From Prosecutor To Protector: Alex Jennings’ Legal Evolution

At Modern Family Law, we believe great attorneys come from a variety of paths. Whether they’re just starting or bring years of experience, each attorney contributes something unique to our mission of helping families through life’s most difficult moments. Senior Attorney Alex Jennings is one of those attorneys whose journey brings a distinct perspective. In this insightful interview with Marketing & Communications Manager Caroline Germano, Alex shares how her decade-long career as a criminal prosecutor informs her current work in family law. Her reflections offer valuable insight into navigating emotional boundaries, courtroom strategy, and client advocacy with clarity and compassion.

Finding Her Path In Law

Caroline Germano: Thank you for meeting with me, Alex. I understand you previously worked as a prosecutor. Could you share a bit about your background and what led you to begin your legal career in that role?

Alex Jennings: I would say the short answer is that I kind of stumbled into it during undergrad. I initially majored in political science, but I really did not enjoy those classes. At the same time, I was pursuing a French minor and realized I could take courses that interested me more, particularly in international relations. Fortunately, that still aligned with my political science credits since there was some overlap.

One of the classes I took was international law, which I loved and still do. In law school, I even competed in a competition focused entirely on international law. That was originally what I thought I was going to pursue. Of course, in your first year of law school, everyone has to take the same core classes, so I had to wait before I could explore that further.

In undergrad, I had not studied abroad, partly because I played lacrosse and my parents, who were helping with finances, encouraged me to focus on that. It was a choice I understood, but once I was in law school, I realized I had another chance to study abroad. I signed up for a summer program and took international law courses while abroad, along with a trial advocacy course.

That first summer is typically a critical time for students trying to enter “big law” because it is when you do interviews for those prestigious summer associate positions. Since I chose to study abroad instead, I missed out on that opportunity. By the time the second summer rolled around, it was clear to some firms that skipping that first summer had impacted my candidacy. Some saw it as an odd choice.

Regardless, I needed to stay productive. Law school is expensive, and I am someone who needs to stay active. I came across a prosecutor’s office and thought, why not? I had taken a trial class, and by then, I had started leaning into trial-related courses like evidence.

Interestingly, I had never been the kind of person who was obsessed with true crime shows. One of my college roommates loved SVU, and I would walk in, guess the killer immediately, and leave. I had never been exposed to the criminal justice system personally. But once I started working at the prosecutor’s office, I absolutely loved it. I enjoyed talking to people, being in court, being in trial—it all felt incredibly fulfilling. I got to learn what happens behind the scenes, and it truly fascinated me.

After the summer, I continued working there. I did give the private sector a try to see how it compared. I interned with a company, kind of like the ones that make those tubes banks use to send your checks. They do that for hospitals, and they are a Swiss-American company. Everyone there was very kind, but I was incredibly bored.

That experience highlighted just how different life is as a prosecutor or trial attorney. The pace, the responsibilities, the nature of the work—it is all so much more engaging for me. Once I graduated from law school, I reflected on those experiences. I had genuinely enjoyed the prosecutor internship and found the firm work less fulfilling, so I started applying to district attorney offices.

I ended up working in Steamboat Springs for about four and a half years, and then I transferred to Jefferson County right before COVID hit. In fact, my first day there was the day Governor Polis shut down the entire state. We were all just sitting around, unsure of what would happen next. I worked in Jeffco for nearly four years, so altogether, I spent close to ten years in prosecution, including my time as an intern.

Like I said, I never planned to become a prosecutor. I had no background or childhood dream of working in criminal law. I have friends who knew from a young age that this is what they wanted to do, and I honestly do not know how they even knew about that path so early. It just was not something I was exposed to. But I am grateful I found my way into it.

Caroline Germano: So it sounds like you gave it a try, ended up enjoying it, but it wasn’t something you felt a strong calling for from the start. It just turned out to be a good fit once you experienced it.

