Op-Ed: The shaming of a lawyer in Courtroom 2H reveals an urgent need for compassion in the legal profession

Op-Ed: The shaming of a lawyer in Courtroom 2H reveals an urgent need for compassion in the legal profession

By Andi Geloo

About nine years ago in early December 2016, in Courtroom 2H of Fairfax County General District Court, a hearing began normally.

A well-respected criminal defense attorney with over 30 years of impeccable service to the community had arrived at the courtroom two hours early for a preliminary hearing on behalf of an indigent client. A veteran defense attorney myself, I passed him briefly in the hallway, exchanging pleasantries. His client, a young woman, had been charged with two counts of forgery and two counts of failure to appear in court for previous hearings.

The attorney, whom I will pseudonymously call Charles, had made numerous appearances on the case, which had been pending for two years. The complaining witness had failed to appear in court in the past. Charles had successfully negotiated a plea agreement, dropping all charges except for one count of failure to appear, with the client receiving only a fine. By all standards, Charles was representing his client well.

But, then, the hearing took a shocking turn. The disturbing series of events that followed reveals a crisis of insensitivity and callousness in the legal profession, one we must urgently confront. Like healthcare professionals, first responders, police officers, and journalists, lawyers often absorb the stresses, traumas, and grief woven into the cases they handle. The compounded impact of this emotional burden can lead to mental health crises that are best met with accountability shaped by compassion, not public humiliation.

According to an “Order of Contempt” filed by Judge Lisa Mayne against the attorney, courtroom deputies informed the judge that “there was an odor of alcohol about him.” Rather than taking the lawyer into chambers to resolve the matter confidentially, a respectful and professional course of action, the judge took the unusual and perhaps unlawful step of asking the lawyer in open court to take a preliminary breath test, or “PBT.”

According to the order, Charles declined the request, citing “health problems.” The judge then instructed Charles to step forward to the bench. “When he did so,” the court order noted, “the Court immediately smelled the odor of alcohol.” The judge again requested the breath test.

At that point, Charles admitted to “drinking at lunch.” Apparently, as I later learned, a single drink. Visibly dispirited, Charles told the judge, “I have a problem.” Unmoved, the judge responded that “a jail sentence would have to be imposed.”

A Lawyer’s Humility: ‘I’m Sorry’

Charles asked the judge not to throw him in jail, then turned to the lawyers in the gallery, peers who respected him for his tireless advocacy on behalf of indigent clients, and said, “I’m sorry.”

The lawyers in the gallery watched, stunned. The attorney had not displayed any signs of drunkenness, but that didn’t matter to the judge. She held him in contempt and, to the shock and dismay of those present, sentenced him to one day in jail for “CONTEMPT OF COURT,” according to her order. Judge Mayne had Charles handcuffed and led away to jail. Another attorney completed the plea agreement exactly as Charles had prepared for his client.

He was released the next day. He never practiced law again.

One attorney present in Courtroom 2H that day, recalls the judge repeatedly asking Charles to “admit he was drinking,” but that kind of public shaming is unlikely to result in any form of restorative justice.

A quick glance at the Virginia Code suggests the judge may have overstepped her authority in her rush to judgment. Virginia Contempt Code § 18.2-456 speaks about the specific situations in which courts and judges may summarily punish for contempt. Subsection A (1) states that “the courts and judges may issue attachments for contempt, and punish them summarily, only in certain cases.” The statute requires that judges specify which subdivision was allegedly violated, but Judge Mayne failed to do so in her order. Presumably, the charge falls under Subsection A (1), which penalizes “misbehavior in the presence of the court, or so near thereto as to obstruct or interrupt the administration of justice.”

By all accounts, the attorney neither “obstructed” nor “interrupted” justice. In fact, he was the opposite, humble and apologetic.

