A person’s life can change on the turn of a single phrase, and like ripples in a pond from a tossed pebble, the impact of those words can extend to touch the lives of countless others. To understand how this principle applies to Hamilton County Criminal Court Judge Christie Mahn Sell, one must go back in time to before anything had disturbed the calm waters of her life.
Sell had spent more than a few semesters at the University of Memphis bouncing from major to major. A catalog of her aborted attempts to latch on to a single area of study included teaching, psychology, accounting and others. From her chambers in the Courts Building on Market Street, she laughs at the thought of being an accountant.
“You can know me for five minutes and see I don’t have the personality of an accountant,” she says.
Sell did, however, believe she had what it took to be a broadcast journalist. Unlike her other academic pursuits, journalism stuck. Sell was so determined to work in mass media, she intentionally lost her Southern accent. Today, it’s impossible to tell she was “born and bred” in Chattanooga.
Although Channel 3 offered Sell a weekend position, she was still in school in Memphis, and the idea of starting small didn’t appeal to her. So, despite her passion for journalism, she found herself wondering what she should do with her life.
And that’s when a casual remark by an acquaintance placed Sell’s feet on a new path.
“He said, ‘You should go to law school. You’re smart enough,’” Sell says.
If the comment had come from someone who was close to Sell, it would not have had the same impact, she says. But because the man had no stake in her life, his off-handed comment struck her like a thunderclap.
“My parents had always said I would make a good lawyer because I was good at arguing, but I had never considered going to law school. This person had no reason to puff my ego, though,” Sell says.
So, Sell stayed in Memphis and went to law school. And she loved it, partly because it appealed to her style of thinking.
“I don’t think in terms of black and white, but many of the courses I took in undergraduate school involved black and white thinking. I like analytical thinking, and that’s what you do in law school. You have to learn the law, but the application of the law involves analysis,” Sell says.
Sell’s background in journalism also helped her to do well in law school, as it had taught her to pick out facts quickly and express her thoughts in a concise manner. “Judges don’t want a grand, verbose description of something; they want you to get to the meat of the matter,” she says.
Upon graduating from law school in 1994, Sell returned to Chattanooga and clerked for Chancellors Hal Peoples and R. Van Owens. The one-year stint taught her what judges expect from an attorney, and gave her insight into what a judge does to make sure he or she hears both sides of a case.
Next, Sell secured a position with Shoemaker & Thompson in Chattanooga. She likes to say the lawyers there raised her.
“I was able to practice many different kinds of law, and work with many different kinds of attorneys. I had always been interested in divorce law, though, and we were farming out our client’s domestic issues to someone else. Since I had a keen interest in those cases, the firm trusted me with a few small divorces,” she says.
Sell’s divorce practice evolved to the point where she was able to do it full-time. She enjoyed working with people and helping them to resolve their problems, and she liked that the work required her to think analytically. Eventually, Sell also developed a mediation practice centered on the same matters.
“I loved being able to hear what people would say. People are wed to their opinions, and as a mediator, you have to listen to both sides, figure out what their needs are, and then help them to figure out the best way to settle their case,” Sell says.
As Sell concentrated on her work as an attorney and a mediator, the waters around her become calm. And then it happened again.
“For whatever reason, attorney Lee Davis told me I should run for General Sessions Court judge,” Sell says.
Unlike the man who told Sell she should become a lawyer, Davis was a colleague and a friend, so his comments didn’t strike her as genuine. “I thought he was kidding, so I blew it off,” she says.
But Davis persisted until the idea piqued Sell’s interest. She’d never been involved with politics or considered running for office, so she started out slowly, talking with the people with whom she’d worked for 12 years and putting out feelers to the people she respected, and she received nothing but encouragement and support. So, Sell started down the path to becoming a judge, and in 2006, she won a vacated seat.
Sell’s enthusiasm for hearing both sides of an argument has served her well as she’s sat on the bench. But more crucial to her success as a judge has been her willingness to have an open mind when hearing a case.
