Boyd Law Magazine 2022-23

Boyd Law

TRAIL BLAZER

Boyd Law graduate Sandra Douglass Morgan leads the Raiders

THE MAGAZINE OF THE WILLIAM S. BOYD SCHOOL OF LAW AT UNLV | 2022

Documentary film focuses on plight of Windsor Park

Professor emerita Anne Traum brings passion as new judge

LL.M. in Gaming Law and Regulation

“ I am an atypical law student, having worked in Indian gaming law for 25 years. Through the LL.M. program, I had the privilege to get to know some brilliant professors and amazing students who made formally learning gaming law more interesting. It has been a great gift to be a part of the LL.M. program, and I am honored to have been selected for the San Manuel Full-Tuition Scholarship.”

Gain

Patrick Lambert (LL.M., 2021) Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, North Carolina San Manuel Band of Mission Indians Scholarship Recipient

That Sinking Feeling

Boyd Law and the College of Fine Arts at UNLV produce a documentary about Windsor Park homes built over geologic faults and facing long-term subsidence problems.

Boyd Law 2022

Ascending to New Heights

With a Boyd Law degree creating career paths she never could have envisioned, Sandra Douglass Morgan becomes president of the NFL’s Las Vegas Raiders.

Michael Stannard succeeds Jae Barrick as Saltman Center’s new graduate fellow Page 8

Samuel S. Lionel’s $1 million gift bolsters robust externship program Page 42

Full Circle

From clerking in to presiding over a federal district courtroom, Boyd Law professor emerita Anne Traum elevates access to justice.

ON THE COVER:

Las Vegas Raiders President Sandra Douglass Morgan (PHOTO BY MATT AGUIRRE/LAS VEGAS RAIDERS)

Leah Chan Grinvald was installed as dean of the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV on September 28.

FROM

A Celebration of Beginnings and Fostering Our Potential

As I write my first message to you as dean of the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV, I am thinking about the excitement of new beginnings. There is untold potential when we embark on new endeavors. Since officially joining the law school on July 1, everything has been novel and inspiring. A new title, a new position, a new office, and many new faces to meet. In the coming years, I look forward to sustaining the law school’s many successes, but also to fostering the potential of all of us.

Across Boyd Law, there are more new beginnings, many of which are featured in this year’s magazine. Among the many compelling stories we’re featuring this year, here are a few highlights:

Our Community Advocacy Office, an outgrowth of our Thomas & Mack Legal Clinic focused on immigration law, officially opened this past year with a great ceremony featuring Governor Steve Sisolak. A story that describes the work of our energetic managing attorney, Alyssa Cooley, and her team can be found on Page 12.

Although we were sad to say goodbye to Asso ciate Dean Christine Smith, who was one of our founding administrators, we were thrilled to see her continuing her passion to help the commu nity at the Legal Aid Center of Southern Nevada as the director of community initiatives and outreach. Read about her new chapter at LACSN on Page 17.

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I cannot wait to meet more of you this coming year and to forge new connections as we embark on raising the level of excellence for which Boyd Law stands— together.

Boyd Law’s Indian Nation Gaming and Governance program officially kicked off with some terrific programming, and Jennifer Carleton and John Tahsuda III joined us as INGG Distinguished Fellows. Read more about the INGG’s initiatives on Page 6.

Many of our alumni have also had fresh starts this past year. We saw the start of Sandra Douglass Morgan’s leadership as president of the Las Vegas Raiders (story on Page 24) and Jason Frierson’s appointment as the first Black U.S. attorney for the State of Nevada (story on Page 41). We are so proud of Sandra and Jason, as well as the many alumni and friends that make #BoydNation strong.

There are so many more stories that follow. I hope you have time to read and savor them all.

Personally, I have enjoyed meeting so many of you since I started in this role. I cannot wait to meet more of you this coming year and to forge new connections as we embark on raising the level of excellence for which Boyd Law stands—together.

SUBSCRIBER UPDATES Update your address and submit Class Actions items at: law.unlv.edu/alumni/ StayConnected

Boyd Law magazine is published by the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV, Office of Communications 4505 S. Maryland Parkway, Box 451003, Las Vegas, Nevada 89154-1003 (702) 895-3671 law.unlv.edu

UNLV is an AA/EEO INSTITUTION

Leah Chan Grinvald

Classroom Only the Beginning

Practice of law requires a lifelong commitment to learning

BY JUDGE BRENDA WEKSLER

During law school, students are constantly waiting: waiting for grades, waiting for job offers, but waiting most for that special moment to feel like “real” lawyers. While reading and discussing cases are essential—if l lawyer, there is more. Simulations and hypotheticals are critical and traditional parts of law school, but they are not the end-all. Neither are class rankings nor memberships in law journals.

The truth is that becoming a “real” lawyer requires an experiential education.

I remember vividly the first day of my summer externship at the Eighth Judicial District Court. As soon as I walked into the courthouse, I could see hundreds of people waiting for their cases to be heard and attorneys speedwalking from courtroom to courtroom. The law became much less theoreti cal at that moment.

My externship with Judge Kathy Hardcastle gave me the opportunity to discuss and learn about the matters over which she presided. It also allowed me to talk to dozens of attorneys and find out why they had chosen to go into their specific field. In turn, I became really interested in indigent criminal defense.

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criminal defense.

Lawyering is an art that requires persuasion, (re)imagination, and strategy. It is not something that we accomplish once we graduate from law school. Rather, the art of lawyer ing is a lifelong practice that requires exactly that—practice. Whether in law school or in the field, continuing legal education that builds tangible skills through clinical programs, workshops, and coaching sessions is what will improve the field of law and the capabilities of its practitioners.

Many of us have heard that the purpose of law school is to learn how to think like a lawyer. That is true. But that is not enough. Many schools have recognized that law school must move beyond the case-study method to produce well-rounded advocates.

It is called “the practice of law” for a reason. It requires an ongoing desire to learn and re-learn, to use acquired skills, and to acknowledge when those skills no longer serve us.

I will forever be grateful to the Boyd School of Law for that experi ence. Not only did I secure a legal clerkship after that summer; it led me into a 17-year career in indigent

The William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV is at the forefront of this decade-plus (re)shift to ward experiential learning. It continues to expand its clinical curriculum to allow students the space to law yer under the mentorship of talented legal educators.

Boyd Law’s clinical of ferings—which focus on appellate work, education advocacy, immigration, mediation, misdemeanors, and public policy—sup port students taking a reduced class load, which in turn allows them to immerse themselves in this timeintensive practical training. More over, these clinical programs allow students to apply and experiment with different theories while engag ing with real, complex issues. And

most importantly, this practical train ing positions students to help and advocate for clients facing serious and difficult problems.

But these opportunities do not need to end simply because students have come to the end of their law school ca reer. It is called “the practice of law” for a reason. It requires an ongoing desire to learn and re-learn—to use acquired skills, and to acknowledge when those skills no longer serve us. Instead of con stantly waiting, it is constantly evolving.

My message to students is to con tinue taking advantage of opportuni ties after law school that will allow them to continue to grow as lawyers.

Pro bono work is a wonderful way to expand abilities. This may very well require students to step out of their comfort zone and legal specialty. But it is also an opportunity to ad vocate for those whose voices would otherwise not be heard.

There are several practical advan tages to engaging in this work. Many programs (such the Legal Aid Center of Southern Nevada) offer mentor ships, continuing legal education, and trial skill programs to those who are willing to volunteer their time as pro bono counsel. While students’ formative years have come to an end on graduation day, their education is only beginning. It is the willingness to continue to grow and learn that separates real lawyers from the rest.

U.S. Magistrate Judge Brenda Weksler earned her undergraduate and law degrees from UNLV. She is a co-chair for the federal pro bono program Pro Bono — District of Nevada (uscourts.gov)

Off and Running

Initially slowed by the COVID-19 pandemic, the Indian Nations Gaming & Governance Program is building important momentum in multiple areas

BY MATT JACOB

The William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV unveiled the Indian Nations Gaming & Governance Program fol lowing a substantial gift from the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians in early 2020. Then just as the school was set to further boost its reputation as a leader in tribal law, gaming, and governance education … a global pan demic hit.

Fast-forward nearly two years: After a slow rollout, the Indian Na tions Gaming & Governance (INGG) Program is finally building momen tum. From expanded curriculum and personnel to regular programming designed to enhance the discussion about issues related to Native Ameri can gaming and governance, students, faculty, the general public and—ul timately—Indian country are begin ning to reap the benefits of the San Manuel band’s generosity.

Here’s a look at the various ways in which the program is gaining traction.

Class is in session: Boyd Law students—both traditional juris doc tor candidates and those enrolled in the nation’s only master’s in gaming law program—can now choose from seven different courses related to In dian law, gaming, and governance. Among them is the aptly titled “Tribal Law and Governance” course, which is taught by Addie Rolnick, the law school’s San Manuel Band of Mission Indians Professor of Law and director of the INGG program.

“At Boyd, we’ve historically had strength in gaming and strength in Indian law, but not the stuff in the

middle,” Rolnick says. “This course addresses that by covering issues re lated to gaming, to the internal law of tribes, and tribal governance. It’s the centerpiece of the program. Its goal is to not only produce future leaders in Indian country but prepare all types of law students to work more effec tively with tribal governments.”

Welcome aboard: Early this year, the INGG program welcomed its first set of visiting professors and introduced its first two distinguished fellows.

University of North Dakota profes sors Kathryn Rand and Steven Light, both of whom have extensive experience in tribal gaming law and governance, taught three classes in the spring 2022 semester. After starting the semester online, the colleagues headed west to the Boyd Law campus, where Rand taught Indian Gaming Law, Light taught Con temporary Issues in American Indian Politics, and the two tag-teamed on the Guided Research & Writing in Indian Gaming course.

“When the law school was work ing to establish the INGG [program] and develop its academic program ming, they reached out to us for some

informal consultation. That led to an invitation for us to serve as the in augural visiting faculty,” says Rand, who along with Light co-directs the Institute for the Study of Tribal Gam ing Law & Policy at the University of North Dakota. “We were honored by the invitation and the opportunity to contribute to the program.

“We were pleased to have more than 30 students enroll in our courses. Interestingly, each course had its own group of students—there was rela tively little overlap. That told us that a wide range of students are interested in different aspects of tribal gaming.”

In addition to Rand and Light, the INGG program welcomed distin guished fellows Jennifer Carleton and John Tahsuda III. The two joined fel low professor Anthony Cabot, the law school’s longtime distinguished fellow in gaming law.

Carleton, an attorney with deep roots in the Las Vegas gaming law community and experience as inhouse counsel for an Indian casino, will help the INGG program establish its advanced Indian law and gaming curriculum and create the first-of-

INDIAN NATIONS GAMING & GOVERNANCE PROGRAM

Dean Leah Grinvald, right, greets Latisha Casas, San Manuel Gaming and Hospitality Authority chairperson, at a reception introducing the Indian Nations Gaming & Governance Program in October.

its-kind Indian gaming experiential learning program.

Let’s have a discussion: The INGG also expanded its public edu cation and leadership programming over the past two years, hosting mul tiple webinars and in-person events. These external programs are targeted to students, scholars and the general public, and will continue to grow un der Tahsuda’s guidance.

Among the upcoming planned programming: a December webinar focused on Indian gaming lands (in cluding how the Department of the Interior analyzes requests for lands that aren’t located on a reservation); and an in-person conference in the spring that will discuss the history of Indian gaming in California (includ ing an examination of legal principles that ultimately led to the Indian Gam ing Regulatory Act of 1988).

In addition to conferences and we binars, the program plans to offer free online workshops on a number of top ics relevant to young legal practitio ners and tribal government officials working in Indian country.

“Resources like the INGG program can be helpful to the continued health of Indian gaming—and even more, to the continued evolution of the rela tionships between tribal governments and federal, state, and local govern ments,” says Tahsuda, a former U.S. Department of the Interior official and member of the Kiowa Tribe of Okla homa who will be teaching Federal Indian Law as an adjunct professor during the spring 2023 semester.

“With regard to the spring confer ence, we want to take a step back and look at where Indian gaming start ed,” Tahsuda says. “In fact, the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians can provide a prime case study into the in genuity of tribes as they began operat ing bingo halls to generate desperately needed funding for their communi ties. The legal battles fought then set the foundation for the success of the Indian gaming industry today.”

Come one, come all: While the INGG program is picking up some much-needed post-pandemic steam, Rolnick knows the best way to achieve maximum impact—both in Indian

country and beyond—is to recruit and retain students who have an interest in tribal gaming and governance.

That means elevating the program’s profile through targeted outreach, particularly aimed at Native Ameri cans living in tribal communities.

“We have an established strength in gaming because we’re positioned in Las Vegas,” Rolnick says. “But when it comes to recruiting some of the top Native students in the country who want to go to law school, it’s impor tant to demonstrate a commitment to all aspects of Indian gaming law and tribal governance. This program is designed to do just that, positioning UNLV Boyd to be the academic and intellectual hub of Indian gaming.”

SAN MANUEL DRIVING ‘POSITIVE SOCIAL CHANGE’

They call it the spirit of Yawa’—to act on one’s beliefs. It’s what has inspired the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians to steadfastly contribute not only to the Indian Nations Gaming & Governance Program at Boyd Law, but also to com munity and organizations working to create a better future.