Furthermore, legal experts widely recognize that the preliminary breath test Judge Mayne demanded is not a reliable or admissible measure for contempt proceedings. Police typically use it during traffic stops, often alongside field sobriety tests, to determine whether probable cause exists for an arrest in cases of suspected intoxicated or impaired driving, not for determining courtroom misconduct. Even in DUI cases, the PBT is only used to establish probable cause. The Eighth Circuit Court of Appeals summarized this in U.S. v. Iron Cloud, 171 F.3d 587 (8th Cir. 1999), noting: “Furthermore, almost every state that has addressed the issue has refused to admit the results of the test for purposes other than probable cause.”

In State v. Zell, 491 N.W.2d 196, 197 (Iowa Ct. App. 1992), the court held that the results of the preliminary screening test are inadmissible because the test is inherently unreliable. It may register an inaccurate percentage of alcohol present in the breath and may also be inaccurate in detecting the presence or absence of any alcohol. In another case, Santen v. Tuthill, the Virginia Supreme Court ruled that a preliminary breath test is not admissible for any purpose.

Losing One of Our Own

This isn’t just a case of poor judicial decision-making. It’s emblematic of a legal and judicial culture that can, too often, be callous, perhaps even more so toward our own colleagues, even as we speak of building “trauma-informed lawyering” and “trauma-informed courtrooms.” Charles acknowledged that he had a problem, and we should have offered him the treatment, help, and support he needed.

Instead, that afternoon, our courthouse lost one of its most selfless and caring attorneys.

When I later learned that the judge had held Charles in contempt and sent him to jail, I was heartbroken. I have always believed that showing compassion for those suffering from illness is not only key to recovery, it is a measure of how civilized a society truly is. Compassion is just as essential a value in any profession, including the legal profession, and no professional should resort to expressing anger or humiliating someone in public.

I called Charles’s office and left a voicemail. Fighting back tears, I told him that I knew he was a strong attorney and a good person, and I offered him my support.

When we spoke a few days later, he told me those moments in Courtroom 2H immortalized in the contempt order and the time he spent in jail were among the darkest moments of his life. He said my voicemail, from a relative stranger, had sustained him. He also told me that day he was quitting the legal profession.

A Need for More ‘Lawyer-Assistance’ Programs

There were many other ways this situation could have been handled. The judge could have called the lawyer into chambers and resolved the issue privately. Charles was an attorney with a stellar reputation for kindness and had devoted over 30 years to our courthouse without incident. He was clearly struggling and depressed. He deserved compassion and forgiveness, not public shame and punishment.

As a profession, we must recognize that our work, navigating some of society’s most difficult, traumatic, and emotionally charged situations, can take a toll on our own mental health and well-being. Fortunately, some efforts are now underway to raise that awareness within the legal community.

In 2016, the Journal of Addiction Medicine published groundbreaking seminal research by St. Paul, Minn., attorney Patrick Krill, and co-researchers on substance abuse and mental health in the legal profession. Their study found that 36.4 percent of the 12,825 attorney respondents demonstrated “hazardous drinking or possible alcohol abuse or dependence.” Conducted in collaboration with the American Bar Association and the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, the study also revealed that depression, anxiety, and stress were “significant problems” among respondents.

Krill and his colleagues recommended profession-wide public awareness campaigns to combat stigma, along with confidential initiatives, so-called “lawyer-assistance” programs, to overcome the privacy concerns that may create barriers between “struggling attorneys,” like the lawyer humiliated in Courtroom 2H, and the help they need.

The following year, in 2017, the American Bar Association launched the “ABA Well-Being Pledge” to promote lawyer health and wellness. Since then, lawyer assistance programs have taken root in courthouses across the country, from the U.S. Eastern District of New York to the State Bar of California. In 2019, the Lawyers Depression Project was founded as a free and confidential peer support community.

