thedenverpost--2020-07-19--Guest Commentary: Forget the legacy project. Give tax increment financing money back to the schools.

The City of Denver is planning a project to completely reconstruct the 16th Street Mall with an estimated price tag in excess of $ 100 million .
On Monday night Denver City Council , our elected officials , will vote to commit tax dollars to help make it happen , but those dollars come with a twist : about $ 30 million has been diverted from Denver Public Schools and about $ 20 million has been diverted from the city ’ s general fund to support this project over the past several decades , at a time when both entities @ @ @ @ @ @ @ okay spending about $ 50 million of city and Denver Public School ’ s money on a non-essential project , while both entities are simultaneously cutting budgets for our most basic essential services ?
Let me provide some context .
There is an organization called the Denver Urban Renewal Authority ( DURA ) that oversees something called tax increment financing ( TIF ) .
TIF districts transfer a portion of the money paid by taxpayers — in this case property owners downtown — into a special fund and use that fund to invest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Currently , $ 56 million ( including money from other taxing entities ) is sitting in the downtown TIF fund , and that money can either be returned to the city and schools , or invested in the sprucing up of the 16th Street Mall .
A facelift for the 16th Street Mall might have been a good idea when the money was flowing , but we have entered into a financial crisis due to COVID-19 that is crushing the finances of our city and Denver Public Schools .
I ’ m standing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Denver as well as the employees of DPS urging the City Council to vote “ no ” to using the money for the 16th Street Mall , returning it to our woefully underfunded school district and city .
I ’ m joined by fellow activists Jamie Giellis and Amy Duclos , Councilwoman Candi CdeBaca , The Colorado Latino Forum and nearly 3,000 people who signed a petition on the website change.org .
But the dire economic situation isn ’ t the only reason to oppose the city ’ s plan .
Consider : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ budgeting The City of Denver has had a difficult time delivering projects on budget in recent years .
Most recently Denver ’ s $ 650 million airport project reported $ 350 million of cost overruns .
What assurances do council members have that this project will meet budget and timing expectations ?
If the budget is overrun , how will the city of Denver fund a shortfall ?
Is this a risk that Council Members are willing to take now ?
It ’ s a bad deal for Denver Public Schools The City @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Street Mall will increase the overall tax base of the city , thereby putting more future dollars into DPS ’ pockets .
But this doesn ’ t add up .
DPS receives its local funding from property taxes and this project will not directly create any new property tax revenue for our district .
Without investing this money directly in a property tax generating building , any potential hope for DPS to get their money back from this project is a longshot and through an indirect method .
With DPS facing a $ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Treasurer and DURA appointed board member Angela Cobian to advocate for our schools on this matter , but the silence from her and DPS on taking a position on this matter has been deafening .
Director Cobian , what is your position on this topic ?
Will you attend the City Council meeting tonight and advocate for DPS ?
Timing is everything The city and the Downtown Denver Partnership are arguing that there is no better time to invest in infrastructure projects , and that if we don ’ t move the project @ @ @ @ @ @ @ funding that is attached to it .
But is that the case ?
Can the other funds still be used to take care of maintenance and repairs or a trimmed-down project ?
The pavers do need to be repaired from a mobility perspective and a bathroom there would be a welcome addition , but the city could accomplish that with a more limited project scope , lower-cost budget and without using our precious education dollars .
Finally , there is concern that the TIF monies wouldn ’ t be returned right away to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is completely up to the discretion of the mayor , council and DURA .
Council is being asked tonight to use taxpayer ’ s money to fund a legacy project , something we understand the attraction to , however , when you look at this through the lens of our youth , the other people whom you may be taking money from are the children of Denver .
Now is not the time .
Paul Vranas is a parent of a DPS student and serves on the board of his local registered neighborhood @ @ @ @ @ @ @ send a letter to the editor about this article , submit online or check out our guidelines for how to submit by email or mail .

The City of Denver is planning a project to completely reconstruct the 16th Street Mall with an estimated price tag in excess of $100 million.
On Monday night Denver City Council, our elected officials, will vote to commit tax dollars to help make it happen, but those dollars come with a twist: about $30 million has been diverted from Denver Public Schools and about $20 million has been diverted from the city’s general fund to support this project over the past several decades, at a time when both entities desperately need dollars.
Are we really okay spending about $50 million of city and Denver Public School’s money on a non-essential project, while both entities are simultaneously cutting budgets for our most basic essential services?
Let me provide some context. There is an organization called the Denver Urban Renewal Authority (DURA) that oversees something called tax increment financing (TIF). TIF districts transfer a portion of the money paid by taxpayers — in this case property owners downtown — into a special fund and use that fund to invest in projects like private sector developments.
Currently, $56 million (including money from other taxing entities) is sitting in the downtown TIF fund, and that money can either be returned to the city and schools, or invested in the sprucing up of the 16th Street Mall.
A facelift for the 16th Street Mall might have been a good idea when the money was flowing, but we have entered into a financial crisis due to COVID-19 that is crushing the finances of our city and Denver Public Schools.
I’m standing up for the families and taxpayers of Denver as well as the employees of DPS urging the City Council to vote “no” to using the money for the 16th Street Mall, returning it to our woefully underfunded school district and city. I’m joined by fellow activists Jamie Giellis and Amy Duclos, Councilwoman Candi CdeBaca, The Colorado Latino Forum and nearly 3,000 people who signed a petition on the website change.org.
But the dire economic situation isn’t the only reason to oppose the city’s plan. Consider:
The lack of confidence in big project budgeting
The City of Denver has had a difficult time delivering projects on budget in recent years. Most recently Denver’s $650 million airport project reported $350 million of cost overruns. What assurances do council members have that this project will meet budget and timing expectations? If the budget is overrun, how will the city of Denver fund a shortfall? Is this a risk that Council Members are willing to take now?
It’s a bad deal for Denver Public Schools
The City has argued that investing in the 16th Street Mall will increase the overall tax base of the city, thereby putting more future dollars into DPS’ pockets. But this doesn’t add up. DPS receives its local funding from property taxes and this project will not directly create any new property tax revenue for our district. Without investing this money directly in a property tax generating building, any potential hope for DPS to get their money back from this project is a
longshot and through an indirect method.
With DPS facing a $65 million shortfall we look to DPS Treasurer and DURA appointed board member Angela Cobian to advocate for our schools on this matter, but the silence from her and DPS on taking a position on this matter has been deafening. Director Cobian, what is your position on this topic? Will you attend the City Council meeting tonight and advocate for DPS?
Timing is everything
The city and the Downtown Denver Partnership are arguing that there is no better time to invest in infrastructure projects, and that if we don’t move the project now, we may lose some other funding that is attached to it. But is that the case? Can the other funds still be used to take care of maintenance and repairs or a trimmed-down project?
The pavers do need to be repaired from a mobility perspective and a bathroom there would be a welcome addition, but the city could accomplish that with a more limited project scope, lower-cost budget and without using our precious education dollars.
Finally, there is concern that the TIF monies wouldn’t be returned right away to the city and schools, but that is completely up to the discretion of the mayor, council and DURA.
Council is being asked tonight to use taxpayer’s money to fund a legacy project, something we understand the attraction to, however, when you look at this through the lens of our youth, the other people whom you may be taking money from are the children of Denver. Now is not the time.
Paul Vranas is a parent of a DPS student and serves on the board of his local registered neighborhood organization and collaborative school committee.
To send a letter to the editor about this article, submit online or check out our guidelines for how to submit by email or mail.


thedenverpost--2020-07-19--How one Colorado high school navigates football in age of COVID-19: “To be on the field, I’d be will

How one Colorado high school navigates football in age of COVID-19: “To be on the field, I’d be willing to do anything”