Alex Jennings: At first, it felt like a completely different world. Honestly, I think every area of legal work feels separate from everyday life, and during those first few weeks, I was not sure it was for me. As an intern, you are not handling major cases. You are usually assigned things like traffic offenses or lower-level assaults. You are not typically given higher-level misdemeanors, which makes sense.

In Jeffco, for example, interns would take on all the traffic cases. Eventually, they would assist with misdemeanors, but always under supervision, with someone else guiding them through the process. That was similar to how my internship worked in Broomfield, though they did things a little differently with me.

At that point, I had no idea if I would enjoy public speaking or being in a trial. Those roles require a lot of interaction, and I had not experienced that before. But it turned out I was good at it. So after a while, they gave me more freedom. Of course, they were still supervising me, but there were moments where it felt like they were saying, “Go ahead, take the lead.” Looking back, now that I have seen how other offices structure internships, I realize that not many would have let me do that, so I really appreciated the experience.

But no, it was not something I felt drawn to in the beginning. That developed over time.

Inside The Prosecutor’s Office

Caroline Germano: What kinds of cases did you usually work on when you were a prosecutor?

Alex Jennings: When you are a prosecutor, you typically start in county court before moving up to district court. County court handles misdemeanors, traffic cases, petty offenses, and other lower-level matters. The most serious charge in county court is a class one misdemeanor, which includes offenses like third-degree assault, the lowest level assault charge in Colorado, as well as DUIs.

There are also more misdemeanor cases filed overall compared to felonies, so the caseload tends to be heavier. Looking back at my career proportionally, I would say I handled more DUIs and traffic cases than anything else, simply because they happen most often.

Once you move to district court, the work shifts to felonies. That includes crimes like menacing, stalking, higher-level assaults, and even murder. I handled felonies for most of my career while I was in Steamboat. I originally started out in Craig, which is near the Wyoming and Utah border. It is a small town that used to rely on coal, and with that industry declining, the area became more economically challenged. That brought a rise in methamphetamine use and related crimes. Because of its remoteness, they also struggled to retain attorneys, so I was moved into felony work very quickly.

After about a year in Craig, I moved to Steamboat, where we split the entire docket between two prosecutors. That meant I handled everything from traffic tickets to serious felonies. We divided cases alphabetically. If your last name started with A through J, your case went to me. If it was K through Z, it went to my docket partner.

In Steamboat, I saw a typical mix of cases. There was a lot of domestic violence, and I handled all the drug distribution cases. My docket partner’s husband was the sergeant over the drug task force, so she could not take those cases due to a conflict of interest.

When I moved down to Jefferson County, I started in county court again since that was the available role. I continued to handle a lot of traffic and DUI cases. The process of moving up into district court and handling felonies has changed over the years. Previously, prosecutors would stay in county court for years, but now, due to changes in public attitudes toward law enforcement and prosecution, it has become harder to retain prosecutors. As a result, I moved up quickly. Partly because I had proven myself, and partly because positions opened up.

Eventually, I reached the role I had always aimed for, which was working in the Special Victims Unit. The specific types of cases SVU handles vary by office. In Jefferson County, SVU primarily covered crimes against children, often of a sexual nature. Occasionally, we would also take on serious child abuse cases. Sex assault cases involving adults were generally assigned to the line deputies, unless it was a particularly severe case that required more experienced prosecutors. In those cases, we would step in.

The SVU cases were the ones I cared most deeply about. They were emotionally challenging but meaningful. Over the course of my career, I probably handled the most traffic and DUI cases by the numbers, but the SVU work was where I felt most connected.

In smaller offices like the one in Steamboat, specialization was not really possible. There were only two of us, so we handled whatever came in. If we had time and interest, we could support each other on significant cases, but it was not formal. In larger offices like Jefferson County, there was more room to specialize. We had dedicated units for juveniles, elder abuse, animal abuse, and occasionally economic crimes.

Murder cases were assigned as they came in, regardless of specialty. Sometimes, if a colleague needed support on a big case and you had the capacity and interest, you could join them on trial.

