Philadelphia Weekly

His current caseload includes people injured by nightclub bouncers, bad piercings, flying fire truck ladders and teeth-shattering objects hiding in food.

"It's not the criminal justice people usually think of," says Williams. "We can't compensate victims by putting a company in jail. We compensate them by getting some of their bills paid."

After more than 10 years as an assistant district attorney, Williams left the DA's office--partly out of frustration over being party to a system he thinks is broken, and partly out of obligation to his growing family.

Typically, an assistant district attorney commits to only three years in the DA's office, where 300 prosecutors handle some 70,000 cases a year. The burnout and low wages soon send many of the young lawyers into private practice.

Williams left the DA's office last year. At Zarwin Baum his caseload is thinner and his paycheck is fatter.

But he rarely gets to argue his cases in court. Most of his cases end in a settlement.

He misses the criminal justice system, the adrenaline rush of being in court, advocating for victims of violence.

"I like my job a lot," says Williams. "I like the people. I like the paycheck. But I miss the cause being greater than just that one victim. At the Criminal Justice Center I felt I was having an impact on the lives of the people in those neighborhoods."

Williams came to the DA's office in 1992 after graduating from Georgetown University. He started in the municipal court unit, which handles felony preliminary hearings and misdemeanor trials. He would arrive at one of the city's eight court districts at 8 in the morning and handle some 40 cases a day. Victims, defendants and cops funneled in and out of the courtroom.

After a few hours he'd head back to the DA's office to file paperwork and grab lunch. Then he'd prepare for the next day's cases, calling witnesses and subpoenaing cops till late in the evening. The cycle would begin again the next day.

After a year he moved to the juvenile court unit, where he prosecuted kids and adults charged with crimes against kids--primarily sexual assaults. He recalls working a case where a mother was charged with severely beating her 9-year-old son. Williams subpoenaed the mother's social worker, who testified that the mother hadn't fully complied with parenting classes and other DHS services.

Williams and the social worker, Sonita Crudup, kept in touch after the trial. He was drawn to her calmness and beauty; she, to his eternal optimism. No matter how disturbing the case, or how many weekends he worked, when asked how his day was, Williams would always say, "outstanding." The couple married three years later.

Williams left juvenile court and moved up through the ranks of the DA's office. He worked two years in the felony waiver unit, prosecuting stolen car cases, drug cases, burglaries and aggravated assaults. That was followed by two years in the major trials unit, where he dealt with shootings, kidnappings and gunpoint robberies.

"Seth was a great trial lawyer," remembers Joel Rosen, a former supervisor. "He had a good work ethic, good instincts and that indefinable 'it' you have to have in front of jury."

Williams says his most memorable case revolved around the Saladino family.

In the summer of 1996 Christian Saladino and his friends got into a racially charged fight with another group of boys in their Northeast neighborhood. In the melee, 18-year-old Christian was hit in the base of his skull with a car Club, then beaten with a baseball bat as he lay on the ground.

In prosecuting the case, Williams talked with the Saladino family often, and visited an unconscious Christian in the hospital. When the defendants were convicted of aggravated assault, the Saladinos invited Williams to dinner to show their gratitude.

When Christian died a year and a half after the fight, Williams filed murder charges. The jury found the defendants not guilty.

Throughout the case, Williams worked with the community when tensions ran high and there was the threat of more violence.

He still visits Bernadette Saladino, Christian's mother, and she sometimes brings his favorite--Italian wedding soup--to his office. When she was recently hit by a car, she called Williams to handle her case.