In October, the San Manuel Gaming and Hospitality Authority (SMGHA) and Palms Casino Resort awarded $1.2 million in grants to 30 Southern Nevada charities. In-person surprises and personal outreach revealed the grants, which ranged from $5,000 to $250,000.

“We are committed to fulfilling our legacy while aspiring to be a community leader for positive social change,” says Latisha Casas, SMGHA chairperson.

The Palms, which reopened in April after being purchased by the SMGHA, is the first resort in Las Vegas to be fully owned and operated by a Native American tribe.

Inaugural 2022 grant recipients were:

• Anti-Defamation League

• Be A Shero Foundation

• Bright Star Foundation

• Edward Kline Memorial Homeless Veterans Fund, Inc.

• Foster Kinship

• Goodie Two Shoes Foundation

• Nevada Housing Coalition

• Nevada Legal Services

• Noah’s Animal House Foundation

• Olive Crest Nevada

• Raise the Future

• Unshakeable

• Workforce Connections

• Communities In Schools of Nevada

• CORE Powered by The Rogers Foundation

• Girl Scouts of Southern Nevada

• Green Our Planet

• Junior Achievement of Southern Nevada

• Nevada Ballet Theatre

• Project 150

• Alliance for a Just Society

• Candlelighters for Childhood Cancer of Southern Nevada, Inc.

• Gay and Lesbian Community Center of Southern Nevada, Inc

• Baller Dream Foundation

• Make-A-Wish Southern Nevada

• Nevada Grant Lab

• Hope Means Nevada

• Opportunity Village Foundation

• The Cleveland Clinic Foundation

• The Defensive Line

• Southern Nevada Joint Management (Culinary Academy)

Jennifer Carleton

John Tahsuda III

The Saltman Center for Conflict Resolution is ranked No. 8 in the nation among dispute resolution programs, according to U.S. News & World Report, March 2022)

Changing of the Guard

After serving as the Saltman Center’s first graduate fellow for almost a decade, Boyd Law alumna Jae Barrick has decided to step down. Stepping up: friend, protégé, and fellow alum Michael Stannard

BY MATT JACOB

When Jae Barrick decided to embark on a midlife career change—a change that would begin with her enrollment at the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV—there wasn’t much doubt

that she would gravitate toward the world of alternative dispute resolu tion. After all, it was something that was ingrained in her while growing up in the mountains of West Virginia.

“My dad was a union arbitrator whose job was to argue with union guys in preparation for contract ne gotiations and other issues,” Barrick says. “So as children, we were pretty much forced by dinner conversation to always see two sides of every story.”

Barrick’s affinity for alternative dispute resolution (ADR) only grew from there. So it’s no surprise that as a law student in the school’s part-time program, she found her way to Boyd

Law’s renowned Saltman Center for Conflict Resolution.

Also not a surprise: When the Salt man Center established a graduate fel lowship in 2014, Barrick got the job. At the time, she was just a year removed from earning her law degree, had just begun working as a family law attor ney, and already was working parttime at the law school.

During her eight-plus years as a graduate fellow, Barrick has worked alongside professor Lydia Nussbaum to further the mission of the Saltman Center and the school’s Mediation Clinic (both of which are directed by Nussbaum).

SALTMAN CENTER FOR CONFLICT RESOLUTION

I have absolutely loved working with students and giving them a real-life view of what their career will be like as practicing attorneys. They’re all so smart—far smarter than I am—and so motivated. I’ll truly miss that interaction.”

JAE BARRICK OUTGOING SALTMAN CENTER FELLOW

Among Barrick’s myriad fellow ship duties: She has taught in both the Mediation Clinic and Family Media tion Practicum; served as coach and mentor to students participating in the American Bar Association’s client counseling and negotiation competi tions; recruited Las Vegas-area law yers (including Boyd Law alums) to judge those competitions; supervised the school’s parking arbitration pro gram; and served as a law school and Mediation Clinic ambassador, par ticularly to family court judges and attorneys.

“I thought it would be something interesting to do,” Barrick says about her decision to accept the graduate fellowship. “At the time, I wasn’t sure how I was going to make a living at my law firm as a new attorney with no cli ents. So working at the school gave me some regular monthly [income]. But the more I did it, the more I loved it.

“I thought it would be a one-year— two-semester—gig. The truth is, I never left.”

Well, until now.

With an overflowing plate as both a practicing lawyer and the administra tor for Nevada’s Statewide Juvenile De pendency Mediation Program, Barrick has decided to relinquish her role as the Saltman Center’s graduate fellow at the end of the fall 2022 semester.

Albeit with some reluctance.

“I have absolutely loved working with students and giving them a reallife view of what their career will be like as practicing attorneys,” Barrick says. “They’re all so smart—far smart er than I am—and so motivated. I’ll truly miss that interaction.”

As she departs, Barrick will hand the graduate fellowship baton to Michael Stannard, a longtime friend, colleague

and fellow Boyd Law alum. Stannard arrived at the law school the same year Barrick began her fellowship, and the two connected during his second year when he began participating in client counseling competitions.

Like Barrick, Stannard is a Las Vegas-based family law practitioner whose passion for mediation and dis pute resolution is as profound as it is for his mentor. Stannard says he’s ex cited about the chance to work with students and pass on the valuable ADR skills Barrick helped teach him during his three years on campus.

As for filling Barrick’s shoes?

“It’s impossible,” says Stannard, who earned his law degree in 2017 and has remained connected with the school in various ways, including as a competition judge. “What she brings to the table as a mediator, as a profes sor, as a person—she’s irreplaceable.”

His predecessor—and his new boss—have little doubt that Stannard is more than up to the task.

“He brings so much to the table,” Barrick says. “He’s an excellent me diator, he has incredible empathy, and he possesses the ability to commu nicate without judgment. He’s a rock star in my world.”

Adds Nussbaum: “Michael has a deep well of patience and under standing, both of which are essential attributes for any good mediator and teacher. He’s also remarkably kind and good natured and doesn’t have an ounce of pretentiousness. He’s the perfect choice to replace Jae.

“As for Jae, I can’t thank her enough for all that she has done for us. She has been a guide, an advisor, and a friend from whom I have learned a tremen dous amount. I will miss her very much.”

RENOWNED SCHOLARS TO SHARE EXPERTISE IN ALTERNATIVE DISPUTE RESOLUTION

The Saltman Center for Conflict Resolu tion at the Boyd School of Law was founded on multiple core principles. One of those: to stimulate scholarly research and exchanges on the nature of conflict and explore methods for avoiding and resolving disputes.

Since its beginning, the Saltman Cen ter fulfilled that mission through an an nual talk, bringing the nation’s foremost authorities on alternative dispute resolu tion to present their research and share insights on a variety of topics related to conflict and conflict resolution.

Five years ago, the lecture series was named in honor of the late Chris Beecroft, Jr., a 1971 UNLV graduate who served as commissioner of Alternative Dispute Resolution for the Clark County District Court.

The Beecroft Lecture Series will return with an event February 21 at the Boyd School of Law’s Thomas & Mack Moot Court Facility on the UNLV campus. Mi chael Moffitt, a professor at the Univer sity of Oregon School of Law since 2001 and Philip H. Knight chair, will present “Truth. Regardless of Reconciliation?”

The public is invited to attend the free lecture, but space is limited so registra tion is required. Those interested are encouraged to visit the Saltman Center’s event listings for registration information and additional program details.

—Matt Jacob

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PRELAW FELLOWSHIP PROGRAM

Early Support Means Everything

Diverse and first-gen students find a path to law school through the Justice Michael L. Douglas PreLaw Fellowship Program

BY C. MOON REED

When she graduated from the Uni versity of Nevada, Reno, in December 2020, Emily Espinosa knew she want ed to become an environmental justice lawyer. But as a first-generation stu dent with no family ties to the profes sion, the chasm between aspiration and attorney felt daunting.

“One of the hardest things about law school, from my perspective, was just the fact that it seemed so unat tainable,” says Espinosa, a native of Sparks. “I didn’t know where to start,

but I knew I wanted to go to Boyd, specifically for their [commitment to] community service.”

She stumbled upon the Justice Mi chael L. Douglas PreLaw Fellowship Program when scrolling the William S. Boyd School of Law’s website. “It was talking about diversity and help ing students like me who really didn’t understand the background or the process,” Espinosa says.

Named after the first Black chief justice of the Nevada Supreme Court, the Douglas PreLaw Fellowship is designed to help diverse and firstgeneration students prepare for law school through a week of simulated law school classes and LSAT prepa ration. The fellows also visit Nevada courts, firms, in-house counsel and public interest organizations to meet

“

It was awesome. It was my first look at what being a lawyer would look like.”

EMILY ESPINOSA PRELAW FELLOWSHIP

lawyers and judges where they work.

Espinosa, who applied and par ticipated in the fellowship in January 2021, is a member of its inaugural co hort. Today, she is a second-year law student at the Boyd School of Law.

“It was awesome,” Espinosa says of the fellowship. “It was my first look at what being a lawyer would look like.” She found it “comforting” to connect with professionals as well as other students. “It just brought me a lot of peace and encouragement.” She es pecially appreciated how everybody helped her feel valued and took extra time to answer all her questions.

“I owe absolutely everything to this fellowship,” Espinosa says. “I don’t think that I would be in law school if it wasn’t for my attendance in this.”

Now retired, Justice Douglas still takes the time to participate in his namesake fellowship.

“He’s a trailblazer,” says Cameron Lue Sang, the program co-creator and Boyd’s Assistant Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid. “He has mentored many young attorneys throughout the state. We’re very grateful that he’s there the entire week and [that] he spends the time with us.”

For John Delikanakis, a partner with Snell & Wilmer’s commercial liti gation and alternative dispute resolu tion group in Las Vegas and Reno, the Douglas PreLaw Fellowship is part of a vital effort to “really change the face of the legal profession to be more rep resentative of what society looks like.”

Delikanakis sits on the fellowship advisory board and helped craft what the program would become.

“It’s important for a healthy de mocracy to make sure that all con stituents have a working role in it, rather than just being simply subject to it,” Delikanakis says. He says that one of the best ways to help under represented groups become repre sented in a democracy is to encour age them to go to law school in order to be able to create and interpret the law. “It’s important for a fair and just legal system.”

Delikanakis encourages Boyd School of Law alums, community leaders, and legal professionals to spread the word about the Douglas PreLaw Fellowship; to encourage pro spective students to apply; and even to volunteer their time.

“I know that a lot of Boyd alums out there have a lot to add to this pro gram,” he says.

Volunteer opportunities include sit ting on the board, speaking, hosting luncheons for students, and simply talking candidly to students about what a career in law actually looks like.

Perhaps ironically, Delikanakis says that the program’s ultimate success would drive it out of exis tence. “I hope that in 100 years, this program is not necessary because people of all backgrounds join the le gal profession as a matter of course. That’s my hope.”

visited a number of community organizations, including the Vegas Golden Knights, where they met the team’s chief legal officer, Charles A. “Chip” Seigel III; and Three Square Food Bank, where they assembled food bins for community members experiencing food insecurity.

Justice Michael L. Douglas PreLaw Fellowship Program participants

A World of Difference

BY STACY WILLIS

It’s a simple building: two floors, gray, a single main door with the address marked clearly above it.

The William S. Boyd School of Law’s Immigration Clinic’s new downtown Las Vegas Community Advocacy Office occupies the second floor of 1212 Casino Center Blvd. in the Arts District.

It’s nothing fancy, but its presence here—in contrast to the original Immi gration Clinic tucked in the law school’s Thomas & Mack Clinic in the middle of UNLV’s main campus—makes it easier for some new clients to find help, man aging attorney Alissa Cooley says.

“We used to have to send the recep

tionist in a golf cart around campus to find people who were dropped off by an Uber somewhere over by the Thom as & Mack Center,” Cooley says.

The ease of finding the downtown office, which opened in March with a ceremony attended by Governor Steve Sisolak, has shaved about an hour off of intake appointment ses sions, she says.

The location has changed, but the important mission remains the same. Cooley and six other employees (and at least one Boyd School of Law student) typically manage about 200 pro bono cases at any given time. They defend un accompanied children (typically those who entered the U.S. by themselves and now live with a relative in Las Vegas) in their removal proceedings and adults who face deportation while detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs En forcement (ICE).

Operations are funded by $500,000 from the state and $500,000 from Clark County over a two-year-period. Defense attorney and law school ad junct professor Ozzie Fumo donated the space in the building.

Over time, Cooley says, she has grown to develop friendships with some clients.

She once ran into a former client from the Immigration Clinic at a store, five years after she had helped the in dividual gain residency as a juvenile. She was thrilled to hear that the client was now speaking fluent English and doing well. Another time, she received a photo of siblings graduating high school after she had helped them gain residency as juveniles.

“I watch some of them grow up,” says Cooley, who first worked for the clinic in 2014. Sometimes, she says, the staff members “become like life

ALISSA COOLEY IMMIGRATION CLINIC

IMMIGRATION CLINIC

Boyd Law’s Immigration Clinic moves into new downtown office for clients’ convenience

“ We call it a ceremony. We bring them in and we surprise them with their status documents … and then ask them if they want to do a handprint— and they always do.”

coaches” as clients try to navigate oth er facets of their new lives. “We help refer them to other resources, like tax attorneys or social services,” she says.

The original clinic was known for decorating its walls with the painted handprints of clients who gained per manent status. It’s still a tradition in the downtown office’s lobby and con ference room.

