Hello, I am Ismael Rojas. I am a 28-year-old Army veteran from El Paso, Texas, pursuing my criminal justice degree to one day attend law school. I returned from being a Cavalry Scout in Syria with PTSD and began rebuilding. I'm now the leader of the trainee program at R.E. West Transportation, training new drivers, including other veterans. But through time, I learned my role is greater than just getting people from point A to point B. I wish to serve my community as a lawyer who shows up for individuals when the system appears too great to fight alone. A particular case that shifted my view of the legal system is Gideon v. Wainwright. I believed prior to hearing of this case that all people in this country had the right to an attorney if they were suspected of a crime. I believed fairness was a birthright. However, this 1963 Supreme Court case showed me differently. When Clarence Earl Gideon was charged with a felony and not provided with a lawyer appointed to him because Florida only provided counsel for capital cases, he had to represent himself. He lost. In a prison cell, he wrote a typewritten petition to the Supreme Court arguing that the Sixth Amendment should extend counsel to all individuals, not just the wealthy. The Court ruled in his favor, establishing the right of counsel in state courts. This case led me to perceive the legal system in a different light, not because it was a stand-alone injustice, but because it highlighted a gap that remains. Having a right to a lawyer does not guarantee quality, attention, or understanding. Too many stay behind working-class individuals, immigrants, and most of all, veterans with mental health challenges. I've seen this firsthand. I've helped other veterans write disability appeals, clarify their rights, and walk through confusing systems. It's made me realize that access to justice isn't just about courts. It's about communication, advocacy, and trust. What impacted me most about the Gideon case was how a single person without power or resources challenged and changed the system. He didn't do it with money or influence. He did it with conviction, religion, and a need to stand up. Such an attitude fuels my passion for the law. I do not wish to be just another lawyer with a degree. I want to be the lawyer who makes people understand their rights and options before it is too late. I am going to open up a law firm with my wife, who is in the process of becoming a CPA. We want to assist veterans, families, and small business people who should be treated fairly, get honest answers, and have legal help they can trust. I believe justice should be accessible and that we must make it so. The TJ Crowson Memorial Scholarship is dear to me. Like Mr. Crowson, I come from a family where it was a sacrifice and determination to attend college. I value service, doing what is right, and applying the law to build, not tear down, opportunity. If I receive this scholarship, I will carry that belief in every client transaction, every trial, and every time I stand up for another. – Ismael Rojas

My name is Ismael Rojas. I am a 28-year-old Army veteran, husband, father, and criminal justice student in El Paso, Texas. I was a Cavalry Scout in the United States Army, with a deployment in Syria. It instilled in me discipline, leadership, and perspective. But it came with invisible costs, service-related PTSD, and the challenge of reintegrating into civilian life. These life experiences have shaped me into the individual I am today, and why I am returning to school. After leaving the military, I got my CDL and began employment with R.E. West Transportation. Over the years, I have been promoted to Lead Trainee Program Operator, where I now train and mentor new commercial drivers, many of whom are also veterans. My passion in that role is helping others transition, dismantle barriers, and find stability after service. That purpose is why I returned to school. I am pursuing a criminal justice degree and plan to attend law school. My career goal is to be an attorney committed to serving veterans, small business people, and working families, who are often underserved or overlooked by the legal community. I want to create a Texas law firm focusing on access, respect, and results. My wife is working towards becoming a CPA, and we will start a business that combines financial guidance and legal representation for the people in our community. We both understand what it's