“You can't teach a person to possess the kind of gentleman honor that pours from this man naturally.”
Shortly after I moved to Jacksonville, I went to court with a friend I'd made as moral support. As we all know, we're told to arrive early (prior to 9 am). However, the court doesn't actually begin until after 10 am most of the time. This day was no exception. The courthouse is, unfortunately, a place you can see people at their worst, their most vulnerable moments. I search for compassion and even though I mostly don't see it, I search. On this day in the sea of clients and their court-appointed attorneys, Trevor Avery shined like a star. I watched as those court-appointed attorneys sauntered in one by one, mostly ignoring the financially unstable clientele that had been thrust upon them in droves by the judicial system. It was clear they were thinking about that sweet golf swing, that steak dinner, or their twenty-minute bathroom visit that morning rather than their clients. They walked right past the benches and collected in a group, laughing together. Enter, Mr. Avery. When Mr. Avery came in, he walked slowly but with purpose. His eyes scanned the benches and rested on his clients. He stopped at each, murmuring to them that he just needed to settle in and would consult with each of them in-depth. I know because I watched him do exactly that. He walked past the group of well dressed, self-involved peacocks, sat down and proceed to go through his paperwork. I watched him work for his unpaid clientele as if they'd paid top dollar for his services. This is the definition of honor, my friends. He treated his clients with dignity and his job with humility. He did all of this like the professional he is.I've hired him since to help with a custody case and am thoroughly pleased with the results. I will be forever grateful for what he's done for me and all I've seen him do for others. You can't teach a person to possess the kind of gentleman honor that pours from this man naturally.
- Alexandria