“Our new clients see them and ask what they are, and they get very excit ed,” Cooley says. “I shared good news about a work permit with a client last week, and she asked if it was time for her to do her handprint yet.”

But it’s not until a client gains resi dency, or some other permanent sta tus, that they can get their handprint on the wall.

“We call it a ceremony. We bring them in and we surprise them with their status documents … and then ask them if they want to do a handprint— and they always do.”

ABOUT THE CLINIC

• The oldest case on which the Immigration Clinic is working was opened in 2013 and is still open.

• Most clients come from Mexico or Central America.

• The youngest client was 18 months old.

HOW TO SEEK HELP

• For unaccompanied children and detained adults, call (702) 476-0750.

• For members of the UNLV and CSN communities, make an ap pointment online.

• For DACA renewals, make an appointment online.

For more information, scan this

What’s in a Name?

BY MIKE WEATHERFORD

Say or write your name several times a day, and it becomes easy to take for granted a thing that’s so central to our identity.

But what if you need to change it? Greer Sullivan realized the process can be daunting, and can even feel invasive when a legal notice has to be published in the newspaper.

Sullivan’s experience with name changes as a student at William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV put her at the helm of a three-day Name Change Clinic at the law school in April. About 20 people took advantage of the free sessions in which student volunteers and supervising attorneys guided them through a form created by the Legal Aid Center of Southern Nevada.

“Being able to help people with something as important as your name is just really rewarding,” says Sulli van, a 2022 graduate of the law school.

During her first year in law school, Sullivan was part of a team tasked with automating a name-change form. She was drawn into the process even more while she was clerking for the Family Law Self-Help Center at the Legal Aid Center of Southern Nevada.

The reasons for a name change range from the mundane to the in tensely personal.

“A lot of people, older folk, had been going by names that weren’t their technical legal names for, like, 60 years without knowing,” Sullivan says. Social Security or Department of Motor Vehicles transactions often present the first indications that a change is needed.

Some people were first enrolled in school with a different name than their birth certificate, and they kept using it. Others may never have no ticed the name misspelled on their

birth certificate.

“A lot of folks can carry on with their lives without changing it for a long while,” Sullivan says. It gets more personal for those who need to sort the multiple legal names that come from more than one marriage or divorce. And it’s a big, meaningful ac tion for those changing their names to match a new gender identity.

“That’s an even bigger self-comfort for them, to be able to legally go by a name that matches something you feel inside,” Sullivan says. Although sub ject to judicial oversight, gender IDrelated changes don’t require the pub lished legal notice that’s meant to foil creditor dodgers, but the paperwork can be “difficult to understand when it’s something so personal to them,” Sullivan says.

The three-day clinic on campus exposed law students to the namechange process. Three supervising attorneys—Stephanie McDonald and Giovanni Andrade (from the Fam ily Law Self-Help Center) and Cliff Marcek (the Boyd School of Law’s coordinator of community service)— helped navigate the more challenging cases. Christine Smith, then-associate dean for public service, compliance, and administration, was very helpful and involved in the planning and ad vertising process, Sullivan says.

The clinic was free of charge, so those who attended paid just the $295 filing fee. Perhaps filled with uncer tainty when they arrived, they left with the warm assurance that they filled out the form correctly and the priceless confidence that the process was going to be completed.

“Every person who comes in, you can just see how much of a relief it is for them to be getting something that is just so intimate and important,” Sullivan says.

Everything, to those helped during the law school’s Name Change Clinic

The Write Direction

BY C. MOON REED

For the fifth year in a row, the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV has ranked No. 1 in legal writing, accord ing to U.S. News & World Report’s 202223 Best Graduate Colleges rankings.

What makes the program the best in the nation? For one, its commit ment to remaining on the cutting edge of education.

“We’re not just teaching your dad’s legal writing or your grandfather’s legal writing,” professor Kathryn M. Stan chi says. “We are keeping abreast of what lawyers are really doing in the field. Where is writing coming up? How can we prepare students to be able to do all of the different kinds of writing so that they can hit the ground running?”

This fall, a new course debuted to

help students prepare for the latest evolution of the bar exam, which fo cuses less on brute memorization and more on performance. Distinguished Visiting Professor Joan Howarth, dean emerita at the Michigan State University College of Law, and pro fessor Katherine Beckman, assistant director of the Academic Success Pro gram at Boyd Law, co-teach the Law yering Process III course.

Helping students tackle perfor mance tests is just one component. “We are emphasizing statutory analy sis, working under time pressure, and the variety of writing tasks that new lawyers may be expected to produce in practice,” Howarth says.

For her part, Stanchi has built her career around legal writing and thrives on sharing her craft with her students. She loves to teach a course on advanced strategies for persuasion.

Stanchi believes that the Boyd School of Law’s stellar faculty mem bers should be credited for the school’s top ranking.

“They are among the best faculty in the country doing that kind of work,” Stanchi says. “And they’re not just the top teachers, not just people [who are] nationally recognized for both schol arship and service, but some of the most prolific legal writing scholars in the country.”

As one of the newest members of the faculty, Stanchi says she moved from Philadelphia to Las Vegas because she wanted to work with the best people: UNLV law professors, who are au thors of some of the top textbooks and scholarship in the field.

“Boyd has, over the course of the last 10 years or so, been on a mission to collect the best writing folks from around the country,” Stanchi says. “This was a dream job for me because of that.”

Another attribute that makes Boyd Law’s writing program spectacular, according to Stanchi, is its holistic ap proach. “The writing is taught in a con text of ‘How can we make you be the best lawyer you can be,’” Stanchi says.

Holistic approach makes Boyd School of Law’s legal writing program the best in the country

Case in point: Another new LPIII course focuses on writing for trials and advocacy, and is taught by profes sor Joe Regalia.

“Advanced Trial Advocacy LPIII merges on-your-feet courtroom skills with the fast-paced trial writing that real attorneys use in real civil and criminal trials,” Regalia says. “Usu ally courses at other law schools focus either on courtroom skills like open ing statements and witness examina tions—or writing—but not usually both together.”

Stanchi says many students come to law school thinking lawyers go into trial just winging it because they’ve watched a lot of TV and mov ies. “But that’s often not how a real trial gets conducted,” she says. “Most top-notch trial lawyers have a trial notebook; they’ve written out their motions ahead of time, they are pre pared to brief complex trial issues. So that’s just an incredible addition to the curriculum. That’s an area in which many students may not realize that writing is critical.”

Of course, learning how to write is a lifetime pursuit, and it’s OK if stu dents don’t immediately find it easy. But with study, practice, and the help of UNLV’s world-class faculty, the payoff will eventually happen.

The most gratifying moment for Stanchi is when alums reach out to her with writing success stories: “That for me—I could just die happy,” Stanchi says. “Just knowing that you helped somebody to succeed at some thing hard is pretty amazing.”

“

Most top-notch trial lawyers have a trial notebook; they’ve written out their motions ahead of time, they are prepared to brief complex trial issues. So that’s just an incredible addition to the curriculum. That’s an area in which many students may not realize that writing is critical.”

KATHRYN M. STANCHI BOYD LAW PROFESSOR

ALUMNI GOLF TOURNAMENT GENEROSITY PAR FOR THE COURSE

The William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV Alumni Chapter hosted its eighth annual golf tournament September 23 at the Angel Park Golf Club.

The event has been the driving force behind the fully funded Boyd Law Alumni Chapter Scholarship Endowment ($48,000). The endowment allows the chapter to award, at minimum, a $1,500 scholarship annually, in perpetuity, to a Boyd Law student.

The tournament’s net revenue over the last five tournaments has been about $100,000. The chapter, which has built up its reserves over the past five years, was able to survive through COVID-19 when it was unable to host a tournament and had no significant revenue stream.

The chapter also uses funds from the tournament to support student activities, law school events, and alumni networking.

Hitting a ‘Durand Slam’

BY PAT MCDONNELL

Frank Durand emphasizes that aca demic law professionals tend to de velop a positive culture at work when they make the most of the tools and wisdom they have acquired.

Only now, a year into retirement after almost 24 years at the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV, is it eas ier for him to fully gather that wisdom and see all the collective progress he and his colleagues made since August 1998, when 142 students comprised the school’s charter class.

“It’s difficult to chart a path in life if you travel a straight line,” says Du rand, who retired as Boyd Law’s asso ciate dean for student affairs on Nov. 2, 2021. “It’s the twists and the turns and off-roading experiences that help you find your direction. There are no ir revocable wrong turns as long as you are trying to find the right way.”

That metaphorical dusty desert

path to a fully realized law school unique to Nevada was set at the for mer Paradise Elementary School, across Tropicana Avenue from the UNLV campus. Durand knew even then a solid foundation was in place. He had just been hired away from George Washington University’s law school as Boyd Law’s first assistant dean for admissions and financial aid.

“The foundation of Boyd tells me that it will endure and thrive,” he says. “I know the good work that so many people did to ensure the law school’s integrity.”

Durand credits the law school’s founders—Dick Morgan, Christine Smith, Rick Brown, Mary Berkheiser, and Dianne Fouret—for not fearing failure at the school’s inception. He looks back to his own days as a student at Stanford Law School, where success, for him, was not inscribed in stone.

“My experience in law school felt like a failure at times because I was investing in something that I wasn’t sure was right for me,” he says. “But as I reflected upon it, it turned out to be the right path for me. So many signifi

cant things happen in life when you’re not on the ‘correct road.’”

That path, for Durand, leads straight into the future with the Dean Frank D. Durand Scholarship. The endowed fund targets first-generation law students and those who are active in promoting community and inclu siveness, both at Boyd Law and in the Las Vegas region. At the end of Sep tember 2022, scholarship donations had netted almost $42,000.

The scholarship is another testa ment to team building, and that con cept excites Durand as he and his wife, Veronica, have begun a new chapter of their lives in Rapid City, South Da kota. He was touched that friends at Boyd Law renamed the school’s Spring Fling social event the “Durand Slam” in his honor. The softball tour nament is typically held annually on campus in March or April.

“I dearly love it,” he professes. “I’m honored to have it named for me. If there’s one thing I miss, it’s Spring Fling. I loved the friendly competition among students, alums, staff, and fac ulty. It was just a ton of fun.”

Retired dean reflects on quarter-century of service to Boyd Law

“ The foundation of Boyd tells me that it will endure and thrive. I know the good work that so many people did to ensure the law school’s integrity.”

Connecting People, Serving Community

BY PAT MCDONNELL

Jean Whitney, William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV emerita professor, calls founding Associate Dean Christine Smith a “Connector Extraordinaire.”

It’s a title that befits someone who capped her 25-year career at Boyd Law in June as associate dean for public service, compliance, and administra tion. Yet retirement from UNLV is not a step back from community service for Smith, not in the least. Instead, she is continuing to help people all over the region as the new director of com munity initiatives and outreach for the Legal Aid Center of Southern Nevada.

“I think one of my strengths is that I remember people,” says Smith, who came to Las Vegas with founding Dean Dick Morgan in 1997 from Ari zona State University’s Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law. Her final position at ASU’s law school, where she had worked since 1976, was assis tant dean of student services.

Communication goes hand-in-hand with public service, and after a twoweek vacation in September, Smith had 50 requests for help coordinating a Le gal Aid presence at various Clark Coun ty community events later in the year. Since 1998, she connected Boyd Law students to one of her top priorities— pro-bono work—through free weekly Community Legal Education classes that students were required to teach under the supervision of local attorneys.

“I’m amazed by the number of Boyd grads who are recognized for their probono work,” she says of the law school’s program, run in partnership with both the Legal Aid Center and Nevada Le

gal Services. It has helped more than 76,000 Nevadans gain access to free legal service. “It’s their responsibility to give back and help people.”

Smith also developed the Partners in Pro Bono and Pro Bono Honors Program at the law school to enhance these valuable networking opportuni ties for students in the community.

To boost the effort, Boyd School of Law officials renamed the Community Service Program the Christine Smith Community Service Program and named one Public Interest Fellow af ter Smith to recognize her professional contributions to students.

“That was a wonderful gift the law school gave me,” she says. “We have about 20 fellows. They are awarded a one-half tuition scholarship for every year they are in the program. They also receive stipends to do public in terest work so they can give back.”

Smith’s work with the Legal Aid Cen

ter complements the fellowship pro gram as she helps Southern Nevadans learn how to access more services.

“People need legal help,” she notes. “Seventy-six percent of people who need legal help in Nevada don’t get it.”

When Morgan sought Smith’s as sistance to lay the foundation of the law school back in 1997, he offered her the associate dean of academic and student affairs position. Daunting tasks lurked, but Smith, Morgan, and other founders opened the school just 11 months after they arrived. Helping to get American Bar Association ac creditation in what she said was “the shortest amount of time possible” was her greatest accomplishment as a founding dean.

“I feel like I’ve had a very privileged life,” Smith says. “There are so many people who need a lot of help. If we all did just a little something, we could make people’s lives better.”

“ There are so many people who need a lot of help. If we all did just a little something, we could make people’s lives better.”

Boyd Law names Community Service Program in honor of retired Associate Dean Christine Smith

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Windsor Park: The SInking Streets won several filmmaking and activism awards.

Opposite: Then-UNLV Film undergraduate student Leez Alkhoury interviews Claytee D. White of UNLV’s Oral History Research Center.

