me the most about how a lawyer can add value beyond just being an advisor on the law—lawyers can offer critical insight on strategy, help manage disparate groups of experts, and ground a project in a way that specifically focuses on the client. My team was able to develop a project that would transition conventional farmland to alley cropping, a practice that can sequester carbon from the atmosphere while providing concrete financial benefits and increased climate resiliency to participating farmers.

Group photo of Heather's Living Lab Team

Group photo of Heather’s Living Lab Team

My experience in the Lab brought me back to the Clinic for both semesters of my 3L year. For my last semester, I am again participating in an interdisciplinary team in which I am the only law student. My team is advising a group of Florida municipalities on formalizing a partnership to develop climate change adaptation strategies. This experience has allowed me to practice the skills I developed in the Lab and build on them even more. I’ve also worked much more closely with our clients than in previous projects, giving me the opportunity to gain experience in working directly with clients. I even will be able to travel to attend our clients’ final stakeholder meeting  of the semester and share our research and advice in person.

Participating in the Environmental Law Clinic has given me my most valuable experiences in law school. No other class has taught me as much about how to be a lawyer in the real world. I feel confident that I am prepared to start my legal career because of the skills I learned in the Clinic and am excited to continue working on issues of climate change mitigation and adaptation.

The Small Victories Mean the Most

By: Gege Wang, J.D. ’19

Gege Wang ’19

Gege Wang ’19

Before leaving law school, I wanted to gain some exposure to public interest and legal services work. I chose to gain this experience through the Employment Law Clinic because it is an important area of law that I wanted to learn before practicing. My clinical placement was at Greater Boston Legal Services (GBLS). It is the most highly respected legal services organization in the Greater Boston area and its employment unit is particularly renowned for its dedication and expertise. While working there, I was under the direct supervision of the head of the employment unit, Mr. Brian Flynn.

One of the most memorable takeaways from my time there is  the passion and belief the staff attorneys bring to their work.  The rapport between the attorneys and their clients is so genuine. The clients that GBLS is devoted to are vulnerable to unfair and exploitative employment practices for one reason or another, whether because they are poor, underrepresented racial minorities, undocumented workers, or people with disabilities. A three-month unemployment benefit that the staff attorneys helped them to fight for might seem like a small victory in monetary terms, but it means so much to low wage workers, who needed to support their family. The attorneys care about their clients’ mental health issues and they spend the time and energy to understand their clients’ community. They discuss how the case strategies in a particular matter can have wider social implications. There is no profit underlying the attorney-client relationship. When the attorneys say they wanted to help their clients, that is truly what they meant.

The most meaningful assignment I worked on at GBLS was a class action suit against a restaurant employer. I spent a lot of time conducting clients intake and collecting material facts that would be later summarized in the facts section of our complaint. I listened to their stories and understood why they feel the system has wronged them. Confronted with such real, raw accounts of hardship, I thought about how I can use the learning and  skills I have gained from law school to be a better advocate for them.

One unique feature about GBLS as a legal services organization is its decision to refuse to give up on using class action as a strategy to promote social changes. The Legal Services Corporation (LSC) has certain restrictions on legal aid programs that are eligible to receive LSC funds, including the restrictions on engaging in class action lawsuits and legislative advocacy. GBLS is committed to fully utilizing all these tools and legal options to provide its clients with the best representation, so it decided to forgo LSC funding. My involvement in this class action case made me think about how class-action suits are such an important device for public interest lawyering, especially in the context of employment law. Employers are typically the repeat players in the larger legal machine. They are the parties who structure the transactions, draft the contracts that govern the employer-employee relationship, and have abundant legal resources to resolve disputes. The employees, on the other hand, are the one-shotters (people who do not use lawsuits often) and they are disadvantaged because of lack of bargaining power and information asymmetry. Using class action and gathering multiple claimants with the same grievances, the balance of the scale is changed. GBLS itself is the repeat player in the employment space, and employees are now in the position where they are afforded with the repeat player advantages, such as litigation expertise and efficiency in litigation expenses. This is why my class action assignment at GBLS is so important to me.

Sometimes, the readings, assignments and exams at the law school can be overwhelming, which is why I was so grateful for clinical experience. Working for the attorneys at GBLS constantly reminded me of why I chose to go to law school and re-charged me with the sense of purpose. I enjoyed the contagious atmosphere at GBLS where everyone is passionately and humbly pursuing what they believe in, and siding with the underdogs and have-nots to make changes to the world. It is a very inspiring experience.

