How Atlanta defense lawyer Brian Steel got namechecked by rapper Drake
On May 9, 2022, a Grammy award-winning rap artist named Jeffery Williams—stage name Young Thug—was arrested at his Atlanta home. He and 27 other defendants were charged in a 56-count Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act indictment that alleged his record label, YSL Records, also operated as a criminal gang. Williams hired Atlanta criminal defense lawyer Brian Steel to represent him.
The trial lasted over 22 months—it was one of the longest in Georgia history and may have been the most bizarre. Jury selection lasted 10 months. There was an alleged drug exchange in open court. A defendant was stabbed in jail, and two of the defense lawyers for co-defendants were arrested. Even Steel was held in criminal contempt and ordered to serve jail time, all because he confronted the judge about an alleged ex parte meeting with prosecutors and a key witness—and refused to reveal the source of the information. The Georgia Supreme Court overturned the order; another court removed the judge.
Ultimately, Steel tendered a nonnegotiated plea deal in October 2024 that allowed Williams to go home to his family and the fans and friends who had supported him, including some of the biggest names in rap music. One of those big names is Drake. The Kendrick Lamar-targeted megastar in February released a collab album with musician PartyNextDoor that features a song that name-checks YSL, trial judge Paige Reese Whitaker and celebrates freedom in general. Its title? “Brian Steel.”
(In April, after this interview was conducted, Steel joined the defense team of Sean “Diddy” Combs, who is facing sex trafficking charges.)
So much went on in the YSL trial, but one moment that stood out was when you were held in contempt for not revealing the name of the source who told you about that secret meeting. Were you really prepared to go to jail?
I looked at it as doing the right thing. I will not surrender my ethical obligations of protecting privileged information. Additionally, at that moment in time, I felt that the judge was using me to try to hurt somebody else. If I had given that name, the judge would have hurt that other person, and I was not going to do that to somebody else. That person didn’t do anything wrong—it was the judge and the prosecutors who were committing misconduct.
I love how you asked, “Well, if I’m going to jail, can I at least share a cell with my client so we can keep working on his defense?”
Jeffery and I were already working every weekend during the trial, and before the trial, we worked together every single day. I would spend the day researching or interviewing witnesses, then I would meet with him, sometimes until 3 in the morning. I needed to get the proper information—on witnesses, on his life—because when you represent somebody, you have to know everything about your client. It’s important that the jurors understand that you believe in your client. A client is not a file, a client is a part of your life. So when the judge said I’d have to go to jail, all I thought about was “I don’t want to stop working on the case.”
Criminal defense lawyers often feel called to that practice area by an early sense of justice. Is that what led you to law school?
No. I originally thought I’d go to Wall Street. I went to the University of Michigan, but I’m from Queens, and I wanted to go back to New York after graduation. So I was flown out by one of these financial outfits, and they gave me a tour of the stock exchange. We went to the trading floor, and it was really chaotic—people were screaming at each other, and the room was smoky and sweaty. Some people may have thought it was thrilling, but to me, it just looked like something I didn’t want to be a part of.
I figured that if I didn’t want to do Wall Street, law school would not be that bad of a thing to do. I went to Fordham Law School in Manhattan, and I was going to be a tax lawyer. I was accepted to [New York University] to get my LLM in taxation, and I was working at an accounting firm in their tax department making a lot of money.
But I ended up putting that all on hold to come down to Atlanta—my college roommate was working at a big firm in Atlanta, and he kept telling me how great Atlanta is. So I faxed my resumé to the director of the public defender’s office, and he said I could come down and intern for free, and if I pass the bar, and if he has an opening and if he likes me, maybe he’ll give me a job. I’ve been here since May of 1991, and it’s been a dream.
That’s quite an abrupt shift! What happened?
During my last year at Fordham, I took a litigation skills clinic. The professor worked on real cases, and he let his students work with him. I worked on a brief for a man convicted of murder. It was a Batson challenge, and my professor let me argue it in the Court of Appeals in Albany. I was terrible—I couldn’t answer any of their questions. But the court reversed despite my terrible presentation at oral argument.
Then my professor let me work on another case: a man who was 25 years old and had been in custody since he was 13 years old, when he had been convicted of killing his classmate by shoving six rocks down his throat. We met witnesses, we went to the medical examiner, and we spoke with the forensic people. I was convinced the client was innocent. But the jury convicted him, and I was just crushed. That’s when it happened. I thought, “If I could help prevent one innocent person from going to prison, my life would have meaning.”
Have you found that meaning in your practice?
Yes! You know, if I died today, no one should shed a tear for me because representing people and fighting for people has been such an honorable way to go through life.
I want to ask you about the Steel Law Firm. You’re a two-lawyer shop, just you and your wife. How are you able to represent so many types of cases at all levels in courts around the country?
We opened the firm on Aug. 1 of 1997. We’ve had some other lawyers work with us over the years, but it’s really just the two of us. We don’t carry a large caseload, so we can devote to each case the time and focus that each client deserves. We always bring on a team of great people for each case. We have different investigators, trial consultants, DNA experts, and we always have students working with us.
For Jeffery’s case, I probably had about 15 students on the team, including undergrads, master’s degree students and law students helping me understand the whole case. We had so much discovery dumped on us—I’ve heard estimates of 6 to 8 terabytes of data—and we went through everything as a team. I had students go through 7,000 jail recordings and report back to me, and together we found some great information that I used at trial. We actually made our own database to organize all of the discovery—every call, every interview—and it was great.
You are a frequent speaker about trial tactics, but you also give presentations about professionalism. Why do you think that’s important?
I believe that professionalism—along with honesty, work ethic and preparation—is the most important tool for a lawyer. Lawyers are not entertainers—you are dealing with people’s severe problems. It doesn’t matter whether you are innocent or guilty, if you’re coming to a criminal defense lawyer, you have a real problem. A lawyer must be professional with everybody—that means straightforward and honest; otherwise, how can we expect others to be that way with us?
Which circles back to the YSL trial, right?
You know, I was just so focused on getting Jeffery home—lawfully, professionally, legally and zealously. But other lawyers failed to act in that manner, [and] it was shocking to me.
You spent almost two years in court. Please tell me you took an amazing vacation after that.
No. I was in federal court representing my client on a conservation easement tax fraud case the next day.
You didn’t have golf clubs or a boat or a margarita calling to you? You didn’t want to just relax and listen to Drake’s banger “Brian Steel” on repeat?
Mr. Graham, the performer known as Drake, is really intelligent and really kind—I’m honored that he gives me any of his time. But I don’t need any of that. I don’t drink alcohol, and I don’t do drugs. I don’t really go out much, and I don’t eat out. This is pretty much what I do.
I’m very happy representing people. It’s fascinating to meet all of these people from different backgrounds. It’s so stimulating that I don’t need an alarm clock, I just wake up. It’s my 34th year practicing law, but it feels like 34 seconds.
This story was originally published in the June-July 2025 issue of the ABA Journal under the headline: “A Steely Defense: Impressed by Brian Steel’s lawyering, the rapper Drake named a song in his honor.”
Jenny B. Davis is a journalism professor at Southern Methodist University, a fashion stylist and former practicing attorney. Her most recent book is Style Wise, a guide for aspiring fashion stylists.
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