Remember, You Were Just Arresting Him…

First, read/watch this:

Accused rapist attacked by victim’s husband, friend

Then read this:

RCW 9A.16.020

This makes me mad. I think the husband and his friend showed considerable restraint, given that the suspected rapist is still breathing. So remember, if you come home and you find someone has just raped your spouse, you were “detaining” him after the fact. That’s why he looks like that.


I’m Making it All Come Alive…

live the dream
and learn to chase it
and when you can almost taste it
it’s all come alive…

{my favorite highway – you’re making it all come alive}

First off, it is the first really, truly, undeniably gorgeous day in Seattle – it’s a breezy 70* outside, crystal clear blue sky, the ocean glitters and shines, and the mountains are so intensely visible they look like they were painted on the sky. It’s one of those days when, after months and months of cold rain, I swear that I will never leave Seattle.

My in-love-with-Seattle mood is bolstered by the fact that for mother’s day today Liz and I went to my grandmother’s nursing home in West Seattle for brunch, and afterwards we drove around for a while, taking in a part of the city we don’t usually get to see. I feel like Seattle is so neighborhood-centric that it’s totally possible (maybe even encouraged) to never really leave your part of the city. I’ve been to West Seattle a couple of times before, but not much – I really love the beach there & I think it’s the best beach in Seattle. I’ll be controversial and say the best beach on the sound (at least, this side of the peninsula) is Redondo in Federal Way, but Seattlites will hate me for saying that.

West Seattle feels like a quaint little beach town – ramshackle houses on stilts lean up against expensive new condo developments, people walking on sandy or gravel roads right next to major throughways full of speeding cars… there’s something a little whimsical and accidental about it, and I love it for that – I also love it because it’s the last part of Seattle (though this is rapidly changing) that remains undiscovered by Seattle’s greatest pestilence – the hipster. Once they descend on it I imagine it will start to suck as much as Broadway does now, but until then, it will remain my favorite little alcove in the city to escape.

After our beach trip we came home and when I got to my desk I saw my as-yet-incomplete Rule 9 (Washington’s third year practice program) application staring at me accusingly. Clearly I had set it down to work on it and then gone off to hide. As I sat here and finished it, made my photocopies, and prepared it for mailing tomorrow, I realized that once I get that little Rule 9 card in June, it will be impossible to pretend this isn’t real anymore.

My dad constantly refers to the (now cliche, but still common in reality) moment he had during his transition from medical student to doctor. Standing in the emergency room, he says, with a patient in dire crisis, he turned to the nurse and shouted at her to get the doctor! but – of course, he was the doctor, and there was no one else there to enable the pretense that it’s all somehow just fake… the weird feeling that I’m not going to be a real doctor…

I imagine that when the card arrives, and I step into Snohomish County District Court in June on my first day, I will, at least internally, turn to someone and tell them to get the lawyers! but, like my father in the emergency room, I will be the lawyer, or the closest thing in the courtroom on misdemeanor docket day.

This is terrifying. It’s exhilarating and exciting because all my dreams are basically coming true and I am finally on the path in my life I know now that I was meant to be on – but it’s absolutely fucking terrifying because it’s all going to be real, the safety net is going to go away, and I think if there was ever a moment that embodied the transition from young person to grown-up it will be that moment, that first terrifying get the lawyers! moment when I realize in my heart not only that it’s up to me, that I am the lawyer, but that I can handle it, and that I will be okay.

I’m holding my breath with fear, but… I can’t wait.