Fifteen years ago, Edward Romain (Ry. 1999-04) was on the cusp of qualifying as a barrister when life took an unexpected turn. A family tragedy redirected his path, leading him to a successful career in leadership and social impact. The law however — and a sense of unfinished business — never truly left him. It was only after experiencing the legal system first-hand, as a litigant in person during a life-altering employment tribunal, that Edward was drawn back with renewed purpose.
Now completing his Solicitors Qualifying Examination at BPP University, Edward is also the founder of Blind Justice CIC, a social enterprise offering free legal advocacy to those facing workplace injustice.
From shaping national policy conversations, to exploring AI solutions for legal accessibility, Edward’s journey is as inspiring as it is impactful. We caught up with him to hear more about what drives him, what he is building, and how his time at Brighton College played a role in shaping his path.
You’ve had a remarkable return to the legal world — what did it feel like to step back into legal study after so many years away?
Honestly? It felt like coming home after a long exile. I’d carried fifteen years of unfinished business — I left Bar School when my father died suddenly, and grief derailed everything. But law never left me. It kept resurfacing in my work, from helping launch the University of Sussex Law Clinic to collaborating with human rights lawyers in the Caribbean to challenge anti-LGBT laws.
When I finally returned, it wasn’t nostalgia — it was clarity. I’d seen the system from the inside as a litigant in person: how procedural rules silence truth, how cost barriers exclude people, how institutional power crushes legitimate claims. Returning to study was about gaining the tools to dismantle what I’d witnessed and finish what grief had interrupted.
Can you tell us more about representing yourself and how it influenced your decision to return to law?
Representing myself from County Court to High Court was transformative — and brutal. It stripped away any illusion of how justice works in practice. Litigation is isolating; it consumes your life, yet few understand the psychological toll.
I saw others — decent people with legitimate claims — crushed by complexity and cost. Since 2010, a 41% cut in legal aid has left over 30% of civil litigants alone in court. That experience didn’t just influence me; it defined my purpose.
I realised people need more than legal help — they need solidarity. That’s why I created Blind Justice, which develops AI tools offering tactical and emotional support to those forced to face the system unrepresented. The system’s complexity is structural — until it changes, we must help people survive it.
Blind Justice CIC is doing vital work — what inspired its creation, and what impact have you seen so far?
Blind Justice grew from my experience as a litigant in person and from years in access-to-justice work. We provide free guidance, advocacy and support for people facing workplace discrimination, whistleblowing retaliation and unfair dismissal — helping them navigate tribunals and civil claims alone.
The response has been overwhelming: countless people abandoned by a system too costly and complex to access. Each case proves that exclusion is by design.
In five years, I want Blind Justice to be:
We’re already contributing to Ministry of Justice discussions on accessibility reform. By 2030, I want Blind Justice to be synonymous with accountability and access to justice.
You’re working with government bodies and tech partners — what reforms or innovations excite you most?
Three areas inspire me:
We’re seeking partners in legal tech, AI and funding — especially from fellow Old Brightonians.
What have been the biggest personal and professional challenges in founding a social enterprise?
Personally, it’s been living on the edge of financial collapse — self-funding my SQE at BPP while running Blind Justice without salary. I’ve sacrificed stability and comfort for purpose.
Professionally, the challenge is confronting a system that punishes disruption. Institutions prefer quiet compliance to criticism. But the adversity that created Blind Justice also made me resilient. I’ve already lost everything once — and that clarity fuels me.
How has your background in leadership and social impact shaped your advocacy?
My years outside law taught me that change needs evidence, strategy and persistence. From social impact work, I learned how to build coalitions and frame reform to make resistance costly. From leadership, I learned how power actually moves within institutions.
And as a litigant in person, I learned empathy — the fear, humiliation and despair of facing the system alone. That understanding makes me a more relentless advocate.
Looking back, did Brighton College shape your values for this journey?
Brighton taught me that privilege carries responsibility and education should be weaponised for good. Surrounded by people who believed they could shape the world, I learned to question everything and never accept injustice as inevitable. That spirit still drives Blind Justice.
What advice would you give alumni considering a bold career pivot or returning to a long-deferred calling?
First: Don’t wait for permission — there’s never a perfect time.
Second: Be honest about the cost; bold moves demand sacrifice, but staying in the wrong life costs more.
Third: Let your wound become your purpose. The pain that breaks you can also build what the world needs.
The fire that forged Blind Justice came from my darkest moments. If you believe access to justice shouldn’t be a luxury, I’d love to hear from you — edward@blindjustice.org.uk | www.blindjustice.org.uk