Assistant District Attorney Emilia Pardo seeks Lafayette City Court bench in this November’s election
Long before she ever stood in a courtroom, Emilia Pardo would sometimes find herself awake at hours most people never see. The call would come in the early morning—two, sometimes three o’clock on a Friday night—and she would go. Not to argue a case, not to prosecute, not even to observe. She would show up as a volunteer college student, stepping into hospital rooms where victims of sexual violence had just arrived, where fear and shock still hung in the air. Her task was technical—preserving evidence, documenting details—but the reality of those moments was deeply human.
She has said since that she did not fully understand, at the time, why she was drawn there. It was not a calculated step toward a legal career. But something in those encounters—those quiet, difficult hours with people at their most vulnerable—began to redirect her life.
Looking back, she can name it more clearly now: that experience “changed the trajectory of everything.”
Pardo’s story begins, and in many ways remains rooted, in Lafayette. She was raised in the Broadmoor area, in a family that valued consistency, faith, and openness to others. Her parents’ home was not just a private space, but a place where friends were welcomed and absorbed into the rhythms of family life.
Her older sister, Sonya Allgood, remembers that environment not as unusual, but as formative.
“She was always friendly with everyone,” Sonya recalls. “Our family… we were raised that way. Our parents always welcomed all of our friends in. They were always like parents to everyone.”
That kind of upbringing can take different forms in adulthood. For Pardo, it became something more than hospitality. It became a pattern of engagement.
Sonya puts it more directly: “She was always that kind of person that was giving… when she set her sights on something, she was going to make it happen.”
At Lafayette High, Pardo swam distance events that required endurance, and discipline in waking and showing up early for practices. She danced. She competed in speech events. She was involved.
The shift toward law came gradually, almost incidentally. While studying nursing at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette with the goal of becoming a doctor, she encountered an opportunity to volunteer with a sexual assault response program. She took it.
At first, it was simply another form of service. But over time, those early morning call outs and experiences—sitting with victims, administering the forensic exam, maintaining custody of evidence, hearing initial statements—began to reshape her sense of what it meant to help.
“I wanted to support victims of violence,” she later reflected.
The turning point came when someone told her that prosecutors could serve that role. It was a practical suggestion, but it landed with force. She began preparing for the LSAT, enrolled at Loyola University College of Law, and entered the prosecutorial track before she had even graduated.
There was no hesitation once the path became clear.
For sixteen years now, Pardo has worked as a prosecutor, much of that time focused on domestic violence and family-related offenses. These are complex cases. They are often built on conflicting accounts, partial evidence, and human relationships that do not fit clean legal categories. It is work that requires both determination and fairness.
Those who work alongside her see that combination daily. Tiffany Boudreaux, a longtime assistant who has worked with Pardo for nearly a decade, describes a lawyer who is both exacting and principled.
“She’s definitely strong-headed,” Boudreaux says, “but she’s always doing what’s right.”
Pardo’s work has not remained confined to the courtroom. For more than a decade, she has been closely involved with Faith House and the Family Justice Center of Acadiana, organizations that bring together law enforcement, prosecutors, and support services to respond to domestic violence. For Pardo, it is a continuation of the same impulse that first drew her into service as a student. It is less about recognition than about showing up, being present.
Her sister sees that continuity clearly. “She’s always out there,” Sonya says. “Every time I turn around, she’s doing something else… she just dives in completely.” Boudreaux, who sees her daily, frames it simply: “She’s involved in everything—and it’s not for recognition. That’s just how she is.”
The decision to return to Lafayette after several years in Jefferson Parish was, like many of her choices, grounded in family rather than ambition. After marrying her husband, a law enforcement officer who now serves as a detective with Louisiana State Police, she chose to come home to raise their children near extended family. Today, the Pardos are raising their two daughters including parish life at Our Lady of Fatima church and school.
Q & A with Emilia Pardo
and J. Christian Lewis
Lewis: You background is in prosecution, your husband’s a police officer. How will you approach the job as a judge where you’re an umpire, versus maybe seeing things more from a prosecutorial standpoint?
Pardo: After 16 years as a prosecutor, I’ve learned that the system only works if it’s fair. That means making sure you have all the evidence, that you’re prosecuting the right cases, and that no one is treated unjustly. Every defendant is entitled to a fair process. In domestic violence cases especially, there’s often his story, her story, and the truth somewhere in the middle. My experience has taught me how to weigh that. And I think the only way to do this job well—whether as a prosecutor or a judge—is to be able to see both sides and keep that balance.
Lewis: Who would you consider to be judicial mentors or judges who have most influenced your approach?
Pardo: Judge [Marilyn] Castle and Judge [Jules] Edwards. Judge Castle didn’t play around, she wasn’t there to have fun. She was so knowledgeable of the law. Judge Edwards showed unmatched work ethic and dedication—he stayed until the work was done and looked for ways to get to the root of the issue. They’re different, but both set strong examples for me.
Lewis: If you get elected and have served for a time, what would you want City Court to look like?
Pardo: If I’m elected to City Court, I hope to earn a reputation for efficiency, fairness, respect for the bench, kindness, and making sure that every person feels heard. From a practice standpoint, too often, individuals with mental health issues cycle through the system and end up right back where they started—no better off. I’d like to explore what more we can do within the law to address that, rather than simply sending them back into the same situation.
Lewis: Let’s talk more philosophically. What is the standard by which a law is determined to be moral or immoral?
Pardo: I think as a judge, you’re tasked with following the law as written true. We all carry our own beliefs. Mine are very much rooted in my Catholic upbringing and my community base. I 100% believe in the law and believe in following the law. From the bench, the law is what ultimately rules the day.
Lewis: Are there objective truths of what is good and what is evil?
Pardo: What is good and what is right is under our Lord, what is in the Ten Commandments. What is good is what God has told us in holding to the standards of being a good person, being kind to your neighbor, and being kind to your husband. For me, I guess that’s what my Catholic upbringing taught me- to treat your neighbor with dignity and respect. What is bad is breaking the laws, not treating someone fairly, and not treating someone justly.
Since 2025, Pardo has served as a magistrate in the Scott City Court in addition to her duties as a prosecutor. Now, Pardo, a registered Republican, seeks election to Lafayette City Court, Division B, she is stepping into a role that requires a different posture. A judge does not advocate. A judge listens, weighs, and decides. As others join the field, Pardo looks forward to “a respectful, issues-focused campaign”.
City Court is often the first place people encounter the justice system—through traffic violations, misdemeanor charges, or civil disputes that have immediate consequences. It is where law meets every day life in a very personal way.
Pardo speaks about that role in terms that emphasize not only outcomes, but process. In her experience, many individuals come into court wanting, above all, to be heard.
“Sometimes,” she has said, “someone just wants to be heard… even if ultimately they’re wrong.”
That perspective does not diminish the law. She is clear that a judge’s duty is to apply it faithfully. But it shapes how that duty is carried out—how proceedings are conducted, how decisions are explained, how people experience the system itself.
Boudreaux believes that approach will carry over naturally. “She will do what’s right by the law,” she says. “That’s literally in her blood.”
If City Court is where many people first experience justice, then the question facing Lafayette is not only who is qualified to sit on the bench, but what kind of presence should meet them there.
For Emilia Pardo, she has steadily established herself as someone who shows up to serve. Lafayette’s voters will decide in November where she serves next.
J. Christian Lewis/AI assisted