My Time with the Mississippi Delta Project

By: Emanuel Powell, J.D. ’19

From left to right, Emanuel Powell ’19, Sacajawea “saki” Hall, a Environmental Justice Initiative Client at Cooperation Jackson, and Megan Barnes ’19. Students interviewed saki and other community activists, jurists, and lawyers to learn about criminal legal issues in Mississippi.

From left to right, Emanuel Powell ’19, Sacajawea “saki” Hall, a Environmental Justice Initiative Client at Cooperation Jackson, and Megan Barnes ’19. Students interviewed saki and other community activists, jurists, and lawyers to learn about criminal legal issues in Mississippi.

Back in 2015, I decided to become an attorney so I could play my part in what I saw as the continuing efforts of the Mississippi Freedom Struggle. Despite the end of Jim Crow’s form of legalized and explicit racial subordination, my home state still ranks last in “almost every leading health outcome” with a disproportionate burden on Mississippi’s black population and other communities of color, according to the Mississippi State Department of Health. This situation is directly linked to our state’s unique history of discrimination, exclusion, and ongoing lack of investment to radically change the conditions in which people are born, work, grow, and age. I decided to go to law school to explore how I may support those fighting in Mississippi to make my state a home in which poverty, hunger and homelessness were not tolerated, where Dr. King’s “Beloved Community” could finally be realized.

Because of these goals, I asked everyone I could about Harvard Law’s Mississippi Delta Project. The Mississippi Delta Project (MDP) is a student practice organization dedicated to supporting Mississippi-based organizations fighting for racial, economic, and other forms of social justice by providing research and guidance on policy issues. An HLS alum created the project after learning from community partners based in Mississippi that there was a need to support local farmers. I wanted to be part of an organization that not only put the needs of Mississippians first, but met those needs with legal and policy strategies as only an attorney could. The presence of MDP on campus made it easy to choose HLS when the time came to make the decision of where I would spend my three years of law school.

I joined MDP in my first semester, working on our Child and Youth Initiative. Our project focused on exploring ways to invest in advocacy for children in Mississippi. I helped create MDP’s Criminal Justice Initiative to address issues in the criminal legal system in my second year. We collaborated with the MacArthur Justice Center at the University of Mississippi, which advocates for human rights and social justice through litigation, focusing on issues such as police misconduct, wrongful search and seizure, conditions of confinement, and juvenile justice. Through interviews with leading jurists, attorneys, activists, and politicians, we developed a project with MacArthur focused on improving community engagement and advocacy so that Mississippians can advocate for themselves against injustices in the criminal legal system. This initiative has meant a lot to me because I lost my cousin Ronnie “Pie” Shorter in a police shooting during my 1L year. It gives me hope that our project may help Mississippians better advocate  against  injustices  like what happened to Ronnie and continues to happen to so many others in Mississippi and around the  country.

In my time with MDP, we’ve worked with Mississippi-based organizations fighting to get access to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program for those who have served their sentence for felony convictions, improved access to reproductive health for youth, and help make the City of Jackson zero-waste.  I could not have  asked  for a better place to start building my career as a lawyer in the ongoing Freedom Struggle. I am excited to  see MDP continue its great work and look forward to cheering on as an alum.

Public Health and the Law: Planting the Seeds for Healthy Food Access

By: Grace Truong, J.D. ’19

Grace Truong ’19

I joined the Health Law and Policy Clinic because I wanted to experience firsthand how communities use policies to promote a culture of health. As a JD/MPH Joint Degree student at Harvard Law School and Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health, I have been exposed to health policy largely in a classroom con- text. My coursework showed me the complexities of the U.S. healthcare system and the barriers to healthcare access that many Americans face. But while my classes taught me the problems associated with this lack of access, I wanted to put my learning to practice by actually implementing policies to address these problems.

Through the Clinic’s Community Approaches to Public Health Projects, I was able to work on both national and local policy to expand access to healthcare for vulnerable populations and reduce health disparities. My projects largely centered on the social determinants of health. In particular, I worked with communities to build a culture of easy access to healthy, affordable food. Food insecurity and overconsumption of unhealthy food is associated with a multitude of negative health outcomes, including: diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cancer, and other chronic diseases. The clinic has worked with national and local advocacy groups across the country to implement innovative policies that reduce sugar consumption and increase healthy food access.

