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February 6, 2026
When Advocacy Met Empathy in Courtroom 1: A Case Study in the Power of Telling a Narrative and a Prosecutor’s Willingness to Listen
By Andi Geloo
Several years ago, a young mother wept outside Courtroom 1 in Stafford County General District Court. She was the defendant in a petit larceny case, and the mother – whom I’ll pseudonymously call Farishta, the Urdu word for “angel” – had just accepted a deal with an attorney who wasn’t aware that the plea could jeopardize her ability to stay in the country and raise her five children.
Farishta had pleaded guilty to two misdemeanors of petit larceny that resulted in jail time. Title 8 of the United States Code, which contains the Immigration and Nationality Act, enumerates crimes that trigger deportation, including those involving “moral turpitude.” Petit larceny is considered a crime of “moral turpitude.” As a green card holder, Farishta was likely to face deportation because these convictions would be a direct ground for removal.
Born in Pakistan, Farishta immigrated to the U.S. for a better and safer life for her children. She worked for five years at a local Walmart as a backroom stocker, trying to make ends meet while caring for her children, ages 5, 10, 12, 13, and 14. Her husband worked long hours at 7-11.
Farishta and her family faced many financial hardships. During two weeks in the spring of 2021, at the height of the COVID pandemic, according to court files, Farishta bought household items for her family from Walmart at self-checkout by scanning prices on similar items priced lower or listed as “on sale.” The price difference for the four under-scanned items totaled $29.31, which Farishta was willing to pay. Farishta allegedly scanned lower-priced sale items twice and walked out with one lower-priced item and one higher-priced similar item. On other occasions, Farishta allegedly failed to scan a few items, including a $1 toothbrush, a bottle of shampoo, and other miscellaneous products.
Based on these events, Farishta faced four counts of petit larceny, each tried by a separate distinct jury. It was an inefficient outcome for such a small offense and a huge waste of taxpayer dollars and judicial resources, expenses astronomically exceeding the $29.31 restitution to Walmart.
At the time of her arrest, Farishta spoke limited English and was fluent in her native Urdu. The language barrier prevented her from understanding the gravity of the situation. She’d lost her job at Walmart, and her family was struggling worse than ever before, making it extremely hard for her to put food on the table. Everyday, she faced the nightmare of going to jail or being deported for crimes of moral turpitude. She agonized over her family’s future and the possibility that she’d never be able to become a U.S. citizen.
Farishta’s mental health deteriorated under the stress of the pending charges. She was willing to do community service, take classes, or do anything else the Commonwealth of Virginia proposed to avoid four criminal convictions involving crimes of “moral turpitude” and, most importantly, jail.
The journey of this case from defeat to resolution reveals an important legal strategy that defense attorneys too often overlook: the art of telling the narrative in legal defense. It is not only a tactic for mitigation in sentencing but also a lever for realizing true justice and lending an element so often missing from the courtroom: humanity.
Years ago, at the University of Chicago, legal scholar Richard Posner coined the concept of “Legal Narratology,” arguing, “stories play a big role in the legal process.” The University of Virginia School of Law has recognized the importance of “teaching the narrative power of law.” In Australia, lawyers have discussed the topic of “The Role of Narrative in the Judicial Process,” noting that “stories are persuasive.”
Courtroom 1
Back in Courtroom 1, on April 21, 2021, on the first floor of Stafford County General District Court, this woman’s story takes a pivotal turn. Farishta accepted a plea agreement that she didn’t understand, and in the hallway, her lawyer told her to report to jail the following weekend.
There, in the hallway, Farishta felt bereft, distraught, and confused, trying to figure out what to do next. She had spent her life savings on this attorney's fees. Since she was an immigrant, she faced the risk of deportation back to her rather dangerous native country without her children in her loving care.
Desperate and in despair, she sought help from her local community. The next day, I received a call from a community leader who asked for guidance on how to help this young mother, who was still in tears. This wasn’t my usual jurisdiction of practice, so I volunteered to help with her appeal.