To some extent, you could also choose your battles. For example, I was more inclined to go to trial on a serious domestic violence assault than on a motor vehicle theft. That does not mean I saw property crimes as victimless. I strongly disagree with that idea. But in cases where the underlying issues were addiction, homelessness, or trauma, I often felt there were better resolutions than going to trial. With violent crimes, especially those involving injury to others, I took a firmer stance.

The cases that mattered most to me were always the domestic violence and sexual assault cases, especially those involving children. That is why I ultimately moved into SVU work.

Emotional Resilience In Difficult Cases

Caroline Germano: In family law, it is often said that one of the challenges is managing emotional involvement in cases, especially those involving children. Did you find that to be true in your experience as a prosecutor? I imagine that could be particularly difficult early in your career. Were there any strategies you used to avoid feeling overwhelmed by the emotional weight of certain cases?

Alex Jennings: I have yet to meet a prosecutor who does not have a very dark sense of humor. It is definitely a coping mechanism, though probably not one you’d want to highlight in a brochure. That said, one of the unique aspects of being a prosecutor is the role you play in the justice system. You represent the state, and in victim-centered cases, you often become the person victims turn to for guidance and protection. In Colorado, victims are granted specific rights under the Victims Rights Amendment to our State Constitution, which is somewhat unusual. This gives them protections like the right to be consulted on plea deals and trial settings.

That layer of protection creates a boundary that I always tried to respect. I reminded myself that my responsibility was to serve the broader community, not just the individual in front of me. That helped me stay grounded and maintain some emotional distance, which is critical in this line of work. Of course, there were cases where I connected more deeply with a victim, or where I felt particularly frustrated if the victim was not ready to face the reality of their situation. In those cases, I had to be even more mindful about staying objective.

Having that emotional separation was also essential when it came to making plea offers. You have to follow the law, adhere to office policy, and consider any mitigating factors provided by the defense. You cannot do that effectively if you are too emotionally involved.

Since transitioning into family law, I have been reflecting on this difference. Representing individual clients now feels very different. There are definitely moments where I need to remind myself that taking a step back does not mean I am doing less for the client—it often means I am doing better. I have also noticed that the dynamic among family law attorneys is more adversarial than what I experienced in the criminal defense world. Oddly enough, attorneys in family law tend to be meaner, even though I heard some wild things from defense attorneys during my time as a prosecutor.

In my opinion, when attorneys have not taken the time to reflect on the emotional boundaries of this work, they start taking cases personally. It is easy to spot. The attorneys who are most aggressive and confrontational are usually the ones who are the most emotionally entangled. And ultimately, that is not healthy or sustainable for anyone.

Litigation Lessons From The Criminal Courtroom

Caroline Germano: How did your experience as a prosecutor shape your approach to litigation and courtroom strategy?

Alex Jennings: As a district attorney, you are in trial constantly, and that experience teaches you a lot, mostly through trial and error. One story I often share with newer prosecutors in county court, especially when they feel discouraged about losing a case, is that I lost every single trial during my first year in Craig.

Craig leans very conservative, to the point where it sometimes circles back to an anti-government stance. That environment was challenging, but it taught me a great deal about my courtroom style, how to communicate effectively with a jury, and how to tell a compelling story.

In a typical criminal trial, the process starts with jury selection. Then you move to opening statements, where you tell the story of the case. After that, you present your evidence, followed by closing arguments. The jury then deliberates and reaches a verdict. I have always preferred opening statements over closings, which is interesting because most attorneys feel the opposite. When I worked trials with other prosecutors, if someone really disliked doing openings, I would gladly take it. I enjoyed telling the jury what the case was about and what they were going to see.

That is not to say I disliked closings. It is satisfying to tie everything together, to explain to the judge or jury what happened, what the law says, and what the verdict should be. That style is actually more common in family law, where we rely more heavily on closings than openings.