“I’m willing to see if you can convince me that my position should be different. We all have different resources of knowledge and unique experiences. I sometimes have a hard time making up my mind, not because I’m indecisive, but because there are good arguments on both sides, and the decision isn’t black and white,” she says.
There are times when Sell wishes the outcome of a case could be different, but because she’s charged with applying the law to the facts, she goes with her head instead of her heart. “If you don’t like the law, take it to your legislature. As a judge, I don’t make the law; I enforce it,” she says.
Although Sell deals with a vast variety of crimes, she’s especially interested in domestic violence cases. She says domestic violence crimes are an “anomaly” because there’s a relationship between the abuser and the victim. To tackle the uniqueness of those cases, Sell two years ago helped to launch a domestic violence court in Hamilton County. Now, when someone is booked for domestic violence, he or she is placed on the Monday docket. Waiting in the wings are all of the local programs and resources available to both victims and abusers.
“Domestic violence is a huge problem, but people won’t talk about it. If we don’t talk about it, then we can’t teach people what a normal relationship is. It’s apparent every day in court that the behavior many people consider normal is actually criminal.
“I had a hearing in which a young man and the woman he’d abused both said he’s a great dad. I said, ‘No. You committed acts of violence in front of your children. You’re teaching your children that it’s okay to abuse a woman. Not hitting your children does not make you a good dad,’” Sell says.
Sell is passionate about teaching people about healthy relationships and making good choices, and regularly goes into schools to talk with children and teenagers about the things that are important at those ages.
Although this particular endeavor was new to Sell when she became a judge, she’s no spring chicken when it comes to community service. As a teenager, she volunteered at Chambliss Shelter and Orange Grove, and her first law-related job was an unpaid internship at legal services in Memphis. Sell credits her family with inspiring her to help others.
“My grandmother, Helen Mahn, is in her eighties, and she still volunteers at Memorial Hospital twice a week,” Sell says.
Today, Sell is on the board at Re:Start and the Chattanooga Women’s Leadership Institute. She also co-chaired the recent Normal-Palooza, which she says was a bigger job than she initially thought it would be.
As busy as she is, Sell makes sure she has enough energy at the end of each work day for her second full-time job: single mother of two. Her children include daughter Samantha and son Thomas, both of whom are involved in a plethora of sports activities. Sell takes great pleasure in transporting her kids to each event and cheering them on.
Sell will soon have someone to help her shuttle her kids around, as she’s engaged to marry Kurt Faires, a business attorney at Chambliss Bahner. Due to the nature of his practice, it’s unlikely Faires will ever have to appear before Sell, although it did happen once while they were dating. “I thought it was funny that he had to stand in front of me,” Sell says.
Sell has enjoyed having a partner with whom to share the many things she enjoys. From bike riding, to hiking, to boating, to going to the movies, to eating out, the couple never lacks for something to do.
While the accused who stand before Sell in court might have a hard time picturing her shouting from the stands during a high school volleyball game, or letting the wind take her hair as she races across local waters, she says being a judge is what she does for a living, it’s not who she is.
“The robe cloaks me with authority, but when I take it off, that’s me,” she says.
Whether Sell is wearing her judicial robe or not, she’s always cloaked with compassion. In this way, the spontaneous remarks that changed the direction of her life have radiated outward to touch countless others, including the youth with whom she’s spoken, the people she’s helped as an attorney and a mediator, the individuals she’s assisted through her work with various community service organizations, the victims who have passed through her domestic violence court, and even their abusers.
More significantly, Sell is now in a position to make a similar impression on other people. As if to provide her with an opportunity to do just that, her bailiff opens the door to her chambers and tells her it’s time for her to return to court. Sell puts on her robe, passes through the door that leads to her bench, and wraps up a case involving a young woman whose actions have placed her in danger of losing her children. As Sell hands down the sentence, she looks at the teenager and says, “It’s time for you to grow up.”
The girl nods and chokes back her tears. Hopefully, it will be impossible to measure the ripples that extend beyond their brief exchange.