On the national level, our team provided law and policy technical assistance to various state advocacy leaders, empowering these advocates to enact policies that will lower population-level consumption of sugar. I had the chance to meet and work closely  with community champions to build a strategy for short- and long-term policy change. On the local level, my projects focused on broadening access to nutritious and affordable foods. The Clinic gave me the opportunity to travel for site visits around the country, meeting our clients where they were to better understand  their questions and goals. In one site visit, I found myself in a freezer room wearing a hairnet and gloves, surrounded by pack- aged vegetables and fruits. We were meeting with a  community kitchen to build community-use policies that increased access to vital and unique food production resources. In another, I found myself trekking across vegetable fields and herb gardens. We were meeting with a community farm dedicated to providing healthy produce to vulnerable populations and promoting agricultural education opportunities. Together, we created policies for the farm that increased the community’s access to the space for education, recreation, and healthy food production.

The Health Law and Policy Clinic was an incredible experiential learning opportunity. The hands-on experience of shaping health policy has been a unique highlight of my HLS education, and I look forward to honing these skills further throughout my career in law and in public health.

“No Matter What It Takes”

By: Laura Stelianou, J.D. ’19

Laura Stelianou ’19

Before law school, I was a kindergarten teacher and about one third of my students had disabilities. I helped implement and develop plans to meet their individualized needs. I earned a master’s degree in special education. Yet, my coursework did not focus on the law and I was far from fluent in the specific rights of students with disabilities. The families of many of my students similarly did not know all of the rights afforded to children with disabilities and some felt a lack of agency during special education meetings. Our laws nonetheless rely heavily on families to participate in the special education process and, when necessary, advocate for their children’s rights. For families with fewer re- sources, whose home language is not English, or whose children have experienced adverse experiences, it can be particularly daunting to navigate the system. I knew when I started at Harvard Law School that I wanted to participate  in the Education Law Clinic to gain a better understanding of special education law and support families to advocate for their children.

Through the Education Law Clinic, students engage in individual special education advocacy as well as systemic change projects to ensure that children who have endured adverse childhood experiences succeed in school. My clinical experience taught me that knowledge of the law is an incredible, albeit limited, source of power.

In the Clinic, I represented a high school student whose school district failed to provide an appropriate school placement, which left him with minimal access to education for many months. The student, who is incredibly bright, funny, and introspective, said he wanted to graduate “no matter what it takes.” This would be impossible without an  appropriate placement. With the help of an expert and the support of the Education Law Clinic, the student is now closer to achieving his goal of graduating. For our systemic change project, students in the clinic traveled to community service agencies across the state, including agencies in Lawrence, Taunton, and Dorchester, to give trainings on education law. We trained providers such as family partners and care coordinators, who teach and assist families to access re- sources and services including special education. I was struck by the strong engagement of the providers at the trainings. More than once, after we presented an aspect of the law, providers expressed surprise that certain rights existed or shared anecdotes of schools’ failure to comply with students’ rights. Many expressed a sense of empowerment and shared their plans to reference aspects of the law in the future to support students.

Knowledge of special education law was a source of power in my clinic work, but educational inequities remain even when families are equipped with knowledge. In our clinical course, we discussed ways that education laws operate unequally. For example, while some families can ensure appropriate placements for their children by changing a placement immediately, paying for it themselves, and later advocating for reimbursement from the school district, many families lack the resources to pursue that option. Independent evaluations help inform students’ placements. Families with knowledge and resources can access experts for independent evaluations, while others face long waitlists or cannot afford high quality experts. In our clinical course, we also discussed racial inequities in education, including disparate rates of school discipline for students of color. Relatedly, I observed the way that educational disparities influence children’s experiences when I interned with a juvenile judge through Harvard’s Child Advocacy Clinic. I witnessed several instances in which children’s educational opportunities were tied to their involvement with the juvenile justice or child welfare systems.

My experience in Harvard’s clinics has empowered me with a fluency in special education law that I can now use to both enforce rights and teach others. After law school, I plan to work in education law and advocate for educational equity broadly. On an individual level, if I have children, this will mean making appropriate choices about where they go to school and advocating for all children in the school. I encourage my fellow graduates to join me in considering their role in promoting educational equity as they educate their own families.