That Sinking Feeling

Boyd Law and the College of Fine Arts at UNLV produce a documentary about Windsor Park homes built over geologic faults and facing long-term subsidence problems

BY MIKE WEATHERFORD

YOU CAN’T JUST TAKE A MAGIC SWORD and slice through the Gordian knot of a convo luted problem decades in the making. But you can make a documentary—a film to pull that problem into focus and shine some light on it.

“Advocacy is the first step,” says state Senator Dina Neal of Windsor Park: The Sinking Streets, the short film that came of her seeking help from the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV about longstanding problems in a North Las Vegas neighborhood. “You can find strange bedfellows to help you on an issue.”

After Neal reached out to the law school, part of its response was to reach out in turn, across campus to the College of Fine Arts. Film students ended up collaborating on a 14-minute documen tary about Windsor Park, the historically Black neighborhood built over geologic faults and an aquifer in the 1960s. Two decades later, residents began to notice a problem: Houses began to sink after groundwater was pumped from the aquifer to provide drinking water. Pumping can reacti vate faults and cause surface fissures and differ ential compaction of soil. The problem is called subsidence.

House foundations cracked and broke; so did water and gas lines.

The entanglement involving city, state, and fed

eral officials—wrangling over ques tions of how much a solution would cost and who was going to pay for it— has dragged on since the 1980s.

Over the years, a good percentage of the residents accepted financial incentives to move. But no single so lution fit everyone who stayed. Some considered themselves too advanced in age or financially unable to take on a mortgage for the remaining balance on another home.

Moreover, in 1991, the North Las Ve gas City Council passed a resolution suspending permits for new buildings or additions to existing buildings in the neighborhood. Although the reso lution was later rescinded, the neigh borhood near the North Las Vegas Airport continued to stagnate as razed houses left abandoned lots to become dumping grounds for trash.

The quagmire fell in Neal’s lap again in 2019, when North Las Vegas moved toward approval of a zoning change to turn a neighboring 86 acres into a light industrial park.

That raised some basic questions: Why would new construction be al lowed when neighborhood improve ments are contested? (“The residents were fighting to just replace the brick fences in front of their homes and be ing told they could not do it,” Neal says.) Would the new industry bring

quality jobs accessible to the neighbor hood? Or would it make the environ ment even worse for the remaining residents and the neighboring magnet elementary school, Gilbert Academy for the Creative Arts?

“I would say I was getting tired,” Neal recalls. “I was literally just driv ing one day and I said, I need to find someone else who is going to help me. I can’t do this one alone.”

Neal met with former Boyd Law Dean Dan Hamilton. “She showed up with a huge stack of documents, and he decided she needed some help,” says Frank Fritz, a senior fellow and adjunct professor at the law school, who has experience in environmental and climate law.

“As soon as I heard the story I thought, ‘That’s wrong. Something has to be done about this.’ I just had an emotional response to it,” Fritz says. “There’s not a one-size fits-all answer. But honestly, these people who live in these houses did nothing wrong. Their houses were destroyed through forces beyond their control. Built on top of geological faults which were not detected. And maybe could not have been detected.”

Fritz took the lead on the project with now-departed professor Ngai Pindell and put out a call for a student research assistant to organize Neal’s

From the documentary, an unidentified family in front of a Windsor Park home, 1965.

Opposite:

documents and create a timeline from them.

Student Sebastian Ross had other offers to be a research assistant, but this project resonated on a personal level: His family once lived in nearby Cibola Park. “It afforded me the op portunity to give back to a margin alized community. To a community that was overlooked,” says Ross, who has since graduated from the law school. “At least that’s the sense I got from the residents after spend ing time with them over the last cou ple of years.”

Another family connection helped inspire the idea to make a documen tary. “I was making dinner or some thing, thinking, What else could we do?” Fritz says. “I was stirring some thing, and I thought, ‘What if we make a documentary film?’”

He credits the inspiration to his sister-in-law. Ramona Díaz directed A Thousand Cuts, an acclaimed featurelength documentary about an inde pendent news website battling to do uncensored reporting in the Philip pines. (The film was accepted by the Sundance Film Festival and aired on PBS as part of its Frontline series.)

Neal.

The idea landed in the right place: Associate professor of film Brett Car oline Levner’s Documentary Tech niques class.

Then-UNLV Film undergraduate student Leez Alkhoury interviews Nevada state Senator Dina

Hope floats: After the film, talks continue about the future

BY MIKE WEATHERFORD

The students had to finish their film and move on. But the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV continues to be part of talks about the future of the troubled Windsor Park neighborhood.

Boyd Law faculty, including profes sor Frank Fritz, and students are tak ing part in discussions between state Senator Dina Neal and the Lincoln Property Company, which in August closed on 86 acres it plans for light in dustrial development next to Windsor Park. After the documentary (Windsor Park: The Sinking Streets) debuted last year, an attorney for the developers reached out to meet with Neal.

“I’m so grateful to professor Fritz because I was like, “This is becoming a lot,’” Neal says. “And he’s just like, ‘We can do this.’”

A zoning change allowing industri al use of the 86 acres dashed hopes for Neal’s first choice: a new residential neighborhood next to Windsor Park, with its remaining residents moved into new houses there.

But Fritz and Neal say the attention

created by the student film helped make the developers sympathetic to improvements and proposals. Among them: neighborhood access to qual ity job opportunities and recreational park improvements. “I’m grateful Lin coln Property and the City of North Las Vegas are willing to talk to us and offer these things,” Fritz says.

Before the law school’s involve ment, Neal says she felt like her efforts were seen by North Las Vegas officials as, “Why do you keep digging up dirt and making us look bad?” “And I was like, ‘Am I though? I’m trying to help a neighborhood that’s been in a [poor] condition for the past 25 or 30 years. And it matters to me, and it should matter to you.’”

When Windsor Park started build ing out in 1964 in an area near Martin Luther King Boulevard and Carey Avenue, Las Vegas was still actively segregated. The 48 acres, with room for 241 homes, created an opportunity for Black homeownership in an era when blatant “red lining” for home loans prevented minority ownership in most of the city. “These were the

first homes for African American families, the majority of them military families,” Neal says.

But the subdivision was built over geologic faults and an aquifer. The homes began to sink as groundwater was pumped out.

By 1988, the Department of Housing and Urban Development estimated it would cost $12 million to $14 million to move the affected residents. But the City of North Las Vegas moved the number closer to $5.4 million.

In 1994, about 45 of the residents accepted offers to move into nearby homes built for them. But Neal says the new homes were “almost like a mobile home kind of setup” and resi dents “didn’t like the way they were built.” Within a year, paint started peeling and home warranties began to expire. “But yet their mortgage was rolled over to these homes, and they were just out of luck,” Neal notes, so other residents said no to that move.

In 1997, the city offered $50,000, later raised to $100,000, toward new houses, which was enough to encour age another 43 residents to move. But others felt they weren’t young enough, or in any financial position to take on a new mortgage.

As the situation evolves, “I’m just trying to keep my promise to the resi dents,” Neal says, trying to “move the needle forward for these families so that they didn’t stay in a state of invisibility.”

“

I’m just trying to keep my promise to the residents,” Neal says, trying to “move the needle forward for these families so that they didn’t stay in a state of invisibility.”

DINA NEAL NEVADA STATE SENATOR

“You do what you can to fix the larger problem in pieces,” Fritz says. “Maybe in a step-by-step way, we can get justice for people in Windsor Park.”

“One of the things law school offers is perspective on policy and policymaking and local government,” says Sebastian Ross, the recent law school graduate who was the documentary project’s first research assistant.

It became “a good lesson,” he says, in seeing how state, federal, and local governments interact and “how they respond to each other with complex situations such as what we’ve seen with Windsor Park. I think this proj ect really highlighted how complex that can be, and how important it is to produce thoughtful consideration when trying to help people out.”

It’s important that the residents have their stories immortalized. They have their voices and their opinions heard. It’s hard to create a community moving forward that’s going to be inclusive and efficient without understanding some of the mistakes that we made in the past.”

SEBASTIAN ROSS THE DOCUMENTARY’S FIRST RESEARCH ASSISTANT

“Every spring I try to find an orga nization or nonprofit to help” by mak ing a short film, Levner says.

The collaborations began in 2018 with Splashing the Streets, a film about water conservation made with UNLV’s Department of Civil & En vironmental Engineering and Con struction. These projects give students the experience of working for a client, while organizations such as the the ater troupe Broadway in the Hood get a film they can use for promotion. “It just seems like a win-win situation,” Levner says.

When the law school team laid out the whole Windsor Park saga in the spring of 2021, students responded with “a whole bunch of questions and a whole bunch of ideas,” Fritz says. “It seemed like at the end of the class, everyone thought, ‘Wow, we want to do this’”—even if the class seemed “a little overwhelmed by the seriousness of the task they’d been given.”

Levner adds, “As soon as the law yers pitched the story to us and left, the students were like, ‘We’re scared, Brett. We don’t want to mess this up. These residents—we feel like we’re re sponsible to them.’

“Which was good,” Levner says. “There’s actually more pressure when you’re working to help others. It helps

incentivize them, bring them together as a team.”

Because of the pandemic, the team only met in person for the first time when it assembled at Windsor Park to film the neighborhood and interview residents in their homes. The resulting images speak volumes in conveying the blight of the abandoned area, es

Above, from the documentary, a John W. Bell photograph of a house in the Windsor Park subdivision in North Las Vegas shows differential settlement. Left, a current house in the affected area filmed for the documentary.

pecially when compared with histori cal photos showing its 1960s promise. The interviews with Windsor Park’s “matriarch,” Annie Walker, and other longtime residents bring the problem home on a gut level that years of news paper clippings couldn’t match.

“I watched it on my computer, and I cried,” Fritz says. “I still cry some times when I see the film. Ms. Walker really gets to me. It’s a complicated story, and to boil it down into 14 min utes, it seemed extraordinarily skill ful to me.”

The film was officially unveiled at a screening and panel discussion on campus that drew more than 100 people in September 2021. “I think the film has moved the ball forward,” Fritz says. “It got people’s attention. After the premiere, several elected officials called up Senator Neal and asked how they could help.”

The documentary helped open the door to ongoing talks between Neal,

city officials, and the Dallas-based Lincoln Property Company, which re cently received the OK to build a light industrial park on the neighboring 86 acres. (Lincoln is different from the developer that proposed, but failed to get approval for, an industrial park in 2019.)

“I think one of the routes you take in trying to find a solution is spreading

the message as wide as you can, just so people are at least aware of what is going on,” says Ross, the research as sistant who also ended up as the film’s voice-over narrator.

“

“I watched (the documentary) on my computer, and I cried. I still cry sometimes when I see the film. Ms. Walker really gets to me. It’s a complicated story, and to boil it down into 14 minutes, it seemed extraordinarily skillful to me.”

FRANK FRITZ BOYD LAW ADJUNCT PROFESSOR

On a practical level, “the film tells the story in a compact way you can share easily,” Fritz says. “Any time we need to interact with somebody about the site, we can just send them the film and say, ‘Here’s the story.’ It has an effect on the conversation, because people can get an incredible amount of history in a very short period of time. It’s important to feel the tragedy and suffering of the people in the neigh borhood.”

Beyond that, “It’s important that the residents have their stories immortal ized. They have their voices and opin ions heard. It’s hard to create a com munity moving forward that’s going to be inclusive and efficient, without understanding some of the mistakes that we made in the past.”

Longtime Windsor Park resident Annie Walker is interviewed for the documentary.

With a Boyd Law degree creating career paths she

The Raider Way

Ascending to New Heights

The Las Vegas Raiders’ Sandra Douglass Morgan knows why she was tabbed to be the first Black female president of an NFL franchise: She’s qualified

BY MATT JACOB

BY MATT JACOB

never could have envisioned, new Raiders President Sandra Douglass Morgan is …

Nevada’s first Black city attorney who went on to become the first Black woman to chair the state’s esteemed Gaming Control Board has just been introduced as the new president of the Las Vegas Raiders.

In so doing, Morgan has become the first Black woman—and just the third female and third Black person—to hold such a position in NFL history.

As the news conference announc ing her hiring concludes, Morgan exchanges pleasantries and poses for photos with family and friends. Some of those friends have been part of Morgan’s inner circle for decades. As such, they’ve had a front-row seat to her meteoric ascent, from high school class president to double major at the University of Nevada, Reno, to timid first-year student at the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV to boss of one of just 32 NFL franchises (in her hometown, no less).

These friends? They’re beyond thrilled for Morgan. And now that her latest professional accomplishment is official, they’re ready to celebrate.

“I was so grateful they were all there, especially since many took off work to come to the announcement,” Morgan says almost two months later while sitting in a conference room on the first floor of the Raiders’ pristine headquarters in west Henderson. “So after the press conference, they came over, congratulated me, and said, ‘OK, do you want to go grab something to eat and celebrate?’ And I was like, ‘Uh, I have to go to work!’

“It wasn’t until later that I thought, ‘I really should’ve spent some more time with them.’ But I knew there was so much stuff to be done. The employ

ees here had been without a president for months, so it was important that I start getting to know them.”

It was a leadership gesture straight out of the CEO 101 handbook. It also was a gesture her former Eldorado High classmates saw coming a quar ter century earlier, when Morgan was tagged with this senior superlative in the school’s 1996 yearbook:

“On the Way Up”

“You can’t be what you can’t see.” — Marian Wright Edelman, children’s and civil rights activist, and founder of the Children’s Defense Fund

Morgan references this quote toward the end of an hourlong get-to-knowyou conversation, and she does so rather matter-of-factly when asked about her trailblazing career and what (if any) responsibility she feels to pull other women and minorities through the latest glass ceiling that she has shattered.

