Friday, June 06, 2025
Keep It In the Road
Sunday, June 01, 2025
It's Worth Emphasizing Part One
In putting together a collection of things as a gift to my new daughter-in-law, I ran across two speeches I've given recently that seem - given the latest issues regarding law and order and immigration - worth revisiting.
[My Naturalization Ceremony Speech]
I am honored and humbled to be here
but I can only guess why I am here
Your stories are probably much more interesting than mine
I’m a Criminal lawyer. The constitutional law I practice is prophylactic not honorific
Yet here I am here today: mid point between your yesterday and your tomorrow.
Today, you become like me -
but unlike me you had to work to get here.
Like you, I have an emotional attachment to another country.
And, as opposed to most of the people in this country that take it for granted, I can appreciate that citizenship means opportunity and that a US passport is a metaphor; it allows movement in more ways than one.
In 1898, my grandfather, Mario Mendez-Colon, an eighteen year old native son of the central mountainous region that was the wellspring of the island’s revolt against Spain, would witness the invasion of Puerto Rico by the United States. He was now part of the spoils of war.
There is no indication that my grandfather was in the least bit political or centered on anything but the survival of his family.
But his spirit was unquestionably instilled in his offspring.
Ten years later he would marry.
They would eventually have thirteen children.
Three would die of diseases borne of poverty,
Ten of them would survive;
some of them would become part of the vast Puerto Rican migration to New York,
all would remain doggedly proud of their heritage.
Theirs was a pride borne of an amalgam of years of personal identification melded with political struggle, economic privation coupled with cultural identity.
By 1910, my grandparents, along with their two infant children, were living in Utuado’s barrio Angeles.
A coffee farmer eking out an existence, Mario and his little family were somewhat better off their peers.
But a decade later, their situation had worsened. They now had eight kids and he worked as a laborer.
[period encompasses WWI, Depression, and WWII all of which impacted an already poor country]
In another ten years, the family would grow even more so, now to include eleven kids and with no one but Mario working, now growing fruit and in the midst of a depression from which Puerto Ricans fared even worse.
By 1935, everyone in the family was pitching in; Mario, a tobacco farmworker.
My grandmother and her oldest daughter worked at home taking in sewing. My twenty five year old uncle worked as a store clerk and the three sons were laborers on a tobacco farm.
The older children would soon leave. Of the four that remained at home, the two remaining worked in a textile workshop as hand-sewing items that in a 10 hour day might bring $1.50.
Their world would collapse fully in 1942 with the death of my grandmother but it was the watershed moment that would mark the beginning of their odyssey.
In 1944, preceding by only a few months the Allied invasion of Normandy, Celina, one of Mario’s younger daughters, along with her four-month-old infant, boarded a seaplane at Isla Grande Puerto Rico and headed to NY. She would be the tip of the spear.
Two years later, Vina, his oldest, along with her husband and their teenage daughter, would also leave San Juan for the Big Apple
She was followed by Irma, the youngest daughter; she with a baby forty days old, me.
They were followed soon thereafter by the wives of two of Mario’s sons who had flown ahead to establish a beachhead. The Mendez siege of New York City had begun.
They ultimately merged with others they encountered here and - fellow travelers in a hostile world - forged a tightly-knit tribe.
I did not fully appreciate any of this until my recent excursion into Ancestry.com.
My family spent almost every weekend with each other and yet these people who were now fully established business owners, professionals - who had wonderful homes where they amply provided for their broods - never truly shared with us their stories - how they worked stringing beads, doing piecemeal sewing jobs, being janitors, migrant agricultural workers, plasterers, cooks, bus boys. Doing what it took. Never looking back.
In putting this together I kept thinking that it was your stories that we should be listening to.
I have had 38 fully productive years as a lawyer - from the trivial and mundane to mega cases. Written two books about some of my cases.
But two cases that fill me most with pride are the two adoptions that I’ve done. I’m in awe of someone selflessly committing to that level of responsibility, of upping their skin in the game.
that’s what this kind of feels like to me. Except that it’s a two-way adoption.
I know you appreciate the enormity of what today means to you.
But please do appreciate what you mean to this country.
What made my family strong is that they worked together to get where they wanted to go.
We are now part of the same family.
We sometimes fight and disagree but in that vortex we become stronger.
