
When most people think of lawyers, they picture someone in a sharp suit, briefcase in hand, reciting case law in a polished courtroom. They don’t picture someone who’s crawled through the dirt in combat zones, stood their ground in an ambush, or spent 16 years as an infantryman leading from the front. But that’s my story. I’m on the journey to becoming a lawyer, and I can tell you this: the skills that make a great soldier—discipline, grit, and unrelenting determination—are the exact same skills that make a powerful advocate. Here’s why.
In 2001, I was just starting college when the world changed forever. After September 11th, I felt an unshakable sense of duty. Within a week, I was at the Army recruiter’s office. A couple of months later, I left behind the life of a student to train as an infantryman.
The infantry doesn’t just teach you tactics—it forges discipline into your DNA and drills into you the ability to stay razor-sharp under extreme pressure. I didn’t just learn how to think clearly and act decisively when it mattered—I learned how to thrive when every second was life or death. And now, as I’ve transitioned from the battlefield to law school, those lessons aren’t just valuable—they’re my edge. Preparing for finals? Breaking down complex legal problems? That’s nothing compared to the heat of combat. I take every challenge head-on with the same relentless focus and determination that 16 years in the infantry taught me.
In the infantry, we live by a mantra: speed, surprise, and violence of action. It’s not just how you survive—it’s how you win. And while I’m still on the journey to becoming a lawyer, I’ve already seen how this mindset applies to the legal field.
Speed: Thinking on your feet, analyzing situations quickly, and staying ahead of the game.
Surprise: Crafting creative arguments and seeing solutions others miss—staying unpredictable is how you gain the advantage.
Determined Action: Bringing the same relentless commitment to solving problems and helping others as I did on the battlefield. No shortcuts, no excuses, no quitting.
These principles didn’t just shape me on the battlefield—they’re shaping how I approach my legal education and my future career. Whether it’s the classroom, the courtroom, or anywhere in between, I’m not here to settle—I’m here to win. Simple as that.
Life as a young soldier in the 187th Infantry Regiment—better known as the Rakkasans—was anything but easy. As part of the legendary 101st Airborne Division, the Rakkasans were a unit with a proud and storied history, and that pride came with a price. It wasn’t just a job—it was a rite of passage, a test to see if you had what it took to represent one of the most celebrated regiments in the Army. And if you didn’t measure up? Everyone knew it.
Morning runs were a perfect example. If you couldn’t keep up, you weren’t just slow—you were an embarrassment to the unit. Falling behind meant you had to turn your Rakkasan shirt inside out, a signal to everyone that you were disgracing the legacy you wore. That shirt, that name—it wasn’t given, it was earned. And until you could prove you were up to the standard, you’d feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you.
And then there was the barracks life. As a young soldier, you were at the mercy of your sergeant—usually a young, hard-charging guy who wasn’t interested in making your life comfortable. If he decided you needed to low-crawl across gravel to “build character,” you did it. If he thought the floors weren’t shiny enough after the third mopping, you started scrubbing again. It wasn’t about fairness. It was about discipline, resilience, and proving you could endure anything thrown your way—because that’s what the Rakkasans demanded.
The Rakkasans have always been about legacy, and it’s no surprise that the regiment has produced some incredible alumni. One of our most well-known is Pete Hegseth, who now serves as the Secretary of Defense. Pete and I ended up together in Iraq, both as young Rakkasans. If you’ve seen him on TV, you’ve probably noticed the Rakkasan crest pinned to his lapel—a constant reminder of the brotherhood we all share. We faced the same hardships, endured the same tests, and carried the same pride of wearing that crest.
One day, during my first deployment, near the Syrian border, our convoy rolled straight into an ambush. Chaos erupted, but in moments like that, there’s no time to think—training and instinct take over. I did what I had to do to protect my brothers-in-arms, and for my actions that day, I was awarded the Army Commendation Medal with a Valor device, several of us earned medals for Valor that day. On another deployment, I wasn’t so lucky. I took a hit, earning a Purple Heart—a reminder that the cost of service is real, but so are the lessons it teaches.
Those experiences didn’t just shape me—they forged me. They taught me resilience, courage, and the absolute necessity of being prepared for anything. That mindset is exactly what I bring to my legal education now and, one day soon, to the clients who will trust me to fight for them.
I’m not a lawyer yet, but I’m on my way. If all goes as planned, I’ll pass the bar and begin practicing next year.
In the meantime, I’m putting the same dedication and focus into my legal education that I brought to every mission in the Army. I’m committed to becoming the kind of advocate my clients can trust to fight for them with the same grit and determination I showed on the battlefield.
To my fellow veterans: your story doesn’t end when you leave the service—it’s just beginning. The skills we learned in the military—discipline, perseverance, and leadership—are just as valuable in civilian life as they were in uniform. My journey from the battlefield to the classroom is proof of that. If you’ve served, I want you to know that the next chapter of your life can be just as impactful as your time in the military.
If my story resonates with you, I’d love to hear from you. Whether you want to share your own journey, offer support, or even ask me about mine, let’s connect. Together, we can show the world what veterans are capable of, on and off the battlefield.
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