The gun looks like a phaser set to stun , a Star Trek prop in cream and purple .
Jeremy Bennett picks up one of the two on the table in front of him , points at an imaginary head and pulls the trigger like James T. Kirk , boldly going where no Colorado high school football coach has ever gone before .
“ We take their temperatures with really expensive thermometers , ” Mullen ’ s first-year football coach says as he sets one of those expensive thermometers , the ones that look like phasers , back where he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tenth of a degree.
” That ’ s the second step .
The first is the waiting .
With COVID-19 back in the air and up off the canvas , before any of the Mustangs can participate in summer Organized Team Activities , or OTAs for short , the football staff gives them the airport security treatment .
Players line up outside The Green Room , a 60-by-40-foot indoor training facility , queued six feet apart .
They ’ re let in one by one , then zapped quickly in the noggin by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ That temperature is recorded next to that student ’ s ID number on a form provided by the state ’ s Department of Public Health and Environment .
They ’ re then asked if they ’ ve felt any of the seven symptoms : Fever of 100.3 or above ?
New loss of taste or smell ?
If the answer ’ s “ yes , ” to any of them , you go home .
“ No , ” you practice .
Bennett and his subordinates have been running OTAs for about a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , two hours per session .
The check-in process took a little more than a half-hour at the outset .
They can knock it out now in about 10 to 12 minutes .
“ If ( a temperature ) reads high , we let them sit in the shade for a second , ” Bennett says .
“ Then they come back in The Green Room and I shoot them again .
If it ’ s still high , we send them away and I call Mom and Dad.
” Mullen has averaged @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Which means they ’ ve asked those seven screening questions 180 times a week and at least 720 times since mid-June .
How many kids have you sent home ?
“ None , ” Bennett replies .
“ Everything ’ s hunky-dory .
That said , which one of these 14-to-18-year old kids is asymptomatic ?
” And , more to the point , which ones might be pulling your leg ?
“ It ’ s irritating , ” junior safety/tailback Jaxson Heil says .
“ I wouldn ’ t do it if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ But to be on the field , I ’ d be willing to do anything.
” Welcome to football practice in the coronavirus age : Questionnaires , long waits , temperature checks , and social distance .
The sort of spread-out lines reserved for pregame stretching are the new normal — even if some guys lean closer to one another in order , on occasion , to share the usual practice giggle .
For receivers , gloves are mandatory .
The same goes for linemen , who aren ’ t allowed to engage @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a padded bag between them .
Mind you , distancing and contact sports — let alone a collision one — don ’ t exactly mix .
“ It ’ s half-football , ” Heil says .
“ It ’ s not real football until we can get together.
” Assistant athletic trainer Johnnie Garcia watches wideouts and quarterbacks pitch and catch in a navy-blue cloth face mask with “ MULLEN ” emblazoned on the front .
And that ’ s one of the first things you notice : Every adult , watching or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Most of the teens , however , zip around without one .
“ It ’ s mandatory to wear a mask when you come through , ” Bennett explains .
“ Once you get out here ( to the field ) , we encourage you to wear it , ( but ) we can ’ t make you wear it , and I ’ ll leave it at that .
“ Coaches , we want to make sure we ’ re wearing masks .
We have been , but especially now with Gov @ @ @ @ @ @ @ masks mandatory again .
We ’ re on private property .
But we do want to play football again .
We want to get this ( season ) in.
” You notice something else , too : Between the plates and the medicine balls , there ’ s a small bottle in the middle of the field with a nozzle on the end , not unlike the kind your neighbor uses for spraying weed-killer .
In the football offices , Bennett ’ s got a tub of botanical disinfectant solution squirreled away , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ We just opened up our fourth gallon of that bad boy , ” Bennett says .
“ We ’ ll lay down a towel and lay ( the balls ) in here , roll them out on the towel , spread them out and roll them ( in the disinfectant ) like an ear of corn in butter .
That ’ s the best way to describe it.
” The Mustangs have wrangled five temperature guns in all , Bennett notes , along with 20-some boxes of gloves in storage , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reserves are shared with the maintenance department .
The school purchased a month ’ s supply of sanitizer in reserve , just in case it flies off the shelves the way toilet paper did in March .
About 200 bottles worth , 24 ounces each .
“ This is a work-in-progress , I ’ ll be honest with you , ” Bennett says .
“ Football is everything to me ” At the Mustangs ’ first OTA in June , despite all the temperature checks and the waiting and the masks , Bennett @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ I watched kids walk up and just stare at each other and just smile , ” the coach recalled .
“ It was maybe the first time they ’ d seen each other in person in 60 or 90 days.
” After the coronavirus kiboshed spring drills , along with scheduled visits to at least six 7-on-7 tournaments , most of these kids have seen each other for almost two months straight now .
And while that ’ s been great , the COVID data over that corresponding window has been anything @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pulled again ?
“ You know , there ’ s a mental health aspect to this , ” Bennett says .
“ And there are a lot of kids out there , not just at Mullen High School , but everywhere in the state , that this is all they have .
This is what makes them go to school , whether it ’ s football , basketball , baseball , maybe marching band — it keeps their grades ( up ) and it gives them an opportunity to go to college , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that can ’ t afford to go .
Kids get depressed about that .
‘ What am I going to do , how and I going to get a scholarship , if we don ’ t play ?
’ ” The Mustangs have about a dozen seniors on their roster .
One of them , kicker Aidan Lehman , contracted COVID-19 in March — an occupational hazard spread from his father , an orthopedic surgeon .
“ My dad was hospitalized for three days .
But I didn ’ t have any symptoms @ @ @ @ @ @ @ whole family self-quarantined , so we made sure we didn ’ t spread it.
” Fortunately , everyone ’ s healthy and back in the flow .
But when Lehman sees the state and national numbers trending like it ’ s early April all over again , “ it ’ s a little bit discouraging , ” he says .
“ But I think as long as we all wear masks , that we ’ ll get back to where we were.
” Until then , football , our American given , feels @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s a hot mess .
New Mexico high schools are postponing football , by order of the governor , until the spring .
Wyoming is expecting to open as normal .
Ditto Utah and Nebraska , where the annual Shrine Bowl was held last weekend in Kearney .
“ I ’ m worried , ” Heil says .
“ Some states have closed .
Some are open .
I ’ m hoping Colorado stays open .
Football is everything to me .
And without a season , it ’ s not the same @ @ @ @ @ @ @ same experience.
” Publicly , Bennett is encouraged by CHSAA ’ s most recent statement Thursday , in which it announced that the organization has submitted safety guidelines to the governor ’ s office , that they ’ ll be “ ready to play , with planned modifications.
” At the end of this OTA , Bennett calls the team to huddle around him for farewell announcements , same as always .
Only the circle — normally compact — is spread out like holes on an old Lite-Brite board , with no player @ @ @ @ @ @ @ We ’ re in business boys , ” Bennett shouts .
“ Things are starting to happen !
” YEAAHHH !
, the players shout in unison , clapping in response .
“ Do the little things … let ’ s squash this thing !
” Privately , Bennett tells you , this thing still has him in wait-and-see mode .
Same as the rest of us .
“ What ’ s going to happen ?
I don ’ t know , ” he says .
“ I know we ’ re going @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , until they tell us there ’ s not .
But safety first .
”

The gun looks like a phaser set to stun, a Star Trek prop in cream and purple. Jeremy Bennett picks up one of the two on the table in front of him, points at an imaginary head and pulls the trigger like James T. Kirk, boldly going where no Colorado high school football coach has ever gone before.
“We take their temperatures with really expensive thermometers,” Mullen’s first-year football coach says as he sets one of those expensive thermometers, the ones that look like phasers, back where he found it. “Down to a tenth of a degree.”
That’s the second step. The first is the waiting.
With COVID-19 back in the air and up off the canvas, before any of the Mustangs can participate in summer Organized Team Activities, or OTAs for short, the football staff gives them the airport security treatment.
Players line up outside The Green Room, a 60-by-40-foot indoor training facility, queued six feet apart. They’re let in one by one, then zapped quickly in the noggin by one of those aforementioned thermometer guns. That temperature is recorded next to that student’s ID number on a form provided by the state’s Department of Public Health and Environment. They’re then asked if they’ve felt any of the seven symptoms:
Fever of 100.3 or above?
Cough?
Shortness of breath or difficulty breathing?
Chills?
Muscle aches?
Sore throat?
New loss of taste or smell?
If the answer’s “yes,” to any of them, you go home. “No,” you practice.
Bennett and his subordinates have been running OTAs for about a month now, three days a week, two hours per session. The check-in process took a little more than a half-hour at the outset. They can knock it out now in about 10 to 12 minutes.
“If (a temperature) reads high, we let them sit in the shade for a second,” Bennett says. “Then they come back in The Green Room and I shoot them again. If it’s still high, we send them away and I call Mom and Dad.”
Mullen has averaged at least 60 kids per practice. Which means they’ve asked those seven screening questions 180 times a week and at least 720 times since mid-June.
How many kids have you sent home?
“None,” Bennett replies. “Everything’s hunky-dory. That said, which one of these 14-to-18-year old kids is asymptomatic?”
And, more to the point, which ones might be pulling your leg?
“It’s irritating,” junior safety/tailback Jaxson Heil says. “I wouldn’t do it if we didn’t play football. But to be on the field, I’d be willing to do anything.”
“This is a work-in-progress”
Welcome to football practice in the coronavirus age: Questionnaires, long waits, temperature checks, and social distance.
The sort of spread-out lines reserved for pregame stretching are the new normal — even if some guys lean closer to one another in order, on occasion, to share the usual practice giggle.
For receivers, gloves are mandatory. The same goes for linemen, who aren’t allowed to engage an opponent directly unless there’s a padded bag between them.
Mind you, distancing and contact sports — let alone a collision one — don’t exactly mix.
“It’s half-football,” Heil says. “It’s not real football until we can get together.”
Assistant athletic trainer Johnnie Garcia watches wideouts and quarterbacks pitch and catch in a navy-blue cloth face mask with “MULLEN” emblazoned on the front. And that’s one of the first things you notice: Every adult, watching or teaching, wears a facial covering. Most of the teens, however, zip around without one.
“It’s mandatory to wear a mask when you come through,” Bennett explains. “Once you get out here (to the field), we encourage you to wear it, (but) we can’t make you wear it, and I’ll leave it at that.
“Coaches, we want to make sure we’re wearing masks. We have been, but especially now with Gov. (Jared) Polis making the masks mandatory again. We’re on private property. But we do want to play football again. We want to get this (season) in.”
You notice something else, too: Between the plates and the medicine balls, there’s a small bottle in the middle of the field with a nozzle on the end, not unlike the kind your neighbor uses for spraying weed-killer. In the football offices, Bennett’s got a tub of botanical disinfectant solution squirreled away, purchased to rub down equipment and footballs.
Lemongrass Grapefruit Scent, the label reads. Kills 99.9% of Bacteria, Viruses, Fungi & Molds.
“We just opened up our fourth gallon of that bad boy,” Bennett says. “We’ll lay down a towel and lay (the balls) in here, roll them out on the towel, spread them out and roll them (in the disinfectant) like an ear of corn in butter. That’s the best way to describe it.”
The Mustangs have wrangled five temperature guns in all, Bennett notes, along with 20-some boxes of gloves in storage, as well as spare masks. Disinfectant reserves are shared with the maintenance department.
The school purchased a month’s supply of sanitizer in reserve, just in case it flies off the shelves the way toilet paper did in March. About 200 bottles worth, 24 ounces each.
“This is a work-in-progress, I’ll be honest with you,” Bennett says.
“Football is everything to me”
At the Mustangs’ first OTA in June, despite all the temperature checks and the waiting and the masks, Bennett decided it was all worth it.
“I watched kids walk up and just stare at each other and just smile,” the coach recalled. “It was maybe the first time they’d seen each other in person in 60 or 90 days.”
After the coronavirus kiboshed spring drills, along with scheduled visits to at least six 7-on-7 tournaments, most of these kids have seen each other for almost two months straight now. And while that’s been great, the COVID data over that corresponding window has been anything but. What if the plug gets pulled again?
“You know, there’s a mental health aspect to this,” Bennett says. “And there are a lot of kids out there, not just at Mullen High School, but everywhere in the state, that this is all they have. This is what makes them go to school, whether it’s football, basketball, baseball, maybe marching band — it keeps their grades (up) and it gives them an opportunity to go to college, and there are a lot of kids that can’t afford to go. Kids get depressed about that. ‘What am I going to do, how and I going to get a scholarship, if we don’t play?’”
The Mustangs have about a dozen seniors on their roster. One of them, kicker Aidan Lehman, contracted COVID-19 in March — an occupational hazard spread from his father, an orthopedic surgeon.
“My dad was hospitalized for three days. But I didn’t have any symptoms,” Lehman recalls. “Our whole family self-quarantined, so we made sure we didn’t spread it.”
Fortunately, everyone’s healthy and back in the flow. But when Lehman sees the state and national numbers trending like it’s early April all over again, “it’s a little bit discouraging,” he says.
“But I think as long as we all wear masks, that we’ll get back to where we were.”
Until then, football, our American given, feels like a giant maybe. Arizona’s a hot mess. New Mexico high schools are postponing football, by order of the governor, until the spring. Wyoming is expecting to open as normal. Ditto Utah and Nebraska, where the annual Shrine Bowl was held last weekend in Kearney.
“I’m worried,” Heil says. “Some states have closed. Some are open. I’m hoping Colorado stays open. Football is everything to me. And without a season, it’s not the same. High school’s not the same experience.”
Publicly, Bennett is encouraged by CHSAA’s most recent statement Thursday, in which it announced that the organization has submitted safety guidelines to the governor’s office, that they’ll be “ready to play, with planned modifications.”
In other words, extra precautions. Extra steps. Extra space.
At the end of this OTA, Bennett calls the team to huddle around him for farewell announcements, same as always.
Only the circle — normally compact — is spread out like holes on an old Lite-Brite board, with no player within touching distance of another.
“We’re in business boys,” Bennett shouts. “Things are starting to happen!”
YEAAHHH!, the players shout in unison, clapping in response.
“I think it’s gonna happen!”
WOOOOO! YEAAAAH!
“Do the little things … let’s squash this thing!”
Privately, Bennett tells you, this thing still has him in wait-and-see mode. Same as the rest of us.
“What’s going to happen? I don’t know,” he says. “I know we’re going to prepare for football in the fall, until they tell us there’s not. But safety first.”