Last year, LawLine, an online continuing education platform for attorneys, began offering a course titled “Help for the Helper: The Effects of Trauma and Compassion Fatigue on the Lawyer Who Cares,” taught by attorney Brian S. Quinn, founder of Lawyers Concerned for Lawyers of Pennsylvania, Inc. In the course description, Quinn explains that “a special type of burnout, called ‘secondary traumatic stress’ or ‘compassion fatigue,’ isn't discussed as frequently as stress and burnout and thus, for many attorneys, these are topics in need of attention.”

Quinn notes that this form of stress can arise simply from listening to clients and witnesses recount their “pain, suffering, and burdens.”

Today, the American Bar Association hosts a dedicated page titled “Mental Health Resources for the Legal Profession,” curated by its Commission on Lawyers Assistance Programs. The page offers resources for those struggling with anxiety, depression, panic, substance use, and suicidal ideation.

Yet despite these efforts, discussions around mental health in law remain largely a taboo.

Earlier this year, with some trepidation about the response I might receive, I posted a brief comment reflecting on the Courtroom 2H incident to a listserv for Virginia criminal defense attorneys.

To my surprise, I was overwhelmed by messages expressing compassion for the lawyer and sharing stories of colleagues who have also needed help. One attorney shared the obituary of a young colleague and co-counsel whose alcoholism worsened after they defended a difficult capital murder case nearly 30 years ago. Others shared stories of deaths by suicide in Fairfax County, often tied to the intense pressures of trial and defense work, especially when depression and mental illness were involved. Most expressed horror at how the judge in Courtroom 2H had treated the lawyer so cruelly.

The consensus among the bar was that the situation should have been handled differently. I believe it could have been managed with dignity and respect, perhaps by simply continuing the case. The unanimous opinion was that Chief Judge Mayne had chosen the least tolerant and least compassionate course of action.

The Double Standard: Protecting the Privileged While Punishing the Vulnerable

What made Judge Mayne’s public shaming of Charles so disturbing wasn’t just the severity but the contrast it revealed.

This was the same judge who, for years, tolerated patterns of abuse and misconduct from her closest judicial colleagues. Judges Mitchell Mutnick, Michael Cantrell, and Richard “Butch” Horan, who were widely known in the Fairfax legal community for their allegedly cruel and tyrannical conduct. Despite years of complaints, Judge Mayne, then Chief Judge, allowed them to continue ruling from benches adorned with the seal of the Commonwealth of Virginia, which reads “Sic semper tyrannis,” symbolically meaning “Overthrowing all tyrants,” a strikingly hypocritical backdrop, an irony so impossible to ignore.

One moment stands out. In 2022, I witnessed Judge Horan humiliate a struggling single mother of two who had just lost her job during the pandemic. She asked the court to appoint her a lawyer. Instead, Judge Horan mocked her, saying, “I’m so sick and tired of people like you always requesting an attorney. I see ‘Help Wanted’ signs everywhere.”

He denied her right to counsel and dismissed her hardship with disdain. I was horrified. I emailed Chief Judge Mayne immediately.

Her response?

A terse reply that read, “Thank you for the information.”

The brevity and tone of her response left me with the distinct impression that she was more annoyed than concerned that I had brought Judge Horan’s behavior to her attention. Nothing changed. Judge Horan continued to preside over cases.

I eventually tracked down the woman and represented her pro bono. Her name was Amanda, and her case was dismissed. But what stuck with me was the indifference shown to her pain. The same indifference was later shown to Charles. Both were vulnerable. Both needed compassion. But Judge Mayne, when faced with their humanity, chose instead to shield her powerful peers while applying a stricter standard to those without protection. This double standard of protecting the privileged while punishing the vulnerable, raises deeply troubling questions.

Thankfully, the Virginia General Assembly disagreed with Judge Mayne’s double standard and voted unanimously to decertify all three wayward judges ending a reign of terror that existed in Fairfax County for decades. Judge Mayne’s friends – Judges Cantrell, Mutnick, and Horan – will never sit as judges again. The tyrants had been overthrown.

