After enduring more pain and disillusionment than I ever conceived possible, I came to the conclusion that in order to elicit change I needed to become part of the system that I had so completely trusted in and that had so harshly betrayed me. How do you convince a 17-year old whose mother has been wrongly accused, sentenced to years in prison and ripped from her side, that God is merciful and loving; that good does prevail and that the justice system is honest? Quite simply, you do not. Instead, you trust that the foundation that supported her until that experience is strong enough to keep her standing. My base was solid although I was often quite the contrary.

At the age of three I was surrounded by little girls with hopes of becoming ballerinas, princesses, nurses and teachers. When asked about my future career my answer was always direct and unchanging--lawyer. This came as a shock to most, which quickly followed my reply by asking how I knew what that was. Although I cannot pinpoint the day I remember being told that a lawyer was a person who defended the innocent and weak, essentially advocating for what was just and fair. Through the years societal cynicism attempted to break down my idealistic views by convincing me that my career choice did not coincide with my Catholic values. Having always been an outspoken individual I challenged their comments fervently since it was clear to me that, in fact, being an attorney provided me with an active way to defend what I believed in.

"The taller you stand, the harder you fall." The old cliche parallels my experience. The more passionately you defend a cause, argument or thought in general, the more difficult it is to face a situation where all you stand for crumbles publicly. I had trusted the justice system with all that I was and believed it to always uphold righteousness; hence my desire to become part of a system I so admired. When someone was convicted I trusted that they were truly guilty of the crime they were accused of since the justice system would not fail. My innocence and idealism is something I look back upon now with envy since I will no longer have the privilege of experiencing the pure admiration I once had.

At a young age I experienced the most defining event of my life. My mother, my example and most trusted friend, was convicted of a crime that she did not commit. She was then sentenced in federal court to six years in prison. I could not fathom spending an entire day without my mother let alone 6 years. The day she was sentenced I stood before the judge and pleaded for clemency. As I stood, shaking with tears in my eyes, I looked directly at the judge and for a moment thought to myself, "I was not supposed to be standing here until after law school." I realized that I had always wanted to defend the weak and innocent, but my time had come early as I stood defending my own mother and family. My attempts were fruitless and, my mother was made to voluntarily surrender. My ideal life and future came crumbling down into more pieces than I could possibly count. How could a system I trusted in abandon me? How could God allow this to happen? Why should I strive to be a good person and work towards goals, when the best person I knew had been punished for something she did not do? Essentially, I found myself questioning every value I considered concrete in my life.

In the midst of my personal roller coaster my exterior world appeared intact to my peers. I continued to perform well academically, earning some of the top scores in my class. I was the treasurer of my school, and a member of every honor society available. I was also a peer minister, leading retreats and encounters. I was a member of the debate and Spanish competition teams, and I always had a smile on my face. All the while my insides turned with every step of my personal turmoil. I did not want others to know of my experiences because I presumed they would judge, not so much me but rather my mother. Had I not personally experienced the injustice, had it been two years prior and a friend would have come up to me with the same situation, I would have assumed she was lying since the justice system never failed. Now on the other side of the experience I attempted to balance my previous life with my new found doubts. In essence, I grew up over night. My mother, who I had depended on for everything, was gone before I graduated high school, and I found myself trying to manage the tangible facets of my life along with sorting through the countless emotions within.

Thirty-four months later I find myself a different individual who evolved and changed in countless ways throughout the course of almost three years. God, I initially believed, had abandoned me. I questioned the power of prayer since none of what I requested occurred. I can presently look at my life and see that I am about to graduate with a nearly perfect grade point average, my mother continues to be my best friend, and I continue to survive. This was an unthinkable feat for me when my situation began and yet it has become a reality. Some would say that I should take all the credit, but only I know the weakness I felt initially. Had there not been a God, I would not be alive let alone attempting law school.

My struggle with the justice system remains. The day my mother was sentenced I swore I would never stand before a judge again since I believed it did not make a difference. I have since then visited my mother in prison once every two weeks and have come to know the stories of many women in the prison system. Not only my mother, but countless others are incarcerated yearly for crimes they did not commit and are torn away from their families. Sitting in a cold metal chair, eating vending machine food with my mother, I saw a six-year old girl literally be torn from her mother's arms. Her cries pierced the portion inside of me that at age three decided to be a lawyer and at age seventeen vowed never to practice law. I realized that there was a cause that needed a voice and countless individuals that needed protection and defense. I now knew, and I could not simply look away. More than pain I felt anger, determination and a responsibility to defend the persons that could not defend themselves; to help the little girls gripping on to their mothers with tears and red faces and to assist the numbers of individuals who, daily, were harmed by the justice system unjustly.

I will never have the ability to look at the justice system with idealism and innocence. I have personally experienced the system and know what it is like to be the client. Although I would never have asked for this experience I can look at it and see that it has made me stronger. When I stood before the judge on the day of my mother's sentencing I told him that if he chose to incarcerate her he would hurt my family but never destroy us. I am proud to say that he has not. I have taken my pain and anger and used it to fuel my determination. Instead of complaining about the system I have realized that in order to change it I must be an active agent within it. My perfect justice system is far from flawless, but I owe myself the opportunity to make a change. Within those words remains a trace of the optimism that initially led me to this career choice, and I certainly hope that, no matter the circumstance, a portion of that three year old within me will always shout when the world's cynicism attempts to silence me.