Becoming a Cyberlaw Advocate

By: Alexandra Noonan, J.D. ’19

Alexandra Noonan, J.D. ’19

I have had two wonderful opportunities to work with the Cyberlaw Clinic. Reflecting back on my time at Harvard Law School, both of these opportunities shaped me as a lawyer and as an advocate.

I originally decided to participate in the clinic because its work aligned with my interests and values. I entered HLS very interested in intellectual property, digital civil liberties, and privacy and wanted a chance to learn about these areas in a hands-on way. During my first project, I worked primarily on my client-counseling skills as my partner and I helped a city develop its first data privacy policy. Professor Susan Crawford supervised us but let us define the scope of the project, work directly with our clients, and interview other city officials all over the world.

It was during my advanced clinical with the Cyberlaw Clinic  that I developed enough ownership in my work to consider myself an advocate. Over the 2019 winter term, I drafted an amicus brief for a group of former United States Magistrate Judges advocating for the unsealing of government surveillance orders  and applications. Jason Leopold, a BuzzFeed News journalist, and the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press appealed a district court decision granting the parties only limited access to the old sealed applications and orders for pen registers, trap and trace devices, and other types of surveillance for which Leopold had petitioned. As amici, the United States Magistrate Judges wanted to help the D.C. Circuit understand why unsealing these old surveillance applications and orders would not place undue administrative burdens on the judges who would actually process them. They also wanted to explain why focusing on administrative burdens place undue limits on the public’s common law right of access to judicial records.

This project was my first opportunity to write a brief from start to finish. Although I had assisted with parts of briefs in the past, this was my first opportunity to define the main arguments and structure, draft the brief in full, and refine it with my clients. In just a few weeks, I learned everything about sealed surveillance applications and orders, from the law governing their approval and use to what judges on the ground do when they receive them. Each of my clients had tens of years of experience on  the bench and with sealed orders, but they were extremely gracious and appreciative of my work. At the same time, my supervisors Kendra Albert and Mason Kortz helped me work on  structuring an amicus brief and improving my prose, even though we were up against a very tight deadline. I have worked on a lot of projects in my time at HLS, but this one in particular took me from law student to lawyer.

I am so grateful for my time in the Cyberlaw Clinic and for the incredible instruction I received there. The projects I have worked on were exactly the kind of work I had hoped to do when I decided to attend HLS. Although I plan to practice patent litigation next year at a law firm, the skills that I have acquired in the clinic have helped me become a more confident lawyer and more effective advocate.

Tackling Legal Questions for Start-Up Clients with HLEP Defined by Law School Experience

By: VJ Vesnaver, J.D. ’19

VJ Vesnaver, J.D. ’19

Working with The Harvard Law Entrepreneurship Project (HLEP) was one my most meaningful and fulfilling experiences during my time at HLS. I came to law school with the intention of gaining the skills necessary to help early stage companies navigate mission critical legal questions. HLEP gave me an opportunity to develop and hone those skills almost from day one. 1L year can be a bit of a grind. For students interested in corporate and transactional law, it can be especially draining since the required curriculum has limited relevance to your career interests. SPOs like HLEP offer a phenomenal opportunity  to step outside of the classroom as a first-year while using your newly acquired legal knowledge to add value on real client projects with help from actual practicing attorneys at firms like Cooley, Goodwin, Fenwick, and Wilson Sonsini.

During my first semester of law school, I worked with a group of four other students as a team leader on my first HLEP project. Our client was an early stage non-profit organization working to build a legal-tech platform that enabled prisoners to easily file post-conviction petitions with the court. Their product allowed prisoners to continue their legal process on their timeline and with limited resources. Our client had tons of interesting questions about how to build their product in a compliant fashion and we were thrilled to be able to help so early in our legal careers. We also were incredibly lucky to be working with two seasoned attorneys from Cooley on this project. We were learning and developing new skills every step of the way. Our client was ultimately able to use our advice to shape the development of their product and to assist in fundraising efforts with outside donors. Seeing the immediate impact of our work on an actual client’s business model was truly inspirational. I was hooked.

