Trial lawyers believe that all they have to do is try their case, and then the problem is solved. That’ s so far from the truth. A trial lawyer needs to understand that part of what they do is to pay attention to sustaining the story so that the next generation knows it.
And that can be done by writing books. It can be done with documentaries. It can be done by taking some effort to create a document or an element that doesn’ t disappear with the news cycle in 48 hours. The news cycle is useless, because most journalists simply don’ t have attention span and they don’ t have the ability to process so many of the complexities that can only be explained by a book or documentary, and those types of things continue to be told generation after generation.
SGS: The novel opens with the murder of a fifteen-year-old boy in a juvenile detention facility. That’ s a brutal starting point. Why begin there?
Papantonio: Because that’ s where the truth begins. Too often, we sanitize harm to make it digestible. I wanted readers, especially lawyers, to confront the consequences of institutional failure without the comfort of a buffer or literary euphemism. When a child dies in custody, that isn’ t a tragedy in the abstract. It’ s accountability delayed for far too long.
That single horrifying event was set in motion by hundreds of similar events at similar reform schools. And yet, most readers have never even heard about them.
That opening scene immediately alerts the reader that they’ re not reading a story about bad judgment. They’ re attending a course in systemic violence.
SGS: The book inevitably evokes comparisons to the Dozier School for Boys, a Florida state-run“ reform” institution where, for over 100 years, boys were systematically beaten, tortured, sexually abused, and in some cases killed. Why was it important to revisit that history through fiction? Papantonio: People are more willing to read something that is mixed in with entertainment, and that’ s not a great comment about what the American public responds to. But they’ ll read the fiction book and ask themselves,“ Is this true?” And most of the time, they’ ll search and find that it is true. So, at the end of the day, they’ ve been entertained, and at the same time, you’ ve moved them in a direction that they’ d never even given thought to. What bothers me most about Dozier is that it wasn’ t a secret. It was ignored. The abuse was known. The rumors were consistent. The warning signs were everywhere. What failed was the will to act. I took advantage of the fact that fiction allows you to strip away decades of excuses and force the reader to ask themselves,
“ I wanted readers, especially lawyers, to confront the consequences of institutional failure without the comfort of a buffer or literary euphemism.”— Mike Papantonio
“ Why did nobody stop this?” And the uncomfortable answer is that these systems survive because too many people benefit from silence.
SGS: Your protagonist, Deke Deketomis, is fighting a case, but he’ s also wrestling with personal guilt tied to his own childhood. Why make guilt such a central theme?
Papantonio: Because outrage alone doesn’ t sustain a fight— but guilt does.
Every lawyer who’ s been around long enough has at least one case that stays with them— the one they wish they’ d reached sooner or pushed harder. That emotional residue is often what separates lawyers who walk away from lawyers who don’ t.
I think anybody who sees abuse and injustice and chooses to do nothing about it should feel serious guilt. Catastrophes don’ t occur when people are vigilant. People don’ t suffer when their neighbor watches out for them. And yes, you should feel guilty if you know what’ s going on out there and choose to stand by and do nothing. You should.
Deke’ s guilt isn’ t weakness. It’ s memory. And memory is what keeps lawyers from becoming numb.
SGS: In A Death in Arcadia, we see a defendant that’ s negligent and powered by a corporate machine, complete with political fixers and intimidation tactics. How intentional was that portrayal?
Papantonio: Very intentional. It’ s important to realize that the most dangerous defendants aren’ t sloppy. They’ re, in fact, very organized. They defend cases, and they manage exposure. That means lobbyists, regulatory influence, and people whose job is to make problems disappear. I mean, it’ s all a confluence, you know. It all merges. Lawyers see it happening all the time. Lawyers who’ ve been in mass torts will recognize the signs immediately. When a defendant overreacts early, it’ s usually because you’ re standing on a nerve.
SGS: You’ ve publicly urged lawyers to“ get out of their comfort zones” and“ do something extraordinary.” What does that mean in practical terms today?
Papantonio: It means refusing to let comfort dictate your career. Extraordinary work isn’ t about ego or headlines. It’ s about choosing at least one fight where the odds are bad, the opposition is powerful, and the victims have no other champion. If you only take cases that fit neatly into an existing template, you’ re not using the full potential of your license. The civil justice system was designed for exactly these fights.
The problem is that so many lawyers look the other way.
They see events unfold all the time, but they’ re unwilling to jump in and take a chance to try to do something about it. They fall into a safe space. Is it fear of
The Trial Lawyer 77