I’d already had a rough day when I got the text from my wife sharing Fergie passed.
“Dang,” was the only thing I could respond.
I was without words.
When someone from another generation passes away, particularly someone who was nothing less than a living legend and touchstone in the legal profession, the crestfallen response involves more than a sense of loss.
Knowing they were there, still serving as a living example, holding you accountable even from a distance, provides a certain level of peace.
James “Fergie” Ferguson wasn’t just another past president of what we now call the North Carolina Advocates for Justice.
He was a bridge between contrasting and often competing ideologies, a man who helped define what it meant to practice law with both excellence and integrity.
Above all, he was a true gentleman whose conduct proceeded from good will and an acute sense of propriety.
A Blessing: Hearing the unvarnished truth from Fergie himself
I met Fergie while researching an article about the Wilmington 10 for the North Carolina State Bar Journal (page 6) a few years back.
I’ll be honest, after being assigned the task by my pal Darrin Jordan, I was a bit nervous to even call Fergie.
Who was I to write an article about the Wilmington 10? Why me?
I want to be abundantly clear. I didn’t really know Fergie on a personal level.
Despite being a fellow past-president of NCAJ (the North Carolina Advocates of Justice), we came from different generations and traditions.
By the time I became a part of leadership, Fergie had largely stepped away from active participation with NCAJ and we hadn’t met one another or socialized at traditional “get to know you” happenings like Convention or CLEs.
I deal with feelings of inadequacy, intellectual self doubt, and fear being exposed as a fraud.
Apparently, that’s pretty common among courtroom litigators.
I didn’t know how to approach him or even how to address him.
Therefore, I waited to call Fergie.
Self Doubt and Worry About Meeting Fergie
Somewhere in my mind I created a backstory that Fergie would see right through me.
He’d know I knew nothing about the Wilmington 10 and that I was absolutely, positively the wrong person to write about his experiences, especially in the highly esteemed State Bar Journal for every lawyer in North Carolina to read and opine.
He would most certainly realize in an instant I shared very little in common with those young kids who lived through an extremely ugly side of the criminal justice system in North Carolina and the purported “justice” that was meted out over decades.
As such, I did what I always do when it comes to facing uncertainty and insecurities.
I researched the topic extensively.
Indeed, I basically doubled the length of the article once I realized you couldn’t tell the story of the Wilmington 10 without explaining the history of Wilmington, Reconstruction, and the Coup d’état of 1898.
That alone gave me quite some time to decide how to approach Fergie.
I also spoke with many of the different players and experts on the topic, including judges and justices, professors and practitioners.
I studied the different books, newspaper articles, media publications, and United States Department of Justice materials.
I pulled and read the court filings and opinions.
I read all the trial transcripts I could get my hands on.
Yet, despite my deep preparation, I remained anxious about meeting and talking to Fergie about the Wilmington 10 trial(s).
I don’t know why.
Everyone with whom I spoke described him as warm and engaging.
To a person, when I asked how to approach him, my background sources for the article told me, “Just call him Fergie.”
I ignored that sage advice and referred to him as “Mr. Ferguson” during introductions.
He would have nothing to do with that.
It was made clear I was to call him Fergie.
That wasn’t the only time I experienced Fergie’s firm but kind insistence on certain ground rules.
Fergie was extremely generous with his time and provided unvarnished recollections and memories
While we weren’t “friends” per se, my time talking to Fergie was precious, professionally and personally affirming, and almost ethereal.
He told me things to give me context that were extremely personal.
I learned things about the Wilmington 10, who the players were, what was really going on at Williston High School and what happened the day before Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in Memphis.
He also trusted me to not share certain information that was given on background.
Fergie wouldn’t let me share certain facts that would have provided greater context about him and his humanity, what he faced at trial, and how he dealt with the pressures, because he feared that would take away from the purpose of the article – Bill Powers
It would have promoted Fergie personally and, once again, he’d have nothing to do with that.
Trust me, I tried.
Nope.
If he was going to give me a quote and explain some background on the article, Fergie had ground rules.
To this day, I’m blown away by what he shared but still feel compelled to honor Fergie’s wishes on the point.
Indeed, I asked if we could edit his quote, removing the first two sentences, before publication in the Bar Journal.
I argued a bit with him on the point and I’ll never forget his response to me:
“No. I’m not taking that out. Either use it the way it is or you can’t use my quote.”
Fergie was generous with his knowledge and time
Following our initial interview, what struck me immediately was how generous Fergie was with his time, how patient he was with my questions, and how he shared some insights about that case that to my knowledge had never been published anywhere else.
I’m very much aware of the irony of me asking Fergie this question:
Were there times you were nervous or doubted yourself?
Lord, even thinking about asking that results in no small amount of cringe.
Fergie’s response was understated and most certainly softened by the decades that have since passed.
I can’t really share everything he went through.
I think it’s fair to say I would have personally feared for my own safety.
Reading the transcripts, it was relatively easy to see what Fergie was dealing with in the courtroom.
I’ve challenged frustrating, and frankly flat out wrong legal positions and rulings coming from the bench.
I’ve preserved the record, knowing while making the argument in Superior Court I was actually speaking to the Court of Appeals.
I’ve dealt with the displeasure of a judge who, once they realize the 85-40 rule is in effect and case is going to Raleigh, takes great pains to preclude a reversal.