After my rewarding experience as a team leader during the fall semester, I joined the HLEP board as the Director of Operations that following spring. This gave me the incredible opportunity to serve in a leadership position as a first-year student, while also providing exposure to the full range of interesting projects that were coming through our doors at HLEP. In my time as Director of Operations (and later as President), I was repeatedly blown away by the diversity of clients that our students were working with. We had clients ranging from a company working to launch a network of satellites into space (my first introduction to “space law”), to a team at Harvard College working to re-imagine how we interact with online news media, to a founder launching a children’s clothing line. We’ve had students join client teams as co-founders and client companies fall apart and disappear mid-project. There was truly never a dull moment.

I was drawn to HLEP because of the amazing exposure to interesting startups and hands-on legal work, but there is no doubt that I stayed because of the people. HLS is a huge place with seemingly unlimited opportunities to engage and learn. It’s completely amazing, but it can also be a little overwhelming. Finding a group of students with similar interests was crucial to my well-being and made me instantly feel that I had a community to return to whenever I began entertaining creeping doubts about my path at school or in my career. I made many of my best law school friends through HLEP, and found that there was truly no better way to engage with other people interested in the world of innovative startups and the unique legal challenges they face.

I’m incredibly grateful to have had the opporutnity to be a part of such an awesome orgniazation while at HLS. I’m headed to BCG in Seattle after HLS to work as a management consultant. While this is a bit of a pivot outside of the world of start-up law, the client management skills, creative problem solving practice, and leadership experience I gained through my work with HLEP will be an invaluable resource as I embark on this next phase in my career. Thanks so much to Linda Cole and everyone within the TLC and OCP for helping us build such an impactful organization at HLS. I can’t wait to continue working with HLEP as alum in the years to come.

Empowering the Powerless on Death Row

Credit: Fabiola Perez Castro J.D. ’19

By: Fabiola Perez Castro, J.D. ’19

When I set foot inside the Allen B. Polunsky Unit in Texas, my heartbeat was sent into overdrive, despite the calm demeanor I worked so hard to emit. It was only my third day on the job with my clinic supervisor, Gretchen Sween. We left Austin at 6am and drove four hours through the barren Texas countryside to the prison. In my slightly tremoring hand was a list of questions I was prepared to  ask my client in Spanish. I had never met a client, much less one on death row, and my restlessness stemmed not just  from my fear of collecting the right information, but of being able to establish rapport with a person with whom I believed to have little in common.

And yet the next seven hours, during which I met my first client and three others, proved to be a transformative experience for which I never could have truly prepared myself. Despite my nervousness and fear about meeting my Spanish-speaking client, I felt at ease from the moment I picked up the phone on the wall to start our meeting. Through a glass barrier, we discussed not only the inter- view questions, but also topics spanning family, religion, and our Latino backgrounds. We spent hours building a level of rapport that easily carried over when I visited for a second time towards the end of my clinic, and we picked up right where we left off. I met seven clients during both visits to the Polunsky Unit, and the hours we spent together felt like a time warp during which I learned more than I could’ve hoped about the humanity behind the legal cases we so deeply engage with.

Credit: Fabiola Perez Castro, J.D. ’19

The work I did for the clinic varied widely, ranging from high-level tasks such as reviewing a comprehensive, 150-page omnibus brief attacking all aspects of Texas death penalty jurisprudence, to investigative, on-the-ground, fact-finding tasks. Working with Gretchen gave me an experience in the legal profession unlike any I had encountered before. Her recent foray into solo practice provided me a level of one-on-one mentorship and camaraderie that I have always craved in a work environment, as well as a wealth of legal knowledge to  pick her brain from given  her extensive experience as a brilliant trial lawyer. Even the drives to and from Polunsky felt like educational adventures of the greatest kind, and her energy and enthusiasm for the work was nothing short of contagious.

Perhaps my favorite experience of the clinic was traveling back to Texas in April to continue work on our Spanish-speaking client’s case. Working on a claim to show intellectual disability on the part of our client, we decided to drop in on his estranged siblings, to interview them about our client’s childhood. Without pre-arranged meetings, we managed to locate, interview, and obtain declarations from all three siblings—including two in Spanish requiring English translations. Throughout the trip, Gretchen and I were presented with a number of obstacles—for example, one sibling was hesitant to meet us in his own home and would ask us to meet him in a number of obscure locations, the last of which was a meat market. Yet by the end, our sense of accomplishment was tremendous not only because we obtained the declarations, but also because we gave a voice to these family members who had spent years feeling powerless in the face of the criminal justice system. Their tears of joy and excitement in relaying critical details about their childhoods demonstrated an empowerment that they had lacked throughout their brother’s trial phase and, possibly, throughout their entire lives.

