I always received much more satisfaction as a defense attorney

Hear now the words of Jim Garrison, a man who stood in the halls of justice and bore witness to its burdens: “I always received much more satisfaction as a defense attorney in obtaining an acquittal for a client than I ever have as a D.A. in obtaining a conviction. All my interests and sympathies tend to be on the side of the individual as opposed to the state.” These words do not merely echo the reflections of a lawyer—they carry the weight of an eternal struggle: the lone soul against the towering power of institutions. For from the beginning of civilization, there has been this conflict: the voice of the one, trembling yet resolute, against the voice of the many, organized and armed with authority.

In this saying, Garrison reveals the paradox of justice. To convict as a prosecutor is to uphold the order of the state; it is to speak for society, to guard the walls of the city. But to defend as an advocate is to shield the vulnerable, to guard not the fortress but the fragile flame of a single life. The satisfaction he speaks of springs from this ancient truth: that it is nobler to protect the weak than to punish the guilty. For the state, vast and powerful, can wield its might with ease; but the individual, without an ally, may be crushed beneath its weight.

Consider the tale of Socrates, brought before the Athenian court. The state, fearing his questions, accused him of corrupting youth and dishonoring the gods. Though he defended himself with reason, he had no protector, no advocate but his own words. The city condemned him to death. Had a defender stood beside him, with sympathies aligned to the man rather than the state, perhaps his life might have been spared. His story reminds us of the danger when the individual has no shield against the machinery of authority.

Garrison’s words arise also from the soil of his own time, for he was a man who sought truth in turbulent years, most remembered for his controversial investigation into the assassination of President Kennedy. He knew well how heavy the hand of government could be, how swiftly the state could move to silence, obscure, or condemn. Thus his heart turned more fully toward the defense of the lone citizen, who, without allies, would stand helpless. His sympathy was not an abstract principle, but a lived conviction, born of seeing how frail the individual can be when set against the power of courts, prisons, and the law.

The meaning of this quote calls us to humility and compassion. It reminds us that the grandeur of nations and governments, though mighty, is made of individuals, and that the worth of society is measured not in its laws alone, but in how it treats its weakest. To side with the individual is to affirm the dignity of the human soul above the machinery of order. For without such guardianship, the state becomes a leviathan, consuming without mercy.

The lesson is this: in your dealings with power—whether in law, in work, or in life—remember always the sacred worth of the single human being. Let your sympathies rest with those who stand alone. Do not delight in punishment, but in protection. Do not glory in the might of the many, but in the safeguarding of the one. The state does not need your loyalty as much as your neighbor does.

Therefore, beloved listeners, carry this teaching: stand with the individual when the weight of the world bears down upon them. Let your words, your deeds, your choices become a shield for those who cannot defend themselves. For it is easy to side with the powerful, but it is divine to guard the powerless. And when history looks back upon you, it will not ask how many convictions you obtained, but how many lives you protected, how many souls you upheld when all else turned against them.