Adjusting to that shift has been a learning experience. In family law, we do not usually give formal opening statements to outline the case. Instead, I have learned to build the story through the way I present evidence. That way, when I reach the closing, the judge already has a clear picture. If you cannot tell a story through your evidence and then reinforce it during your closing, you are not doing your client any favors.

While I no longer rely on formal openings, my experience helps me structure cases more strategically. I think about how to present evidence in a way that creates a natural and compelling narrative. In criminal trials, we often emphasize primacy and recency—what the jury hears first and last stays with them the most. That still applies. Even without an opening to set the stage, I know how to tell a strong story through evidence and make sure the judge sees the full picture by the end.

From Victims’ Rights To Client Advocacy

Caroline Germano: Earlier, you mentioned the transition from prosecution to family law. Are there any skills you developed as a prosecutor that you now find helpful in your work as a family law attorney?

Alex Jennings: Returning to the topic of victims’ rights, Colorado’s Victims’ Rights Amendment gives victims the legal right to be consulted during the prosecution process. In practice, this means that prosecutors regularly speak with victims of domestic violence. While not all crimes fall under the Victims Rights Amendment, commonly referred to as VRA crimes, most of the time, the victims involved are survivors of domestic violence. Occasionally, you might have a case like a bar fight where the assault does not involve an intimate partner, but those are less frequent.

As a prosecutor, these consultations are required. Failing to conduct them can lead to ethical consequences, including being reported to a board that reviews violations of the VRA. These conversations are essential from both a legal and a human perspective.

Over time, I spoke with people in a wide range of emotional and psychological stages. Some had been in abusive relationships for most of their lives, often with different partners, and were not ready to engage with the legal system. Others were very young and had only known unhealthy relationships, but were not as deeply entrenched. Some had never experienced abuse before and were still processing what had happened. They might come back later with more clarity and willingness to act. Then there were those who were extremely eager to label everything as domestic violence, even when the facts did not legally meet that definition. And of course, there were people who were very clear and firm in their response. Someone harmed them, and that was enough for them to walk away.

Speaking with people going through denial, grief, anger, and confusion gave me a strong foundation in client communication. Combined with my trial experience in law school, it gave me the confidence to talk to almost anyone about almost anything. That has been especially helpful in family law.

When I first started taking calls from clients or potential clients, I was nervous. I was still learning the legal side of family law and worried about being asked questions I did not yet know how to answer. Even though I knew it was fine to say, “I will find out for you,” I still felt the pressure to appear knowledgeable and capable.

Fortunately, the actual conversations came easily. Asking people what brought them to us, listening to their stories, and understanding their situations felt natural. That part of the transition was smooth. I know many attorneys find those conversations daunting, but after years of speaking with people in crisis, that aspect of the job was familiar and manageable.

Caroline Germano: Did you expect that skill to be so valuable in family law, or did it come as a surprise to you?

Alex Jennings: It was definitely surprising. I knew that some parts of my experience would carry over, but I did not expect how useful my communication with victims would be in family law. In prosecution, yes, victims would reach out proactively sometimes, but not nearly at the volume we experience in family law. Also, in the criminal context, I would say the willingness to participate was probably close to fifty-fifty. Maybe slightly more people chose not to participate than those who did, but it was relatively balanced. What was not balanced, though, was who initiated the conversation. Most of the time, I was the one reaching out, not the other way around.

And while some victims did return calls, it was typically because I initiated contact. I had an obligation to speak with them. In family law, it is completely different. People are calling us directly, ready to share their stories and seek help. I did not expect that dynamic shift. I assumed the conversations would be more business-like, explaining the divorce process, discussing fees, and answering a few practical questions. But instead, I find myself doing a lot of listening.

Some clients are very straightforward, which I appreciate. For example, I had an eight-minute call this morning where the person said, “Here’s what happened, here’s what I need, how do I hire you?” That kind of efficiency is great. But many other calls are from people who have not really been heard before. Sometimes they just need to talk, and they finally feel ready.