In zealously representing his clients in the Wilmington 10, Fergie did that and way, way more.
The out-of-the-courtroom shenanigans he lived through, while relatively common for the time and the “that’s just the way it is” mentality then prevalent, were outrageous.
He literally put his own life in danger.
There were some who very much did not appreciate Fergie’s positions or his advocacy.
There were some in Wilmington would say anything and do anything to ensure a conviction, including the prosecutor.
There were some who wished harm to befall Fergie.
Have doubts about that?
I invite you to swing by Gregory Congregational in Wilmington and walk around.
People weren’t happy with the “Wilmington 10.”
They thought it was a good idea to shoot into a church with the high school teenagers housed inside.
At the time of the trial of the Wilmington 10, those same people likely were still around, living in Wilmington, possessing the same views and most importantly, those same guns – Bill Powers
Despite both personal and professional risks, Fergie pressed on toward the mark
The Wilmington 10 case was vintage Fergie, taking on a cause that others might have avoided, standing with clients who needed someone willing to fight through years of appeals, public scrutiny, and personal risk.
The case involved defendants of different backgrounds, all united by the need for zealous advocacy and fundamental fairness.
When those defendants were finally pardoned in 2012, Fergie was there celebrating with them.
As Judge Jesse Caldwell III told me for that article, “It took tremendous courage” for Ferguson to serve as counsel. “He never flinched in his steadfast and outstanding advocacy, despite all kinds of hurdles he himself had to endure during the trial.”
That was Fergie in a nutshell, to wit: never flinching, always fighting for what he felt was right, doing it with style and dignity.
A dignified approach to the practice of law
What really gets me about losing Fergie isn’t just any single case or cause.
It was his approach to the practice of law itself.
He was kind. He was thoughtful.
Whether he was teaching trial advocacy at Harvard and NC Central, mentoring younger lawyers, or representing clients who had nowhere else to turn, Fergie brought the same fundamental decency to everything he did.
During our interview, Fergie said something that has stuck with me ever since:
Addressing injustice, in whatever form from whatever time, starts with acknowledging its existence and continues through honest dialogue. I encourage the younger generation to step up and make right decisions, doing so in love and compassion for the downtrodden and those around them – Fergie
Notice what he didn’t say.
He didn’t talk about politics or ideology.
Fergie talked about recognizing injustice wherever it exists and responding with love and compassion.
That was Fergie’s North Star, not partisan advantage or social positioning, but simple human decency applied to the practice of law.
When Fergie passed, we lost a humble giant
People who achieve extraordinary things while treating everyone around them with genuine respect and kindness are to be cherished.
In times when it feels like civility and fundamental fairness are under attack from all directions, we need to remember people like Fergie who showed us a different way.
Fergie didn’t have the luxury of waiting for perfect conditions or ideal circumstances.
He saw problems that needed solving and went to work, whether it was defending clients who needed zealous advocacy or teaching the next generation of trial lawyers how to do it right.
His firm successfully resolved cases for injured plaintiffs, not because he was chasing headlines or crusading for causes, but because he was exceptionally good at his job and genuinely cared about clients who had been wrongfully injured.
He taught trial advocacy from Harvard to South Africa because he believed in sharing knowledge and raising the bar for everyone in the profession.
I think his passing is a reminder that even in contentious times, there is great value in turning off the noise, putting your head down, and getting to work.
You treat people with dignity, even if you flat out disagree with them and their opinions.
You fight for what’s right, not what’s necessarily expedient or popular.
You do it with grace and good humor, the way Fergie did.
Want to honor Fergie? Get to work!
If you want to serve the memory of Fergie, read his quote again about encouraging the younger generation to step up with love and compassion:
Addressing injustice, in whatever form from whatever time, starts with acknowledging its existence and continues through honest dialogue. I encourage the younger generation to step up and make right decisions, doing so in love and compassion for the downtrodden and those around them. —James E. Ferguson II
That’s his challenge to all of us, to remember what it means to be decent human beings who happen to practice law.
His passing, while terribly sad, is a reminder that it’s time for individuals to stand up for fundamental fairness, regardless of how that cuts politically or socially.
Fergie Ferguson lived 82 years and touched lives across the state, the nation, and the world.
He practiced law for more than 50 years, defended the wrongfully accused, secured justice for the injured, taught trial advocacy across the globe, and mentored countless younger lawyers.
But maybe his greatest legacy is simpler than all of that.
He showed us what it looks like to be a gentleman who never compromised his principles or his kindness and his desire to promote others, including the guy who just wrote the article. (See Fergie’s entire quote here.)
Rest in peace, Fergie.
Thank you for showing us that excellence and decency aren’t mutually exclusive.
Charlotte Criminal Defense Lawyer Bill Powers
Bill Powers is a criminal defense attorney based in Charlotte and past president of the North Carolina Advocates for Justice. He has practiced law in North Carolina since being licensed in 1992, representing clients in complex criminal matters and personal injury cases. Powers frequently teaches, writes, and speaks on legal issues, contributing to publications like the North Carolina State Bar Journal. He is the founder of Powers Law Firm, where he continues his commitment to zealous advocacy and mentoring the next generation of trial lawyers. His work focuses on criminal defense, DWI cases, and personal injury representation throughout North Carolina.