thedenverpost--2020-07-19--Denver Post review finds ranks of Colorado judges, prosecutors overwhelmingly white

Colorado has just five district court judges who are Black , another 15 who are Latino , and a similar lack of minority prosecutors and public defenders — numbers so low that a state supreme court justice said it could undermine “ public confidence that justice is truly equal.
” The Denver Post examined diversity data from the state ’ s payroll system , as well as data from district attorneys ’ and public defenders ’ offices , and found that despite a growing population of people of color in Colorado , its judicial system does not adequately represent those @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not at all .
“ You could go through your entire case and be surrounded by only white people , ” said Megan Ring , Colorado ’ s state public defender since 2018 .
“ It ’ s obvious that there just aren ’ t enough non-white people on the bench , in my office , and in the district attorneys ’ offices.
” Judges and others close to the system say part of the problem is drawing people of color into the profession , then getting them to accept jobs in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and preparing them to be judges .
But the process of selecting a judge is also clothed in secrecy .
The public isn ’ t allowed to know who ’ s even applied for the positions and those who help make the choices are forbidden from talking about it .
About two-in-five of the defendants in Colorado are Black or Latino .
The state ’ s population is 4 % Black and 20 % Latino .
Black judges , meanwhile , account for 2.5 % of the 196 district court judges in Colorado @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the positions .
Black and Latino judges hold about one in 10 of the county judgeships in Colorado , The Post found .
“ It boils down to a public perception that the law is fair and impartial , and that justice is truly equal to all , ” said Colorado Supreme Court Justice Monica Márquez , who ’ s held the position since 2010 .
“ It makes all the difference when the bench and those who render the rulings reflect the community they serve .
To be clear , every judicial @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fair and impartial bench each day .
But when it ’ s not diverse , it lends to the perception that they do not … and it undermines public confidence that justice is truly equal.
” • About 2 % of the 682 district attorneys and 549 public defenders in Colorado are Black lawyers ; Latino lawyers hold about 5 % of the jobs .
• Six judicial districts covering 21 counties have only white district-court judges and prosecutors despite a non-white population of more than 83,000 people .
• The state ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ court justices – haven ’ t included a Black judge in two decades .
Latino judges hold two seats .
• The 22 appellate court judges haven ’ t included more than one Black judge at a time , and currently don ’ t have any .
Latinos hold three seats .
Nationwide , 23 state supreme courts lack any judge of color despite a significant population base , according to the Brennan Center for Justice .
In Nevada , for instance , where persons of color make up 51 % of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ justices are all white .
In Colorado , there are signs of change .
Gov .
Jared Polis – the sole authority for appointing Colorado ’ s district-court judges and its 114 county-court judges , not including Denver County – recently has named more Black and Latino people to those positions .
Of the 15 district court appointments Polis made in his first nine months in office in 2019 , 13 were white .
Then judges and diversity advocates last October , mostly via a joint initiative by the Colorado Bar Association and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ make noise anew that the felony benches across Colorado do not reflect the population around them .
Since then , Polis has named 15 more district court judges , four of them Black — one in El Paso County and three in Denver , so that now four of Denver ’ s 31 district judges are black .
“ Increasing diversity on the bench has been one of Gov .
Polis ’ primary judicial goals since taking office just 19 months ago , ” spokesman Conor Cahill said in an email to The @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from candidates referred to him by judicial nominating committees .
“ Long before the protests and marches , we faced zero Black judges on the appellate and supreme court benches , and zero in the trial courts , ” said Denver County Court Judge Gary Jackson , a long-time vocal proponent of judicial diversity .
“ I applaud what Gov .
Polis has done .
But despite Colorado being considered a progressive state , we were reaching an embarrassing point of zero Black judges at the highest levels.
” The Denver County Court @ @ @ @ @ @ @ judges are not chosen by the governor .
The 18 judges who preside over it are appointed by the Denver mayor : Five are Latino , four are Black , and one is Asian .
Ten are white .
The racial disparity among judges and prosecutors is starkest in Colorado ’ s largest judicial jurisdictions .
In the 17th Judicial District , for example , where protesters have called for inquiries into the 2019 death of Elijah McClain at the hands of Aurora police , there has never been a Black district court @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Adams and Broomfield counties , which include parts of Aurora , and Black residents make up nearly 5 % of the population .
And while Latinos make up more than a third of the populace in those counties , only three are judges , all of them on the felony bench .
There are no Blacks or Latinos among the nine county-court judges that serve the district , records show .
Similarly , the 17th Judicial District Attorney ’ s office has no Black attorneys among the 80 prosecutors who work there , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a statewide survey by the Colorado District Attorneys ’ Council that was compiled after The Post began requesting demographics of prosecutors ’ offices .
It ’ s much the same in the 18th Judicial District , which includes Arapahoe , Douglas , Elbert , and Lincoln counties .
None of the 24 district court judges are Black judges and just two are Latino .
There are two Black county court judges among the 13 in the district , but no Latinos , The Post analysis found .
In many Colorado judicial districts , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ doesn ’ t match the population .
The charts show the racial breakdown of current judges for three of the larger districts , and what it would be if it matched the population .
( County court judges are not included in the comparison , only district court judges . )
See charts for all 22 judicial districts after the story .
The prosecutor ’ s office for the 18th district has three attorneys among its 91 who identified themselves as Black , and one who said they are Latino , the CDAC @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , did not self-identify their race or heritage .
“ This is a ridiculous conversation that we ’ re even having to have , ” said Sara Scott , chief executive officer of the Center for Legal Inclusiveness in Denver .
“ We don ’ t have Black judges because we ’ re in a system where white privilege is how the game is played .
We might bring people into the fold , into law schools , into our law firms , but we ’ re not really making them inclusive as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and be seriously considered for these judicial positions.
” And in Pueblo ’ s 10th Judicial District , a Black has never been named to the bench and there are no Latinos among its eight district judges even though Latinos make up 43 % of the population there , one of the highest concentrations in the state .
Its district attorney ’ s office employs 21 prosecutors : 20 are white and one is Asian , the CDAC survey shows .
“ It gives credence and credibility to the system when it ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ recognize it is well-represented , ” said Dennis Maes , a Hispanic judge who retired in 2012 after 17 years as the 10th District ’ s chief judge and 24 years on the bench .
Although it ’ s impossible to know if bias plays a role , The Post interviewed seven attorneys and judges of color who said they applied for judgeships at least five times some more than a dozen before they were even granted an interview by the seven-person nominating committee that controls which names go before the governor for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stopped applying because they never got an interview .
All said they didn ’ t want to be identified because of risk to their careers .
One Black woman said she stopped after her 15th application .
“ I wholeheartedly agree that the community makeup should be reflected on the bench , ” Maes said .
“ By the same token , I can ’ t raise a claim of bias when we don ’ t have people applying for the position .
If you don ’ t have Hispanics and Blacks applying @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” It ’ s known as the pipeline : the flow of people who choose to pursue a law degree , who choose to remain in the profession , and who choose to pursue it to its highest levels , including the robes of a jurist .
“ If you ’ re a person of color , it ’ s hard to achieve what you can ’ t see , ” said attorney Patricia Jarzobski , past president of the Colorado Bar Association and co-chair of the CBA-CJI diversity coalition with Jackson .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ see diverse judges on the bench , it feels to you that it ’ s not attainable.
” Prosecutors , public defenders , and judges all say it begins at the law schools .
When S. James Anaya became dean of the University of Colorado Law School in 2016 , the lack of diversity was readily apparent : His first incoming class had just one Black student .
“ We can ’ t have an adequate legal system unless the players reflect the society they serve , ” Anaya said , noting he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the law school ’ s diversity .
“ It ’ s just the right thing to do .
It ’ s what justice requires.
” Leaders at Colorado ’ s two law schools — CU and the Sturm College of Law at the University of Denver — acknowledge that more can be done to recruit and retain students of color , but say they ’ ve made progress in recent years .
They say it requires more scholarships , more paid internship opportunities , and greater support .
They point to a broad @ @ @ @ @ @ @ keep talented people from applying to law school or graduating .
“ For generations , legal education has been closed to historically marginalized people , both explicitly and implicitly , ” said Alexi Freeman , director of externships and public interest initiatives at Sturm .
Jackson said things have worsened since he was a law school student .
“ The pipeline issue is very real with some key issues , ” Jackson said .
“ One is the fewer number of attorneys of color who are being graduated , well reduced from our @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were many more.
” Mentorship programs exist at every level , with some programs targeting prospective attorneys in high school , offering support , encouragement , guidance over several years .
“ My mentee is a junior at Colorado State University already , ” Márquez said , noting she was among a diverse group of attorneys who worked with former Colorado Attorney General Ken Salazar and are now judges .
“ These are programs where we are making progress .
It ’ s slow , but it ’ s forward movement and for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who decide to pursue law school must overcome the sticker shock of a degree : With living expenses , each year of law school tops $ 54,140 at CU and $ 76,182 at DU .
Students without a financial cushion — who are more likely to be students of color — can balk when considering taking on enormous debt , Freeman said .
Those who pursue a law degree anyway face enormous pressure to pay off the heavy loans when they graduate , which can draw them away from lower-paying public-service jobs such @ @ @ @ @ @ @ judges .
“ If you ’ re recruited by three entities , and the private sector says I ’ ll pay you twice what the public sector can , and you have $ 300,000 in loans , that ’ s going to weigh on you , ” said Tom Raynes , executive director of the Colorado District Attorneys ’ Council , who travels to law schools nationwide to recruit prosecutors .
Once a young attorney is recruited , a district attorney ’ s office must make sure they are supported and feel included @ @ @ @ @ @ @ associate professor at Sturm who teaches a course on multiculturalism and race .
Being the only person of color in any organization can weigh on a person , making them feel as if they don ’ t belong .
“ I know law students of color who were thought to be the client or the victim , and not a law student , ” Goel said .
“ And if you already have imposter syndrome , that ’ s just going to amplify that.
” That ’ s what happened to Liza Willis @ @ @ @ @ @ @ legal administrator for the Denver District Attorney ’ s Office .
Nearly a decade into her career , a defense attorney approached her in an empty courtroom and asked where the prosecutor was .
Despite her suit and heels , the man assumed Willis , a Black woman , wasn ’ t a DA .
“ That struck me and has always remained with me , ” Willis said of the incident from the early 2000s .
“ It angers me .
I ’ m sad about it .
But now , sad @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it .
And I don ’ t expect it to change .
I expect it .
I really do .
And that ’ s horrible to say.
” Elizabeth Espinosa Krupa , past president of the Colorado Hispanic Bar Association , said it was the same for her : “ I go into court and half the time I ’ m confused for the interpreter by doing nothing other than walking into the courtroom , ” she said .
“ I ’ m criticized in my practice for a Mexican accent that is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ know Spanish.
” The makeup of the attorney population reflects the makeup of the benches they stand before , Justice Márquez said .
“ We don ’ t recruit our judges from the general population but from the attorney population , and seeing that , the group doesn ’ t look like our general population either , ” she said .
“ There are already leaks in that pipeline.
” Maes ran Pueblo County ’ s legal aid services for several years before applying to be a judge .
Jackson was the first @ @ @ @ @ @ @ attorney ’ s office when he joined that office in 1971 .
Today , however , hiring a person of color to either job remains a challenge .
Of the state ’ s 682 prosecutors , 81 percent are white , the CDAC data show .
“ Every DA I ’ ve worked with in my 10 years here has been interested in that topic and has tried to recruit diverse candidates , ” Raynes said .
“ Who ’ s making decisions in your community should reflect your community.
” Numerous studies @ @ @ @ @ @ @ especially those who are poor — are more likely to face higher bail amounts , harsher charges and longer sentences in the U.S. criminal justice system .
Without people of color in decision-making roles , those disparities can go unnoticed or be more easily ignored , Freeman said .
“ I think that implicit bias is present and has been well-documented and lots of studies have been done , ” Freeman said .
“ It ’ s very hard to have that conversation , I think , in the midst of a trial @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , perhaps , the person on trial — is white.
” At 89 % , the ranks of Colorado ’ s public defenders are nearly as white as the prosecutors , according to state data provided to The Post through an open-records request .
“ We know this is an issue , ” Ring said .
“ We know we ’ re not diverse enough .
We know even if we make strides bringing more diversity into the agency , if it ’ s not inclusive , we won ’ t retain people.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ has worked with a facilitator to host focus groups about diversity , equality , and inclusion in the agency , Ring said .
“ The truth is there are so many public defenders I know that think because they ’ re public defenders , they ’ re not racist , ” Ring said .
“ And that ’ s not true .
We all are.
” How judges are chosen in Colorado changed in 1966 when the state moved from a voter-chosen process to one where a committee narrows down a field of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ chooses one of them .
Known as the Missouri Plan , a seven-member commission made up lawyers and non-lawyers appointed by the governor , the chief justice of the state supreme court , and the attorney general , the process is used by 34 states and the District of Columbia .
Each judicial district has its own judicial nominating commission — the supreme court has one of its own as well — and members serve a six-year non-renewable term .
While the names of the commission members are public , the process by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not .
The names of applicants are kept secret , as are interviews , discussions , and the votes of the commission .
Once the finalist names are sent to the governor — it ’ s usually three — all the notes and contents of the commission ’ s work are sealed .
The only names the public ever sees are those before the governor .
And while the public can offer its comments about those nominees , that information is also kept confidential .
Denver Post requests for some of those emails @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a judge faces voter approval in even-numbered years to remain there .
“ The selection process is a very competitive and difficult process to go through , ” said Frances Johnson , who became the first Black woman , and only the second Black person , named to the district court bench in the 4th Judicial District for El Paso and Teller counties when Polis selected her .
A former county magistrate , Johnson said it was the 10th time she had applied for the job .
“ It can be quite @ @ @ @ @ @ @ supposed to be , ” Johnson said .
“ I felt certain candidates were being groomed for the positions , and it ’ s too much of who you know .
Perhaps it ’ s not possible to remove politics from human groups.
” Another concern is implicit bias .
Though commissioners interviewed by The Post — nearly all refused to be identified because the process is to be secret — said they work hard to ensure fairness , some wonder if that ’ s truly possible .
“ The only way for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with implicit bias and group decisionmaking , ” Johnson said .
“ Many who do that , especially on hiring , unintentionally or not , are looking for those who make them feel comfortable , and we don ’ t realize that those who do are those from the same community , who look like us.
” There have been efforts at educating commissioners across the state about implicit bias and the Judicial Department in January hired attorney Sumi Lee to address judicial diversity statewide , a job the legislature created in 2019 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a better understanding to what the barriers are in the pipeline , ” Lee said .
“ If you don ’ t have enough diversity in the pipeline , you ’ re just not getting diverse enough candidates.
” The state division that licenses attorneys only recently began asking about demographics and returns have been erratic .
But the best the attorney registration division can say for now is about 2.5 % of the attorneys are Black and 6.2 % are Latino .
As for who applies to become a judge , Chief @ @ @ @ @ @ @ applicants offer their demographic information although Judicial Department spokesman Robert McCallum said they are working on a system to collect demographic information on a “ voluntary and anonymous basis.
” Because a Supreme Court justice is always assigned to monitor each commission , Márquez said she ’ s not seen anything other than an honest process at work .
“ The conversations are open and robust and the questions asked are not unfair or discriminatory , ” she said .
“ In my 10 years doing about four or five each year , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ process works incredibly well and consistently seen thoughtful , hard-working people do their best to send the best possible list to the governor .
I ’ ve never seen any bias.
” What she won ’ t say — and no sitting commissioner interviewed by The Post would — is whether there are applicants of color in the first place .
“ One of the data points we ’ re trying to gather is who ’ s applying , who ’ s getting interviewed and who ’ s getting short-listed , ” Jarzobski @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 17th Judicial District nominating commission , which was one of the most active , was we didn ’ t have a person of color apply.
” Attorney Eric Nesbitt , newly named to the 18th Judicial District nominating commission , said he ’ s anxious to see what the applicant pool looks like .
Appointed in January , he hasn ’ t attended a meeting as yet because no openings have occurred .
“ I don ’ t know what the applicant pool is or its diversity , ” he said .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that reflects the population , particularly in our urban areas .
We always try to remind the majority that we ’ re qualified to do the job and we are often overlooked in the corporate boardrooms , so it doesn ’ t surprise me that the same applies in the judicial process.
” The commissions themselves are diverse .
Along with Nesbitt , who is Black , there is another Black man and a Hispanic woman .
The other four are white men .
Other commissions similarly reflect the general population there .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s not public is the name and ethnic background of those who applied , who were not interviewed and who were not sent up to the governor , ” Jackson said .
“ We can not know if the process is inherently fair and unbiased if we don ’ t have any idea what they ’ re starting with in the first place .
”