We hired local counsel and paid their legal fees. While I wasn’t the attorney of record on the appeal, I assisted the local counsel behind the scenes, pro bono, concerned that transportation and language were significant barriers.
"Moral Turpitude"
On appeal, the offer given to Farishta’s new counsel again involved active jail time of 10 days and two guilty pleas to crimes of “moral turpitude,” along with a promise to nolle prosequi, meaning “not prosecute,” the remaining two counts of petit larceny, similar to what she accepted in General District Court through her former counsel. For immigration concerns, the offer wasn’t acceptable.
Seven months later – and 13 motions, responses, and replies exchanged between the parties – the issue devolved into a showdown between the defense and prosecution, with neither side yielding. Sitting silently in the legal crossfire, Farishta posed no threat to anyone, and the chance of recidivism in her case was very low; however, no offer on the table didn’t involve jail time. Since Farishta faced four misdemeanor jury trials, defense counsel didn’t seem optimistic and reached out to me for assistance.
Reviewing the file, I saw a strategic problem: the defense didn’t include a narrative. The motions filed focused more on generating friction than on advancing a coherent legal strategy, which only added volatility to an emerging turf war rather than to compassionate justice.
During this time, I was in daily contact with Farishta, and as time passed, I grew more concerned for this young mother’s mental well-being. I asked permission to take a different approach. I asked counsel for approval to contact the elected Commonwealth’s Attorney in Stafford County, Eric Olsen. Months earlier, I had met with local community leaders to discuss alternatives for addressing low-level crimes, especially for sympathetic first-time offenders who carry a low risk of recidivism. We discussed expanding community outreach efforts.
I was struck by his affable and warm personality and genuine commitment to serving the community. I was impressed by his openness to our ideas and was confident that he would be receptive to my reaching out about Farishta’s case.
An Email and a Narrative
Farishta’s attorney was grateful, even relieved, at the prospect of my involvement, eagerly asking that I step in. Despite filing numerous motions, the attorney acknowledged that the law was against them, and she wasn't optimistic about prevailing in any of the four trials. Having connected closely with Farishta over seven months, I began to write her story.
I pressed send on an email with the subject line, “Our meeting…,” and within two hours, I had an offer from the elected Commonwealth’s Attorney that blew my mind: nolle prosequi, on all four of the charges – three charges would immediately be dropped, and the remaining petit larceny charge would be dropped after completing three months of pretrial supervision, 80 hours of community service, paying $29.31 in restitution to Walmart, and maintaining good behavior.
After seven long months of contentious litigation, a young immigrant mother was freed from the threat of deportation away from her children and the grips of an emotional breakdown. The elected Commonwealth’s Attorney had been willing to listen to her story and understand the inequities in her case.
Mr. Olsen thanked me for informing him of Farishta’s story, a gesture that shocked me because telling a defendant’s narrative is normally my first order of business. Mr. Olsen and the prosecutors assigned to the case hadn't heard her story. The narrative had gone unshared in the flurry of filings. He said that finally hearing her story helped the prosecutors realize precisely what was at stake for her.
He also said the offer would be made only to me once I entered my appearance, which I did immediately, pro bono, after notifying the attorney we had originally hired and paid in full. In September 2021, Farishta stood again in the courtroom of the Stafford County Circuit Court, this time with me beside her. In one quick moment, Assistant Commonwealth Attorney Greg Holt, standing in for Mr. Olsen, said the unimaginable just weeks earlier: he told the judge, the Hon. Victoria A.B. Willis, that he was seeking to nolle prosequi or drop the charges. She accepted his motion, and I whispered to Farishta, “It’s finally over. You’re free.” She smiled, relieved.
We filed out of the courtroom, hand in hand, and this time Farishta shed tears of joy and gratitude. Having completed all of her obligations under our agreement, Farishta was now a free woman.
