By Brian Middleton
TDCAA Board President & District Attorney in Fort Bend County
I love being a member of the Texas District and County Attorneys Association (TDCAA). When I show up to meetings, a sense of peace overcomes me, similar to the feeling you get when you arrive home after a long road trip or when you walk into a locker room with your teammates at halftime.
Abraham Maslow’s theory of human motivation was based on a hierarchy of needs. According to Maslow, there are five sets of basic needs: 1) physiological, 2) safety, 3) love, 4) esteem, and 5) self-actualization. Maslow theorized that love required a sense of “belongingness.” This sense of belonging is derived from a connection to others, resulting from receiving acceptance, respect, and love. TDCAA provides me with a sense of belonging. It allows me to interact with people who share my challenges, passion, and commitment.
I was raised in Houston. My father is a retired labor lawyer. I attended elementary school at the Edgar Allen Poe Fine Arts Academy, a public school. After fifth grade, my parents enrolled me in St. Matthew’s Lutheran School for middle school. St. Matthew’s was small, with around 50 students in each grade group. The environment was fun and loving, typical of a parochial school.
Between seventh and eighth grade, I had a tremendous growth spurt, to the point that many of my teachers did not recognize me when I returned after the summer break. I was much taller and slimmer. I changed my hairstyle from a fluffy afro to a short tapered fade.
At the end of my eighth-grade year, I decided to go back to public school. I enrolled at Lamar High School for my freshman year. I went from an eighth-grade class of 50 to a ninth-grade class of over 700.
It was challenging negotiating the new, non-Christian school environment. It felt like a war zone, and every day was about survival. There was a fellow freshman named John. He was a running back on the varsity football team. He had the physique and demeanor of Mike Tyson. John was the veritable “big man on campus.”
One day, while I was ordering lunch in the cafeteria, John grabbed some food, walked to the front of the line, informed the cashier that I would pay for the items, and walked away. He never said a word to me during this process, and I pretended not to hear his conversation with the cashier. We were not friends, and I had not agreed to pay for his food. Nevertheless, the cashier charged me for the items. I was humiliated and regretted not speaking up for myself.
Standing up
Later that school year, John was walking around my classroom while the instructor was teaching. The instructor had no control over the class and allowed John to roam. I was seated in the front row as usual. Like a bully, John was being disruptive and annoying other students. Again, I pretended not to see his actions, but I felt him getting closer. I was tense, hoping he would not pick on me.
I was looking straight ahead and listening to my instructor, but I heard John’s voice getting closer. Eventually, he stood right in front of me, blocking my view, and asked me to look at this new ring. When I glanced at his hand, the ring squirted water in my face. Other students, likely out of their own fear and relief that it was not happening to them, began to laugh. Still bothered by the fact that he snookered me into paying for his lunch and now humiliated, I jumped to my feet, knocking over my desk, and got in his face. With clenched fists, I screamed at him to leave me alone. I was taller than he was, but he probably outweighed me by 75 pounds. I could see shock in his eyes as he yelled insults back at me. His friends urged him to hit me. Shaking and afraid, I did not utter another word, but I continued standing and staring him down. Eventually, he sat down and remained quiet for the rest of the class. I could tell he was angry and confused; however, he never bothered me again.
That day, I learned to stand up to bullies. Despite my fear, I stood up for myself (and probably everyone else in the classroom). My spirit of being a protector and my disdain for bullies were born.
I would go on to college at the University of Houston, where I majored in economics with the hopes of becoming an investment banker. During my freshman year of college, I encountered another bully on my way to school. At the time, I was driving a 1983 Nissan Sentra. The car was incredibly slow, probably taking five minutes to accelerate from 0 to 60 mph. That morning, I was scheduled to take an early morning exam. As I was driving down Wheeler Avenue next to campus, a blue Ford Thunderbird pulled out in front of me and was moving very slowly. I decided to pass the vehicle lawfully on the left. As I passed the Thunderbird, I noticed the driver was wearing a police uniform. As I re-entered the lane, that same Thunderbird zoomed around me like Starsky and Hutch, slammed on its brakes, and stopped at an angle, blocking my forward movement.
I slammed on my brakes and waited nervously. A tall man in a blue police uniform emerged from the vehicle. With his hand on his gun and rage in his eyes, the officer exclaimed, “Boy, what is your problem? Did you see my uniform when you passed me?” As I scanned the area, I noticed a passenger in his vehicle who looked just as terrified as I was. The passenger appeared to be a construction worker who wanted nothing to do with what was happening. There were no other witnesses. I watched the officer grip his handgun as he continued to march toward me. My heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, and I began to sweat. Then I remembered my father’s “talk” about police encounters—do not argue on the roadside, and live to tell the story. Nervously, I responded, “Sorry, officer, I did not realize that you were a police officer. I am running late to take an exam. I am sorry that I passed you.” Satisfied with my nonaggressive response, the officer replied, “Well, at least you know how to apologize.” Red-faced and still angry, the officer walked back to his vehicle and squealed his tires as he drove off.
Due to the trauma that I experienced, I eventually decided that I wanted to be in law enforcement. I wanted to protect people.
We’re in this together
We have different experiences and reasons for choosing our careers. I chose the legal profession to protect people. As district attorney, I have the statutory duty not to seek convictions but to see that justice is done, and I love my job. I get to protect my community from bullies and ensure due process.
As the newly elected Board President of the Texas District & County Attorneys Association, I have the opportunity to lead an organization of individuals who share my goals, passion, and commitment to justice. Our jobs are often stressful, they require long hours, and much of our hard work is done behind closed doors so it goes unnoticed by the community. Yet we show up every day, committed to justice and to serving our communities. That is why I love TDCAA.
As Ryunosuka Satoro once said, “Individually, we are one drop. Together, we are an ocean.”