A tribute to Jaimie DeLoach

This morning, lawyers with the local bar association will gather on the ninth floor of the Columbus Government Center to remember colleagues who passed away over the past year.

One they will not memorialize today is Jaimie DeLoach, the former assistant city attorney who died of cancer a week ago. Attorneys did not want to squeeze her in on such short notice and decided they will honor her at next year's ceremony.

She was 55, the mother of a son and daughter, devoted to her family and profession, and deeply committed to the ethics required of practicing law. Some critics think calling a lawyer "conscientious" is sarcasm. Even "legal profession" seems an oxymoron in a culture that frames it as a Machiavellian practice training hustlers for political careers.

Exceedingly uncomfortable in the spotlight, De- Loach was no self-promoter, and if thrust on stage, she soon hurried back to the wings.

Case in point: Sometime in 2005 or 2006, she found out some city councilors with the city manager were holding private meetings as a so-called "finance committee," which they claimed was no more than an informal gathering to talk about the city budget.

Their claim of informality would have been more credible had they not been formulating an agenda bearing the title "Finance Committee" and listing specific issues to address, and had they not been holding such meetings as the city faced a budget shortfall that required slashing the payroll.

The latter had not yet been revealed to the public, so the "Finance Committee" obviously had a lot to talk about, before this bad news hit the headlines.

What brought these meetings to light was a memo DeLoach sent councilors, warning them that holding committee meetings with no public notice could violate the Georgia opening meetings law.

Compelled to cover city government back then, I immediately wrote a story about the "Finance Committee" and DeLoach's memo. Some councilors were unhappy with both of us, as they reiterated their group was NOT a formal committee, despite its titled agenda and regular meetings, so they were NOT breaking the law.

I found it funny that city leaders would dig themselves deeper into the mire rather than wipe themselves off and walk away. Wallowing in the mud is what I'd come to expect from the school board, not the city council.

DeLoach was not so amused. For one thing, the newspaper headline implied she flat-out told councilors they were breaking the law, when she had only warned them to be mindful of it. For another, she was not openly criticizing councilors; she was just doing her job and would have been neglecting her duty had she not sent the memo.

Over time I came not only to respect and admire her, but to empathize. In the years to come, it seemed we both were tangled in a dysfunctional bureaucracy with a ven

omous atmosphere. Often in those days I thought that had I a law degree, I wouldn't put up with that. I'd go somewhere else.

Eventually DeLoach left the city government and took a job at Columbus State University. I last saw her one weekend at Publix, where she was shopping with her family. She and her daughter were joking and laughing. She looked happy.

Friends who knew her better than I said she was always upbeat, even under stress. They were shocked to hear of her death, because she had not told them she was dying. It may be just as well she's not honored today as local lawyers remember those who are gone.

The loved ones closest to her said she didn't want a funeral: She didn't want her death to sadden the people who knew her.

Tim Chitwood, tchitwood@ledger-enquirer.com, 706-571-8508.

This story was originally published October 4, 2015 at 9:56 PM with the headline "A tribute to Jaimie DeLoach."