I recently spoke to Mr. Olsen, and he said he is grateful when “a defense attorney identifies that case which is outside the ordinary.” He noted that “it is so helpful to have the background that assists the prosecutor in making the right assessment.” He also said, “When we, as prosecutors, [take] the time to listen, and when we have all of the information about the case and the defendant, the system works best.”
Perhaps it's our job as defense attorneys to give prosecutors like Mr. Olsen, who are willing to listen, the opportunity to hear our clients’ stories and consider the nuances of a case so the system can work best for everyone involved.
In the past, some colleagues have criticized me for getting too close to clients as a “sentimental” approach to client advocacy, but Farishta’s case and the cases of so many other Farishtas whom I have represented stand out in my mind. They only reinforce my belief that clients are individuals with stories worth more than a passing glance.
A Second Chance
Seeing Farishta reclaim her life after a traumatic year, I remain firm in my belief that our clients have stories that need to be heard. I saw firsthand the impact her story had on the prosecutor when he heard about Farishta as a hardworking, struggling mother of four, rather than an anonymous defendant who victimized Walmart.
While the black-letter of the law favored a win and conviction, the prosecutor chose instead to look at the equities and drop all charges, with education, community service, and restitution, giving Farishta a second chance. The resolution in Farishta's case illustrates the best of our justice system. It is not about winning or losing, but about recognizing the humanity in every case and in every person.
Through experiences like these, I've learned that true advocacy is about telling a client's story with humility, empathy, and a willingness to listen. My mentors, colleagues, and dedicated public defenders – some of the best attorneys in the world – have taught me that justice is best served when we prioritize the human story.
Throughout my career, I've seen that it is so easy to reduce people to one-dimensional criminals who must be punished at all costs in every case if a conviction can be supported. Some hungry prosecutors seek convictions at all costs, even if it destroys the lives of people like Farishta in the process of seeking justice. But not in this case.
The Commonwealth Attorney’s decision in Farishta’s case demonstrated a commitment to understanding the complexities of the situation and seeking a just outcome. Justice in Farishta’s nonviolent case, where the chance of recidivism was low, but the inequities of jail were so high, meant going outside the black letter of the law and the contentious cycle of arguments, motions, and jury trials.
The prosecutor and the client were able to look beyond their respective roles and see each other not as adversaries but as human beings facing difficult circumstances. This case is a reminder that even in a system that can often feel adversarial and even predatory, there's room for empathy and understanding.
Today, Farishta is prospering as a delivery person for Amazon and a backroom stocker at Target. She has been present as her four children have grown, celebrating birthdays and cheering them on as they play sports, each one excelling in their own way. Her eldest is on the cusp of every parent's dream, but especially an immigrant parent's dream, set to attend college next year. After many years of working at 7-11, she helped her husband start his own business, teaching students to drive.
I recently spoke with Farishta and her husband. They expressed gratitude to me for being present in their lives. I couldn’t help but feel the weight of their appreciation. They shared that if someone weren’t willing to listen to their story – beyond the affidavits, evidence, and charging documents – then their journey would have unfolded very differently, and their dreams would have ended. As is the custom for many Pakistani immigrants, they offered beautiful blessings that poured from the depths of their hearts.
But for me, I merely fulfilled a fundamental duty, not only as a lawyer but as a human. I listened, and I shared her story with a prosecutor who wanted to hear it and courageously went outside the box. We did what was right in this case, transforming four charging documents into a resolution for this family. In the end, it was Farishta’s humanity that was her best defense.
Andaleeb “Andi” Geloo is is a lawyer and author of Andi’s Law, which expanded the rights of citizens seeking protection from defamation. She earned her law degree from George Washington Law School with high honors and practices law in Fairfax County. She also handles pro bono matters for underprivileged families throughout Virginia and writes about her experiences as an advocate for criminal justice reform for local and national publications. She can be reached at Andaleeb 'Andi' Geloo and www.fairfaxvirginialawyer.com.
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