Colorado has just five district court judges who are Black, another 15 who are Latino, and a similar lack of minority prosecutors and public defenders — numbers so low that a state supreme court justice said it could undermine “public confidence that justice is truly equal.”
The Denver Post examined diversity data from the state’s payroll system, as well as data from district attorneys’ and public defenders’ offices, and found that despite a growing population of people of color in Colorado, its judicial system does not adequately represent those it serves, and in several jurisdictions not at all.
“You could go through your entire case and be surrounded by only white people,” said Megan Ring, Colorado’s state public defender since 2018. “It’s obvious that there just aren’t enough non-white people on the bench, in my office, and in the district attorneys’ offices.”
Judges and others close to the system say part of the problem is drawing people of color into the profession, then getting them to accept jobs in the offices of DAs and public defenders, and preparing them to be judges. But the process of selecting a judge is also clothed in secrecy. The public isn’t allowed to know who’s even applied for the positions and those who help make the choices are forbidden from talking about it.
About two-in-five of the defendants in Colorado are Black or Latino. The state’s population is 4% Black and 20% Latino. Black judges, meanwhile, account for 2.5% of the 196 district court judges in Colorado; Latino judges hold 7.6% of the positions.
Black and Latino judges hold about one in 10 of the county judgeships in Colorado, The Post found.
“It boils down to a public perception that the law is fair and impartial, and that justice is truly equal to all,” said Colorado Supreme Court Justice Monica Márquez, who’s held the position since 2010. “It makes all the difference when the bench and those who render the rulings reflect the community they serve. To be clear, every judicial officer in Colorado strives to have a fair and impartial bench each day. But when it’s not diverse, it lends to the perception that they do not … and it undermines public confidence that justice is truly equal.”
Among The Post’s findings:
About 2% of the 682 district attorneys and 549 public defenders in Colorado are Black lawyers; Latino lawyers hold about 5% of the jobs.
Six judicial districts covering 21 counties have only white district-court judges and prosecutors despite a non-white population of more than 83,000 people.
The state’s highest-level jurists – the seven supreme court justices – haven’t included a Black judge in two decades. Latino judges hold two seats.
The 22 appellate court judges haven’t included more than one Black judge at a time, and currently don’t have any. Latinos hold three seats.
Nationwide, 23 state supreme courts lack any judge of color despite a significant population base, according to the Brennan Center for Justice. In Nevada, for instance, where persons of color make up 51% of the state’s population, its seven justices are all white.
In Colorado, there are signs of change. Gov. Jared Polis – the sole authority for appointing Colorado’s district-court judges and its 114 county-court judges, not including Denver County – recently has named more Black and Latino people to those positions.
Of the 15 district court appointments Polis made in his first nine months in office in 2019, 13 were white.
Then judges and diversity advocates last October, mostly via a joint initiative by the Colorado Bar Association and the Colorado Judicial Institute, began to make noise anew that the felony benches across Colorado do not reflect the population around them.
Since then, Polis has named 15 more district court judges, four of them Black — one in El Paso County and three in Denver, so that now four of Denver’s 31 district judges are black.
“Increasing diversity on the bench has been one of Gov. Polis’ primary judicial goals since taking office just 19 months ago,” spokesman Conor Cahill said in an email to The Post, noting the governor must choose from candidates referred to him by judicial nominating committees.
“Long before the protests and marches, we faced zero Black judges on the appellate and supreme court benches, and zero in the trial courts,” said Denver County Court Judge Gary Jackson, a long-time vocal proponent of judicial diversity. “I applaud what Gov. Polis has done. But despite Colorado being considered a progressive state, we were reaching an embarrassing point of zero Black judges at the highest levels.”
The Denver County Court is the only jurisdiction in Colorado where judges are not chosen by the governor. The 18 judges who preside over it are appointed by the Denver mayor: Five are Latino, four are Black.
Large jurisdictions don’t fare better
The racial disparity among judges and prosecutors is starkest in Colorado’s largest judicial jurisdictions.
In the 17th Judicial District, for example, where protesters have called for inquiries into the 2019 death of Elijah McClain at the hands of Aurora police, there has never been a Black district court judge.
The district is composed of Adams and Broomfield counties, which include parts of Aurora, and Black residents make up nearly 5% of the population. And while Latinos make up more than a third of the populace in those counties, only three are judges, all of them on the felony bench. There are no Blacks or Latinos among the nine county-court judges that serve the district, records show.
Similarly, the 17th Judicial District Attorney’s office has no Black attorneys among the 80 prosecutors who work there, and only 12 Latinos, according to a statewide survey by the Colorado District Attorneys’ Council that was compiled after The Post began requesting demographics of prosecutors’ offices.
It’s much the same in the 18th Judicial District, which includes Arapahoe, Douglas, Elbert, and Lincoln counties. None of the 24 district court judges are Black judges and just two are Latino. There are two Black county court judges among the 13 in the district, but no Latinos, The Post analysis found.
A lack of diversity in district court judges
In many Colorado judicial districts, the racial makeup of district court judges doesn’t match the population. The charts show the racial breakdown of current judges for three of the larger districts, and what it would be if it matched the population. (County court judges are not included in the comparison, only district court judges.) See charts for all 22 judicial districts after the story.
By Kevin Hamm, The Denver Post
The prosecutor’s office for the 18th district has three attorneys among its 91 who identified themselves as Black, and one who said they are Latino, the CDAC data show. Thirty-two attorneys, however, did not self-identify their race or heritage.
“This is a ridiculous conversation that we’re even having to have,” said Sara Scott, chief executive officer of the Center for Legal Inclusiveness in Denver. “We don’t have Black judges because we’re in a system where white privilege is how the game is played. We might bring people into the fold, into law schools, into our law firms, but we’re not really making them inclusive as partners or higher-ups where they can apply and be seriously considered for these judicial positions.”
And in Pueblo’s 10th Judicial District, a Black has never been named to the bench and there are no Latinos among its eight district judges even though Latinos make up 43% of the population there, one of the highest concentrations in the state. Its district attorney’s office employs 21 prosecutors: 20 are white and one is Asian, the CDAC survey shows.
“It gives credence and credibility to the system when it’s diverse, so the community can recognize it is well-represented,” said Dennis Maes, a Hispanic judge who retired in 2012 after 17 years as the 10th District’s chief judge and 24 years on the bench.
Although it’s impossible to know if bias plays a role, The Post interviewed seven attorneys and judges of color who said they applied for judgeships at least five times some more than a dozen before they were even granted an interview by the seven-person nominating committee that controls which names go before the governor for appointment. Several attorneys said they simply stopped applying because they never got an interview. All said they didn’t want to be identified because of risk to their careers. One Black woman said she stopped after her 15th application.
“I wholeheartedly agree that the community makeup should be reflected on the bench,” Maes said. “By the same token, I can’t raise a claim of bias when we don’t have people applying for the position. If you don’t have Hispanics and Blacks applying, you can’t appoint them.”
A trickle in the pipeline
It’s known as the pipeline: the flow of people who choose to pursue a law degree, who choose to remain in the profession, and who choose to pursue it to its highest levels, including the robes of a jurist.
“If you’re a person of color, it’s hard to achieve what you can’t see,” said attorney Patricia Jarzobski, past president of the Colorado Bar Association and co-chair of the CBA-CJI diversity coalition with Jackson. “And if you don’t see diverse judges on the bench, it feels to you that it’s not attainable.”
Prosecutors, public defenders, and judges all say it begins at the law schools.
When S. James Anaya became dean of the University of Colorado Law School in 2016, the lack of diversity was readily apparent: His first incoming class had just one Black student.
“We can’t have an adequate legal system unless the players reflect the society they serve,” Anaya said, noting he created a scholarship program aimed at increasing the law school’s diversity. “It’s just the right thing to do. It’s what justice requires.”
Leaders at Colorado’s two law schools — CU and the Sturm College of Law at the University of Denver — acknowledge that more can be done to recruit and retain students of color, but say they’ve made progress in recent years. They say it requires more scholarships, more paid internship opportunities, and greater support. They point to a broad range of systemic socio-economic barriers that can keep talented people from applying to law school or graduating.
“For generations, legal education has been closed to historically marginalized people, both explicitly and implicitly,” said Alexi Freeman, director of externships and public interest initiatives at Sturm.
Jackson said things have worsened since he was a law school student.
“The pipeline issue is very real with some key issues,” Jackson said. “One is the fewer number of attorneys of color who are being graduated, well reduced from our days back in the 1970s when there were many more.”
Mentorship programs exist at every level, with some programs targeting prospective attorneys in high school, offering support, encouragement, guidance over several years.
