By: Nicole McWhorter
Sean Steele never imagined he would become a jailhouse lawyer. But when he found himself abandoned in a system working against him, he realized he had no choice. In Ohio’s prison corridors, hope is a currency few possess. The daily reality of life behind bars is far from the public’s view, and for those like Steele, it’s a relentless battle for survival against forces that seem to conspire against him at every turn.
“Inmates must endure inhumane treatment imposed by prison guards,” Steele explains. “The planted drugs, the false conduct reports, and the physical abuse are all part of life for incarcerated citizens in American prisons.”
But when the system is rigged, you either fall or fight back. Steele chose to fight. Not with fists, but with knowledge, by becoming a jailhouse lawyer—a self-taught legal warrior who helps fellow inmates navigate a system that seems determined to crush them all.
Steele’s transformation from prisoner to advocate didn’t happen overnight. It began in the shadows of prison life, where desperation drove him to the law books. With no legal background, no formal education, and no one on the outside fighting for him, he taught himself the law. He learned how to draft motions, research case law, and file petitions. And then he began doing the same for others.
He isn’t alone. Across Ohio’s prisons, there’s an underground network of jailhouse lawyers—men and women who have become the last line of defense for their fellow inmates. For many prisoners, these jailhouse lawyers are the only hope they have, the only ones standing between them and a life sentence in a system stacked against them.
But the stakes are high, and the risks are real. Ohio law prohibits the unauthorized practice of law, and for jailhouse lawyers like Steele, this means every motion filed, every case argued, is done under the threat of being thrown out simply because it wasn’t prepared by a licensed attorney.
Take the case of Prince Charles Cotten Sr., another inmate who turned to jailhouse lawyering out of necessity. For over 20 years, Cotten has assisted his fellow prisoners with legal matters, from drafting pleadings to providing legal advice. Despite his efforts, Cotten’s work has been repeatedly challenged, and his own appeals have been consistently denied. He remains behind bars, serving a life sentence for aggravated murder. Yet he continues to fight—not just for himself, but for the men who come to him, desperate for help when no one else will listen.
This underground network of legal defenders emerged out of necessity. In 1969, the U.S. Supreme Court acknowledged the importance of jailhouse lawyers in Johnson v. Avery, ruling that inmates cannot be barred from helping each other with legal matters. But even with that ruling, Ohio’s prisons remain a battlefield where jailhouse lawyers must constantly defend their right to exist, all while navigating a system that is more concerned with silencing them than hearing their arguments.
In 2016, James Handcock Jr. tried to file a post-conviction relief petition with the help of Robert Hillman, another jailhouse lawyer. Handcock’s motion was rejected by the court, not because of its merits, but because Hillman wasn’t a licensed attorney. This is the reality for Ohio’s prisoners—legal arguments dismissed on technicalities, lives left in the balance, and hope extinguished by a system that seems designed to deny them justice.
Yet, in the face of these obstacles, jailhouse lawyers continue to fight. They’ve become the unsung heroes of a justice system that has failed them, using the law to carve out a sliver of hope in a world that offers none. They are the last defense for those who have been abandoned by the outside world, and they refuse to give up. Steele knows the odds are against him and his fight has not been easy.
“Prison administrations have… searched my cell, taken my property, and written false conduct reports along the way. They have also used solitary confinement and institutional transfers as a way to disrupt and discourage my initiatives,” Steele expresses. Despite this relentless resistance, he refuses to quit. “To do so would admit defeat to a system that ruins lives for economic gains with no regard for their humanity.”
The battle for justice doesn’t have to end behind bars. The stigma around defense work will only continue if we allow it. It’s up to us to challenge the system, to support the fight for justice, and to ensure that no one is left behind. Cleveland State University’s College of Law is answering that call through its chapter with the National Lawyers Guild’s Jailhouse Lawyers program. This program works at both the state and national levels to train and support inmates who have become legal advocates, proving that even within the darkest corners of the prison system, there’s still room for hope—and justice.
Sources
Sean Steele, A Jailhouse Lawyer’s Fight for Justice, 48 R. L. & Soc. Change 30, https://socialchangenyu.com/harbinger/a-jailhouse-lawyers-fight-for-justice/.
Sean Steele, “Introduction Blog”, Inmate Blogger (Apr. 10, 2020), https://inmateblogger.com/2020/04/10/introduction-blog-by-sean-steele/.
Joe Smith, “Life Sentence Upheld for Man Accused of Aggravated Murder”, Court News Ohio (Aug. 29, 2024), https://www.courtnewsohio.gov/cases/2024/SCO/0829/231503.asp.
Legal Newsline, “Ohio Supreme Court Upholds Life Sentence For Man Accused in Police Officer’s Murder” (Aug. 29, 2024), https://legalnewsline.com/stories/663877447-ohio-supreme-court-upholds-life-sentence-for-man-convicted-in-police-officer-s-murder.
State v. Handcock, 2016-Ohio-7096.
Al-Mosawi v. Plummer, 2012-Ohio-6034.
State v. Cook, 2016-Ohio-2823.
Steele v. Harris, 2019-Ohio-4839.
State v. Miller, 2021-Ohio-3882.
State v. Brown, 2017-Ohio-2850.
Disciplinary Counsel v. Cotton, 115 Ohio St. 3d 113 (2007).
State v. Steele, No. 00AP-499 (Ohio Ct. App. Jun. 28, 2001).