Michael Paul, Attorney at Law

I’m writing this the day after my trial ended, and I’m still trying to process everything. If you’re reading this because you’re looking for an attorney, there’s a good chance you’re scared, worried about your future, or you just don’t know what comes next. I know that feeling. Yesterday, my trial ended with 22 acquittals and 1 dismissal. Even writing that today makes me emotional. This wasn’t just a case to me. This was my life. My freedom. My children. My family. My future. There were nights I couldn’t stop thinking about what could happen to me, and mornings when I walked into that courthouse trying to stay positive while inside I was scared. Through all of that, Michael was there. One thing I will always remember is that he cared about how I was doing as a person. He would ask me, “How are you doing?” “How are you feeling?” And when I was worried, he would tell me, “You’re going to be okay.” I also text a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean a lot. Anyone who knows me knows that. When something was on my mind, Michael was going to hear about it. Questions, ideas, concerns, things I remembered, things I was scared about—sometimes my mind just wouldn’t stop. And Michael answered me. That may not sound like a big deal until you’re the person on the other side of that phone wondering what is going to happen to your life. He never made me feel like I was just another case or another name on his calendar. He treated me like a person. Over time, he became more than just my lawyer. I felt like I had a friend standing next to me. Then came the trial. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t scared. I was. There were parts of Michael’s strategy that made me nervous because the stakes were so high. There were moments when I was probably looking at him thinking, Sir, I really hope you know what you’re doing. But I trusted him. At some point, I realized I had to stop trying to figure out every move and trust the man standing next to me. So I did. Then yesterday I sat there and heard: Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty. Again and again. 22 acquittals. 1 dismissal. I don’t know if Michael will ever completely understand what hearing those words meant to me. Those weren’t just charges disappearing from a piece of paper. Every “not guilty” gave me another piece of my life back. And when it was finally over, something hit me that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. My trial ended on September 29—the Feast of Saint Michael the Archangel, the protector and defender. Some people might call that a coincidence. I don’t. So if you’re reading this trying to decide whether you can trust this man with something as serious as your freedom, I can only tell you what I experienced. I trusted him with mine. I walked out of that courtroom with 22 acquittals and 1 dismissal, but I also walked away knowing that during one of the hardest times of my life, the person standing beside me genuinely cared about me. He listened to me. He answered all those texts. He checked on me. He reassured me when I was scared. And when it was time to stand in that courtroom and fight for me, he did. Sir, I don’t know if I said this enough yesterday, but thank you. Thank you for your patience with me. Thank you for answering me when my mind was going a hundred miles an hour. Thank you for asking how I was doing when you didn’t have to. Thank you for understanding that behind all those charges was a person whose entire life was hanging in the balance. And thank you for telling me over and over that I was going to be okay. You were right, Sir. I will never forget what you did for me. Thank you, Michael. Thank you, Sir.