like to start from the bottom, and we want to use our education and experience to help give others an equal opportunity. As an El Pasoan, I see how financial hardship, lack of access to resources, and trauma, especially for veterans, can spiral into legal problems, homelessness, and lost opportunities. I want to be part of the solution. Whether it is fighting for a veteran having trouble securing VA benefits, defending a defendant in court who cannot afford a high-dollar attorney, or providing legal education through outreach and seminars, I want to bring dignity and clarity to those who are too often overlooked. This scholarship would enable me to keep my eyes on this long-term objective without the distraction of having to constantly bear the burden of financial worry on my shoulders. Every class I complete brings me closer to launching a career that is less about success, but about service. I am not just getting a degree. I am building a legacy that will outlive me, something that empowers families, strengthens veterans, and brings true justice to those in Texas. I appreciate your consideration. I am ready to lead, serve, and make a difference where it matters most in my community. – Ismael Rojas

My name is Ismael Rojas. I am 28 years old, an Army veteran, husband, father, and criminal justice student with a vision of becoming an attorney who advocates for underrepresented populations, especially veterans. My path to the law wasn't easy. It was built on inner conflict, subtle strength, and a growing appreciation for how much mental health impacts not just individuals but systems as well. I am a U.S. Army Cavalry Scout, and I have been deployed to Syria. When I came back home, I didn't come home with just memories. I came home with PTSD, anxiety, and the challenge of finding a new identity within the civilian world. These hidden wounds tested my marriage, my self-esteem, and my relationship abilities. For years, I was silent. Like many veterans, I figured the best thing to do was to handle it alone. But I learned that strength does not always equate to silence. Strength is calculated by standing up to what hurts and continuing on. Reading was one of the only things that calmed me down and gave me direction. Books like Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson and The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander educated me to a system of justice that too often punishes trauma and not treats it. They made me understand that the fight for fairness does not stop on the battlefield—it is also fought in our courts, our neighborhoods, and our policies. These books fueled the path to my choice to return to school. They showed me that I could take my experiences and make them matter. They instilled in me the desire to dream of a time when my voice would be counted in the rooms where decisions are made. Today, I am the Lead Trainee Program Operator for R.E. West Transportation in El Paso, training and mentoring new commercial drivers, many of them veterans like me. I teach more than truck operations. I take them through transitions, help them regain confidence, and talk to them openly about what service-connected trauma is and how to go on. This job has taught me that lived experience can be a source of strength, mainly when it's employed to uplift others. That is exactly what I plan to do using the law. I am pursuing a criminal justice degree and intend to attend law school. My wife is pursuing certification as a CPA, and we are collectively developing a business plan to open an illegal and financial advocacy practice that serves veterans, small business owners, and working-class families. We want to fill the void that is lacking for those in need of representation but can't afford it or don't know how to seek it out. Mental health, particularly PTSD, has affected every area of who I am today. It taught me how to be more patient, more intentional, and more committed to change. I know the criminal justice system can be transformed from the inside out, but it takes people who deeply understand the communities being affected. I have that within me. Now, I am gaining the education and training to do something about it. This scholarship would stay on track with me as I work to become a voice for those who are too often silenced. I am not looking for handouts. I am building something degree by degree, day by day, that will make a positive difference in people's lives.

