Judge Terrance A. Keith
It was the first day taking the bench knowing that my uncle would no longer be in his chambers just a few blocks away. I had a full docket Monday afternoon. My courtroom was overflowing with petitioners and lawyers. As I stepped in to the courtroom and my clerk called the room to order, I had well girded myself in a veneer of judicial resolve to decide the cases of the day. With the call of the first case, on the tail of placing their appearances on the record, the attorneys and the petitioner conveyed their condolences on the passing of my uncle, Judge Damon J. Keith. The veneer dissolved. Everyone knew. I looked across the room and saw the tears in the eyes of those in my courtroom, many of whom I had never met, yet they knew of my loss. My uncle, my legal shepherd, my legal counsel, my sage, confidant throughout my legal career, my dad’s youngest brother and the last uncle on either side of my family, is gone.
At the conclusion of the first case, I paused and tearfully tried to gather myself on the bench searching for the words to convey my pain of loss. The world will long remember him as an unwavering crusader for justice, whose decisions benefited many; as a relentless advocate and defender of civil rights and the equal application of the law. Many others will remember him for his historic decisions. Judges, lawyers and legal scholars will also remember him for his many blistering dissents, his friendships and wise counsel. As a judge, I will remember him as the judge whose love, patience and wisdom influences me each day I am on the bench. More importantly, as my uncle, I will remember him as a man, a judge and an uncle who enabled me to witness his exercise of an unwavering and unyielding faith.
He told me once that “I go to church to meditate, to clear my mind and pray for guidance for what I have to do each week.” His meditation was not limited to Sundays, however. He meditated every morning, before attending to the matters of the court and after oral arguments. As far back as I can remember he was guided by Micah 6:8, which he so often quoted: “He has shown thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with the God.”
I had often wondered, but was never able to ask, and he seemed never to want to discuss, how, or why, this passage became his beacon of faith, the true north of his moral and legal compass. How, girded in his faith, did he confront and resolve the most vexatious constitutional, ethical, and moral issues? How it shielded him amidst the threats in the wake of the Pontiac desegregation decision? How, too, over the years, as a judge, his faith had grown, matured, and been enriched? How, and when, did he become so acutely aware, with all his accomplishments and high honors from across the nation and from around the world, that even at the age of 96, daily meditation remained vitally important to the discharge of the judicial oath taken more than 50 years ago?
In time, I trust, I may come upon the answers to my questions by following his known path. For now, I will remember that comparing my short time on the bench to his 50 years is to compare the difference between a youth and an elder singing “Amazing Grace” — the youth had learned the words but the elder has lived them. Thus, if I truly seek to be a great judge, knowing what I have come to learn about my uncle, I, and others, would be wise to abide by what has worked so well in his life.
I will long remember how, through the rendering of “meditated justice,” my uncle fulfilled his judicial oath and the courage to uphold the constitution of the United States, protect the right to due process, individual freedoms, and the freedom of the press and the civil rights of all Americans to and for the benefit of all Americans, when others were silent. We as a nation are forever indebted to his courage.
I will long remember that, although historians and scholars will take the full measure of his life in voluminous text, the single most important source of his judicial courage was daily acceptance of Micah 6:8 and that it tersely, succinctly depicts who he was as a man and as a judge.
I will long remember, through his acceptance of Micah 6:8, his life became a ministry for justice; a life, whose wisdom enlightened, enriched and comforted. A life that had him serve in a segregated army only to become a judge who, over the course of 50 years, hired more black law clerks and the most diverse array of law clerks, than any judge in the country. A judge who, unbeknownst to the law clerks at the time they were hired, placed each on his potter’s wheel of justice, shaping them to serve in his army of civil rights advocates. Once shaped to his satisfaction, then honing them to be his disciples for justice; touched, infused, empowered and emboldened with his tenacity to fight for justice, forever preserving his legacy as a judge of unyielding faith, who did justly, loved mercy and walked humbly with his God.
Uncle Damon, I knew this day would come. It will hurt for a while. But I am happy for you. I am happy because in January you told me that you had been awarded and recognized enough, that you did not need to be honored any more than what you had; that you had been honored far beyond what you could have ever dreamed. The reality is, there was only one award you longed to receive and it’s the one God reserves for his good and faithful servants and it has be given to you this day: to once again be at the side of your beloved bride, Aunt Rachel.
Allow me to be the first to say, congratulations! Well deserved.
Love you.
Terrance
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