With Morgan, though, Edelman’s words come with a side of irony. Be cause this—being president of an NFL franchise in Las Vegas—wasn’t some thing she ever envisioned.

“We’re always going to encourage our children and the generations be hind us to strive for anything,” she says. “But it wasn’t my specific dream to be the president of an NFL team. Because I never saw it.”

What she did see growing up in blue-collar East Las Vegas were two hard-working parents—her father, Gilbert, a U.S. Air Force master ser geant stationed at Nellis Air Force Base, and her mother, Kil Cha, a keno runner of Korean descent who worked at multiple legendary Las

SANDRA DOUGLASS MORGAN FILE

Age: 44

Current job: President of the Las Vegas Raiders

Family: husband Don Morgan (for mer NFL player); children Dylan and Dana; parents Gilbert (retired U.S. Air Force master sergeant) and Kil Cha (retired casino worker); sister Sonya Douglass (professor at Columbia University in New York)

The early years: Grew up in East Las Vegas, attending Eldorado High School, where as a senior she was captain of the cheerleading team and class president.

Secondary education: Earned her bachelor’s degree in political science from the University of Nevada, Reno, and her juris doctor from the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV in 2003.

Did you know: Morgan’s older sister, Sonya, earned her master’s in public administration (2002) and master’s in educational leadership (2007) from UNLV.

It’s a sweltering early July day inside climate-controlled Allegiant Stadium, and Sandra Douglass Morgan has just officially made history—yet again.

QUOTABLE

Morgan on her “career” as an athlete: “I was a cheerleader all four years in high school and ran track in elementary and middle school, and as a freshman and sophomore in high school. Then I realized if I didn’t have a passion to do it in college, why suffer running in 100-plus-degree heat in the late spring? But track provided me a great structure and foundation at that time in my life.”

Morgan on her early career: “There were definitely a lot of forks in the road, a lot of meandering turns. But throughout one’s journey as an attorney, you learn about yourself and the type of law you want to practice or the type of firm for which you want to practice or the type of business or corporation you want to represent. I went from a midsize law firm to in-house to public service to in-house again to an international law firm. Along the way, a couple of my mentors said, ‘I think you’re moving around a little bit too much.’ But my mindset was, ‘If this is an opportunity that can help me expand my skill set and maybe expose

me to an area [of law] that I’m not as well versed in, I’m going to go for it.’”

Morgan on leadership: “What’s worked for me is communication. Being able to tell people, ‘No,’ or, ‘Yes,’ and giving them the ‘why’ behind it is important. You don’t have to explain all the reasoning behind your decisions, but by giving them some insight into ‘why’ helps them understand what you expect from them as a leader and being part of a team.”

Morgan on her appointment as chair of the Nevada Gaming Control Board, the first Black woman to hold the post: “There were a lot of people who were not shy about saying why they thought I got appointed. It was a political appoint ment, obviously—it always has been. But somehow, when I got appointed, it was even more political. But I’m really grateful to the previous chairs I spoke with—A.G. Burnett, Dennis Neilander, and Mark Lip parelli—for their consistent support and being willing to share their insight and

expertise regarding that role.”

Morgan on being asked to deliver the commencement address to Boyd Law’s class of 2022: “That was very humbling. To think that this school thought enough of what I’ve done to ask me to share my journey with new graduates, it was a tre mendous honor. If I was able to inspire just one of those graduates, it was worth it.”

Morgan’s message to current Boyd Law students: “Lean into the opportunities that the law school offers, whether it be journals or advocacy groups. And get to know your classmates. These are the people you’re g oing to be practicing law with—even if you go out of state, you’re go ing to be part of that alumni network. Also, show grace to others. Law school is very stressful, whether you’re a full-time or parttime student, and people handle stress in different ways. So be civil and know that you’re all striving toward the same goal of getting that law degree. Finally, remember to give back.”

“ Every chapter, you have a bit of self-doubt: Do I belong here? Is this the right place for me? Did I make the right decision? As you get older, you don’t have time to dwell on things like that, so you just move on. But I remember that first day at orientation ...”

“ Kudos to Dean Durand. I’m so thankful to him for explaining the process to me and keeping me informed,” Morgan says. “I was willing to take that leap because I knew that by the time I graduated, I could practice in any state.”

Vegas casinos, including the longago shuttered Landmark and Impe rial Palace.

Morgan also saw someone else, ev ery weeknight, through her family room television.

“Connie Chung definitely was a role model for us,” Morgan says of the veteran television newswoman, who was among the first women and female minorities to anchor a national network news broadcast. “Not only was she bright and captivating, but it was inspiring to know that everybody looked to her—a minority woman—to deliver their daily news information.”

So as a teenager, Morgan set her sights on a career in journalism. After graduating near the top of her class at Eldorado High—where she was class president, captain of the cheerleading team, and a member of the National Honors Society—she earned a Presi dential Scholarship. Morgan used that award to head north to UNR, where she enrolled as a communications major.

However, during her sophomore year, a growing scandal on the other side of the country led Morgan to sign up for a class that would alter her orig inal career plan and, really, her life.

The scandal: President Bill Clin ton’s impeachment. The class: consti tutional law.

Morgan found the course so fascinat ing that she quickly developed an inter est in law school. Just one problem: That interest didn’t exactly jibe with the fami ly budget. “The amount of money it was going to cost—just the tuition—was so daunting, I didn’t even have a conversa tion with my parents about it,” she says. “So while it was something I wanted to do, I didn’t know how to go about mak ing it happen.”

Despite that uncertainty, as she wrapped up her undergraduate de gree at UNR—where she majored in political science and minored in communications, finishing in just 3½ years—Morgan began applying to law schools. Except for one school in Mis souri (where her grandmother lived), all of her law school applications were mailed west to California.

Enter Frank Durand.

One of the founding deans of the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV—which would become Ne vada’s first fully accredited law school—Durand ran into Morgan dur ing a visit to UNR’s campus. He was

there to convince students interested in attending law school to consider Boyd Law, which had opened in 1998 … in a renovated elementary school across from the university’s campus.

Durand’s sales pitch hinged on a promise he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep: The law school had ap plied for provisional accreditation with the American Bar Association, and all signs indicated that the ap plication would be approved. That, in turn, would start the ball rolling toward full accreditation, which Du rand told Morgan (and other prospec tive students) should be in place by her target graduation date of May 2003.

But nothing was a given. And with out accreditation, students who re ceived their juris doctor from Boyd Law would only be permitted to prac tice law within Nevada’s borders.

After meeting Durand, Morgan be came intrigued by the idea of attend ing law school in her hometown. She knew she would save money living at home and get a break on tuition as an instate student. “My only concern about UNLV at the time,” she says, “was accreditation.”

That concern was alleviated when

Then-North Las Vegas City Attorney Morgan and Mayor John Lee address residents attending the 2016 National Night Out community safety event at Desert Horizon Park.

Boyd Law received its provisional ac creditation before Morgan had to make her final decision. Then the school came through with some financial as sistance, and that sealed the deal.

“Kudos to Dean Durand. I’m so thankful to him for explaining the process to me and keeping me in formed,” Morgan says. “I was willing to take that leap because I knew that by the time I graduated, I could prac tice in any state.”

In fact, it wasn’t until February 2003—just two months before Mor gan was to walk across the stage in a cap and gown and receive her J.D. as part of the law school’s third graduat ing class—that the school got the of ficial word: The ABA granted full ac creditation.

Sitting at a glass conference table inside Raiders head quarters, Morgan exudes the kind of confidence you would expect from an NFL team president. Polished, professional, engaging— even to someone who is meeting her for the first time, there’s little doubt she’s as ready for this challenge as all the others she has encountered (and conquered) during her career.

It’s a far cry from the Sandra Doug lass who arrived at the Boyd School of Law for her first day as a law student.

“Every chapter, you have a bit of self-doubt: Do I belong here? Is this the right place for me? Did I make the right decision?” she says. “As you get

older, you don’t have time to dwell on things like that, so you just move on. But I remember that first day at orien tation ...”

One memory in particular: The mo ment when students were asked to stand up and deliver a brief soliloquy about their background.

“It was a lot of ‘My father is a law yer. My uncle is a lawyer. I worked for him in the mailroom of his law of fice’—things like that. Because I never really knew any lawyers, I had no frame of reference, which added to the self-doubt a little bit.”

By the end of the first semester, though, Morgan had found her foot ing as a law student. She joined the Organization for Women Law Stu dents, as well as the Minority Law Students Association. (Of the lat ter, she says, “There really wasn’t enough of one demographic for us to each have our own [group], so we all kind of cobbled together, which was wonderful.”)

Like all Boyd School of Law stu dents who have come before and af ter her, Morgan volunteered with the Legal Aid Center of Southern Nevada, helping to counsel those in the com munity who needed legal assistance but couldn’t afford a practicing law yer. While such pro bono work is re quired for graduation, Morgan didn’t need her arm twisted. Rather, she openly embraced the school’s commit ment to community service.

“Going straight from undergrad

into law school, with no real life or work experience, it pushes you to get out of your comfort zone,” she says. “Having to take a class to be able to explain to the community, ‘This is what the small claims process looks like; this is what the landlord/tenant process looks like; these are steps you need to take to protect your rights or advocate for yourself’ was a huge responsibility and something I needed.”

Another element of law school Mor gan embraced: the regular repartee with fellow students, several of whom were much older.

“It was interesting to be in my early 20s and in the full-time pro gram with students who were neu rosurgeons, dentists—people who had established careers—and hav ing conversations about people’s rights, suspect classifications, dis crimination, abortion rights, fun damental rights to privacy, and ev eryone obviously having different opinions,” she says. “I remember someone making a comment about the constitution and whether it’s a living, breathing document, then 30 minutes later sitting in another class with the same people talking about civil procedure or profession al responsibility.

“Those law school experiences taught me that you’re going to have people who have differences of opin ions but you can still find commonal ity and be respectful of each other.”

From left, in 2019, Nevada Gaming Control Board member Terry Johnson, Executive Secretary Marie Bell, Morgan, and member Phil Katsaros.

“

In-house counsel and litigation attorney for law firms big and small. City attorney for North Las Vegas. Director of external affairs for AT&T. Nevada Athletic Commission member. Nevada Gam ing Commission commissioner (ap pointed by Governor Brian Sando val). Nevada Gaming Control Board chair (appointed by Governor Steve Sisolak). Member of the board of directors for such corporations as Caesars Entertainment, Fidelity Na tional Financial and Allegiant Trav el Company. And, now, president of the Las Vegas Raiders.

When it comes to impressive résu més, well, good luck topping Morgan’s. Surely, this was all part of a grand plan she mapped out two decades ago, right? Nope. In fact, when she graduated from the Boyd School of Law in May 2003, her grand plan was simply this: Pass the bar, get a job.

“We have wonderful qualities here with respect to being loyal, having a diverse workforce, and having the support of an owner who understands the importance of inclusion—someone who respects people for their abilities and talents but also makes sure they’re treated well when they come to work.”

“My parents were there [for graduation], and I could sense their thoughts were, ‘Yes, we know she gradu ated from law school, but what does that mean?’ As parents, they’re always going to worry. And I remem ber them asking, ‘OK, now what are you going to do?’ And I said, ‘I don’t know—I have to figure this out!’”

Clearly, she did. Which is why Raid ers owner Mark Davis pursued her to run the business operations of his storied NFL franchise. It was a pur suit that began in summer 2021, when Davis invited Morgan and her hus band, Don Morgan—who played four years in the NFL with the Minnesota Vikings and Arizona Cardinals—to attend a preseason game at Allegiant Stadium.

“[Davis] said he’d heard about me from a few people and wanted to meet, but it wasn’t any kind of job in terview,” Morgan says. “We talked for a bit, he said, ‘Enjoy the game,’ and we

kept in contact after that.

“[I knew] he wanted me to be in volved [with the Raiders] in some way with something—nothing clearly defined—but at the time my plate was full. So I told him it just wasn’t good timing for me.”

After Morgan was named vice chair of the 2024 Las Vegas Super Bowl Host Committee in December, she at tended the Super Bowl in Los Angeles in February 2022. While there, she ran into Davis. “He said, ‘You keep saying no!’” Morgan says. “And I told him, I don’t recall ever saying ‘No’; I just said the timing wasn’t right.”

That changed about six months later, when the two began having se rious conversations about the future of the Raiders’ franchise and the role Morgan could play in helping Davis map out and fulfill his vision, from improving the organizational culture to being a trusted and valued commu nity partner.

Davis’ message in a nutshell: “We’ve done a lot here in the city, we’re going to do more, and I see the Raiders in you.”

He offered Morgan the job of presi dent, and after talking it over with her family, she accepted.

“I think I had to convince myself, but I also knew in my gut when Mark first mentioned the opportunity that this was something I had to do,” Mor gan says. “I just had to make sure that, one, it was the best thing for me and my family, and two, the best for the Raid ers’ organization. After everything they’ve gone through during their jour ney and transition [from Oakland to Las Vegas], I needed to be sure I could be the stabilizing force in the front of fice that Mark was seeking.”

If Morgan had any initial doubts about taking the job, they were erased when Davis explained to her who would be the first to learn about the historic hire.

