Building a Bridge to Justice What I want to build isn’t made of bricks or steel. I want to build a bridge — a bridge that connects people who have been pushed to the margins of society with the justice, dignity, and support they deserve. I want to build a future where the courtroom isn’t a place of fear for the poor, but a place where their voices are heard and defended. As a future public defender, I’m committed to building a career that stands up for the people our system too often overlooks: young men trapped in cycles of poverty, families devastated by mass incarceration, and individuals who are treated as statistics rather than human beings. I’ve seen these realities firsthand — through volunteering in Germantown with Senator Haywood, helping at reentry job fairs, and leading The Caged Doves, my school club focused on youth justice reform. These moments didn’t just open my eyes — they gave me purpose. But building this future won’t come easy. It requires education, sacrifice, and unwavering commitment. That’s why I’m majoring in Political Science at the University of Michigan and aiming for law school after that. I’m not just trying to earn a degree — I’m laying the foundation to make real change. The impact of this mission won’t stop with me. When I become a public defender, I’ll fight for clients who can’t afford legal help, many of whom come from communities like mine in Philadelphia. I’ll work to ensure that kids who make mistakes get second chances — not prison sentences. I’ll mentor youth who are at risk, just like mentors stepped in for me when I needed guidance. This isn’t just about a career — it’s about building a life of meaning. I want my community to see someone who came from the same struggles, faced real obstacles, and used every brick of adversity to build something better. And if I can build that future, maybe others will believe they can too. This scholarship would help me keep building — not just for myself, but for everyone who’s waiting for justice on the other side of the bridge.

Leading with Faith, Serving with Purpose My faith is not just a part of who I am — it’s the foundation of how I live, lead, and serve others. As a Christian, I believe leadership is not about control or recognition. It’s about humility, compassion, and purpose. My model has always been Jesus — not just as a Savior, but as a servant leader who washed the feet of His followers and stood with the broken, the overlooked, and the hurting. This belief in servant leadership has shaped every part of how I lead — whether in student government, in my church’s youth ministry, or as the founder of The Caged Doves, a student-led club focused on youth justice reform. In each of these spaces, I’ve led not by demanding attention, but by listening, caring deeply, and lifting others up — especially those who don’t often get the chance to lead. One of the most powerful moments of faith-driven leadership happened during my senior year, when our school’s community was divided over a series of tense, difficult issues. Tensions were high, conversations were breaking down, and students didn’t feel heard. I prayed hard during that time — not for the perfect words, but for the courage to step up and be a peacemaker. I remembered Matthew 5:9: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” So I did something simple but powerful: I invited students from all sides to sit in a circle and just talk — no debating, no shouting, just honest conversation. I opened with prayer and shared a verse that had been guiding me: Micah 6:8 — “What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” That moment set the tone. People listened. People cried. People left with a little more peace than they came in with. That, to me, is the kind of leadership that lasts. Faith has taught me that leadership is not about having all the answers — it’s about pointing people toward truth, love, and grace even when it’s hard. It’s about being steady in storms, hopeful in darkness, and unshakably committed to what is right, even when it’s not popular. That’s the kind of leader I strive to be every day. As I head to the University of Michigan this fall to study Political Science, my faith will continue to guide me. I plan to become a public defender and eventually a policy advocate — someone who fights for those the world has forgotten. I want to ensure that justice is accessible, not just for the powerful, but for the poor, the marginalized, and the voiceless. My vision for the future is rooted in Isaiah 1:17: “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed.” This scholarship would help make that vision a reality. It would support not just my education, but my mission to lead with faith, act with love, and live a life of service. I don’t want to just succeed — I want to make a difference. And everything I do, I want to reflect the One who first led me.

