Bryan Keller sets his sights

Bryan Keller, a rather short and slim man, walks into the courtroom, his taupe-colored suit about the same color as his hair. He quietly cracks a joke to another lawyer, then walks to the back of the courtroom to whisper to one of his clients. He feels at home here in the courtroom, just as he does at a piano, or with a pair of drumsticks in his hand, or on a stage with an acoustic guitar.

Some might think there's no place for a blind man in the practice of courtroom law. His vision, impaired by undeveloped retinas, is 20/1200. That means what Keller can see clearly from 20 feet away, a person with normal vision can see from 1,200 feet, or almost a quarter-mile, away.

But Keller could do this with his eyes closed.

Keller's story would be worth telling even if he had 20/20 vision. He lived out a dream and made good money in the music business, playing drums, piano and guitar and singing for some regionally successful bands, including a heavy-metal band or two. He played all over the country and started a musical theater group that performed vignettes of musicals such as "Phantom of the Opera" up and down the California coast.

He even made a few bucks in Thai boxing, a rough martial arts sport, and was undefeated after several matches until taking an unexpected knee to the head. He still beats on the bag from time to time to keep his flexibility.

After many years of that wild ride, Keller at about age 40 realized he was never going to be a rock star. So he turned to law and became a Cape Girardeau County public defender.

Even Keller admits the transition from artist to lawyer is an unusual one.

Never easy

School was never easy for Keller. For much of his life, he fought hard to be like everybody else. He didn't want any special help but had to hold a book or paper about two inches from his face so he could read it.

Listening to and playing music came much easier. The Beatles turned him on to it when he was 10. That same year his parents bought him a $15 guitar from Sears. He later graduated to a $35 guitar from Montgomery Ward. Without lessons, he began copying songs off the radio.

In junior high school, Keller decided to give the clarinet a try. He had to give the instrument up when he joined the high school marching band because he couldn't read the notes on the lyre attached to the clarinet. He took up the drums instead.

Keller attended junior college briefly but became discouraged and quit after an academic suspension. The nose-to-the-grindstone approach to school was too difficult, and he was too stubborn to use the equipment that would help with his disability.

Going against his father's advice, he gave up education for the uncertain future of music. He played the drums, but his ultimate goal was to play guitar like Stevie Ray Vaughan, the late blues and rock 'n' roll legend.

Keller spent up to two and three months at a time on the road. He and his wife, Charlsie, raised Damon, his son from a previous marriage, and Kia, Charlsie's daughter from a previous marriage.

It was tough, Keller said, but everything turned out OK.

Over time, he accepting the technology that was available for the blind. He learned that a closed circuit television that scans and enlarges print on a monitor and a talking keyboard that "reads" copy as he's typing leveled the playing field and made reading and writing much easier.

His sister is an attorney in New York City and always said he could have been a lawyer, too. "I always had an analytical way of thinking," Keller said. "...I always heard the phrase 'could have been' and I said, 'Hey, wait a minute. I'm not dead yet.'"

So he decided to retire from music and make a living in the law.

"When I told my wife, she said, 'No you're not. That'll never work,'" Keller said. "And she has more faith in me than anybody else."

But it did work.

The couple moved to Gordonville, where they inherited some farmland that originally belonged to the lawyer's grandfather. He wrapped up his undergraduate degree at Southeast Missouri State University then went for his law degree at Southern Illinois University, commuting back and forth with friends from Cape Girardeau.

Every book Keller needed for school was on tape. Rarely did he go anywhere during his later school years without headphones.

Even with the new technology, school wasn't easy. Listening to books takes much more time than reading them silently. And while other students could refer to books when questioned during class, Keller had to recall things from his audio memory.

"They say 75 percent of what is remembered is visual," Keller said. When a person relies solely on the things he hears, "You kind of have to think in a fifth dimension," he said.

His vision impairment doesn't get in the way of doing his job as a public defender, he said. In a jury trial -- his favorite part of the job -- he has assistants watch and take notes on jurors' body language.

"I enjoy this work, trial work especially," he said. "I enjoy criminal defense and I believe in the system that provides attorneys for people who can't afford them."

His blindness is virtually invisible except when he tries to read something. He doesn't use a cane or a canine.

When he sees something he thinks is wrong going on in court, he'll point it out. That led Keller to campaign for a judgeship in 2002, he said. At that time, he thought he could replace Judge William Syler and bring a fresh perspective to the bench. Now, however, Keller said he and Syler have put their differences in the past.

"He's doing a good job now," Keller said.

Would he delve into politics again?

"I doubt it," he said, "unless I see something else going wrong."

Keller is considered a leader by his peers.

"One thing that is unique to him is that he's got a knack for training new attorneys," said Chris Davis, district defender and Keller's superior. "His time management and organizational skills and his negotiation skills make him a model for new attorneys, and he's been designated as the mentor in the office."

Jennifer Booth, a young public defender, began learning her craft under Keller. She calls him a good "papa bird."

With Keller's background in entertainment, he has a certain "presence" in the courtroom.

"He taught me how to be a normal person when I'm in front of a jury," Booth said. "A jury is composed of everyday Joes, and they can be turned off by a fast-talking attorney. He taught me how to get over my stage fright."

The stakes were high in the first case Booth tried, and she was nervous. She said she wanted Keller, who was assisting, to take over.

"But he pushed me out of the nest," she said.

Keller, now 50, can find his way around a different kind of court, too. He was a point guard in the recent doctors versus lawyers charity basketball game. He didn't score any points, but he played semi-regularly. Somehow, he's able to knock down long-distance shots even though he can't see the rim.

"You could take the rim off and probably trick me," he said. "I can see the backboard and I know where the rim is in relationship to the backboard."

Though he left his music career for law, music is never far away from Keller's heart. The radio is always playing in his office. He likes the soft, mellow sound of current artists John Mayer and the Dave Matthews Band. But he still rocks out to Metallica and AC/DC.

Sometimes the secretaries who type up the depositions have to ask Keller to turn down the music.

From time to time, he sings at his church or performs live in local bars and pubs. Just like in the courtroom, he is comfortable there.

He could do it with his eyes closed.

bmiller@semissourian.com

243-6635