I wasn’t a big fan of Hercules and the Umpire at first. Frankly, it wasn’t until Tamara Tabo pushed me to check it out that I read anything there. After all, what does a criminal defense lawyer from New York care about what some federal judge in Nebraska has to say? That was more Above the Law’s David Lat territory. But one day I checked it out, and Judge Richard G. Kopf was not at all what I expected.
Sure, we were far apart on our views of the law, Judge Kopf never met a prosecutor he didn’t trust and thought Bill Barr, who was AG when he was nominated by Bush I, was a good guy. But he was honest about being a judge, the law, and himself. The first email I ever received from Judge Kopf started, “I [expletive deleted] love bacon.” No other federal judge wrote that to me.
His purpose in starting a blog was to do something completely contrary to the instincts of everyone on the federal bench. He wanted to “demystify” judges. Sure, they wore robes and people laughed at their jokes whether they were funny or not, but they were pretty much people, lawyers, like the rest of us whose job descriptions changed somewhat. He was not pompous, and he had little tolerance for pomposity.
One of Judge Kopf’s defining moments was when he realized just how badly he blew it in the sentencing of a young bank robber, who he thought would go on to live a life split between crime and punishment. That kid was Shon Hopwood, who turned out to become a jail-house Supreme Court advocate, a lawyer and law professor.
Judge Kopf frequently said that his sentencing instincts “suck,” using Shon as his example. The real point wasn’t about him at all, but about the notion that any federal judge has some magical way to know what the right sentence should be. He just used the self-deprecating path to get there, in the hope that the point would be made at his expense.
A lot of people missed Judge Kopf’s “point,” a problem he suffered more than once during his time on social media. His “dirty old man” post made people’s heads explode. His lack of awareness of the day’s politically correct expression regularly put him the crosshairs of the unduly passionate. Certain law profs hated him for being so undignified and unseemly. After all, without federal judges being all puffy and officious, how could they maintain their pretense of self-importance?
In 2015, Judge Kopf shut down his blog after hearing that some of the staff in his courthouse were embarrassed by some of his writings. He cared deeply about his colleagues, and was deeply troubled to have caused them any embarrassment. It turned out to be somewhat less than accurate, and so I offered SJ as a new home for him to write. He took me up on it, and wrote a weekly post every Wednesday. His last post here was in 2021, when his health was already fading.
Judge Kopf took inactive status at the end of 2022, after sticking around to clean up his docket. For the next six months, I pushed him to write a post-mortem on his experience on the bench. He promised, at first, to do so, but over time realized that he just wasn’t up to it anymore.
Judge Kopf’s name had long been a running joke. After all, Kopf was “head” translated from the German, and the nickname for Richard was Dick, lending itself to an obvious slur. He laughed at it. Throughout our friendship, he tried to get me to call him Rich, but I refused. Having not known him before he took the bench, he was judge to me, and that’s what I persisted in calling him, much to his annoyance.
Yesterday, around 9:30 in the morning, Judge Kopf passed away.
Richard Kopf, who served for 30 years as a U.S. District judge in Nebraska, has died.
In an email Friday obtained by the Journal Star, the district court clerk’s office said Kopf, 78, “died peacefully and without pain this morning just after 9:30 a.m.”
Per his request, no funeral service is planned.
Judge Kopf and I emailed about once a month over the past year. Despite his health, he always tried to be chipper in response to my query how he was doing. Every once in a while, he would take a few days to reply to me, and I yelled at him that he better not go dark on me one day. He knew I worried about him, and he didn’t want me to.
Yesterday afternoon, when I checked my emails, I had one from David Tarrell and from Jeffrey Mindrup, kindly informing me of Judge Kopf’s passing. I knew it was coming. He knew it was coming too, even though he wouldn’t let on. And so it was to be.
Judge Richard G. Kopf was a very special judge, not because of his rulings, but because he never thought wearing the robe made him better than anyone else. And Rich was a very special person and a dear friend. I will miss him very much. His memory will be a blessing.
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RIP, Judge.
Well, this just ruined my weekend. I wondered why he was no longer around this here blog. He will be (is) sorely missed.
RIP Your Honor and blessings go with you.
Darn, I’m really sorry to hear that.
I always enjoyed his writings.
Not a great man, but a GREAT MAN. Rich did nothing in life without trying, as a core principle, to do the right thing. His is a lesson in life-building.