Life Is Always Worth Defending My pro-life stance was not born out of politics or pressure — it was born from experience, reflection, and a deep belief that every human life has value, from the very beginning. One of the most pivotal moments in shaping my perspective came during a high school debate. I chose to argue the pro-life side in front of a packed classroom. At first, I thought it would be about statistics and legal precedent. But as I researched, wrote, and stood up to deliver my points, I realized I wasn’t just debating — I was defending something deeply personal. I was defending my belief that life matters, no matter how small, how unexpected, or how inconvenient society may deem it. During my preparation, I spoke with a close family member who had chosen life in incredibly difficult circumstances. She became pregnant at 17. Everyone told her to terminate the pregnancy — to “save her future.” But she didn’t. She told me that even in her fear and uncertainty, she looked at the ultrasound and saw a heartbeat, not a burden. Today, her daughter is thriving. That conversation stayed with me. It reminded me that life is not perfect — but it is always sacred. I’ve also experienced the pain of loss in my own life. Multiple relatives of mine have suffered miscarriages early on in their pregnancies. The grief they feel is real and raw, and it made me realize that the life they carried — even though never born — was deeply loved and mourned. That grief taught me something powerful: we instinctively know that every life matters, even if it never takes its first breath outside the womb. These experiences have deepened my commitment to promoting the dignity of all human beings — especially the unborn. But I also believe that being pro-life doesn’t stop at birth. It means supporting mothers in crisis, advocating for better access to prenatal care, and helping families in tough situations know they are not alone. In my school community, I’ve spoken out about these ideas during classroom discussions and community forums. I’ve volunteered at food drives, supported teen moms in local programs, and made it a personal mission to lead with compassion — not judgment. I understand that this topic is deeply emotional, and I approach it with humility. But I believe we must be a voice for the voiceless. We must recognize the humanity of the unborn and work to create a world where choosing life is not only possible — but supported, celebrated, and protected. This scholarship would allow me to continue pursuing a legal career where I can advocate for the most vulnerable — not just in theory, but in practice. Whether through defending life in courtrooms, pushing for just policies, or serving those who feel alone and forgotten, I want my future to reflect this truth: every life has dignity, and every life deserves a defender.

Her Name Was Betty Jane Some people raise you with their blood. Others raise you with their heart. For me, that person was Betty Jane. She wasn’t related to me by family — but you’d never know that from the way she loved us. She helped raise my mom and her four brothers, then turned around years later and did the same for me. She had barely enough money to get by with her own 7 kids, but you’d never hear her complain. She always gave. Food, advice, stories, laughter — Betty Jane gave it all away without expecting anything in return. She was the safest place I knew. Until she wasn’t. Alzheimer’s didn’t take her all at once. It took her in pieces. First her short-term memory. Then her warmth. Then her voice. The woman who once packed my lunches and wiped tears from my face suddenly didn’t remember who I was — except for my name. Somehow, my name was the only one she remembered. Everyone else faded into strangers. The worst part wasn’t that she forgot. The worst part was watching her become a different person. A woman who once hugged the world grew scared of it. She became irritable, frustrated, confused. And I didn’t know how to help. It felt like losing someone while they were still alive. But I’m not writing this just to mourn her. I’m writing this because Betty Jane deserves to be remembered — not as someone who was taken by Alzheimer’s, but as someone who gave everything to everyone she met. I plan to honor her by dedicating part of my public service career to fighting for better elder care access, dementia support, and legal protections for caregivers and low-income seniors. I’m pursuing Political Science at the University of Michigan on the pre-law track. My goal is to become a public defender and advocate for families like mine — families who are doing everything they can to support aging loved ones while navigating a healthcare and legal system that is painfully complex. I don’t want anyone to feel the helplessness I felt watching Betty Jane slip away. I want to push for funding for memory care programs, accessible home-based support, and legal resources for low-income families managing conditions like Alzheimer’s. I want to work on policies that prioritize dignity — for patients, for caregivers, and for the people who love them. Betty Jane showed me what it means to love deeply and give selflessly. Even in her decline, she gave me purpose. This scholarship would help me carry that purpose into the next chapter of my life — through law school, through advocacy, and through the policies I fight to create. It would mean I can keep pushing for change in her name — a name she never forgot. I miss her every day. And I carry her with me in everything I do.