“As we were talking about my start date, he told me multiple times, ‘Be fore we announce anything [publicly], you need to meet with the employees first. They need to see you, they need to hear from you, and they need to hear from me as to why I selected you to be our next president,’” she says. “That was very telling.”

As one would expect, the Raiders’ new leader ar rived for her first day on the job with a list of goals. Short term: Bring stability to the front office and enhance communication among departments. Long term: Con tinue to grow the value of the franchise, offer the best fan experience in the NFL at Allegiant Stadium, and be recog nized as one of the best places to work.

“Like any other organization, we want to make sure everyone is on the same page, focusing on a common goal, and communicating effectively,” she says. “We have wonderful quali ties here with respect to being loyal, having a diverse workforce, and hav ing the support of an owner who un derstands the importance of inclu sion—someone who respects people for their abilities and talents but also makes sure they’re treated well when they come to work.”

There’s another long-term goal, of course, this one a bit more personal. And it ties back to that Marian Wright Edelman quote that Morgan holds dear: You can’t be what you can’t see.

Indeed, as recently as a few years ago, young Black girls living in Nevada couldn’t see themselves ever being a city attorney or head of the regulatory body that oversees the state’s most im portant industry. And as recently as a few months ago, no young Black girls living anywhere could see themselves being president of an NFL franchise.

Now, thanks to Morgan, those girls can envision being any of those things—and, hopefully, much more.

“I do think I underestimated how much attention [my hire] would receive, because I was so focused on the Raid ers and making sure that the employees knew how I planned on implementing Mark’s vision for the future here in Las Vegas,” Morgan says. “But I’m slowly realizing based on conversations with people throughout the league that this appointment is historic. And because of that, I feel like I have a responsibility to share my story and journey.

“Understanding that my position here with the Raiders might hopefully inspire others, it’s very humbling. It’s also one of the proudest moments of my life.”

Full Circle

From clerking in to presiding over a federal district courtroom, Boyd Law professor emerita Anne Traum elevates access to justice

BY STACY WILLIS

SHE IS SMART. You can tell that early in the conversation. Not only is she precise and knowledge able, she also is able to see things from multiple perspectives, as many good attorneys do.

But the issue U.S. District Court Judge Anne Traum keeps foremost in her mind is that the law is made for everyone. And without equal access to justice, the law loses some of its power and intent.

“The overarching motivation for me throughout my career has been access to justice,” says Traum, a professor at the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV from 2008 until earlier this year, when the U.S. Senate confirmed her nomination to the bench.

“Access to justice” generally refers to ensuring that people get the appropriate level of legal assis tance as well as a fair and efficient process to resolve disputes in court. Although the law is writ ten to be applied fairly, it doesn’t always play out that way. Issues such as money, time, and their understanding of legal rights often prohibit some people from experi encing equal access to justice.

Traum, 53, first gained this per spective after finishing law school at the University of California Hastings Law in San Francisco and beginning a clerkship for Judge Stanwood Duval in the U.S. Dis trict Court for the Eastern District of Louisiana. There, she began to better appreciate how the court’s work affects people’s lives.

“When you have that unique opportunity to give voice to people, and to represent them, you feel the importance. I also wanted to teach students about understanding and developing a relationship with (the client)—that’s part of practicing law.”

“One of the beauties of work ing as a clerk in the district court is I saw that trial courts are the shopkeepers of justice,” she says. “[Judge Duval] brought to his court a lot of humility, and he realized he was a public servant. He used to say the courtroom is for all of the litigants, not just for the judges or attorneys.”

As her career progressed, that humility—as well as an interest in helping the disadvantaged— emerged in Traum. She saw that people who cannot afford an expensive attorney or take the time off of work to be in court often end up quickly settling the matter in a way that may not benefit them. She wanted to help.

“I always knew I could make a contribution,” says Traum, who now presides over her own court room in the federal district court in Reno. “And I thought helping those in greater need makes the most sense.”

“

A VARIETY OF ROLES

Traum grew up in northern Califor nia. Her dad was a physician, and her mom, who graduated from college when Traum was in kindergarten, worked several jobs before settling into a career in tech. Traum majored in history and German studies at Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island. With initially no inten tion of becoming an attorney, she was considering graduate school when she had a life-shifting conversation with a friend’s mom.

The woman told her that if she had her life to do over again, she would become a lawyer because lawyers are “closer to where the decisions are made.” Traum decided to pursue law because she wanted that access and she felt that she could make a contri bution to society as an attorney.

Now her career has come full circle, from that early clerkship to her cur rent position as a district court judge, and she has made many contributions along the way.

She worked as an attorney for the U.S. Department of Justice in Wash ington, D.C., assistant U.S. attorney in Las Vegas, assistant federal public de fender for the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals in Las Vegas, special counsel to the Department of Justice in Wash ington, D.C., and professor at the Boyd School of Law.

In each of those spots, she was able to apply her intellect and natural sense of empathy to her interest in the way the law affects the lesser privileged.

“That’s a uniting passion I have,” Traum says. “As a law professor, I ended up doing two different aspects of that—working directly with stu dents and clients, educating them on the value of [building relationships with clients], and then also working on indigent defense and being an ad vocate for pro bono programs to make sure the law is working for everyone.”

At UNLV, Traum ran the Appel late Clinic; she and fellow professor Eve Hanan later founded and ran the Misdemeanor Clinic. The professors supervised law students handling misdemeanor cases from the initial charge through trial and sentencing.

“It opens (students’) eyes to the

way in which people without means experience the world and the justice system. It opens their eyes to the challenges that they face in asserting their rights and defenses,” Traum says.

“When you have that unique op portunity to give voice to people, and to represent them, you feel the impor tance,” Traum says. “I also wanted to teach students about understanding and developing a relationship with [the client]—that’s part of practicing law.”

Hanan says that is exactly what Traum accomplished as a professor. She characterizes Traum as hardworking, conscientious, and invested in every student.

“Anne remembers all of her stu dents. We couldn’t walk 15 steps into the courthouse together without a for mer student saying, ‘Hello, professor Traum.’ She had such a positive re gard and appreciation of her students. She is a mentor, and she is highly en gaged with them,” Hanan says.

“If you ask her about any of her stu dents, she would get a big smile on her face and remember details of that stu dent,” Hanan says.

WHY PROPER REPRESENTATION MATTERS

When people are not well repre sented by an attorney, it not only af fects that particular case but also has a broader effect on the law itself, Traum says. When people aren’t rep resented adequately, there is often undeveloped law. Ultimately, law de velops quicker with strong advocacy, she explains.

“Generally the law tends to evolve when someone has an advocate who can get traction in court,” Traum says.

“In many lower court proceedings, what happens quickly in the court room is mostly it.”

The ability to litigate an issue often requires money, persistence and not only a tolerance for conflict, but a pen chant for it.

“It’s actually really hard to get a spot light or test legal rules in lower court proceedings,” Traum says. “It doesn’t happen a lot at that lower level because people don’t have the time, energy, money, or stomach to fight, and they

“

It’s actually really hard to get a spotlight or test legal rules in lower court proceedings. It doesn’t happen a lot at that lower level because people don’t have the time, energy, money, or stomach to fight, and they don’t understand their rights.”

don’t understand their rights.”

As a professor, Traum implored students to dig around and learn about the legal ecosystem and the price of expediency.

GETTING TO THE FEDERAL BENCH

Another entirely different ecosystem is the political ecosystem involved in confirming federal judges.

Traum was first nominated for the open federal judge seat by President Barack Obama in April 2016. How ever, since Republicans had halted ju dicial confirmations to keep open the Supreme Court vacancy when Justice Antonin Scalia died, the Senate never voted on her nomination. She was nominated again by President Joe Biden in 2021 and was confirmed this year. She received her judicial com mission in April.

“You leave the politics to the politi cians,” Traum said of the confirma tion process. “I do what I do, and they do what they do. I’m extremely hon ored to have been chosen twice—it feels like two lightning strikes—and in the intervening time, I just tried not to let the politics of judicial nominations get to me personally.”

Traum loved being a law professor but expressed interest in the federal district court opening because of that element of public service.

“I really do love the law,” she says. “My role at the law school is a won

derful part of my career that I’m very proud of. There are not many jobs I would leave being a professor for, but there’s an aspect of public service that’s near to my heart. I think I can make a contribution and while it’s a huge learning curve, I find it so re warding.”

Once on the bench, she said, the lev el of responsibility is immense. While the public considers judges the au thority, she has a more nuanced view: She sees it as possessing an extra level of responsibility to the public.

“It’s not that I’m the authority; it’s that I’m entrusted with a lot of author ity under the law,” she says.

Even after more than than 14 years as a law professor, the learning curve on the bench has been demanding. The types of cases in district courts vary widely, and she says she has re lied on the collegiality of other federal judges as she adapts.

“The diversity and volume of cases means there is extra pressure to do your homework and get it right,” Traum says. “Fortunately, I have my colleagues who are all wonderful, and they are an incredible source of practi cal knowledge and wisdom.”

“It’s funny because every judge says, ‘I know that ultimately you’re going to do it your way,’ while still helping. It’s a really lovely ethos that’s transmitted judge to judge. You’re going to find your way, but they are there to support you finding

your way. It’s an interesting balance between community and indepen dence.”

Retired longtime federal public de fender Franny Forsman, a friend and mentor, has known Traum for about 20 years.

“What runs through Anne’s experi ence is a clear public service theme,” Forsman said. “She always approach es things from the public service and indigent defense point of view. She could’ve gone with any big national firm and made a whole lot more mon ey, but she chose not to.”

When Traum was nominated for the federal bench, Forsman said, “I was thrilled, of course. Federal court is the perfect place for her in terms of the quality of cases and quality of work she sees in front of her. … Another thing that motivates her is doing really good work. Producing excellence.”

WHAT’S FOR FUN?

“I was an academic person then, and am still—in terms of loving to read and write, and history and books,” Traum says.

But it’s not all books for Traum. “My family loves to be outside. We hike and camp and backpack.”

They also love to cook. Traum’s hus band is an accomplished baker, and Traum has recently begun to explore the art of fermentation with pickles and kimchi. “It’s a stinky craft. But it’s fun to experiment,” she says.

A MESSAGE TO YOUNG ATTORNEYS

Her advice to those just starting their careers?

“You have to do what brings you joy,” Traum says. “In law, some people like to be talking and going places, and others like to be noodling through a complicated research issue.”

One way to help figure out one’s specific passion, Traum says, is by moving around to a few different posi tions over time, if it’s possible.

“Being willing to move [jobs] over time keeps you learning,” Traum says. “Every job is an education. It teaches you what you do and don’t like, and what you are and aren’t good at.

“These are such important lessons.”

When the U.S. Supreme Court acts, professors at the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV stand alert to update their legal scholarship in their area of expertise. Students, colleagues, and the news media often seek their insight. Among many high-profile decisions this year, SCOTUS considered how crimes on Indian land should be prosecuted, how pollution is regulated, school prayer, and abortion.

“

Tribes can have their own regulations about a lot of things that might differ from state law—things like gaming or marijuana use. Now, states can use this new criminal jurisdiction as a way to go after tribal regulatory authority. I don’t know that state prosecutors will do that. But it’s possible.”

A Question of Criminal Procedure

SCOTUS

BY MATT JACOB

One U.S. Supreme Court case that mostly flew under the mainstream media’s radar was nonetheless signifi

cant to legal scholars whose work fo cuses on Native American sovereign ty—scholars such as Addie Rolnick, the San Manuel Band of Mission Indi ans Professor of Law at the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV.

Having written and taught exten sively about indigenous rights and justice systems, Rolnick kept a close eye on Oklahoma v. Castro-Huerta, the case that considered whether states had jurisdiction to prosecute non-

Indians who commit crimes against Indian people on tribal lands.

The court in late June ruled 5-4 in favor of Oklahoma. With the decision, the court blurred an almost 200-yearold sovereignty line that had largely kept states from prosecuting crimes committed on reservations—crimes that have long been prosecuted pri marily by tribal and federal officials.

“Criminal jurisdiction in Indian country has always been a compli

ADDIE ROLNICK ON NATIVE AMERICAN SOVEREIGNTY

has opened the door for states to prosecute certain crimes on Indian land. Boyd Law professor Rolnick considers the potential consequences

cated maze,” says Rolnick, who also directs Boyd Law’s Indian Nations Gaming & Governance Program. “But one category of crime we all have long known to have no gray area is when a non-Indian person commits a crime on a reservation against a vic tim who is Indian—a so-called ‘inter racial’ crime. That had always fallen under federal jurisdiction. This case changed that by saying states also can have jurisdiction over those [types of] crimes.”

Rolnick acknowledges that the scope of the decision is limited in that it only affects a small category of crimes. Trib al jurisdiction over crimes committed by non-Indians was already limited by a 1978 case, so the ruling in Oklahoma v. Castro-Huerta does not directly under cut tribal jurisdiction in most instanc es. States, for example, still can’t claim jurisdiction when a crime committed on a reservation involves an Indian de fendant and an Indian victim. Nor can states get involved if an Indian person perpetrates a crime against a non-Indi an on tribal land.

Still, she says the ruling’s implica tions could be significant, because it potentially adds another player to the criminal justice mix regarding juris diction on Native land.

“Tribes can have their own regula tions about a lot of things that might differ from state law—things like gam ing or marijuana use,” Rolnick says. “Now, states can use this new criminal jurisdiction as a way to go after tribal regulatory authority. I don’t know that state prosecutors will do that. But it’s possible.”

