When I think about resilience, determination, and the transformative power of education, I think of my own journey—one shaped by hard work, faith, and a deep desire to build a better future not only for myself, but for those around me. My name is Charles Dennis, and I come from a blue-collar background rooted in small-town Texas values. I’ve worked in the transportation industry for over twelve years, hauling everything from aerospace freight to agricultural products. But what’s most important to me is not where I started—it’s where I’m going, and who I can help along the way. I’m currently pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Law and Policy with a Pre-Law focus at Liberty University, with the goal of attending Texas A&M School of Law. My aspiration is to become a litigation attorney, representing individuals and communities who are too often silenced by systems that favor power and privilege. My passion for law began early in life, but it was experiences in my adult years—like volunteering as a firefighter and witnessing injustice firsthand—that fueled my desire to make a tangible impact. I’ve seen how underrepresentation and lack of access to education hold people back. I’ve lived it. But I’ve also seen how one person—just one—can lift another up. That’s what the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship represents to me. Like Mr. Green, I am determined to break through barriers. I may not have followed a traditional path to higher education, but I’ve never let that stop me. I returned to college with renewed purpose after a shoulder surgery sidelined my first attempt. Now, I’m more focused than ever on achieving my goals and helping others do the same. Through my involvement with Truckers Against Trafficking, I’ve had the opportunity to turn my training into action. I once witnessed two underage girls being trafficked at a truck stop in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Because of the education I received through TAT, I recognized the signs and called law enforcement, potentially saving those girls from further harm. That moment confirmed for me that awareness, combined with action, can change lives. It also reminded me that leadership often starts in quiet, unseen ways—by doing the right thing when no one is watching. If awarded this scholarship, I will use it not only to further my education, but to expand my capacity to serve. I believe in giving back. Whether it’s offering pro bono legal work in the future, mentoring students from underserved communities, or simply being a voice for the voiceless, I intend to build a career that honors the very values Mark Green stood for. Education gave Mark and LaTonya Green the tools to rise above their circumstances. This scholarship would help me continue that legacy—of rising, of serving, and of making sure others can do the same. Thank you for considering my application and for continuing to honor such an inspiring legacy through this opportunity.

One legal case that fundamentally changed my perspective on the world is Gideon v. Wainwright (1963). Before learning about this case, I assumed that the right to an attorney was automatically granted to every person accused of a crime, regardless of their financial status. Like many Americans, I took this protection for granted, unaware that, for much of our country’s history, legal counsel was seen as a privilege rather than a right. When I studied Clarence Earl Gideon’s case, I realized how fragile justice can be for the poor and how vital legal advocacy is in preserving our constitutional freedoms. Clarence Gideon was a drifter with limited education and no money to hire an attorney. After being accused of breaking and entering a pool hall in Florida, he requested court-appointed counsel but was denied because, at the time, Florida only provided lawyers to defendants in capital cases. Forced to represent himself, Gideon was convicted and sent to prison. From his jail cell, he handwrote a petition to the U.S. Supreme Court, arguing that his Sixth Amendment right to counsel had been violated. The Court agreed to hear his case, and in a landmark unanimous decision, ruled that states are required to provide attorneys to criminal defendants who cannot afford one. This decision extended the Sixth Amendment guarantee to state courts, ensuring fairer trials for millions of Americans. What struck me most about this case wasn’t just the injustice Gideon initially suffered—it was his courage and determination to fight back, even with limited knowledge and resources. He could have accepted his sentence and faded into obscurity, but instead, he challenged a system that had failed him and changed the course of legal history. His case reminds me that one person’s persistence can lead to systemic reform, even when the odds seem insurmountable. Gideon v. Wainwright also forced me to consider how many people today still fall through the cracks of the justice system. Just because the right to counsel now exists does not mean that every defendant receives adequate representation. Public defenders are often overworked and underfunded, and some defendants still face trials without meaningful legal support. This realization deepened my desire to become an attorney—not just to practice law, but to advocate for those who lack the means to defend themselves. Studying this case was a turning point for me. It reshaped how I view the law—not as an abstract set of rules, but as a living promise that must be actively protected and pursued. It also affirmed my commitment to legal service rooted in justice, compassion, and equality. If Clarence Gideon could challenge the system from a prison cell with nothing but a pencil and a belief in his rights, then I can certainly dedicate my legal career to ensuring others never have to fight alone.