The second part of my trip back to Texas involved another visit to Polunsky, to visit our client and prepare him for an expert’s assessment. I welcomed the chance to play a crucial part of pushing the case forward.

This clinic was perhaps the most impactful aspect of my law school career. The training we receive in law school classes provides a strong intellectual backbone to our future legal practice, and yet the Capital Punishment Clinic provided me with a window into the human, interpersonal aspect of the law that we so often forget about in our studies—an insight which I know will serve me immensely going forward.

In the Fight for Student Loan Relief

By: Drew Henderson, J.D. ’19

Drew Henderson, J.D. ’19

For years, Corinthian Colleges, a network of over one hundred for-profit schools, defrauded students to rake in profits from taxpayer-funded federal student aid. Tens of thousands of students—many the first in their families to seek out higher education—were promised serious career training and job prospects, but left Corinthian’s campuses with little more than thousands of dollars in debt. The company’s bankruptcy in 2015 followed a series of investigations into the fraud that the school inflicted nationwide. But for many who were victimized by Corinthian’s practices, relief has yet to arrive. Over 100,000 applications for loan discharge remain pending at the Department of Education, with tens of thousands coming from Corinthian students.

The Project on Predatory Student Lending at Harvard’s Legal Services Center has long represented students who attended Corinthian schools. When I first joined the Predatory Lending and Consumer Protection Clinic, in the spring semester of 2018, the Project was involved in at least three lawsuits against the Department of Education for its failure to provide legally mandated relief on the federal loans of former Corinthian students. One of those lawsuits, Calvillo Manriquez v. DeVos, was a class action involving Corinthian borrowers whose applications for relief remain pending. Under a summary process established in the previous administration, those borrowers are entitled to prompt and full discharge of their debts.

A few weeks after the clinic started, I began working on Calvillo Manriquez. Corinthian students were beginning to hear back on their claims—but they were receiving much less than the full relief they had been promised. This news was concerning: not only would these partial denials require that our clients be forced to pay back unjust loans  that they could not afford, but the adjudication of their claims also meant that they would face collection soon, before we could challenge the Department’s actions in court.

Project directors and attorneys, Eileen Connor, Toby Merrill, and Josh Rovenger, decided to amend our complaint to challenge the Department’s new methodology for partially denying students’ discharge applications. And to prevent the Department from collecting on our clients in the meantime, we would also file for a preliminary injunction. The expedited schedule of a motion for preliminary injunction meant that I would get to file our motion and attend oral argument in the Northern District of California before the end of my semester in the clinic.

To amend our complaint, we would need additional named plaintiffs who themselves had received partial denial of their claims. These individuals would need to be able to convey to the court why the Department’s illegal policy shift threatened to cause them irreparable harm, such that it should be enjoined. Ordinarily, such preliminary relief is not available when money is at stake, but an exception exists for extreme financial hardship.

We had received word from legal aid colleagues in Los Angeles that one of their clients might be willing to serve as a named plaintiff in our lawsuit. When I spoke with the client last March, she explained how she had attended a Corinthian program after school recruiters promised that her degree would qualify her for a job in medical billing. She graduated on-time from the program, only a few months before Corinthian shut down. She never even received her diploma. Since that time, she has found that deficiencies in the school’s curriculum meant that she cannot obtain a job like she was promised. Only a week before our call, the Department had told her that she would receive only twenty percent discharge of her loans. Alongside the expenses of caring for three children, this partial denial would be a tremendous burden for her family. Her story was one of hope for a brighter future that  sadly turned to disappointment, and it is one that I heard many times during my clinical semester.

I worked to capture the client’s story in a declaration attached to our motion for preliminary injunction. In April, when I attended the oral argument in San Francisco, it was reassuring to hear the court reject the argument that our client had not faced irreparable harm — her story had  been heard. It was similarly gratifying a few weeks later, when the court ruled in our clients’ favor, enjoining the Department from implementing its partial-denial policy. But the reality is that for these students, staving off collection is not enough: long after Corinthian closed, their debts remain.

The fight continues.

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