Before I went to law school, I spent years in accounting — and the lens I bring to your case is the same one I brought to a balance sheet: what is this really worth, what will it really cost, what's the most economical way to get you there. I've also spent years standing up for Illinois families, children, and small-business owners when nobody else would, against opponents who didn't want me filing those cases. I'll give you an honest assessment up front, even when it's not what you came to hear.
For the last several years, a big part of my practice has been standing up for Illinois families, children, and small-business owners in cases nobody else wanted to file. That work put me up against the most powerful people in this state — including Governor Pritzker — and I took my share of attacks for it. None of that ever changed how I practiced. When families and children needed somebody to stand up for them in court and nobody else would, I was going to be that lawyer — whether it earned me a microphone or a target on my back.
If your case calls for a lawyer who'll fight for you when nobody else will, that's the job I signed up for. And I'll do it the same way I've done it every other time: prepared, plain-spoken, and honest with you about where you stand.
I grew up in downstate Illinois and I still live and work here. Before I went to law school, I made my living as an accountant — keeping books, reading financial statements, sitting across the desk from regular people trying to make sense of their numbers. That work taught me something most lawyers learn the hard way, if at all: the cost of a case matters as much as the merits of it.
I went to law school later than most. I'm not a "name on the door" attorney who hands you off to an associate the day you sign. When you hire this firm, you get me. I'll be the one who reads your file, calls the other lawyer, and stands up in court if it comes to that.
I speak plainly because that's how I talk. No Latin, no legal theater — I'd rather you actually understand what's happening in your case than walk out impressed by vocabulary. If your case is strong, I'll tell you. If it isn't, I'll tell you that too — and we'll figure out what to do about it together.
During the pandemic, I ended up representing hundreds of regular people across this state — parents, students, small-business owners, corrections officers, and the workers who lost their jobs over a mandate. Most of them couldn't afford a Chicago firm and most of them had nowhere else to go. So I filed the cases, drove to the courthouses, and tried them.
I represented hundreds of Illinois parents and students challenging the state's school mask, testing, and quarantine orders. A Sangamon County judge issued a temporary restraining order against those mandates across roughly 170 named districts — the ruling that effectively ended the school mask requirement in those districts and helped force the Governor to end the statewide order shortly after.
From the first stay-at-home order forward, I represented restaurants, bars, salons, gyms, and other small businesses across more than 30 Illinois counties — owners whose livelihoods were on the line and who needed somebody willing to walk into a courtroom and ask whether the orders were even lawful.
When the state moved to terminate workers who declined the vaccine, I represented the people on the receiving end of it — corrections officers and law enforcement, nurses and healthcare workers, and other public employees whose jobs were on the line. That included filing suit against the Illinois Department of Corrections vaccine mandate. The point was the same one I made in every case: people are entitled to due process before the government takes away their livelihood.
That work brought a lot of attention — local news, statewide press, a 2022 run as the Republican nominee for Illinois Attorney General. Along the way, I tried cases against some of the best lawyers in the Illinois Attorney General's Office, and going up against that level of opposition, week after week, made me a sharper lawyer than I would have been otherwise. What it really brought, though, was thousands of ordinary Illinoisans who finally had somebody in their corner. I'm proud of that work, and I'm still doing the same job today — just for families, for small businesses, and for the people the system isn't built to notice.
Between the COVID-era litigation and the 2022 run for Attorney General, I have stood in most of the courtrooms across central and southern Illinois — and in front of most of the judges who preside over them. When your case takes me back to one of those courthouses, the judge has seen me, and the lawyer on the other side has seen me. And in the rare case where they haven't, they know my reputation as a zealous advocate for my clients. They know how I prepare. They know I'll go to trial if the case needs trial.
That doesn't change the law and it doesn't change the facts of your case — and any lawyer who promises otherwise is selling you a story. What it does change is the dynamic in the room. The other side already knows I'm not afraid of a fight if your case calls for one — and that reputation works in your favor before a single motion is ever filed.
I came to law from a different starting point than most attorneys, and it left me with a particular idea of what good representation looks like — practical, candid, and mindful of what the work is costing you. Here are three commitments I make to every client who walks through the door.
I'll tell you what your case is actually worth and what it's actually going to take. If the right answer is to settle, I'll say so. If the right answer is "this isn't a case you should file," I'll say that too. You'll leave the first meeting knowing where you really stand — not just where you'd like to.
My accounting background never really left me. Every recommendation I make weighs what it'll cost you against what you can realistically get back. If a $500 demand letter solves the problem, I'm not going to file a $20,000 lawsuit. If the lawsuit is the only thing that will work, I'll explain why and we'll go.
You'll hear from me, not from a paralegal you've never met. I explain what's happening in your case in normal English, when it happens. If I have bad news, I'll deliver it myself. If I have good news, same. You'll never have to wonder whether your file is sitting on someone's desk.
Before law, I worked in accounting and finance. That's not just a line on a résumé — it's how I read a case. A divorce is a financial transaction wrapped in an emotional one. A probate is an accounting problem wrapped in a family one. A business dispute is, at the bottom, a math problem with hurt feelings on top.
Most lawyers learn to think about money in the middle of a trial. I learned it first, and law second. It changes how I value cases, how I negotiate, and how I advise you about what's worth fighting over and what isn't.
The initial conversation is a real conversation. You explain your situation in your own words — no questionnaire, no pre-qualification. We listen, and we ask the questions a lawyer needs to ask to know whether you have a problem the law can solve.
Before you leave, you'll have my honest read on whether you have a case, what it's likely to cost, what it's realistically worth, and what the next step ought to be. If your situation is better handled by another attorney — or by no attorney at all — I'll say so.
If we're a fit, we get to work. Fee terms are spelled out in writing before any retainer changes hands. If we're not a fit, no hard feelings — and I'll usually point you toward somebody who is. Either way, you leave the meeting better informed than when you came in.
You'll get a real answer about whether I'm the right fit — and if I'm not, I'll point you in the right direction. That's the whole offer.