“My mentee is a junior at Colorado State University already,” Márquez said, noting she was among a diverse group of attorneys who worked with former Colorado Attorney General Ken Salazar and are now judges. “These are programs where we are making progress. It’s slow, but it’s forward movement and for that I’m proud.”
Those who decide to pursue law school must overcome the sticker shock of a degree: With living expenses, each year of law school tops $54,140 at CU and $76,182 at DU.
Students without a financial cushion — who are more likely to be students of color — can balk when considering taking on enormous debt, Freeman said. Those who pursue a law degree anyway face enormous pressure to pay off the heavy loans when they graduate, which can draw them away from lower-paying public-service jobs such as prosecutors, public defenders, and judges.
“If you’re recruited by three entities, and the private sector says I’ll pay you twice what the public sector can, and you have $300,000 in loans, that’s going to weigh on you,” said Tom Raynes, executive director of the Colorado District Attorneys’ Council, who travels to law schools nationwide to recruit prosecutors.
Once a young attorney is recruited, a district attorney’s office must make sure they are supported and feel included, according to Rashmi Goel, an associate professor at Sturm who teaches a course on multiculturalism and race. Being the only person of color in any organization can weigh on a person, making them feel as if they don’t belong.
“I know law students of color who were thought to be the client or the victim, and not a law student,” Goel said. “And if you already have imposter syndrome, that’s just going to amplify that.”
That’s what happened to Liza Willis, senior chief deputy district attorney and legal administrator for the Denver District Attorney’s Office. Nearly a decade into her career, a defense attorney approached her in an empty courtroom and asked where the prosecutor was. Despite her suit and heels, the man assumed Willis, a Black woman, wasn’t a DA.
“That struck me and has always remained with me,” Willis said of the incident from the early 2000s. “It angers me. I’m sad about it. But now, sad enough, I’m used to it. And I don’t expect it to change. I expect it. I really do. And that’s horrible to say.”
Elizabeth Espinosa Krupa, past president of the Colorado Hispanic Bar Association, said it was the same for her: “I go into court and half the time I’m confused for the interpreter by doing nothing other than walking into the courtroom,” she said. “I’m criticized in my practice for a Mexican accent that is distracting and I don’t even know Spanish.”
The makeup of the attorney population reflects the makeup of the benches they stand before, Justice Márquez said.
“We don’t recruit our judges from the general population but from the attorney population, and seeing that, the group doesn’t look like our general population either,” she said. “There are already leaks in that pipeline.”
Maes ran Pueblo County’s legal aid services for several years before applying to be a judge. Jackson was the first Black prosecutor in Denver’s district attorney’s office when he joined that office in 1971.
Today, however, hiring a person of color to either job remains a challenge. Of the state’s 682 prosecutors, 81 percent are white, the CDAC data show.
“Every DA I’ve worked with in my 10 years here has been interested in that topic and has tried to recruit diverse candidates,” Raynes said. “Who’s making decisions in your community should reflect your community.”
Numerous studies have found that Blacks and Hispanics — especially those who are poor — are more likely to face higher bail amounts, harsher charges and longer sentences in the U.S. criminal justice system. Without people of color in decision-making roles, those disparities can go unnoticed or be more easily ignored, Freeman said.
“I think that implicit bias is present and has been well-documented and lots of studies have been done,” Freeman said. “It’s very hard to have that conversation, I think, in the midst of a trial when everyone in the room — except, perhaps, the person on trial — is white.”
At 89%, the ranks of Colorado’s public defenders are nearly as white as the prosecutors, according to state data provided to The Post through an open-records request.
“We know this is an issue,” Ring said. “We know we’re not diverse enough. We know even if we make strides bringing more diversity into the agency, if it’s not inclusive, we won’t retain people.”
The public defender’s office has worked with a facilitator to host focus groups about diversity, equality, and inclusion in the agency, Ring said.
“The truth is there are so many public defenders I know that think because they’re public defenders, they’re not racist,” Ring said. “And that’s not true. We all are.”
Secretive selection process
How judges are chosen in Colorado changed in 1966 when the state moved from a voter-chosen process to one where a committee narrows down a field of applicants to three, and the governor chooses one of them. Known as the Missouri Plan, a seven-member commission made up lawyers and non-lawyers appointed by the governor, the chief justice of the state supreme court, and the attorney general, the process is used by 34 states and the District of Columbia.
Each judicial district has its own judicial nominating commission — the supreme court has one of its own as well — and members serve a six-year non-renewable term. While the names of the commission members are public, the process by which they choose the judicial nominees is not.
The names of applicants are kept secret, as are interviews, discussions, and the votes of the commission. Once the finalist names are sent to the governor — it’s usually three — all the notes and contents of the commission’s work are sealed.
The only names the public ever sees are those before the governor. And while the public can offer its comments about those nominees, that information is also kept confidential. Denver Post requests for some of those emails were denied.
Once on the bench, a judge faces voter approval in even-numbered years to remain there.
“The selection process is a very competitive and difficult process to go through,” said Frances Johnson, who became the first Black woman, and only the second Black person, named to the district court bench in the 4th Judicial District for El Paso and Teller counties when Polis selected her.
A former county magistrate, Johnson said it was the 10th time she had applied for the job.
“It can be quite political for a process that is not supposed to be,” Johnson said. “I felt certain candidates were being groomed for the positions, and it’s too much of who you know. Perhaps it’s not possible to remove politics from human groups.”
Another concern is implicit bias. Though commissioners interviewed by The Post — nearly all refused to be identified because the process is to be secret — said they work hard to ensure fairness, some wonder if that’s truly possible.
“The only way for the process to be fair is dealing with implicit bias and group decisionmaking,” Johnson said. “Many who do that, especially on hiring, unintentionally or not, are looking for those who make them feel comfortable, and we don’t realize that those who do are those from the same community, who look like us.”
There have been efforts at educating commissioners across the state about implicit bias and the Judicial Department in January hired attorney Sumi Lee to address judicial diversity statewide, a job the legislature created in 2019.
“It’s to get a better understanding to what the barriers are in the pipeline,” Lee said. “If you don’t have enough diversity in the pipeline, you’re just not getting diverse enough candidates.”
The state division that licenses attorneys only recently began asking about demographics and returns have been erratic. But the best the attorney registration division can say for now is about 2.5% of the attorneys are Black and 6.2% are Latino.
As for who applies to become a judge, Chief Justice Nathan Coates can’t mandate applicants offer their demographic information although Judicial Department spokesman Robert McCallum said they are working on a system to collect demographic information on a “voluntary and anonymous basis.”
Because a Supreme Court justice is always assigned to monitor each commission, Márquez said she’s not seen anything other than an honest process at work.
“The conversations are open and robust and the questions asked are not unfair or discriminatory,” she said. “In my 10 years doing about four or five each year, I’m happy to say the process works incredibly well and consistently seen thoughtful, hard-working people do their best to send the best possible list to the governor. I’ve never seen any bias.”
What she won’t say — and no sitting commissioner interviewed by The Post would — is whether there are applicants of color in the first place.
“One of the data points we’re trying to gather is who’s applying, who’s getting interviewed and who’s getting short-listed,” Jarzobski said. “My experience on the 17th Judicial District nominating commission, which was one of the most active, was we didn’t have a person of color apply.”
Attorney Eric Nesbitt, newly named to the 18th Judicial District nominating commission, said he’s anxious to see what the applicant pool looks like. Appointed in January, he hasn’t attended a meeting as yet because no openings have occurred.
“I don’t know what the applicant pool is or its diversity,” he said. “We don’t have a bench that reflects the population, particularly in our urban areas. We always try to remind the majority that we’re qualified to do the job and we are often overlooked in the corporate boardrooms, so it doesn’t surprise me that the same applies in the judicial process.”
The commissions themselves are diverse. Along with Nesbitt, who is Black, there is another Black man and a Hispanic woman. The other four are white men. Other commissions similarly reflect the general population there.
“What I’m concerned that’s not public is the name and ethnic background of those who applied, who were not interviewed and who were not sent up to the governor,” Jackson said. “We cannot know if the process is inherently fair and unbiased if we don’t have any idea what they’re starting with in the first place.”
David Migoya: dmigoya@denverpost.com; 303-954-1506; @davidmigoya.
Elise Schmelzer: eschmelzer@denverpost.com; 303-954-1368
This article was edited because of the following error: The number of white judges on the Denver County Court was incorrect in the originally published version of this story. Eight of the 18 judges are white, five are Latino, four are Black and one is Asian.


