This is a fifth attempt for Leon A. King, II — who was Philadelphia’s first openly LGBTQ+ commissioner when he led the Department of Prisons — to seek a spot on the bench of the city’s Court of Common Pleas.
But it might finally be his time. He’s received the endorsement of the Democratic Party, the Philadelphia Bar Association, and various ward leaders from different parts of the city.
It would mean a lot to see LGBTQ+ people join that list, he explained.
“I would just like the community to rally behind me given all I’ve done for the community,” King said before listing the many ways he’s fought for LGBTQ+ people and rights over multiple decades — including debating homophobes on television and protesting in the streets during a time when it was more acceptable to hide authenticity. “I’m very privileged to have helped where I could with the community.”
King is a 61-year-old married, gay man who immigrated from Bermuda in 1964, many years after his ancestors had been forced onto the island where they were enslaved. He comes from a multicultural, multiracial family but identifies as Black.
“My great ancestor was an enslaved Indian imported to Bermuda from Massachusetts. And these hundreds of years later, her offspring — me, [is] an attorney barred in Massachusetts,” King said. “It’s something she probably would have never imagined.”
Last year, King took his husband to the road where he was born. He said the experience made him realize that his life today is a miracle.
“We’re very thankful to this country,” he added.
And he’s given a lot back. The majority of King’s career has been spent litigating civil rights cases, and he believes his deep knowledge of the Constitution makes him a good fit for becoming a judge during the Trump administration as he’s more confident and unafraid of the challenges that come with interpreting the seemingly endless executive orders.
“That is my specialty. That is what I do. That’s what I’m an expert in,” King said. “You’re not going to be able to pull the wool over my eyes.”
As the commissioner of prisons, King listened to the concerns of inmates and advocates to implement solutions for their problems — including often neglected and vulnerable LGBTQ+ people.
Before his leadership, incarcerated people living with HIV were discharged without medications or linkages to care, housing, insurance and other support. Activists Jaci Adams and John Bell — developed simple but effective plans that King implemented to ensure those who were discharged had access to insurance, medications and other services. Additional discharge and re-entry programs were also added and became a success.
“I didn’t do it all by myself,” he said. “It wasn’t even necessarily my idea. But I did lead the charge and I’m very proud of that.”
He also improved testing rates — from 70% to 90% — upon entering the system to ensure new inmates could be placed on HIV-related medications sooner if needed. Later, when he was told that inmates weren’t using condoms because they’d need to speak with a pastor or social worker to obtain one, King added condoms to the commissary and expanded access for juveniles so people could get what they needed more discreetly.
His passion for young people is obvious — as he has mentored and advocated for many incarcerated juveniles during his time serving the Philadelphia prison system and later in Baltimore. He focused on increasing GED testing to ensure discharged youth could have a future outside the system.
He’s not sure what’s happened to some of these kids over time, but he still gets emotional as he talks about them.
Some people may not realize, King explained, that the prison system is often one of the largest mental health providers in the state — and those who have serious mental health concerns are often cycling in and out of the system the most, often because they aren’t discharged with medications and access to support services. Because of this, King launched the city’s first “mental health court” to help redirect those who would be better served by other programs.
He sees people as people first — “not throwaways,” King said, underlining that all people have value and should be supported in a process to help them improve their lives and reform.
“I’m not the type of person to sit around and not address some problem to the extent I have the power,” he said. “There are a lot of good judges like this on the bench. I just want to join them.”
King, who threatened to fire correctional officers who used excessive force, stood by his word. He said this only needed to happen once on his watch and the others fell in line. He eventually took other steps to improve relationships between officers and those who were incarcerated.
King has a history of advocating for civil rights without bias — even in controversial cases, such as the time he represented an inmate who was assaulted in prison after being convicted of a heinous sexual crime.
He also spent multiple years representing police and correctional officers who were sued by civilians for civil-rights violations.
His approach in that role was to focus on reform — settling cases sometimes based on morality, even if there wasn’t a strong legal standing, and taking necessary steps to change the practices and policies that led to those issues in the first place. He also lectured at law enforcement academies about excessive force.
“Count on me to be a judge who knows how the police department is supposed to act [and] supposed to operate,” King said, underlining that he will know when “things aren’t copacetic.”
He’s also ended up on the wrong side of the courtroom — twice. The first time was when he was 19 and attending college in California, where King chose to go to be far from home, openly gay, and maintain his privacy.
“But I was still raging about all that stuff,” King explained. “So I went with a friend on a spree stealing stuff, and I got arrested for that.”
He spent four days in jail where he was threatened by other inmates before seeing a judge, who was lenient — dropping all but one of his charges and sentencing him to three years of probation. King believes this is because he immediately confessed and accepted accountability.
“One of the most important things — if not the most important thing — is that when someone comes into your courtroom, they feel they are respected no matter who they are,” King said — emphasizing that the experience taught him to treat others with the same respect he was offered.
“It was January of ’83 when I was locked up in the eighth floor of the San Diego county jail. And it was January of 2003 — at least 20 years later — when I was the commissioner of the Philadelphia prison system,” King said — noting that he realized he could have been one of the inmates he was serving as commissioner had his judge treated him differently.
King had a run-in with the law a second time in 2000. He was unjustly arrested in Massachusetts after an incident with a police officer escalated. The officer approached King’s husband and then smacked him in the chest with a nightstick. The pair ended up getting assaulted — but the cops attempted to claim that King and his husband were drunkenly fighting them. King was found not guilty but sued the police and received a settlement.
“I’m not pro-law enforcement. I’m not anti-law enforcement,” he said. “I’m neutral.”
That unbiased perspective and well-rounded resume, he believes, makes him an asset as a future judge.
“I’ve been through it — so I can empathize with a lot of people and stuff that I’ve been through. And I’m committed to that empathy,” King said. “I am authentic and committed.”