One of the most critical issues facing the criminal justice system today is its handling of veterans who have mental illness, particularly those who have PTSD and war-related trauma. They return from service and are misunderstood, misdiagnosed, and often overlooked by the medical and legal systems. Their behavior, driven by survival skills, hypervigilance, or emotional numbing, is criminalized far too often instead of being handled with compassion and understanding. I understand this not just through study or observation, but through experience. My name is Ismael Rojas. I am a 28-year-old U.S. Army veteran and former Cavalry Scout stationed in Syria. I came home with service-connected PTSD, which I've made a deliberate effort to cope with while establishing a life based on leadership, purpose, and family. I am now the Lead Trainee Program Operator for R.E. West Transportation in El Paso, Texas, where I train and coach new commercial truck drivers, most of whom are veterans themselves. My role, though mostly operational, has been a vehicle for me to guide other veterans through the process of reintegration into civilian life, to encourage them to seek assistance, stay grounded, and to find meaning outside the military. That leadership role gave me a desire to go into the legal profession. I've seen firsthand the way veterans often become caught up in cycles of stress, financial difficulties, or emotional distress with nowhere to turn. I saw how quickly that could snowball into legal issues, and how often their service-related trauma falls by the wayside when things go bad. That impressed upon me the need to return to school and study for a degree in criminal justice. I am presently working on my undergraduate degree and getting ready for law school to become an attorney who defends and represents veterans and working-class people who are so often forgotten by the justice system. I have taken every step available to expand my knowledge and engagement in this area. In addition to my work experience, I've immersed myself in legal studies, VA disability claims, and system navigation not only for myself, but to assist other veterans with their questions and appeals. I've written formal letters, built lay statements, and helped fellow vets understand their rights. These aren't courtroom experiences just yet, but they're formative because they've provided me with a firsthand perspective of the system's weaknesses and how to work within it to improve it. One day in the future, my wife and I will have our own law firm. She is obtaining her CPA, and we'll combine legal and financial services so that we can provide complete assistance to veterans, families, and small business owners. We'll provide defense representation for criminal cases, VA appeals, and financial disputes, always with a view to giving strength to those who do not often have strong advocates on their behalf. I believe true reform starts with those who understand the problem and the community where it exists. Veterans need lawyers who understand being in the uniform and coping with the traumas that follow service. They need their lawyers to see them as not a number on a case but fellow soldiers, parents, or neighbors deserving of justice, dignity, and fairness. This scholarship would help me stay on track as I move towards that goal. It would allow me to focus more intently on the learning and community service that I am sure will make a positive difference. I'm not just earning a degree; I'm building a purpose-designed career that will make a difference for those who serve. The justice system is complex and imperfect, but I believe it can be rebuilt from the inside. And I'm going to be one of those doing it. – Ismael Rojas

My name is Ismael Rojas, and I’m a 28-year-old U.S. Army veteran who proudly served as a Cavalry Scout, including a deployment to Syria. That experience shaped me in ways that go far beyond rank and responsibility. It taught me the true meaning of leadership, pressure, and sacrifice. But it also awakened me to what many veterans face when they come home: a system that doesn't always understand them, and a world that just keeps moving along as if nothing happened. After I left the military, I went through the silent struggle that's all too common for many veterans. PTSD, isolation, and the feeling of disconnection from civilian life became my daily reality. I did, though, make a choice not to let it hold me back. I got my CDL, worked my way up, and I'm now director of R.E. West Transportation's trainee program in El Paso. I train and mentor new drivers, many of whom are also veterans. I use my experience to get them through not just trucking routes, but through the transition to civilian structure, routine, and self-worth. That leadership role made one thing clear to me: I'm meant to serve off the battlefield, too. That's why I returned to school. I'm earning my degree in criminal justice and preparing to attend law school. I want to be the one that veterans and working-class families can call on when the legal system feels like just another enemy. I've seen up close how easy it is for good people to fall through the cracks when nobody's advocating for them. I'm going to change that. Along with my wife, who's studying to be a CPA, I plan to establish a law and financial defense firm dedicated to helping veterans, small business owners, and low-income families navigate complicated legal and financial systems. We want to build something real, something based on service, not greed. The military taught me how to show up when it matters. College has given me the tools to sharpen that mission. Now, I'm applying both to build something that will serve my community for the long haul. This scholarship would not only fund that pursuit it would be part of the foundation I stand on as I continue to turn service into something lasting. – Ismael Rojas, U.S. Army Veteran