Translation: It could take years be fore tribal councils and scholars such as Rolnick learn the true impact of this SCOTUS ruling.

“If it turns out that states limit the way they implement it—and the court doesn’t try to expand the scope be yond this decision—the practical ef fect could be minimal,” Rolnick says. “But there’s a potential for under mining the criminal justice priorities of both the federal government and tribal governments, because we’re let ting states come in and do more inside reservations than they’ve ever been al lowed to do.”

BRET BIRDSONG ON CLIMATE CHANGE

A blow to the EPA’s ability to fight climate change

Boyd Law professor Birdsong hopes Congress’ passage of the Inflation Reduction Act mitigates decision

BY PAT MCDONNELL

In the long battle to control how in dustrial air, water, and land pollu tion is regulated, the U.S. Supreme Court has clipped the wings of federal agencies such as the Environmental Protection Agency, William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV professor Bret Birdsong believes.

In June, SCOTUS ruled in West Vir ginia v. Environmental Protection Agen cy that the EPA could not broadly reg ulate greenhouse-gas emissions from coal- and natural-gas-fired power plants without specific congressional authority to address climate change. In a 6-3 opinion, the conservative ma jority said the agency had assumed too much authority in trying to enact a transformative market shift to renew able energy sources in its bid to con tain climate change.

“What they’re doing is taking in terpretive authority away from [fed eral] agencies and reserving it to themselves as Supreme Court justices while requiring Congress to speak clearly about so-called major ques tions,” Birdsong says

With control of both the executive and legislative branches of govern ment, however, the Democratic ad ministration may have mitigated the effects of the judicial decision by pass ing important climate legislation.

President Joe Biden signed the In flation Reduction Act in August, un leashing about $370 billion in climate and clean energy funding. Birdsong says the legislation lessened the im pact of the Supreme Court’s ruling for climate action.

“Since Congress has acted, that somewhat mitigates the concern about whether [the ruling] cripples

our climate strategy,” he notes. “We still have a climate strategy; it might be effective, but the crisis requires an alltools, all-hands-on-deck approach.”

Birdsong, a Boyd Law professor since 2000, himself remembers how West Virginia’s beautifully rugged, yet sometimes dangerous landscape affected a canoe camping trip he once took on the Cacapon and upper Po tomac Rivers.

“On one memorable occasion when I was about 10, the river suddenly rose one afternoon, and I was pulled by a neighbor from a rapid after my canoe totally swamped,” he says.

Water, and the West’s lack of it, is something Birdsong is watching closely. Birdsong emphasizes that law students benefit particularly from knowing water law.

“To me, it is the most acute example of the natural world intersecting with the urban world,” he says.

As Birdsong looks ahead to the next 15 to 20 years and considers how the country will tackle the twin crises of climate change and biodiversity loss, he says law students should help soci ety balance industrial growth while it maintains healthy natural resources.

“

“What they’re doing is taking interpretive authority away from [federal] agencies and reserving it to themselves as Supreme Court justices while requiring Congress to speak clearly about socalled major questions.”

GRIFFIN ON THE ESTABLISHMENT CLAUSE

A ‘Hail, Mary’ Pass? A Postgame Prayer

Professor Griffin questions how much SCOTUS values the Establishment Clause in high school football prayer decision “

This has been a trend. The older [Supreme] Court said, ‘No, we can’t support religion.’ The government is supposed to set up a system for everyone— even the atheists and the nonbelievers.

The newer Court has weakened the Establishment Clause and put more religion in government.”

BY PAT MCDONNELL

While it did not initially appear to have the intense gravity of the U.S. Supreme Court’s overturning Roe v. Wade on June 24, the ruling on Ken nedy v. Bremerton School District three days later prompted William S. Boyd Professor of Law at UNLV Leslie Grif fin to write as energetically as she ever has.

Griffin argues that the ruling in favor of public high school coach Joseph Kennedy’s right to pray with his football players after games in Washington state weakened the First Amendment’s Establishment Clause. Many law scholars have long weighed the clause and its instruc tion that Congress “shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion” as defining tenets in ju risprudence on the separation of church and state.

“This has been a trend,” says Grif fin, who has taught at the Boyd Law for 10 years. “The older [Supreme] Court said, ‘No, we can’t support re ligion.’ The government is supposed to set up a system for everyone—even the atheists and the nonbelievers. The newer Court has weakened the Estab lishment Clause and put more religion in government.” They allowed a pub lic school’s football coach to lead his players in public Christian prayer.

Connecticut native Griffin is teach ing Constitutional Law II and Bioeth ics this semester as well as Law and Religion in Spring 2023. In August,

Foundation Press published the fifth edition of her law and religion case book, written with constitutional at torney Andrew Seidel.

“I have always studied ethics and became fascinated with the courts be cause it seemed to me they were say ing a lot about our ethical questions,” Griffin says. “So I went to law school [in 1989] to find out why that was hap pening, and have stayed interested in how the courts treat ethical questions, especially religious ethical ones.”

The former theology professor at the University of Notre Dame and Saint Joseph’s University says the future of the Supreme Court and its rulings rest in the hands of voters.

She feels that some who cast their vote don’t fully understand how the executive and legislative branches of government can induce seismic move ment on the nation’s highest court.

“If you care about the courts, pay at tention to your votes for president and Senate,” Griffin says.

When she has time away from aca demia and the law, Griffin enjoys fol lowing a New York team that is not famous for its navy blue and white pinstripes.

“I’m a huge baseball fan, and I love the Mets. I wore my Mets cap to class,” she says. “I have several students, too, who are Dodgers fans, and even one who worked for the Braves.”

LESLIE

ORENTLICHER ON ABORTION

Second Opinions

With both legal and medical degrees, professor Orentlicher shares his perspective on healthcare law

BY STACY WILLIS

When the U.S. Supreme Court over turned Roe v. Wade in June, professor David Orentlicher was uniquely qual ified to analyze the controversial de cision from the intersection of health care, ethics, public policy, and law.

Orentlicher, the Judge Jack and Lulu Lehman Professor of Law at the Wil liam S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV and director of the UNLV Health Law Program, has an M.D. from Harvard Medical School and a J.D. from Har vard Law School. He served in the In diana House of Representatives from 2002 to 2008, and he was first elected to the Nevada Assembly in 2020.

“You’ve got very important interests on both sides,” Orentlicher says. “And as people balance those interests, they draw a line at different points during gestation.”

In 1973’s Roe, the Supreme Court ruled broadly that there is a consti tutional right to privacy that includes the right to an abortion. Striking down Roe and writing the 6-3 major ity opinion in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, Associate Justice Samuel Alito called that reasoning “plainly incorrect.”

Orentlicher disagrees: “The idea that there is no constitutional basis [to the right to privacy] reflects a misun derstanding of legal principles. … The Roe Court properly recognized a fun damental interest in making repro ductive choices that includes a right to abortion. …

“One way to think about abortion is to say the pregnant woman is sus taining the life of the fetus. In other contexts, we don’t impose obligations on one person to come to the aid of an

other—even another person—to sus tain their life to that degree. … ”

For example, he says the law would never compel a parent to donate a kid ney or stem cells to their child who needs a kidney transplant or bone marrow transplant. Most parents would gladly step up for their chil dren, but they aren’t required, he says.

In his sixth year at Boyd Law, Orentlicher previously taught at In diana University McKinney School of Law. He chose UNLV because he liked the law school’s faculty, small er size, sense of community, and its

Southwestern locale. Seeing the politi cally purple Nevada turning bluer, the Democrat also felt he could contribute more to social progress here than in the solidly red Indiana.

So what does this attorney, physi cian, professor, and lawmaker do for fun?

“I like to dance,” Orentlicher says. “I particularly like to Cajun dance. I clerked in Louisiana after law school, and I took Cajun dancing lessons. It’s harder to find Cajun bands here, but fortunately, Cajun dancing works well with other music.”

“

One way to think about abortion is to say the pregnant woman is sustaining the life of the fetus. In other contexts, we don’t impose obligations on one person to come to the aid of another— even another person—to sustain their life to that degree.”

DAVID

Reputation is Key

BY ZONEIL MAHARAJ

If Kelly Dove has any advice for law students, it’s to start building your reputation early.

“I remember frequently being told during law school that Las Vegas is a small legal community,” the Wil liam S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV alumna says. “Having practiced here for 15 years, I can absolutely vouch for that statement. No one is more than a degree or two of separation. … Be the person you want to be, and be seen as, starting in law school.”

Now a partner at Snell & Wilmer, one of the largest law firms in the western United States, Dove is a living testament to that statement.

Originally from the Philadelphia area, Dove always had an interest in law, though the only lawyers she knew were on TV. Even before landing at UNLV in 2004, she built a reputation as a dedicated, hard-working student.

“ So many of my professors gave advice and helped me make the most of my education and opportunities.”

KELLY DOVE PARTNER, SNELL & WILMER

She earned two undergraduate degrees in philosophy and English literature, with a minor in mathematics, from Randolph-Macon Woman’s College in Virginia. A master’s in philosophy from Rice University in Texas followed.

With such a diverse, well-rounded education, Dove’s career could have gone a number of different direc tions. But law was always lingering at the back of her mind. “I came back to my interest in law because I enjoyed analysis and writing. It turned out to be a very good fit,” she says.

When she arrived at law school, Dove didn’t even know what a clerk ship was, yet she still managed to ex cel, earning a number of honors and serving as editor-in-chief of the Ne

vada Law Journal. She credits the fac ulty for her success. “So many of my professors gave advice and helped me make the most of my education and opportunities,” Dove says.

She recalls competing in, and win ning, the moot court competition at the end of her first year. “It was confidencebuilding and gave me a taste of what an appellate oral argument was really like—something I do now,” she says.

After graduating from UNLV, Dove clerked for Judge Philip M. Pro of the U.S. District Court for the District of Nevada and Judge Jay S. Bybee of the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, before joining Snell & Wilmer in 2009.

As a partner at Snell & Wilmer, Dove focuses on commercial litiga

tion and appellate law, counseling companies and individuals on mat ters ranging from fraud and breach of contracts to wrongful foreclosures and consumer protection. She also counseled plaintiffs in Sevcik v. San doval, Nevada’s marriage equality case that would result in the Ninth Circuit declaring marriage bans unconstitu tional in 2014.

Dove’s reputation as one of the top attorneys in the state is solidified, and it’s going to stay that way.

“I am very happy with what I am doing as an appellate and litigation partner at my firm,” she says. “If I ever left this role, it would probably be to try to become a judge, but I am not quite ready for any changes yet.”

Commercial litigation attorney Kelly Dove leads by example

“A person of quiet commitment and diligence. Someone who could be counted on to deliver on her commitments and promises. She’s a very outstanding professional.”

FOUNDING DEAN FRANK DURAND ON KELLY DOVE

First but Not the Last

BY ZONEIL MAHARAJ

Jason Frierson was one of the first stu dents to agree to attend the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV. A mem ber of the charter class in 1998, he had just moved from Reno to Las Vegas by way of Compton, California, and was excited to see where he’d be studying.

He drove by the school a week be fore class would begin. At the time, the Boyd School of Law was housed at the shuttered Paradise Elementary School and was still under renovation.

“There was playground equipment outside the week before school start ed. It gave me pause,” says Frierson, who played football and did his un dergraduate study at the University of Nevada, Reno.

Once school began, he realized that he shouldn’t judge a law school by its jungle gyms.

“There were a lot of folks willing to take a risk and be a part of something big,” he says. “We were all in it together.”

The experiences and lessons learned at Boyd Law laid the founda tion for Frierson, who would go on to become Speaker of the Nevada As sembly and, now, the first Black U.S. Attorney for the District of Nevada.

It was during his early days at the Boyd School of Law that he partici pated in his first juvenile justice clinic and made his first argument in court.

“I remember I opened my mouth and things came out of my mouth that we had not rehearsed, that we had not prepared for. I was so shocked at myself,” he says. “It was the moment I knew oral advocacy was where my heart was, what my nature was, and

where my career would go.”

Frierson’s decorated career would include working in civil law, serving as a law clerk under Justice Myron E. Leavitt, and working in the state at torney general’s office under future governor Brian Sandoval. His greatest honor is his current position as U.S. Attorney for the District of Nevada. Being the first Black person in this role isn’t something he takes lightly.

“It’s important that offices that han dle the delivery of government ser vices, particularly justice to the com munity, reflect the community. For decades, I don’t know that that was the case,” Frierson says.

Although he’s the first in this posi tion, he wants to make sure that he

isn’t the last. A founding member of the Minority Law Student Association at the law school, he does outreach to similar groups to ensure everyone is considered. “I don’t recall being ex posed to the U.S. District Attorney’s office as a student,” Frierson says. Where Frierson’s career takes him next, he isn’t sure.

“This is the first time in my adult life that I have one job and I can focus on that one job and make sure Nevada gets a return on its investment. This is also the first time where I don’t know what I’m going to do next,” Frierson says. “I can say that I’m happy with the legacy that I have thus far. I’m at peace with making sure I do a good job while I’m here.”

JASON FRIERSON U.S. ATTORNEY

From being part of Boyd School of Law’s charter class to becoming the first Black U.S. Attorney for the District of Nevada, Jason Frierson blazes many trails

“I could tell he was going to have a significant impact on our state. I thought, ‘That guy’s going to be the governor of Nevada.’ I’d be delighted if he did.”