My best memory will be something far more personal–an island weekend, right here in my part of the Swamp. You, me and Rich. Booze, fat steak and fatter fish. Then a request: could we find the condo where his father lived? That was easy because it was 200 yards as the heron flies from where our butts were plastered. Getting in the development posed a problem, and perhaps the start of a bad joke:
A Swamp lawyer, city lawyer and federal judge are stopped at a guard gate….
Rich said something like, “you really shouldn’t let us in.” The guard said, and I’m not making this up, “yeah, you guys are okay.” The gate rose; Rich found the condo. True to himself, he was happy and melancholy.
Was that really more than 5 years ago? It’s hard for me to believe, but there’s proof. Sitting on a chair in my office, where it has been since he handed it to me that weekend, is my framed appointment as Vice Admiral of the Great Navy of the State of Nebraska.
Thanks for everything, Rich. You mattered.
Because fruit is a stupid garnish.
One memory of my friend Judge Kopf sticks out, for some reason:
We were trading friendly jabs in the comments section of a post, and I remember ending a comment with “trying cases down here in the boondocks.”
He addressed my original point, and then ended with a curt “from the boondocks, Mario, you’re not.” I laughed then, and laugh a bit now. Only a bit now because it’s misty in Tampa this time of year.
It’s sad that Judge Kopf is gone, and I feel honored to have shared with him.
Even the best meant words are hollow at times like this, but thank you for introducing me to Judge Kopf through this blog. His “pedicure” story was priceless and said so much about the man.
I never had the pleasure of meeting the judge in person, though we exchanged messages from time to time and with some regularity commented on each other’s blog. And we bonded over Toledo – and in particular over the Mud Hens.
As best I could ever tell, he was a man of integrity and care and a kind of decency when and where it mattered. All that with a streak of playfulness and joy and a willingness to take his job but not himself too seriously. I miss his voice. I miss him.
Many years ago, well actually five years ago, in a discussion regarding slam poetry as a substitute for debate, I proposed to reenact the scene from Private Parts in which Howard Stern played bongo drums and said, “Kill, kill, kill the white man” as a bravura sentencing argument in the District of Nebraska.
Judge Kopf responded by inviting me there to try that argument in his courtroom. He told me that he would be wearing the creepy clown mask.
What a great guy and atypical judge, and I mean atypical in a good way.
Goddammit. RIP, Judge.
I enjoyed Judge Kopf’s writing and will miss his insights
RIP Judge Kopf.
I have a story he told me once, but it’s not for today.
Maybe I’ll feel like telling it Friday.
I have fond memories of some exchanges here with Judge Kopf. Tonight, I’ll raise a glass in his honor. He will be missed.
Thank you for sharing this. His memory, indeed, is a blessing, as was his life.
I’m one of those folks who found his Hercules blog after a post that attracted attention. I’m a career government person who has worked in the court system for 20-some years and who has been fortunate to work for judges like Judge Kopf. When he was in his blogging heyday, I absolutely loved his style, but it was his substance that was most insightful and thought provoking. I commented once or twice, and once or twice was excited to see a response. His blog gave a rare insight into a mind that was aware of its own imperfection, but that was also intent on doing its best to overcome that and do good for the world. He was gracious in sharing life, experiences, sadnesseses, joys, mistakes, and successes with us. While I never met Judge Kopf, I feel that I can say with certainty that we are richer for having been able to hear his thoughts, and those who have been able to know him or appear before him are certainly most fortunate.
You’ve made a very important observation, that Judge Kopf was open about his imperfections but, recognizing them, tried to overcome them and do the best he could. That was the sort of man he was.
We were lucky to have had the opportunity to learn from him.
The Judge himself was a blessing.
Sorry to hear this news.
A real tribute. I have wondered where the judge was and what he was doing because I miss him. A good man. A well-earned rest.
While I only became familiar with Judge Kopf through this blog, I was always touched by his wit and by his honesty. I always looked forward to his posts and I always scanned the comments for his remarks. Though he and I never interacted, his presence was marked, his absence noted, and he will be missed. Rest in Peace, Judge Kopf.
RIP.
Judge Kopf is the only person I’ve seen who could sign off with something like “All the best” and make me think he meant it, every single time. (In case it’s unclear, I still think that.)
All the best to him too, wherever he may be now.