(Passport) You can add more metaphors
more pixels make the picture vibrant,
strength to the fabric,
In short, we are stronger in our diversity, now more so, thanks to you
So, on behalf of the Southern District United States, I thank you for coming here and helping us fulfill the promise that this country has always held.
Words cannot express how humbled and appreciative I am to be able to address you today.
I wish you a fruitful tomorrow.
It's Worth Emphasizing Part 2
In putting together a collection of things as a gift to my new daughter-in-law, I ran across two speeches I've given recently that seem - given the latest issues regarding law and order and immigration - worth revisiting.
[My CJA Award]
When he called to tell me about this award, Judge Murray suggested I think about a pivotal moment that shaped my legal career and for the life of me I couldn’t narrow it down to just one aha lawyer moment. There are so many. Over the years I have been involved in just about every major case, have been the nemesis of government agencies, and made a name for myself as a pain.
I don’t ascribe to the grand design, that things happen necessarily for a reason but I do think that life events and experiences shape you and reform you into your ultimate version.
My pivotal moments don’t start with me becoming a lawyer. I didn’t graduate from law school until I was 40 and how I got there depended on a chain of events.
• I came to the states when I was 40 days old, lucky to have been born in Puerto Rico as opposed to Honduras;
• Because I was a “troubled” teenager, my mother took us out of Jersey moved our family back to Puerto Rico;
• I escaped PR and joined the service at 17;
• the GI Bill gave me, a two-time high school dropout, educational opportunities;
• I came out of the service, continued my studies got wrapped up in the 60s revolution, became a journalist and eventually joined Legal Services as a paralegal.
Those are all my grand pivots but none as important as me becoming a lawyer and then earning a spot in the top-tier practice that is federal law.
It’s not just luck - I have worked hard to get where I am - but it plays a pretty big part. Even doing criminal work; that hadn’t been my intention. I spent my legal services time and my law school apprenticeships in civil law doing Public Benefits work.
Fresh out of law school I was already hitting burnout listening to civil lawyers and sitting in pointless depositions. I had teamed up with my Legal Services mentor Arthur Madden. I got sucked into criminal law when he sent me to cover a few things for him. It was exciting and interesting and seemed like much more vital work.
My partnership with him gave me street cred. My Spanish language skills all of a sudden became an asset and, yes, luck, I jumped to the front of the line.
The majority of the work I do is federal and over the years I've reached an equilibrium here. I do my job. I do my best. I'm conscientious. I’m respectful but I am not a pushover. I try to be as honest as I can be. I try to be all of those things because I am my stock in trade and because what we do - all of us, from the judges down to the file clerks - is important.
I try to stay real. I can be pathologically candid. Some times folks don't like what I say. Some years ago I was quoted in the newspaper making some remarks critical of the system. An AUSA’s husband read the article. Won’t he get in trouble for that? Had I lost my mind saying that? "Oh that's just Dom," she told him.
These days, I make it a habit that when I enter our federal courthouse I greet the gatekeepers there with a "power to the people" fist-raised salute.
Now, these guys are not Bernie Bros. They are ex-Troopers and all sorts of law enforcement folk. But I don't get that they're put off by that. They laugh. They probably welcome the breakup of monotony. Or maybe they just think "well, that just Dom".
It might just be indulgence but I don't think so. The real reason, I think, is that in the many years I've been practicing here they've come to know me; they know what I stand for and that for all my shenanigans, froth, labels, antics, I am striving to respectfully do the best I can do to make the system work AND at the same time serve my clients.
Regardless, I don't do it for them. I don't do it to provide comic relief. Power to the people is an idea right there where it belongs. It's a reminder to myself why I became a lawyer. In a certain aspect, it tracks close to being self-deprecating - me, I have bought into this gig where by systemic design I am handicapped and fighting a very powerful machine; where all the odds are pitted against my clients. And it would be if I wasn't proud of the work that I do, if I didn’t feel that my clients need me to be there for them and that without us the system would be evermore grinding and merciless.
But that’s just Dom.
I couldn’t be prouder of working with our court. I love being here, practicing Top Gun level legal work with this caliber of people is itself an honor. This award is just the cherry on top.
Words cannot express how humbled and appreciative I am of this honor. I hope to continue to do justice to it.