“

It’s important that offices that handle the delivery of government services, particularly justice to the community, reflect the community.”

DURAND ON JASON FRIERSON:

SAMUEL AND LEXY LIONEL

A Gift for the Ages

sentence modified so that she could be out on probation. “We didn’t feel that that was appropriate in this case,” Sin agra says. “And so I was able to make that argument to the judge, who ended up agreeing with us on this one.”

George, Utah, and did her undergrad uate work at Southern Utah Univer sity in Cedar City. She also completed an externship for Judge James Mahan, U.S. District Court, District of Nevada, in the spring.

BY PAUL SZYDELKO

It was only about 15 minutes, but it felt like forever to Courtney Sinagra, a third-year student at the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV. Just a couple of weeks into her fall externship at the Clark County District Attorney’s office, she was standing before a judge arguing on behalf of the State of Ne vada and admittedly “terrified.”

A defendant who was serving a pris on sentence had requested to have the

Sinagra had written a response to the defendant’s motion and summa rized her points for the judge, but then she had to go off script to respond to what the judge asked and the defen dant’s attorney argued.

“The judge didn’t agree with me because it was me or because of how I presented. It’s just the law. But I was proud of myself for just diving in and putting myself out there. Because I think that’s the best way to learn,” says Sinagra, who grew up in St.

What Sinagra later said was an ex hilarating episode before the judge is just one example of how the Samuel S. Lionel Externship Program at the Boyd School of Law helps students integrate what they learn in the class room with real-world experience.

Students develop and practice legal and workplace skills, and they gain an appreciation for the professional roles and ethical obligations of attorneys.

Under the supervision of lawyers and judges over the course of a se

A $1 million gift bolsters the Samuel S. Lionel Externship Program, but the value of students’ experience in the workplace is priceless

“ We are thrilled about the opportunities that this gift will offer future generations of legal academic minds.”

mester, they also obtain a deeper un derstanding of the law and see firsthand how the law is applied. They can form lasting relationships with men tors over the course of the semester, working with judges, state and local government, public interest organiza tions and, every two years, legislative placements.

The Samuel S. Lionel Externship Program offers more than 125 ap proved placements throughout Ne vada and across the nation. In 2022, students completing 167 externships will accrue more than 31,510 field hours at their externships, providing an estimated economic value of more than $850,000 in free legal services, according to professor Dawn Nielsen, a Boyd School of Law alumna who di rects the program.

The program is named in recog nition of Sam Lionel’s significant, lasting contributions to the legal community. To ensure the long-term success of the externship program, a $1 million gift last December from Lionel and his wife, Lexy, has been invested in an endowed fund. A por tion of the funds will be used each year to advance the mission of the program through enhanced program offerings, staff, and scholarships and stipends for Boyd Law students par ticipating in the program.

“Externships provide students with the opportunity to develop prac tical skills through exposure to real legal issues and challenges that en gage students fully with the intellec tual, pragmatic, ethical, and personal challenges that arise for attorneys,” Nielsen says. “Mr. Lionel’s careerlong commitment to mentoring new lawyers makes this gift even more meaningful because the Samuel S. Lionel Externship Program provides students with direct supervision and mentorship by attorneys and judges.”

THE NAMESAKE’S MISSION

It’s a mission near and dear to the heart of Sam Lionel, who practiced law for more than 80 years and has a long history of supporting Nevada’s legal community—and a steadfast passion for mentoring new attorneys.

Lionel, now 103 years old, is a re

tired U.S. Army lieutenant colonel and JAG (Judge Advocate General) officer who worked at the Pentagon for several years. One of his favorite positions throughout his career was teaching law at West Point Academy.

He’s been involved since the law school’s inception in 1998 and after he retired from practicing law in 2022, he and his wife decided that establishing the Samuel S. Lionel Externship Pro gram would be a great benefit for the Boyd School of Law and its students.

“It is important for us to see the law school and its students flourish. … ,” they said. “We are hoping the Samuel S. Lionel Externship Program will raise the profile and leadership role of the externship program.”

Lionel, who has always loved to teach, had an open-door policy at his law firm for his colleagues and stu dents. Providing long-term funding for the externship program is one way to further his legacy as the “Dean of the Nevada Bar” and support students as they gain practical experience with attorneys and judges.

“We are thrilled about the oppor tunities that this gift will offer future generations of legal academic minds. … ,” the Lionels said. “We are commit ted to Boyd Law School’s future suc cess and hope that this gift will have a lasting impact for generations to come.”

PRACTICAL MATTERS

Another third-year student who

benefited from the externship pro gram is Nick Wolfram. Born and raised in Las Vegas, the graduate of Palo Verde High School and the Uni versity of Nevada, Reno, worked for Nevada Supreme Court Justice Abbi Silver in the spring and the federal Public Defender’s Office in the fall.

“It’s been amazing seeing what these attorneys do day in and day out, and getting some actual expe rience and being able to help them with their projects,” Wolfram says. “And seeing that it’s something I would like to do at some point down the road. There’s just no other way to really get a feel for what these attor neys do.”

Wolfram, who has accepted an of fer to be a clerk for a state appellate judge next year, observed proceedings in Municipal Court, Justice Court and the Supreme Court during his time with Silver. He gained insight seeing judges, attorneys, deputy district at torneys, and public defenders in ac tion, often meeting them later to ask questions. He also completed two bench briefs, mirroring what Justice Silver’s clerks do.

“We got to see those cases play out in real time and how the product we put out lined up with the products the court put out. So that was also a really cool experience,” Wolfram says.

Sinagra, too, saw her writing skills sharpened by writing orders on Judge Mahan’s behalf last spring. Patient dis cussions with law clerks and their edits to her writing proved invaluable as she overcame some early struggles.

“Most of the time it was going to be for brevity and clarity, so taking long sentences and making them short and crystal clear is a true art in legal writing that you have to master,” Sin agra says. “I feel like through my ex ternship, I really sharpened my writ ing skills and my ability to convey thoughts more succinctly.”

Both Sinagra and Wolfram agreed that their externships provided robust real-life samples of work they hope to pursue in their legal practices in addi tion to creating lasting relationships— just how Sam Lionel envisions the ex ternship program benefiting Nevada’s legal community.

BY THE NUMBERS

MENTORS LEAVING IMPORTANT FOOTPRINTS

Huellas, “footprints” in Spanish, is a nationally recognized and award-winning mentorship program organized by La Voz, the Latin/Hispanic Law Student As sociation at the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV since 2008. Huellas creates teams of local attorneys, Boyd Law students, undergraduate students, and high school students for mentor ing and support. With the help of the Nevada Latino Bar Association, Huellas expanded to Northern Nevada this year. More than 200 people are participating in the program this academic year.

PHILANTHROPIC SUPPORT

CURRENT BOYD LAW

“I am so grateful to you.”

“With the help of your scholarship, I am the first person in my family to attend law school. As a native of Las Vegas, I want to help my community, and I am so grateful to have been given the chance to chase this dream.”

“Your scholarship allows me to achieve my dreams of attending law school. When I graduate and become an attorney, I hope to also create my own scholarship to give back to a student like me. I am so grateful to you.”

appreciation. Thank you.”

SPRING EVENTS

The William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV has vibrant speaker series, sympo sia, and conferences open to alumni and the community. Please save the date and join us.

JANUARY 26-27

Health Law Conference

FEBRUARY 21

Chris Beecroft, Jr. Memorial Lecture with University of Oregon professor Michael Moffitt. (see Page 9)

FEBRUARY 27

Honorable Philip Pro Lecture with UC Davis Martin Luther King Jr. Professor of Law Mary Ziegler.

APRIL 21

Robert D. Faiss Lecture on Gaming Law & Policy with Las Vegas attorney John T. Moran Jr.

MARCH-APRIL [DATE TBA]

Durand Slam Spring Fling

“Your generous financial support for the duration of my three-year journey as a law student brings a sense of relief and

“Your scholarship makes law school possible for me.”

YOU, TOO, CAN HELP Scan the code to give

Pedal to the Metal

In the wake of COVID, Nevada’s legal community must speed up efforts for fair justice for all

BY CRISTINA D. SILVA

The global pandemic has af fected our sense of time like nothing else we have ever experienced. Traditional notions of “work weeks” or “school years” faded against a backdrop of days blurred together. My conver sations with family, friends, and colleagues confirmed that I was not alone: The 2020s have been difficult for all.

As we try to rebuild our lives postCOVID-19, Nevada’s legal community must also devise a collective goal: We must accelerate our efforts to ensure expeditious and fair justice for everybody.

Even at the height of COVID, legal professionals kept hard at work in their unending pursuit of justice. But COVID undoubtedly forced a slowdown, which contributed to court backlogs (and further disruption of everyone’s perception of time). The backlogs can no longer just be a mere subject of conversation—a topic of disappointment.

Instead, each of us involved in the justice system must reenergize and accelerate our efforts to clear those backlogs. As a judge in the U.S. Dis trict Court for the District of Nevada, I take the initiative to accelerate our work seriously.

Warren E. Burger, then chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, in a speech before the American Bar As sociation in 1970, described the need for an efficient legal system.

“A sense of confidence in the courts is essential to maintain the fabric of ordered liberty for a free people,” he said. “Three things could destroy that confidence and do incalculable dam age to society:

> That people come to believe that inefficiency and delay will drain even a just judgment of its value;

> That people who have long been

exploited in the smaller transactions of daily life come to believe that courts cannot vindicate their legal rights from fraud and over-reaching;

> That people come to believe the law—in the larger sense—cannot fulfill its primary function to pro tect them and their families in their homes, at their work, and on the public streets.”

Burger’s words ring even more true today. The courts must work to establish a sense of confidence in our system of justice and to ensure that our communities are not damaged by inefficiency and unnecessary delays.

I have no words to express my immense gratitude for the faith that President Joe Biden showed in me when he nominated me to the federal bench. Even more than six months after my confirmation, the process remains surreal. While I cannot shake that remarkable feeling, the reality is that I feel fortunate to serve our community in my new role.

This is particularly poignant given that the District of Nevada experienced a judicial emergency as my seat and another seat were left unfilled for more than four years. The pandemic only exacerbated delays inherent to an understaffed courthouse.

My hope is that our legal commu nity will embrace this unprecedented time in the profession. We have a great deal of work to perform, and I hope that everyone, from judges to law students, is equally enthusiastic about tackling the challenges we face. With new technologies and processes in place, the justice system has taken a huge step into the digital era and ac celerated positive change. Moreover, the benefits of digitalization have accrued in both time and cost savings for firms and clients alike.

The energy I feel when I go to work these days feels nostalgic and hopeful,

The time distortion caused by COVID and subsequent feeling of needing to “catch up” may make reenergization and acceleration seem daunting. That is why we must remember that we are not alone: We are a community, and the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV plays a vital role in the strength of our community.

“like excitement at the start of a new school year. For example, I am over joyed when I have members of the public and attorneys appear before me back in the courtroom. After such a lengthy absence, in-person hearings feel like seeing friends after a long summer break.

The time distortion caused by COVID and the subsequent feel ing of needing to “catch up” may make reenergization and accelera tion seem daunting. That is why we must remember that we are not alone: We are a community, and the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV plays a vital role in the strength of our community. The law school is where connections within legal networks are forged and fos tered. The legal community looks to Boyd Law, its alumni, associations, and student organizations for sup port. It is an exciting time to be part of #BoydNation, and its strength continues to grow.

To current students: Never forget the importance of those you meet. The roots you establish at the law school will help you grow and participate in our community’s ac celeration.

I am confident that Nevada’s Battle Born spirit will not only help students in that effort, but also push the state forward as a whole. I look forward to seeing the results of our efforts toward advancing the practice of law and accelerating the pursuit of justice.

Silva became a judge in the U.S. District Court for the District of Nevada in April after being a judge for the Eighth Judicial District Court in Las Vegas for three years. She received her law degree from the American University Washington College of Law in Washington, D.C., in 2007.

BY THE NUMBERS

450+ students (total enrollment for 2022-2023) 101 course titles (2021-2022 academic year) 136 graduates in the 2021-2022 academic year 2,800+ alumni 46 full-time faculty (2021-22)

The William S. Boyd School of Law Commencement was conducted May 13 in the Artemus W. Ham Concert Hall at UNLV.

UNLV’s Gaming Law Curriculum Is Now More Accessible.

Online Executive Education

In partnership with Entain, the William S. Boyd School of Law at UNLV announces new online training programs in gaming law and regulation. This online training program is designed for operators, regulators, lawyers, and non-lawyers working in the gaming industry.

Participants are not required to hold a Juris Doctor (J.D.) degree in order to enroll. Participants can enroll in one or more courses with courses being held asynchonously online.

Courses include:

• Introduction to Gaming Law and Regulation with Anthony Cabot

• Casino Operations and the Law with William Buffalo

• Introduction to Indian Gaming Law with Kathryn Rand and Steven Light

• Player Accountability & Corporate Social Responsibility in Gaming Law with Alan Feldman and Dayvid Figler

Visit law.unlv.edu/gaming-law/executive-education for upcoming dates and registration details.

WILLIAM S. BOYD SCHOOL OF LAW

UNIVERSITY OF NEVADA, LAS VEGAS WILLIAM S. BOYD SCHOOL OF LAW 4505 S. MARYLAND PARKWAY BOX 451003 LAS VEGAS NV 89154-1003