Page 28 - Delaware Lawyer - Summer 2023

FEATURE | Of Counsel: Henley Graves
Continued from page 28
the same for a judge. You may not have to prepare as much as the law- yers, but you’ve got to be prepared and see the pitfalls and hopefully avoid them.
“Civil cases were easier to try be- cause there were so few objections. They had already gone through ex- tensive discover y. They knew each other’s cases. The only time you had a delay was if you had a pretrial mo- tion in limine.
“In criminal cases, that’s where the rules of evidence hit the road, the headaches of 403, 404, 608. They were difficult many times. The mur- der cases, when they’re capital, then everybody’s on their p’s and q’s.
“The most difficult cases were cap- ital cases or where infants or children were killed or badly hurt, especially if you have children. You watch the jury all the time, to see if they’re getting emotionally upset. There’s nothing like an autopsy report on a 2-year-old child who has been killed.”
The Graves family is a legacy of the nylon plant. Henry Kennedy Graves III, a Virginia native, joined DuPont out of William & Mary, then moved from the Richmond plant to the team that perfected the manufacture of nylon at the Experimental Station. When the Seaford plant opened in 1939, he was a logical choice to be assigned as a manager.
Thomas Henley Graves was raised in Bethel, the youngest of four, on the banks of Broad Creek. “It was Huckleberry Finn. In the summer- time, you’d go out in the morning, you stayed with your friends, and you would come home when you were hungry,” he says.
A self-described late bloomer from Laurel High School, Graves was un- certain, as graduation from Univer- sity of Delaware neared, whether he would have the resources to attend
“All I want is 12 people that are open, fair-minded and willing to judge everybody by the same standards. That to me was one of the most important things I did on the Superior Court.”
26 DELAWARE LAWYER SUMMER 2023
law school. His father, who financed four college graduates, assured Graves that if he got into law school, he would borrow whatever money was necessar y. Graves graduated with honors from University of Maryland Law School.
“I did the same for my boys,” says Graves. “I told them, ‘As long as you stay in school, I will support you.’ Education and a moral compass are the most important thing a parent can give his child.”
In Sussex County, where commu- nity is primary, the sacrifice in accept- ing judicial appointment goes beyond financial.
“When you go onto the bench, you don’t realize until you’re on the bench in the first year or so, you’re not one of the good old boys any more. You’re not part of the group that gets together. Your friends be- come your fellow judges, most like- ly,” Graves recounts.
He went running during lunch hour with Chandler, socialized of- ten with Lee, and recalls Superior Court colleagues John Babiarz, Ber- nie Balick and Vince Bifferato, Sr. as mentors. He shared his creative, of- ten lancing wit with other judges and court employees, later earning state- wide grins as the internet broadened his reach.
On the wall of his office, Graves kept a reproduction of the World War II poster “Loose Lips Sink Ships”
and gave a replica to each of his sons, an admonition to maintain confidentiality.
He developed a unique, effective presentation to prospective jurors. “I would spend half an hour orienting a new jur y,” says Graves, “spending a lot of time with them about prejudic- es and being able to judge everyone on an equal basis.
“And if you can’t do that,” he would tell them, “You don’t have to tell me that you don’t like this per- son or that group, just come up and tell me, ‘I don’t think I can sit, your honor.’ I said, ‘I won’t ask you why.’
“All I want is 12 people that are open, fair-minded and willing to judge ever ybody by the same stan- dards,” says Graves. “That to me was one of the most important things I did on the Superior Court.”
During a trial, he adds, “You’re watching a jur y, because the whole point, what you’re there for, is to make sure that there’s a decent ver- dict, in the sense that it’s a just ver- dict.”
After more than 28 years on the bench, Graves retired in March 2018, selecting his 70th birthday as the de- marcation, just as Chief Justice Chris- tie had done in 1991. “I still had fire in my belly, still enjoyed doing the work,” Graves told the Cape Gazette. “But it was time for someone else to get a fresh start and for me to say, ‘Happy trails.’” Retirement allows