My name is Ismael Rojas, and I'm a 28-year-old U.S. Army veteran. I was a Cavalry Scout and served in Syria; it's an experience that completely changed the way I think about myself and the country I used to think I knew everything about. Before I went into the military, I thought strength was about being independent, not sharing things, and making do no matter what. I'd thought that patriotism was standing tall, proud, and serving without hesitation. But service, especially on a deployment like the one I was on, taught me that strength isn't silence. It's responsibility. It's knowing what you're fighting for and carrying it anyway. And it's knowing that sometimes the best way of serving is after the uniform is removed. The military irrevocably altered how I see myself. I now bear a badge of great discipline and leadership, but also invisible wounds. I have PTSD, and that has led me to grapple with some uncomfortable truths about vulnerability, mental health, and what happens to many of us after service. But from it, I learned something strong: I'm not broken, I'm battle-tested. I've survived things that not many will ever be aware of. And I've used that experience to build a life of purpose. Now, I oversee R.E. West Transportation's training program in El Paso, where I train up new commercial drivers, some of whom are veterans like me. I don't just teach logistics. I mentor. I lead with empathy. I support because I know what it means to come home and not know the world or yourself. As for my country, my view has been both more cynical and more fervent. I've seen up close how those who serve are all too often left behind when their service ends. I've worked in systems that didn't always understand what I'd been through. I've watched some good people fall through the cracks because nobody was there to guide them. Rather than bitter, it made me motivated. That's why I'm pursuing my criminal justice degree and preparing to attend law school. I want to be an advocate for veterans in another battlefield, courtrooms, offices, and boardrooms where decisions are being made that shape their future. My wife is pursuing certification as a CPA, and we're creating a law and financial defense firm built on actual experience. We'd like to work with veterans, families, and small business owners who desire someone in their corner. We don't want to just prosper; we want to serve differently, making a lasting impact. The military taught me to lead. The military taught me how to survive. But what it taught me most importantly was that I owe it to others to pay forward not just in words, but in action. I'm taking my education, my career, and my voice and using them to assist those who are still working to transition out of service. This scholarship isn’t just a financial boost, it’s an investment in the future I’m building, not just for myself, but for every veteran I’ll stand up for along the way. – Ismael Rojas, U.S. Army Veteran

My name is Ismael Rojas. I'm a 28-year-old U.S. Army veteran, husband, father, and the Lead Trainee Program Operator for R.E. West Transportation in El Paso, Texas. I served proudly as a Cavalry Scout and deployed to Syria, performing reconnaissance missions, conducting patrols, and working in high-risk terrain. I returned home with a keen sense of discipline, leadership, and responsibility, but I returned home with something intangible: service-connected PTSD. I didn't realize it at first. I kept telling myself I was adjusting, just exhausted, just getting by. But PTSD doesn't always make you have a breakdown. Sometimes it just gets in and surprises you. It follows you when you're going to bed. It lowers your tolerance for your children. It puts a wall between you and those who care for you. I've been through those times myself and held it in for a while. But with time, I realized that silence was not strength; it was suffocating. That's when I realized: you don't heal by hiding. You heal by leading. Following the Army, I committed to making something worthwhile. I got my CDL, became part of the ranks of R.E. West, and set out to take new drivers and integrate them into civilian society as a leader. Most trainees I deal with are also veterans, and I recognize that look in their eyes since I've felt it myself. I don't instruct them just to drive a truck; I take them through what happens after service, through the fog of identity loss, worry, and tension that no one else perceives. That's what drives me. Now, I am working towards a criminal justice major and law school. My long-term goal is to be a lawyer who advocates for veterans and disadvantaged communities. Far too many of us come home and are greeted with legal, economic, or systemic issues that aggravate the PTSD. I will not stand for it. My wife, who is working on becoming a CPA, and I are building something together: a company that is a blend of legal defense, financial protection, and veteran-targeted assistance. I don't want veterans to feel like they're doing this all by themselves. I want them to know that someone on the other end understands. PTSD doesn't define me, but it did redefine me. I've learned I'm not broken. I'm battle-tested. I've built a future, I've commanded men and women, and I've carried burdens many never even catch sight of. And I've used those things for a purpose. My prayer is to be the example that says to other veterans: you're not alone, you're not weak, and you're not finished. You still have value, still have strength, and still have purpose. This award would not merely pay for my schooling. It would ignite a long-term passion for turning pain into power and service into leadership. – Ismael Rojas, 28 years old, U.S. Army Veteran