thedenverpost--2020-07-19--Improving Investor Behavior: Blind spots and confirmation bias

We talk a lot about perspective in this column .
Our perspective is the lens through which we view the world .
It is our way of framing everything we see and ultimately defines how we react to what life throws at us .
We believe what we believe because of our past experiences and perception of reality .
In finance , investors often share their perspectives ( albeit usually too much ) , which gives us untold insight into how people may be thinking at any given time .
The perspective du jour is that markets are not accurately @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are overpriced ) .
But is this accurate or a blind spot in our perspective ?
Confirmation bias is defined as the tendency to process information by looking for or interpreting data consistent with what you already believe .
We all have a level of confirmation bias if we look in the mirror .
Where you get your news , information , and even relationships is based on your political leanings , upbringing , religion , and a million other minute factors that help make you , you .
Because human nature shows @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what we believe to be true , we tend to favor views reinforcing decisions we ’ ve made .
We want others to tell us we made the right decision .
We hear what we already believe .
Some 50 years ago , Nobel-prize-winning author Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky wrote groundbreaking material based on a central thesis : A consistent misperception of the world governs people ’ s intuitive expectations .
In other words , people believe what they believe based on their perceptions , not necessarily on facts .
Confirmation bias @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Consider our earlier question : Are markets overpriced right now ?
The typical misperception is that as stocks get more expensive , they become more valuable .
Said a different way , people tend to want to invest more in companies that have seen an increase in their share price .
In turn , this leads to more and more investors “ chasing.
” I find it odd that we process prices and value in all other areas of our life almost exactly the opposite .
Think end-of-year-clearances on cars and trucks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s Prime Day .
Whenever prices are discounted in the consumption economy , we get excited and mentally feel the value of what we are buying is getting better .
We lean into our purchases when prices go down .
When things go on sale , I go shopping .
We apply this perspective to managing investments for our clients .
Yet investors tend to do the opposite .
Cullen Roche wrote years ago , “ The stock market is the only market where when things go on sale … all the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ This behavior is driven by the misperception that as prices go down , the value goes down .
Kahneman and Tversky were right : it is a consistent misconception of the world .
Selling your investments in companies after they are lower is the ultimate unforced error in investor behavior – yet it seems to be human nature and happens repeatedly .
The best evidence of this is to look at the flow of funds , a measure of how investors and their advisers are allocating or investing their money over time .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ P 500 closed at a new all-time high of 3,386.15 .
Over the next 16 weeks , COVID-19 hit the equity markets resulting in a fall of about 34 % in just 33 days .
The speed of this correction is without historical precedent .
The following 50 days saw the fastest and steepest bounce in American history .
According to data published by the Investment Company Institute , investors were net sellers of some $ 171 billion in equities and net buyers of $ 1.1 trillion in money markets from January through @ @ @ @ @ @ @ $ 4.8 trillion sitting in money market accounts at the end of May .
That ’ s a lot of cash earning nearly zero return .
Confusing short-term prices with long-term values is a classic investor mistake .
Judgment is clouded by the blind spot of our own confirmation bias .
This mistake affects seasoned pros and new investors alike .
In May , billionaire investor Stan Druckenmiller , proclaimed , “ The risk-reward for equities is maybe as bad as I have ever seen it in my career.
” As the markets @ @ @ @ @ @ @ returned about 3 % .
He pronounced himself “ humbled.
” Even Warren Buffett is not immune from blind spots and confirmation bias .
Historically Buffett argued investment in the airline industry to be foolish .
He once said that if a capitalist were at Kitty Hawk , they would have shot down Wilbur Wright .
Berkshire Hathaway accumulated some 10 % of the airline industry in recent years , only to turn and liquidate those holdings in March at their low prices .
Even someone like Buffett , nearly knighted for his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reminders .
Are stocks overpriced ?
That ’ s a wildly generic question with no clear answer .
But as you consider whether to invest or not , take heed of your blind spots and question whether you ’ re using confirmation bias to reinforce your beliefs and judgments .
Consider different perspectives and arguments that may challenge your views .
Ultimately , it ’ s up to you as an investor to decide whether things are overpriced .
Your perspective will be the deciding factor , so make it as informed and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the founder of Prosperion Financial Advisors in Greenwood Village .
He is the author of “ Intelligent Investing : Your Guide to a Growing Retirement Income , ” published in March 2019 .

