Evelyn Thompson helps son Evan, 6, with his numbers at the table as daughter Kambree, 2, watches in their La Vergne home. Thompson sought legal aid for a restraining order against her husband.

His shoulders slumped as the message came clear. He had wasted the entire morning. He needed to go to Williamson County, chase paperwork through a separate court system and then, maybe, return to Nashville and plead his case again.

Ghee is deaf. But his real handicap this day was the fact that he came to court without a lawyer.

"It's been a lot of frustration and struggle, trying to understand what's going on," Ghee, 26, said through his interpreter after his appearance. He is in the middle of a messy family lawsuit and was hoping to regain ownership of a disputed bulldozer he uses in his construction work.

Bankruptcies, foreclosures, domestic disputes and troubles sparked by the economic downturn are driving Tennesseans into the civil courts in greater numbers — just when fewer of them can afford the legal representation they need.

Tennessee's legal aid system is under-funded and overwhelmed. There are only enough legal aid attorneys in the entire state to help one out of every five eligible people who come to them for help. In Middle Tennessee, the legal aid society turns away six people for every one it can help.

For those turned away, the society provides pamphlets, educational seminars and as much advice as it can. But that still leaves tens of thousands of Tennesseans heading into court armed only with pamphlets with titles like "No lawyer? You can speak for yourself in General Sessions Court," or "How to keep your paycheck from being garnished."

Civil court may not sound like a matter of life and death, but this is where battered spouses come for restraining orders; where sick people petition for TennCare benefits; where families come in a last-ditch effort to save their homes, paychecks and possessions from the bill collectors.

"It's always difficult to say no," said Gary Housepian, executive director of the Legal Aid Society of Middle Tennessee. "It's really heart-wrenching when you know that these people have contacted us because they have nowhere else to turn."

The situation pushed the Tennessee Bar Association and the Tennessee Supreme Court to issue a statewide call last month for more attorneys and law firms to commit to pro bono work. About 35 law firms statewide have drawn up pro bono policies for their offices in response.

Danger gets priority

The legal aid system gives priority to the cases in which people are in imminent danger of losing a home or losing economic stability. It puts a premium on cases where people need legal help to get access to health care or necessary government benefits. The only divorce cases its attorneys can take are those that involve domestic violence.

Ghee wasn't the only one self-representing in court that day.

"Does anyone here have a lawyer here representing them?" Judge Dan Eisenstein called out to the standing-room-only crowd in courtroom 5D. "If so, I'm going to ask you to step outside and make some room for these other people to sit down."

A handful of people left the room. The rest remained, packed into the seats and spilling out into the hall. Eisenstein sighed and turned back to a thick stack of dockets.

In the 48 counties of Middle Tennessee alone, an estimated 335,267 people are eligible for civil legal assistance. In 2007, more than 36,000 people applied for legal aid. The agency was able to help 6,010 of them.

An additional 1,154 people received pro bono legal representation from 700 lawyers who volunteered their services. That left 29,000 people to navigate the courts on their own.

Evelyn Thompson was one of the lucky ones.

Two years ago, terrified and eight months pregnant with her fourth child, she turned to legal aid, seeking an order of protection against her husband. The agency arranged counseling for her and her children, and then arranged counsel, in the form of Nashville attorney L.G. "Buddy" Burnett, who has volunteered his services in some 30 pro bono cases over the past 20 years.

Thompson, now 33 years old, is a trained nurse, an educated woman with a ready smile and a quick wit. But two years ago, she was demoralized, heartbroken and completely bewildered by the legal maze of family court.

Having someone to stand beside her and take her part in court made all the difference.

"I don't think attorneys actually know what they can do to change a person's life," Thompson said. "When I went into the courtroom, I was petrified. Then he (Burnett) shows up and I was like, whew, I'm going to be OK. It was good. Everything has turned out for the best."

Overworked, underpaid

In Murfreesboro, Judge Don Ash presides over domestic violence court and drug court, and serves as an active member of the Tennessee Court of the Judiciary. He's seen so many self-represented litigants, he teaches an annual course at the National Judicial College to help his fellow judges deal with the growing number of self-represented litigants in the courts.

"The legal aid system is overworked and terribly underpaid. It's a tragedy," he said.

There are 75 legal aid attorneys in Tennessee, operating on a budget of $3.3 million to try to help low-income families navigate the civil court system.

Judges see firsthand what can happen when a self-represented litigant goes up against a trained litigator. In divorce court alone, Ash estimates that 80 percent of the spouses who come to him seeking orders of protection are self-represented.

"If one side has counsel, it puts the other at a terrible disadvantage," Ash said. "I cannot be their advocate."

By law, judges can't make objections on a litigant's behalf, point him or her toward case law, or call time out in the middle of a trial to point out that there's a loophole in the law that would let the litigant keep the car the bank is trying to seize.

What judges and other legal advocates can do is volunteer their time. For years, Ash and other Rutherford County attorneys have turned their weekly prayer meeting into a legal aid seminar for those who need advice and help.

The legal aid society estimates that there are more than 6,000 practicing attorneys in the 48 counties of Middle Tennessee. In 2007, just 700 of them volunteered for pro bono legal work.

"I don't care if you have a college degree, even if you have a law degree. If you don't know the ropes in the divorce court system, it's tough," Burnett said.

"It think (pro bono is) pretty gratifying. I think most people who go to law school start out with big ideas that they want to help people. This is a way to get back to that. There's a definite need, and people are pretty grateful."