My name is Cole McKendrick, and I’m entering the University of Michigan this fall as a Political Science major on the pre-law track. My goal is clear: to become a public defender and later serve in a federal agency dedicated to justice reform, civil rights, or indigent defense. I want to dedicate my life to public service — not just to enforce the law, but to transform it. I come from Philadelphia, a city of resilience and struggle. I’ve seen what systemic inequality looks like up close — families evicted without legal aid, young people trapped in a juvenile system more focused on punishment than healing. I’ve lived through my own battles too, including four years of chronic pain, misdiagnosed seven times, until doctors finally discovered I had stage 4 osteochondritis dissecans, requiring three knee surgeries. That experience nearly sidelined my education. But I didn’t let it. I fought through the recovery, kept up my grades, and worked at Santucci’s to help cover college costs. But my passion isn’t born from hardship alone — it’s born from action. I interned for Pennsylvania Senator Art Haywood, assisting with community food and school supply drives. I also lead a student club called The Caged Doves, focused on criminal justice reform, youth rehabilitation, and second chances. These experiences taught me that meaningful change doesn’t happen from the sidelines — it comes from being embedded in communities, listening, and showing up with solutions. Becoming a public defender is only the beginning. My long-term goal is to work within the Department of Justice or a related federal agency, where I can influence policy on a broader level. I want to contribute to creating alternatives to incarceration, increasing access to public defenders, and redesigning the juvenile justice system into one rooted in restorative justice. For me, public service is not a backup plan — it’s the mission. This scholarship would relieve the heavy financial burden that my family and I carry as I take my first steps into this career. My mother, a former Army Reservist, raised me on strength and purpose, often reminding me to “move with a purpose.” That phrase lives in me now. It’s how I survived surgery after surgery. It’s how I studied through pain. It’s how I kept showing up for others, even when I was barely holding it together myself. Public service isn’t just a career to me — it’s a promise. A promise to use my pain for purpose. A promise to fight for those who have been ignored, dismissed, or failed by the systems meant to protect them. And a promise to never forget where I come from, or the people I’m fighting for. Thank you for considering my application. I’m ready to serve, to build, and to make an impact — one case, one person, one policy at a time.

Over the past few years, I’ve actively pursued civic, leadership, and policy-related roles that reflect my commitment to equity, public service, and community empowerment. Each opportunity has shaped my perspective on how policy connects with real people, and each experience has brought me closer to a career dedicated to meaningful change. In Summer 2024, I served as a paid intern on Pennsylvania State Senator Art Haywood’s Advocacy Team in Germantown, Philadelphia (Senate District 4). Working roughly 20 hours per week over eight weeks, I helped organize several community events designed to directly support underserved constituents. I was part of a team that planned and ran a food drive, a job fair, and a back-to-school giveaway. These events provided meals, employment resources, and school supplies to families in need. I also helped staff community tables and support outreach efforts, learning firsthand how accessible, community-centered policymaking can make a tangible difference. Beyond logistics, I witnessed how empathy and trust-building are key tools in public service. At Radnor High School, I founded and led the Caged Dove Project, a student initiative focused on raising awareness around racial injustice and wrongful convictions in the criminal justice system. Since launching the project in 2022, I’ve recruited over 60 student members and led discussions, social media campaigns, and fundraising events to elevate awareness and engage the school community. What began as a passion project turned into a movement on campus, showing me how youth activism can shift perspectives and spark meaningful conversations—even within institutions. I also served as the Student Representative on the School District Finance Committee Board from September 2023 to June 2024. In this role, I attended monthly board meetings, reviewed district budgets, and offered input on school policy decisions from a student perspective. It gave me a seat at the table where decisions are made—and showed me the importance of representation and student voice in shaping policy. Beyond governance, I’ve remained grounded in peer mentorship and inclusion. As a Peer Mentor and Tour Guide, I was selected by school leadership to help incoming students transition into high school life. I also serve with Best Buddies, a national organization that fosters inclusion for students with developmental disabilities. For the past three years, I’ve helped lead inclusive activities and community-building events that promote empathy, understanding, and belonging. My commitment to service continues outside the classroom. I’ve raised over $10,000 for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, worked with the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society on strategic fundraising campaigns, and participated in the American Cancer Society’s Coaches vs. Cancer event, which raised over $875,000 for cancer research. Additionally, I’ve coached youth soccer through Future Captains Camps, teaching fundamentals, teamwork, and leadership to kids in both Pennsylvania and Florida. Currently, I’m pursuing a Political Science degree at the University of Michigan (Class of 2029), with aspirations to serve in state or federal government. My past roles aren’t just résumé entries—they’re experiences that have prepared me to lead with empathy, advocate with purpose, and never lose sight of the communities I aim to serve. These roles have strengthened my leadership, sharpened my values, and confirmed that public service is not just my interest—it’s my path forward.