We talk a lot about perspective in this column. Our perspective is the lens through which we view the world. It is our way of framing everything we see and ultimately defines how we react to what life throws at us.
We believe what we believe because of our past experiences and perception of reality. In finance, investors often share their perspectives (albeit usually too much), which gives us untold insight into how people may be thinking at any given time.
The perspective du jour is that markets are not accurately pricing honest valuations (i.e., stocks are overpriced). But is this accurate or a blind spot in our perspective?
Confirmation bias is defined as the tendency to process information by looking for or interpreting data consistent with what you already believe. We all have a level of confirmation bias if we look in the mirror. Where you get your news, information, and even relationships is based on your political leanings, upbringing, religion, and a million other minute factors that help make you, you. Because human nature shows a preference for information that agrees with what we believe to be true, we tend to favor views reinforcing decisions we’ve made. We want others to tell us we made the right decision. We hear what we already believe.
Some 50 years ago, Nobel-prize-winning author Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky wrote groundbreaking material based on a central thesis: A consistent misperception of the world governs people’s intuitive expectations. In other words, people believe what they believe based on their perceptions, not necessarily on facts.
Confirmation bias represents a huge blind spot for investors. Consider our earlier question: Are markets overpriced right now? The typical misperception is that as stocks get more expensive, they become more valuable. Said a different way, people tend to want to invest more in companies that have seen an increase in their share price. In turn, this leads to more and more investors “chasing.”
I find it odd that we process prices and value in all other areas of our life almost exactly the opposite. Think end-of-year-clearances on cars and trucks, January white sales, even Amazon’s Prime Day. Whenever prices are discounted in the consumption economy, we get excited and mentally feel the value of what we are buying is getting better. We lean into our purchases when prices go down. When things go on sale, I go shopping. We apply this perspective to managing investments for our clients.
Yet investors tend to do the opposite. Cullen Roche wrote years ago, “The stock market is the only market where when things go on sale … all the customers run out of the store.” This behavior is driven by the misperception that as prices go down, the value goes down. Kahneman and Tversky were right: it is a consistent misconception of the world. Selling your investments in companies after they are lower is the ultimate unforced error in investor behavior – yet it seems to be human nature and happens repeatedly.
The best evidence of this is to look at the flow of funds, a measure of how investors and their advisers are allocating or investing their money over time. On Feb. 19, the S&P 500 closed at a new all-time high of 3,386.15. Over the next 16 weeks, COVID-19 hit the equity markets resulting in a fall of about 34% in just 33 days. The speed of this correction is without historical precedent. The following 50 days saw the fastest and steepest bounce in American history. According to data published by the Investment Company Institute, investors were net sellers of some $171 billion in equities and net buyers of $1.1 trillion in money markets from January through May. The same data says about $4.8 trillion sitting in money market accounts at the end of May. That’s a lot of cash earning nearly zero return.
Confusing short-term prices with long-term values is a classic investor mistake. Judgment is clouded by the blind spot of our own confirmation bias. This mistake affects seasoned pros and new investors alike. In May, billionaire investor Stan Druckenmiller, proclaimed, “The risk-reward for equities is maybe as bad as I have ever seen it in my career.” As the markets surged some 40%, his portfolio returned about 3%. He pronounced himself “humbled.”
Even Warren Buffett is not immune from blind spots and confirmation bias. Historically Buffett argued investment in the airline industry to be foolish. He once said that if a capitalist were at Kitty Hawk, they would have shot down Wilbur Wright. Berkshire Hathaway accumulated some 10% of the airline industry in recent years, only to turn and liquidate those holdings in March at their low prices. Even someone like Buffett, nearly knighted for his investment acumen, may need investor behavior reminders.
Are stocks overpriced? That’s a wildly generic question with no clear answer. But as you consider whether to invest or not, take heed of your blind spots and question whether you’re using confirmation bias to reinforce your beliefs and judgments. Consider different perspectives and arguments that may challenge your views. Ultimately, it’s up to you as an investor to decide whether things are overpriced. Your perspective will be the deciding factor, so make it as informed and unbiased as possible.
Steve Booren is the founder of Prosperion Financial Advisors in Greenwood Village. He is the author of “Intelligent Investing: Your Guide to a Growing Retirement Income,” published in March 2019.


thedenverpost--2020-07-19--Chambers: Avalanche has a shot at Stanley Cup. Ian Cole has the playoff beard to prove it

Ian Cole is a two-time Stanley Cup-winning defenseman with the Pittsburgh Penguins .
So he knows a thing or two about big beards .
Cole , now in his second season with the Avalanche , begins growing his playoff beard at the start of the season in October — if he believes he ’ s on a team capable of making the playoffs .
The Avalanche was definitely that team , and since the 2019-20 season could cover an entire year — with the Cup expected to be awarded in early October — Cole could have the biggest beard in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Avalanche plays for the Cup , that is .
“ This is definitely as big as it ’ s gotten in my career .
People seem to respond to it well , ” Cole , now in his 10th NHL season , said on a Zoom call .
“ Am I incapable of playing without a beard — is this my thing ?
I don ’ t know .
Maybe not .
Maybe it is .
But if you feel confident your team is going to make the playoffs , you want @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Cole , 31 , was also asked about the Avalanche ’ s genuine chances of winning this thing or at least making it to the conference or Cup finals .
He certainly knows a thing or two about that and says the Avs ’ depth at all three positions supports a long run .
“ Looking at our team , I think we very much check those boxes .
There is a lot of excitement for our team and amongst the guys on our roster , ” Cole said .
“ It @ @ @ @ @ @ @ very excited about.
” Minus the media .
Media isn ’ t allowed in the Avalanche ’ s training-camp bubble and security will be even tighter at the NHL Western Conference bubble in Edmonton after teams travel to that hub city .
Like the old days , players will be more apt to marinate in their soggy equipment after games and practices , instead of hurrying off to their private dressing room in their undergarments .
In the old days , there was just one dressing room .
In a normal world , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one-on-one or scrum interviews after most practices and games before seeking privacy with his teammates .
Not anymore .
For the rest of this season and probably to begin 2020-21 , players will talk to the camera on Zoom calls and only hear questions from reporters .
“ We ’ re always going to miss you guys , ” Landeskog said of familiar Denver media .
“ We get to know all you guys , and get to see all you guys after practice and games .
When you ’ re not playing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tough .
But , no doubt , I truly enjoy most interviews .
It ’ s a good time to have that energy space right after , whether it ’ s practice or games , it gives you a little time to reflect on what ’ s going on .
“ But on the flip side , I truly enjoy the downtime in the locker room right after practices or games — especially practices .
You kind of sit around .
You don ’ t rush out of there .
Everybody is getting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ re shooting the ( breeze ) in there , which is a lot of fun .
It goes both ways.
” Unfortunately for the traveling media , it doesn ’ t go both ways .
Building relationships face-to-face and promoting one-on-one interviews are highly important in our industry .
Writing game stories from television is the last thing we want to do .
Let ’ s hope the NHL ’ s world with Zoom doesn ’ t last long .

Ian Cole is a two-time Stanley Cup-winning defenseman with the Pittsburgh Penguins.
So he knows a thing or two about big beards.
Cole, now in his second season with the Avalanche, begins growing his playoff beard at the start of the season in October — if he believes he’s on a team capable of making the playoffs.
The Avalanche was definitely that team, and since the 2019-20 season could cover an entire year — with the Cup expected to be awarded in early October — Cole could have the biggest beard in the history of playoff beards.
If the Avalanche plays for the Cup, that is.
“This is definitely as big as it’s gotten in my career. People seem to respond to it well,” Cole, now in his 10th NHL season, said on a Zoom call. “Am I incapable of playing without a beard — is this my thing? I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe it is. But if you feel confident your team is going to make the playoffs, you want to start growing it a little early.”
Cole, 31, was also asked about the Avalanche’s genuine chances of winning this thing or at least making it to the conference or Cup finals. He certainly knows a thing or two about that and says the Avs’ depth at all three positions supports a long run.
“Looking at our team, I think we very much check those boxes. There is a lot of excitement for our team and amongst the guys on our roster,” Cole said. “It’s something that we’re very excited about.”
Minus the media. Media isn’t allowed in the Avalanche’s training-camp bubble and security will be even tighter at the NHL Western Conference bubble in Edmonton after teams travel to that hub city. Like the old days, players will be more apt to marinate in their soggy equipment after games and practices, instead of hurrying off to their private dressing room in their undergarments.
In the old days, there was just one dressing room.
In a normal world, Avs captain Gabe Landeskog usually grants interviews one-on-one or scrum interviews after most practices and games before seeking privacy with his teammates. Not anymore.
For the rest of this season and probably to begin 2020-21, players will talk to the camera on Zoom calls and only hear questions from reporters.
“We’re always going to miss you guys,” Landeskog said of familiar Denver media. “We get to know all you guys, and get to see all you guys after practice and games. When you’re not playing very well, it can sometimes be tough. But, no doubt, I truly enjoy most interviews. It’s a good time to have that energy space right after, whether it’s practice or games, it gives you a little time to reflect on what’s going on.
“But on the flip side, I truly enjoy the downtime in the locker room right after practices or games — especially practices. You kind of sit around. You don’t rush out of there. Everybody is getting undressed at the same time and you’re shooting the (breeze) in there, which is a lot of fun. It goes both ways.”
Unfortunately for the traveling media, it doesn’t go both ways. Building relationships face-to-face and promoting one-on-one interviews are highly important in our industry. Writing game stories from television is the last thing we want to do.
Let’s hope the NHL’s world with Zoom doesn’t last long.