The difference between someone who could have easily been on the receiving end of one of my calls as a prosecutor and that same person now reaching out for legal help is significant. But the nature of the conversation often feels familiar. I understand where they are emotionally, and I know how to empathize, how to validate what they are experiencing, and when appropriate, how to share that I have seen similar situations and know how to help.

Of course, time can be a factor. Sometimes I have to say, “I hear you, and I’m sorry, but I need to wrap up.” But overall, I was surprised by how relevant my experience has been. I did not expect that the way I used to talk to victims would apply so directly to this kind of work.

Debunking Prosecutor Myths

Caroline Germano: What do you think are some common misconceptions people have about prosecutors?

Alex Jennings: I have lost count of how many times someone has said to me, “You put people in cages.” And they are not wrong. It is not something I can deny. I have. I also understand why there is growing criticism of prosecutors and law enforcement. In many cases, those concerns are valid. There are serious flaws in the system, and some parts are completely broken. But at the same time, we are seeing a wave of progressive prosecutors across the country. Colorado, especially, has become a strong place for that movement. The political climate supports it, and we have a solid public defender system.

Colorado’s public defenders are well trained, recruited from some of the top schools in the country, and relatively well funded. I would not go so far as to say either side, prosecution or defense, has enough resources, because they do not. But the system is stable enough that public defenders can maintain reasonable caseloads and bring in strong talent. When you have competent, committed defense attorneys, they hold prosecutors accountable. They challenge law enforcement when needed, and that makes us better. It forces us to meet the standards the system demands.

Defense attorneys are responsible for making sure their clients are treated fairly. That means identifying when rights are violated, when evidence is withheld, or when people are acting unethically. Prosecutors have the same obligations. Unfortunately, most of the attention goes to the worst actors, and while those stories are real, they are not representative of everyone. At least in Colorado, I have never met a prosecutor who took pleasure in sending someone to prison. Whether it was a violent offender or someone facing a lengthy sentence for repeat property crimes, it was always treated as a serious, weighty decision.

There were moments when I questioned the authority I held. I would stop and think, “Who decided I should be the one making this decision?” Even after years in the role, it never stopped feeling heavy.

Another big misconception is that prosecutors are obsessed with winning. No one likes losing a case, of course. But the strongest cases usually do not go to trial. When the evidence is solid and overwhelming, most defendants choose to take a plea deal. Sometimes the plea offer is more favorable than what might happen at trial. That is part of the strategy, and it is their right. On the other end of the spectrum, the weakest cases are often dismissed or resolved with significantly reduced charges.

We have an ethical obligation to dismiss cases we cannot prove. That is not optional. The cases that go to trial are the ones that fall somewhere in the middle. They are the cases where both sides have credible arguments, or where the evidence does not clearly favor one side. I have won cases I thought I would lose, and I have lost cases I believed were strong. That unpredictability makes it essential to maintain emotional distance. Not just for your own well-being, but also to do the job ethically and with integrity.

Another common misconception is that prosecutors do not care about the systemic problems that often push people into the criminal justice system. That has not been my experience. Defense attorneys regularly present mitigation materials: backgrounds, trauma histories, mental health challenges, and more, and prosecutors have a duty to consider all of that. We owe the same level of consideration to the defendant as we do to the victim and to the broader community.

I remember a judge I worked with before I transitioned into the Special Victims Unit. He had been a prosecutor earlier in his career and had spent many years on the bench. Before sentencing someone for serious crimes like murder or sexual assault, he would always begin by explaining the role of a judge. He would say he had to weigh the facts of the case, the harm to the victim, the impact on families, and also the broader effect on the community. I always appreciated how he set that tone. It made clear that sentencing is not just about punishment. It is about making a thoughtful and informed decision that reflects all aspects of the case.

