Judge Brent Harris officially celebrates his appointment in Coconino County

Oct 27, 2023

Lifelong Arizonan Brent Harris has been practicing law for exactly 18 years. For most of that time, he thought of himself first as a rugby player — an ordinary guy who wanted to live in a more just world.

"Some of my buddies from elementary school and high school reminded me that I wanted to be a judge way back when I was growing up in Mesa," he said. "Largely that was because I had a really wide variety of friends and I felt like they got treated differently. I’m 6 1/2 feet tall, 300 pounds, a football player ... so when we would have our desert parties ... some of my friends would get in trouble and I would just get asked how the football season was going. It seemed like there was differential treatment going on. It sparked a lifelong interest in justice."

Three months ago, he quietly donned judge's robes for the first time in Coconino County (likely with a bolo tie to match) and set to work fulfilling a dream. He's the newest judge in Coconino County Superior Court, Division 6.

"I’ve been knocking on the door for a long time. I ran for judge in...I think it was 2014, back when you could still run and get elected as a judge, and I narrowly lost that election," Harris said.

He was appointed, at last, this summer.

"I didn't make much fanfare about it. I was trying to hide and find out how to do my job," he said. "June 20th was my first day as a judge. It was kind of funny -- they sent me to the judge's conference the next day, so I’m with all these very experienced judges and they’re like, ‘How long have you been a judge?’ and I’m like, ‘Well…I kind of haven't yet.’ It made for some interesting conversations."

Harris celebrated his investiture over the weekend, an official ceremony to mark his ascension to the highest seat in a courtroom. For him, the day had a lot of power. It was a chance to celebrate with family, friends and colleagues he's known for decades. It was also an opportunity for Harris to make his debut in the community, and he hoped, start a dialogue.

"It gives people a chance to meet me and ask me questions," he said. "I’m really open to a give and flow of information. I can't really talk about certain cases or specific cases, but I can talk about my judicial philosophy or what I think is important as a judge."

Harris doesn't have his own courtroom, yet. He's in an office nicknamed "The Dorm." It comes with a mini-fridge, and space for him and his judicial assistant to tackle their tasks. When he described heading into a courtroom for a case, he conjured images of Superman headed off to don his cape -- judge's robes tossed over his shoulder, hurrying down the historic corridors of the courthouse.

He's not shy about gesturing to a seemingly never-ending stack of papers on his desk. He arrived at a busy time for the courts in Coconino County.

"I really describe myself as a pressure-relief valve," Harris said. He explained that COVID backlogs and a busy schedule might cause cases to pile up, but he understands delays aren't great for anyone. He said they put pressure on the court, but also on families involved in civil cases. "That's really my main goal is justice and fairness and swiftness. I’m trying to be swift while being fair and just."

On the issues, he's not afraid to talk about what he believes in.

For a time, Harris worked at the City of Flagstaff and played a role in championing alternative response programs -- programs meant to divert people from the criminal justice system and provide treatment where there was only punishment in the past.

"A thousand of my cases a year were dealing with what we call serial inebriates, just people with substance use issues who found their way into the justice system because we didn't have another option for them. That's just a waste of everybody's time, criminalizing mental health, criminalizing substance use. Society is kind of turning the corner on that," Harris said.

Not long before he became a judge, Harris helped work on getting the CARE Unit off the ground, the EMT/Mental Health First Response teams that are on the streets today responding to "man down" calls.

"One thing I liked about doing criminal defense all those years was that 98% of my clients were not bad people. They were people who made a bad choice. They did something stupid. Sometimes they would do a lot of something stupid over and over again, but they were not evil people," Harris said. "I’ve met a couple of evil people in my 18 years, and I can count them on one hand. They’ll stay with me for the rest of my life, probably. Everybody else? Really good people in bad situations, in tough situations, and thankfully I’m not doing criminal cases now."

In his current assignment, Harris presides mostly over divorce court and family law cases. He still likes to encourage litigants to reach resolutions outside the courtroom and refers them to alternative resources where needed. He's been through a divorce, and that life experience has taught him still more empathy to elements of his judicial philosophy.

"I wouldn't wish a divorce on my worst enemy. It's the worst thing that happened to me, and it's the worst thing most people will go through in their lives. When there are kids involved, I really try to remind them to set their own interests aside and think about what's going to be best for the kiddos in the short term and in the long term," he said. "I give that lecture three or four times a day five days a week. I know you’re angry and this is really hard, but keep your kids front and center."

Caring about kids is also a core part of what defines Harris, and is perhaps one of the reasons he applied for the position now occupied by Angela Kircher, who works in the juvenile division, before landing his current job.

"[As a lawyer] I did (child protective agency) cases where I would be appointed to represent either parents or kids that had been removed from the home, oftentimes in really tragic circumstances. That was really tough, being a 26- or 28-year-old guy who thought of himself as a rugby player representing these kids in just these awful circumstances," Harris explained. "I did a lot of juvenile delinquency cases where a lot of my kiddos had one or both parents in prison. The only adult male role models they had were gang members ... which got me into Big Brothers Big Sisters of Flagstaff. They had a program called the Step Up program at the juvenile hall. I would try to get my kids involved in that, get them involved in rugby, try to give them a positive outlook, something to do with all that energy."

Harris would become the president of the Big Brothers Big Sisters chapter more than once. Even now, he still volunteers for events with the nonprofit, saying he believes strongly in the value of mentorship and appropriate adult relationships for kids in tough situations.

One thing he has given up is rugby.

"I had to quit playing rugby because I’d had too many injuries and it got kind of tough showing up to court with a black eye or broken fingers, so I switched over to Highland Games — less concussions. Still some exercise," he said with a chuckle.

He spent his 14-year rugby career with the local Landsharks.

Now that journey, which began with a rather insistent suggestion from a former boss at a law firm (run by now-Rep. Ann Kirkpatrick) has ended. Harris can file his accomplishments in the sport alongside other highlights in his life and career prior to his investiture.

Harris has been a realtor, a nonprofit leader and a lawyer. He racked up mile after mile on Arizona highways in a Toyota Camry, driving from court to court in northern Arizona as a defense attorney. He was the public defender for the City of Cottonwood and ran his own law firm where he specialized in guardianship, estate planning and conservatorships. After the birth of his daughter, he opted to try his hand as a prosecutor for a time.

"After 11 years of doing criminal defense, I became a prosecutor. About a year after, they hired me to be the chief prosecutor -- which I did for six or seven years all the way up until I took this job," he said.

A towering person, Harris said he couldn't be happier about raising his kids in the shadow of towering ponderosa pines. Ultimately, he said, he hopes his judgeship marks the culmination of his career, and a chance to make his thoughts known to "wider circles," effect policy change and live in a place he loves.

"I call it wonderland all the time. We live in wonderland and fall in wonderland is just as good as spring and summer," he said. "I am so grateful I get to raise my kids in the forest."

Judge Brent Harris

Sierra Ferguson can be reached at [email protected].

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