After 400 exams, Judge Samanthaward cuts off his public service career

Tampa – Samantha Ward wanted to be a doctor. But the disgust of organic chemistry in a junior college student instead placed her on the path to law school.

She thought she would become a career prosecutor, but later took on a long role as a public defense counsel before she became a judge.

For 15 years on the bench, she was one of Hillsboro County’s most visible jurists, leaning sided over 400 ju trials and thousands of hearings, and published countless warrants, orders and written opinions that shaped local law and life.

Now another turn comes: she has resigned.

Ward, who turned 60 this month, suddenly announced at the end of her final trial that she was leaving the bench for opportunities for private practice.

“Maybe I’m tearing up a band-aid like a girl,” she said.

A few days later, she stepped into the gorgeous Armenian Avenue Law Firm of her old friend and colleague, Attorney George Lorenzo. She works with Julian Holt, a recently retired public defense lawyer and former boss, as the company expands its criminal defense efforts.

The move says goodbye to Tampa’s long public service career that has placed ward at the forefront of some of Tampa’s most profiled criminal cases and pivotal legal issues.

She was one of Florida’s first judges in 2016, saying that the state could not seek the death penalty after the US Supreme Court broke the state’s death penalty laws.

As an administrative judge, she was deeply involved in preparing for her return to in-person exams during the Covid-19 pandemic, and was primarily sided with Tampa’s first social distancing ju-justing procedure.

She was the judge who handled the Seminole Heights serial murder case and created a series of rulings that preceded approval of the transaction in which the accused served four consecutive life sentences.

Released from the constantly oppressed duty of justice, she says she will miss it.

“I don’t think I’m tired of being a judge,” she said. “That’s a good gig.”

Military children discover the law

Ward’s father was a career broadcaster. Growing up, she became used to moving to new air force bases every few years. The development of the military has instilled gratitude for rules and order.

In the summer before her junior year of high school, she moved to Panama City and went on to college at the University of Florida.

As her chemistry grades slipped, a friend taking pre-law classes piqued her interest with stories of the boy’s justice and the US Constitution. She graduated from university with a degree in sociology and continued her studies in law at Florida State University.

An internship with the Hillsboro State Attorney’s Office brought her to Tampa in 1989.

She gained early experience in prosecuting murder. In one case, she and her counsel sought the death penalty for the man who killed his wife. The victim’s young daughter tried to call 911 without knowing that the man had cut off the phone line at home. When Ward was ready to hold a closing discussion, her colleagues stepped in and feared that she would break into tears talking about the girl.

It was a learning experience.

“You’re trying to stay calm,” she said. “It’s sometimes very difficult as a prosecutor, a defense attorney, or a judge.”

Ward always filmed himself as a prosecutor. However, her first boss, late state lawyer Bill James, was repeatedly invited by Holt after losing his run in 1992 for reelection.

Holt recalled one case in which the ward caught a police officer lying in pretrial testimony. Ward quickly dropped the case.

“As a defense attorney, you can get to know the prosecutor,” Holt said. “We know who the prosecutor is, but it’s not just smart, it’s professional.”

One day in 1993, when Holt left town and worked at a famous murder trial, Ward moved to her office.

If she worked as a counsel with Lorenzo, Ward secured the 17-year-old acquittal, misidentified as a archer in an attempted murder case.

Along with Holt, she defended a man who faced the death penalty for stabbing another man while robbing. They persuaded the jury to recommend a life sentence. She later received a handwritten note from Foreman and thanked her.

“Your passion for justice and dignity was very clear during the verdict part of the trial,” he wrote.

She still holds a note in her wallet.

On the bench

In the early 2000s, Ward repeatedly applied for judges. But as an outsider in Tampa with little political connection, she was taken over for the appointment of the governor.

She lost one election before making another success in 2008.

She spent time managing divorce and family issues. Previously, Ronald Ficarotta placed her where she really wanted. For the past decade, she oversaw consecutive criminal trials. Many of them were murderous.

Her presence on the bench was reserved and was not a big deal. Occasionally she offers words of choice to those who have come before her.

In one case, she accused the state attorney of seeking a series of probation violations and a 10-year penalty for a man with a long criminal history.

“He is a threat to society,” she said before imposing the 15-year biggest.

In another case, she rebuked the accused for claiming that she was lying to the police when the murder investigation began, saying she was not intentional and not worthy of prison time.

“That’s the wrong answer,” Ward told her.

The most difficult case was that it didn’t bring too much attention. For the very young defendant who made a terrible decision and paid them for the rest of his life.

“If you’re a parent, you know they don’t think about the way normal people do it,” she said. “I don’t like to sentence a 20-year-old in prison.”

Her professional relationship with Holt was debated among prosecutors in the Seminole Heights case, Holt said. However, that was never raised as a question.

“She’s already got too much reputation because she is associated with fairness,” Holt said. She added that Ward sometimes ruled her office.

Ward said she was already planning to leave the bench when her term rose two years later. But she decided that she is now, along with a job offer she said she recently got married and that she would give her more personal flexibility. The governor appointed her replacement.

She was a regional bank building that currently houses Lorenzo & Lorenzo’s companies, and occupies one of the office suites. The bank’s previous drive-thru lane is now a mock courtroom with a judge’s bench on one end. What used to be a bank safe is now a wine cellar and wet bar.

She has already met with several clients. She plans to work for several more years before retiring forever.

Right now, not from the judicial canon, Ward appears to be more open-minded, especially on criminal justice issues. She has opinions on mandatory minimum penalties, judicial discretion, civil rights and more. And now she has the right to express them.

Behind her desk, a framed painting of an ancient scene of a robbed tied woman hangs from one wall.

Below that is a replica of the Statue of Liberty ward. More than 11 people were photographed and Lady Liberty models hanging in court. They regularly appeared in the background of news reports of the murder trial, along with posters from John F. Kennedy, Ruth Budder Ginsberg and Martin Luther King Jr.

The unusual ornamental courtroom decorations conveyed a message to lawsuits, audiences and themselves about doing justice and doing the right thing.

“That’s what I was there,” she said.