Judge William Wayne Justice, RIP 1920-2009

Having grown up in Tyler, the passing of the late, great federal Judge William Wayne Justice last week hit very close to home.

For readers of this blog, Judge Justice will be best known as the jurist who virtually controlled the Texas prison system for nearly two decades in the aftermath of the infamous Ruiz v. Estelle litigation. And just to put it out there, with 20/20 hindsight, it's easy to see that in that case, Judge Justice was right and all of his myriad critics were wrong. One need only look to California to see exactly where the state of Texas' prison system would be today if not for Judge Justice - segregated, overcrowded, and with its public policy enslaved to myriad special interests.

For a while Judge Justice was an unwelcome thorn in the side of state prison officials, to be sure, but as it turns out, the old saying is true that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. In the decades since Ruiz was decided, Texas' prison population exploded. But thanks to Judge Justice, our prison system actually maintained a more professional, modern approach than in California during the massive recent expansion witnessed in both states. Now the Golden State is having to make very similar changes to those Judge Justice ordered in Ruiz, but they must do so with a prison population of 170,000 inmates; when Ruiz was decided, Texas had closer to 30,000 locked up.

Justice has already been the subject of a book-length biography and numerous obituaries have recounted episodes from his life's work, so I won't reiterate his judicial accomplishments here. I've had several friends who clerked for him who could do a much more able job of that task, so I won't attempt it for fear of embarrassing myself. But as a Tylerite, I should comment on the intense, often irrational hatred he endured while he lived and judged there.

In Tyler, Justice was held personally accountable by the public not just for this or that ruling someone disliked but as an anthropomorphic symbol of the cultural sea change that took place in America from the civil rights movement going forward. People despised him, frequently for things he actually had nothing to do with, or else for settlements by litigating parties that were reached in his court but which he did not craft.

Bill Hobby once said of Judge Justice that the best kind of scapegoat is one you can't do anything about - like a federal judge with a lifetime appointment. Justice became a perfect foil for Tylerites in the culture wars of the post-desegregation era. That part of East Texas was settled by descendants of the Confederacy who fled to the Texas frontier to escape Union occupation after the Civil War. (The Smith County Judge during most of my years growing up was a descendant of John C. Calhoun.) Though its demographics are changing now due to an influx of Dallas-area retirees and a Latino working class, during that pre-GOP era, Tyler's politics were dominated by folks who ultimately became "Reagan Democrats," shifting partisan allegiances largely as a result of the GOP's successful "southern strategy" - people who a generation earlier might have been identified in Texas as "Shivercrats." And for the most part, that group hated Judge Justice with a passion normally reserved for black folks who rape white women.

Justice's house near Bergfeld Park in Tyler was the first place I ever saw electronic surveillance cameras, which were installed because he received frequent and occasionally credible, physical threats. (I couldn't swear to it, but my recollection is that the surveillance cameras at Justice's house predated the first ones I ever saw at local banks.) I can vividly remember after Judge John Wood was murdered in San Antonio, Tylerites openly predicting of Judge Justice: "He's next." Others might turn tail and run in the face of that kind of animosity, but Justice was from there - he was an Athens native - and with a calm, professorial demeanor he withstood every attack with what outwardly seemed like aplomb, though I'm sure it was personally tough for him and his family.

What I remember most about Judge Justice from my childhood in Tyler, though, wasn't the animosity toward him from the public but the respect afforded him in my own own household, where my father was a workaday corporate defense attorney practicing frequently in his court. Notably, though my father and Justice came from ideologically very different places, my Dad would never let others - particularly non-attorneys - run Justice down in his presence, even when I was young. My Dad has told me many times that he admired Justice for being smart, respectful of the law, always well prepared, and most importantly, he always knew he'd get a fair trial in Justice's court, no matter who his client was. I can tell you for sure: A judge couldn't get much higher praise from my old man.

Vaya con Dios, Judge Justice. Texas is a better place for the lifetime of public service you devoted to her.