When I was working as an over-the-road truck driver, I became certified through Truckers Against Trafficking (TAT)—a nonprofit that trains drivers like me to identify and report human trafficking. I never expected to use that training so soon. One evening, while parked at a truck stop near Sioux Falls, South Dakota, I saw two clearly underage girls being ushered from truck to truck by an older man. They looked afraid, out of place, and far too young to be there. My gut sank. I remembered the TAT training and immediately called local law enforcement, describing everything I had seen. I don’t know what happened to those girls after that night, but I’ll never forget the look in their eyes—or the responsibility I felt to make sure their voices were heard. To me, ensuring “everyone has a voice” means recognizing the inherent dignity in every human being and acting when others remain silent. It’s not just about giving people a chance to speak—it’s about creating safety, support, and justice for those who may not have the strength or freedom to speak for themselves. Some voices are muffled by fear, violence, or marginalization, and it’s our job—as leaders and citizens—to step in and amplify them. This value shows up in both my personal life and in the leadership roles I’ve taken on. As a volunteer firefighter, I’ve stood beside people in moments of crisis, sometimes when words failed them. I learned that truly giving someone a voice sometimes means listening deeply, acting compassionately, and offering practical help when it's needed most. In my college journey, I’ve brought this same principle into classroom discussions and group work by ensuring that quieter or less confident students are invited into the conversation. As someone now pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Law and Policy at Liberty University, I’ve grown even more determined to live out this value through a future in litigation. My goal is to become a corporate litigation attorney, not just to navigate the complexities of the law, but to hold companies accountable when their actions silence or harm others. Whether it’s a whistleblower afraid of retaliation or a worker mistreated by unethical policies, I want to be the kind of attorney who makes space for their story—and demands justice on their behalf. What happened in Sioux Falls reminded me that leadership doesn’t always come with a title. It comes when you decide to do the right thing, even when it’s uncomfortable. Ensuring everyone has a voice is not just a slogan—it’s a daily commitment to justice, action, and compassion. In all areas of my life, I aim to uphold Proverbs 31:8: “Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute” (ESV). Whether on the road, in the courtroom, or in my community, I will keep speaking up for those who cannot—and make sure they are never forgotten.

When I was a child, around three years old, my cousin—who was more like a sister to me—was arrested. Though I was too young to fully grasp what was happening, I remember the worry in my family and the sudden absence of someone I loved dearly. As I grew older, I came to understand how alone she felt, navigating the legal system without proper guidance or support. That early experience stayed with me and planted a seed: one day, I would become someone who could help people like her—someone who could make the law work for the vulnerable. My path to law has not been conventional. I entered the workforce straight out of high school and built a career in the transportation industry, spending more than twelve years hauling everything from aerospace freight to agricultural goods across the country. I also served as a volunteer firefighter in my community, where I encountered people during some of the most difficult moments of their lives. These experiences taught me compassion, responsibility, and the value of being someone others can count on. But no matter how far I traveled or what I was doing, the calling to serve through the legal field never left me. Now, I’m pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Law and Policy at Liberty University, with the goal of attending Texas A&M School of Law. I have a particular interest in corporate litigation. While it might seem far removed from my cousin’s story, I’ve come to realize that injustice doesn’t always wear the same face. I’ve seen how unethical decisions in corporate environments can destroy lives—whether it's through unfair labor practices, environmental damage, or deceptive business dealings. My goal is to ensure that corporations are held accountable, not just legally, but morally. I want to make a positive impact by becoming the kind of attorney who doesn’t forget where he came from. I understand the struggles of working-class families because I’ve lived them. I believe in justice rooted in compassion, and I want to use my career to advocate for those who might otherwise go unheard. Whether I’m defending a small business against an unjust lawsuit or helping a whistleblower expose corporate wrongdoing, I will strive to act with integrity and courage. Beyond the courtroom, I also hope to give back through pro bono work and community outreach, especially in underserved areas. I want to educate others about their rights, support young people interested in law, and serve as a role model for those who don’t believe a legal career is within their reach. Ultimately, my law career is not just a profession—it’s a mission. I aim to live out the wisdom of Proverbs 31:8-9: “Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute... defend the rights of the poor and needy” (ESV). With every case I take and every person I help, I intend to honor that calling.