You can read more about Amanda's enduring story of suffering and scarcity and our efforts in convincing our legislative delegation that our community deserves better, which led to the fitting consequences and decertification for the three wayward judges, in an op-ed I penned for Virginia Lawyers Weekly, "Op-Ed: There Must Be No ‘Commending' Wayward Judges."

Why did Charles, a man who spent his life defending indigent clients and who admitted he was struggling, face such harsh public condemnation? Why did the young mother, navigating life after abuse and poverty, deserve mockery? Judge Mayne had opportunities to respond with dignity and empathy but she chose something else.

While the legislature eventually took action, refusing to reappoint Mutnick and Cantrell, and ending Horan’s extended run as a substitute judge, the damage had already been done. Thankfully, the Virginia delegation did not share Judge Mayne’s apparent indifference; they listened, and they acted. The courtroom lost Charles. Amanda, my pro bono client, lost trust in the system. And for far too long, citizens suffered under judges whose behavior was quietly tolerated by those in power. We must remember that true justice does not protect the powerful at the expense of the vulnerable. It holds all to the same standard, with fairness, humanity, and compassion.

Justice with Compassion: A New Path Forward

Despite one judge’s troubling approach, I am heartened to see the judiciary taking steps to support individuals struggling with addiction.

In early 2023, then-Chief Justice S. Bernard Goodwyn of the Virginia Supreme Court showed a tremendous commitment to this issue by appointing Justice Thomas P. Mann as chair of the Virginia Lawyers’ Wellness Initiative. Justice Mann, known for his trademark approach rooted in kindness, compassion, and equality, led a collaborative effort between the Supreme Court of Virginia, the Virginia State Bar, bar associations, and law schools to focus on professional health and wellness, specifically mental health and substance abuse in the legal community. His leadership has been especially moving given the personal tragedy of losing his amazing and beautiful daughter, Grace Mann, to a senseless act of violence. Throughout her young life and as a student at the University of Mary Washington, Grace demonstrated remarkable strength and a passion for advocating for equality and social justice. Her life, though cut short, left a lasting impact on everyone she touched. She embodied a spirit of compassion and believed in the conviction that society's values should reflect its laws and policies, and that these laws should work to improve the lives of others. That same spirit continues through her father, our beloved Justice Mann, who lives as a witness and testament to her legacy. Justice Mann was the perfect person to take the lead in supporting Virginia’s legal community, prioritizing well-being in a way that is both meaningful and lasting. Through his work and guidance, the well-being of the legal community is seen as more than just a professional concern; it is also a fundamentally human concern. This approach diverges from that of a long line of judges who, unfortunately and shamefully, prioritized power and prestige over equality, placing instead a greater importance on compassion and understanding over punishment and shame.

Not long ago, I spoke to the attorney whose last day as a lawyer was the day the judge sent him to jail. My quest to locate him and secure his blessing to write this op-ed has been an odyssey spanning nearly eight years, beginning from that difficult moment. He told me his family had supported him through his departure from the legal profession, that he loved them very much, and that he was doing well now. He expressed how much he missed the courthouse and the satisfaction that came from his work and helping people.

As a lawyer who can’t imagine doing anything else, I agree. Our job allows us to create change and work to right the wrongs we see in the community. Whatever role we hold, whether from behind the bench or in front of it, we can be effective while still showing empathy and extending humanity to others, including those within our own profession, from Courtroom 2H and beyond.

Andaleeb “Andi” Geloo is a lawyer and author of Andi’s Law, which expanded the rights of citizens seeking protection from defamation. She earned her law degree from George Washington Law School with high honors and practices law in Fairfax County. She also handles pro bono matters for underprivileged families throughout Virginia and writes about her experiences as an advocate for criminal justice reform for local and national publications. She can be reached at andigeloolaw@gmail.com and www.fairfaxvirginialawyer.com.

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