As prosecutors, we are expected to do the same. We have to consider everything. And I often heard from victims that the system favors defendants. Sometimes I understood their frustration. Other times, I believed it came from disagreement with a decision I had to make. But in either case, it is important to remember that prosecutors do not represent victims alone. Defendants are members of the community, too. We have a responsibility to treat them fairly and to weigh their circumstances along with everyone else’s.

So, for me, the biggest misconceptions are these: that prosecutors are eager to incarcerate, that they care more about winning than doing what is right, and that they are indifferent to the larger social factors behind criminal behavior. In my experience, none of those things are true.

The Criminal-Family Law Intersection

Caroline Germano: How does your background benefit your clients in family law cases?

Alex Jennings: Yes, I think I touched on it a little earlier, but I agree it is worth expanding on. One thing that has been especially helpful, given my background, is my ability to approach complex cases with a bit more perspective. I usually review the case notes before taking a call, and for some reason, I seem to attract the more dramatic situations.

Because I tend to work on cases that involve more intense circumstances, one of the strengths I bring is understanding the intersection between criminal law and family law. This has allowed me to guide clients who may be involved in both systems or who are dealing with related issues. Often, people do not fully understand what they are hearing from a district attorney or a victim advocate, especially if there is a pending criminal case tied to their family law matter.

It has also made me more aware of how limited society’s general understanding of domestic violence really is. These situations come up frequently, and having experience with how domestic violence is handled in the criminal system has been very useful. I know what evidence is needed to prove it, whether I am presenting to a jury or a judge, and that allows me to guide clients more efficiently. I can let them know what will be helpful, what is worth sending me, and what may not move the case forward. Sometimes I need to tell them, “Yes, I hear you. That behavior was unpleasant, but it does not meet the threshold we need legally.”

So if I were to add anything else, it would be this: my experience with criminal law has helped me understand where those cases may be headed, how they might affect a family law matter, and how to walk clients through those possibilities with clarity and compassion.

Why The Career Shift?

Caroline Germano: What inspired you to make the transition from prosecution to family law?

Alex Jennings: It was really a combination of factors. The work is incredibly heavy, emotionally and mentally, and although my caseload now is still intense, it started to feel like too much after a while. On top of that, the overall climate in prosecution was changing, and not necessarily in a positive way. The reason I have so many thoughts about misconceptions surrounding prosecutors is that I have experienced them firsthand. These criticisms are not abstract; they have been directed at me personally.

There has also been a growing pushback against law enforcement, which is understandable in many ways. But that makes the relationship between prosecutors and police departments more complicated. It is not always collaborative. Prosecutors are obligated to hold law enforcement to the same ethical standards that defense attorneys would expect. I have had to tell officers I would not file charges on certain cases, and that was not always well received. Some officers were very upset when I pushed back, but that was part of my responsibility.

So early on, I was juggling a lot. Internally, I was carrying the weight of emotionally difficult cases. Externally, I was facing pressure from the defense bar, which, to be clear, is part of the job. If a defense attorney has an advantage, especially public sentiment, they should use it. And if a prosecutor is being unreasonable or unethical, they absolutely should be challenged. I tried very hard not to be that kind of prosecutor, though I am sure there are a few defense attorneys out there who might have called me unreasonable at some point. Hopefully not unethical, because I took that responsibility very seriously.

Then there is the added pressure of working with law enforcement while also being required to hold them accountable. It creates tension. Over time, all of that starts to wear you down. You begin to feel like the villain to everyone. And you really cannot do that job well unless you believe in the value of public service. For me, the parts I loved were the trials and connecting with people. That is what kept me going. I believed I was providing an important service to the community, and that belief grounded me.

But you are constantly dealing with people who are not ready to be in the situation they are in. It becomes exhausting to always be in conflict. I knew family law had its own challenges. There is a saying that in criminal law, you see bad people at their best, and in family law, you see good people at their worst. I understood that before making the transition, so it was not a blind move.

What drew me in was the idea that maybe, in family law, the work would feel more proactive. In criminal law, people are often pulled into the system because of someone else’s actions, and they want no part of it. I understood that, and I still had a job to do, but it made things harder.

