By Edward Marah
Twenty-one years after his call to the Bar in 2005, Leon Blyden Jenkins-Johnston Esq. has not chosen to celebrate himself. He has chosen to interrogate his profession. And Sierra Leone should listen.
In a profession where anniversaries are often marked with self-praise and expensive dinners, Jenkins-Johnston’s reflection- that honesty, sincerity, integrity, and dedication must remain the foundation of legal practice- is both timely and piercing. It quietly indicts where we are.
Let us be blunt: The Bar in Sierra Leone is under scrutiny. In court corridors, in the streets of Freetown, on social media, allegations of dishonesty, sharp practice, selling of clients, and professional misconduct are no longer whispers. They are conversations. Every time a lawyer is accused of collecting money and disappearing, of coaching false testimony, of bribing court staff, public confidence in justice collapses a little more.
Jenkins-Johnston is right: “Our professional reputation does not only rest on our competence but also on our character.” A brilliant lawyer without character is a danger to justice.
His second warning is equally important: mutual respect between the Bench and the Bar. In recent years, we have seen too much unnecessary tension – judges who feel disrespected, lawyers who feel bullied, and litigants caught in the middle. Justice cannot flow in an atmosphere of mutual suspicion and ego. The Bench must respect the Bar as officers of the court, and the Bar must respect the Bench as the arbiter. That mutual respect is not courtesy; it is the oxygen of the rule of law.
Thirdly, his call to confront Artificial Intelligence and emerging areas of practice is visionary. The world is not waiting for us. While lawyers in Nairobi and Accra are drafting AI policies and mastering fintech, oil and gas law, data protection and international arbitration, many here are still fighting over land matters with handwritten affidavits. If we do not adapt, we will be left behind, and foreign lawyers will take the premium briefs in our own economy.
But perhaps the most profound part of his reflection is the reminder of what a lawyer is for. Referring to the ongoing constitutional amendment debate, he reminded us that lawyers must do more than represent clients. They must guide the nation. When the Constitution is being amended, the people look to lawyers – not politicians – to tell them the truth. That duty requires rigour, courage and independence from political patronage.
It is impossible to read Jenkins-Johnston’s story without returning to his father, the late Jenkins-Johnston Snr. The image of a father passing the phone around his chambers every Saturday afternoon from Freetown to his son in the UK to say “we are waiting for you” is more than sentimental. It speaks to a generational transfer of values that is missing today. Jenkins-Johnston Snr. stood for ordinary people, often for free. That is the Sierra Leonean legal tradition we are losing to commercialism and quick money.
His own record as Sierra Leone’s 4th Ombudsman – 1,832 complaints, 734 concluded, 4 consecutive unmodified audits – and his role as founding member of the Legal Aid Board show that a lawyer can be both a successful private practitioner and a public servant. It is a balance many of his peers have failed to strike.
His advice to young lawyers- be patient, resist shortcuts, do not chase quick rewards – should be pinned on the wall of every chamber at Siaka Stevens Street and Percival Street.
At Dworzark Junction, where he has now secured a permanent home for Jenkins-Johnston & Co., fulfilling his father’s wish, Leon Jenkins-Johnston has built more than a building. He has built continuity.
Twenty-one years at the Bar is not just longevity. In Jenkins-Johnston’s case, it is a lesson: Integrity is not old-fashioned. It is the only thing that will save the dignity of this noble profession.
If the Bar Association and the General Legal Council are serious about reform, they should start not with new codes, but with listening to this anniversary reflection.