thedenverpost--2020-07-19--Inside the Nuggets’ hour-long Zoom call with Broncos legend Peyton Manning

Weeks before the Nuggets left for Orlando , team officials teased one of their weekly Zoom calls with a special guest .
Players were encouraged to hop on without knowing who was waiting for them on the other end of the virtual session .
When they logged on , one box showed the familiar orange-and-white hued stadium of the Tennessee Volunteers .
In front of that backdrop ?
None other than two-time Super Bowl champion Peyton Manning .
The Nuggets had been working on getting the former Broncos quarterback to address the team since last December .
When fans were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wasn ’ t uncommon to see Manning sitting with his family at Pepsi Center and a willing participant in some of Rocky ’ s skits .
Manning remains good friends with Nuggets governor Josh Kroenke and has developed a strong relationship with team president Tim Connelly .
So it wasn ’ t completely out of the blue when Manning reached out to the Nuggets during the hiatus and asked if they were still interested in having him address the team .
Manning , whose sterling career culminated in a Super Bowl championship with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Nuggets for around an hour , according to multiple people on the call .
He regaled the Nuggets with funny stories , anecdotes about his views on leadership and insights on the moments that defined his teams .
“ He talked about kind of the come-up ( with the Colts ) , which I feel like we ’ ve experienced here as a franchise , ” Nuggets veteran and Indiana native Mason Plumlee told The Denver Post .
“ He ’ s like , ‘ It ’ s easy to have bulletin @ @ @ @ @ @ @ L ’ s week after week , but then you establish yourself.
’ … He was like , ‘ We ’ re always at the top .
What are you doing then to stay motivated , right ?
Because you can ’ t just wait around for the playoffs or the Super Bowl .
You got ta be good every week.
’ ” One takeaway , according to one person on the call , was that Manning challenged the Nuggets to find their own voice and leadership style .
He said he wasn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ start of his career , but he grew into his voice .
Plumlee , whose uncle was once the mayor of Knoxville , Tenn. , and has long been a fan of Manning ’ s , said that he even referenced his time as a Volunteer to illustrate his rise from an underclassmen to a Super Bowl champion .
As examples of his growth , Manning discussed multiple playoff losses that helped define and shape his career , even before he got to Denver .
“ He referenced ( former Colts coach ) @ @ @ @ @ @ @ responded to a loss just very matter-of-fact , and they stuck to their routine and they stuck to their practice habits , ” Plumlee said .
“ The message I took away from it was that they never got too high or too low , but they just stuck with the process of work and really building camaraderie within their organization , especially among the players .
It was neat to hear from his standpoint how that develops and what it ultimately became , which was a couple Super Bowl wins.
” Players @ @ @ @ @ @ @ call , asking questions and listening attentively to the future Hall of Famer , multiple people said .
One of the best questions came from Indianapolis native Gary Harris , who was a standout high school football prospect and had offers to play in college .
As Plumlee recalled , Harris asked Manning : “ Tell us what was it like to win a Super Bowl ?
What was it like to bring that back to the city of Indianapolis ?
What was it like to be on the player ’ s side @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been a fan and experienced it as a kid , but tell us about that.
’ ” Another player asked Manning for suggestions on playing in an arena with no fans , as the Nuggets are set to do in Orlando .
“ He was like , ‘ I ’ m just not the one to answer that question , ’ ” Plumlee recalled .
“ ’ You ’ d probably have to ask somebody with the Chargers or one of these other teams.
’ … “ It was like talking to somebody @ @ @ @ @ @ @ really cool.
” Manning , who spoke to the team while they were still relegated to individual workouts back in Denver , brought it back to the Nuggets ’ circumstances .
In 2011 , during the NFL lockout , he explained how he and his brother Eli organized group workouts and film sessions to keep their teammates sharp .
“ He said , ‘ Unfortunately for us in Indianapolis , we never saw the fruits of that because I had my neck injury , but Eli ended up winning the Super Bowl that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ He was like , ‘ Don ’ t just sit back and say , ‘ Well , let ’ s see what the NBA allows us to do.
’ His message was be productive with the time , be proactive and be better for this shutdown than you were before it , and I think that was something that was taken to heart .
It was good for us as a team.
” For most of it , Plumlee said , Manning spoke of his time with the Colts moreso than the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ boiled down to team building and camaraderie , and Manning spent far more time discussing his teammates , like running back Edgerrin James , than he did celebrating his own accomplishments .
“ He ’ s a great storyteller , ” Plumlee said .
“ He couldn ’ t have been a better speaker for us and what we ’ re going through with really an unprecedented finish to our NBA season .
”

Weeks before the Nuggets left for Orlando, team officials teased one of their weekly Zoom calls with a special guest.
Players were encouraged to hop on without knowing who was waiting for them on the other end of the virtual session.
When they logged on, one box showed the familiar orange-and-white hued stadium of the Tennessee Volunteers. In front of that backdrop? None other than two-time Super Bowl champion Peyton Manning.
The Nuggets had been working on getting the former Broncos quarterback to address the team since last December. When fans were still allowed to attend games, it wasn’t uncommon to see Manning sitting with his family at Pepsi Center and a willing participant in some of Rocky’s skits. Manning remains good friends with Nuggets governor Josh Kroenke and has developed a strong relationship with team president Tim Connelly.
So it wasn’t completely out of the blue when Manning reached out to the Nuggets during the hiatus and asked if they were still interested in having him address the team.
Manning, whose sterling career culminated in a Super Bowl championship with the Broncos in 2016, spoke to the Nuggets for around an hour, according to multiple people on the call. He regaled the Nuggets with funny stories, anecdotes about his views on leadership and insights on the moments that defined his teams.
“He talked about kind of the come-up (with the Colts), which I feel like we’ve experienced here as a franchise,” Nuggets veteran and Indiana native Mason Plumlee told The Denver Post. “He’s like, ‘It’s easy to have bulletin board material when you’re taking L’s week after week, but then you establish yourself.’ … He was like, ‘We’re always at the top. What are you doing then to stay motivated, right? Because you can’t just wait around for the playoffs or the Super Bowl. You gotta be good every week.’”
One takeaway, according to one person on the call, was that Manning challenged the Nuggets to find their own voice and leadership style. He said he wasn’t necessarily a leader from the start of his career, but he grew into his voice.
Plumlee, whose uncle was once the mayor of Knoxville, Tenn., and has long been a fan of Manning’s, said that he even referenced his time as a Volunteer to illustrate his rise from an underclassmen to a Super Bowl champion.
As examples of his growth, Manning discussed multiple playoff losses that helped define and shape his career, even before he got to Denver.
“He referenced (former Colts coach) Tony Dungy in the way that he responded to a loss just very matter-of-fact, and they stuck to their routine and they stuck to their practice habits,” Plumlee said. “The message I took away from it was that they never got too high or too low, but they just stuck with the process of work and really building camaraderie within their organization, especially among the players. It was neat to hear from his standpoint how that develops and what it ultimately became, which was a couple Super Bowl wins.”
Players were engaged for the entirety of the call, asking questions and listening attentively to the future Hall of Famer, multiple people said.
One of the best questions came from Indianapolis native Gary Harris, who was a standout high school football prospect and had offers to play in college.
As Plumlee recalled, Harris asked Manning: “Tell us what was it like to win a Super Bowl? What was it like to bring that back to the city of Indianapolis? What was it like to be on the player’s side of that because (Gary) had been a fan and experienced it as a kid, but tell us about that.’”
Another player asked Manning for suggestions on playing in an arena with no fans, as the Nuggets are set to do in Orlando.
“He was like, ‘I’m just not the one to answer that question,’” Plumlee recalled. “’You’d probably have to ask somebody with the Chargers or one of these other teams.’ …
“It was like talking to somebody in the locker room, which was really cool.”
Manning, who spoke to the team while they were still relegated to individual workouts back in Denver, brought it back to the Nuggets’ circumstances. In 2011, during the NFL lockout, he explained how he and his brother Eli organized group workouts and film sessions to keep their teammates sharp.
“He said, ‘Unfortunately for us in Indianapolis, we never saw the fruits of that because I had my neck injury, but Eli ended up winning the Super Bowl that year,’” Plumlee said. “He was like, ‘Don’t just sit back and say, ‘Well, let’s see what the NBA allows us to do.’ His message was be productive with the time, be proactive and be better for this shutdown than you were before it, and I think that was something that was taken to heart. It was good for us as a team.”
For most of it, Plumlee said, Manning spoke of his time with the Colts moreso than the Broncos. The essence of the talk boiled down to team building and camaraderie, and Manning spent far more time discussing his teammates, like running back Edgerrin James, than he did celebrating his own accomplishments.
“He’s a great storyteller,” Plumlee said. “He couldn’t have been a better speaker for us and what we’re going through with really an unprecedented finish to our NBA season.”