In family law, people are choosing to reach out. They are coming to me. I recognized that even before making the move. So for me, the shift felt like a way to continue helping people, but in a setting where they were actively seeking that help, rather than being forced into it by circumstances beyond their control.

New Challenges In Family Law

Caroline Germano: You talked about this a little earlier, but in what ways do you feel family law challenges you? Criminal prosecution clearly presented its own set of challenges, often in multiple areas. How does family law push you differently?

Alex Jennings: This may sound strange, but what has surprised me the most about family law is the amount of writing. As a prosecutor, most of my writing was brief and procedural: charging documents, plea agreements, proposed orders, things like that. Occasionally, there would be more involved motions, especially when I moved into the Special Victims Unit, but overall, the writing was not particularly extensive.

In family law, the writing is constant. Declarations, responses, motions, proposed orders—all of it requires a much more narrative, persuasive style. You are telling a story and trying to help the judge understand your client’s position, not just legally but personally. That has been a big shift.

Another challenge is managing client expectations. In criminal law, you often deal with people who are reluctant participants. That presents its own hurdles, especially when it comes to cooperation. But in family law, clients are invested. They have a lot at stake, and they want outcomes that may not always be legally realistic. It can be hard to explain that just because something feels fair or just does not mean the court will see it the same way.

Also, family law requires you to work more closely with the opposing party and their attorney. In criminal cases, you do not negotiate directly with the defendant. You talk to their attorney. But in family law, there is more of a direct dynamic between the parties, especially when you are in court. That adds another layer of complexity and requires a different communication style.

I would also say that the pace is different. In prosecution, things move quickly. You are in court constantly, juggling multiple cases, and making rapid decisions. In family law, there is more time to think and strategize, but that also means more pressure to get things exactly right. The stakes feel just as high, but the process is different.

So yes, family law is challenging in its own way. But I appreciate that challenge. It is helping me grow as an attorney and giving me the chance to use different skills than I relied on in prosecution.

Advice For Prosecutors Considering Family Law

Caroline Germano: If there are prosecutors reading this interview who are considering a transition into family law, what advice would you offer them?

Alex Jennings: Be ready to feel like a beginner again. That was probably the hardest part for me. After nearly a decade as a prosecutor, I felt confident in the courtroom. I knew how to handle a trial, how to work with law enforcement, and how to manage a heavy caseload. Shifting into family law meant learning a whole new area of law, a new court culture, and even a new way of thinking about clients.

It was humbling. But it was also energizing. I knew I needed something different, and this has been a good fit. So my advice would be: do not be afraid to start over. Your skills are transferable, and your experience is valuable, but you will have to be open to learning and adapting.

Also, choose your firm carefully. The culture matters. I feel very fortunate to have landed at Modern Family Law. The support, the training, the mentorship—it has made a huge difference in my transition. Find a place that values growth and provides the tools you need to succeed.

Purpose-Driven Practice

Caroline Germano: Yes, I think that is great advice. For one final question, since you mentioned the importance of choosing your firm carefully, what would you say motivates you the most in your work here at Modern Family Law?

Alex Jennings: It’s the people. The clients, of course, but also the team. I came from a world where burnout was common, and support was often limited. Here, I feel like I am part of something bigger—a group of professionals who genuinely care about doing good work and helping people through some of the hardest times in their lives.

That purpose keeps me going. I might not be standing in front of a jury anymore, but I am still advocating. I am still fighting for people. And now, I get to do that in a way that feels more collaborative and client-focused. That is incredibly rewarding.

Conclusion

Alex Jennings’ legal career is a testament to adaptability, empathy, and a deep respect for the law’s human impact. Her years in criminal prosecution shaped her courtroom instincts and resilience, while her transition to family law revealed how those same qualities could empower and uplift clients during some of life’s most difficult moments. At Modern Family Law, Alex continues to bring her balanced, thoughtful approach to every case, offering not just legal representation but true advocacy.