Chapter 12 - My case
My assault case did not disappear.
I hated that.
A childish part of me thought context should make the kick legally irrelevant.
Rebecca refused to indulge me.
“You were defending Gigi during the initial confrontation.”
“Yes.”
“Arthur had already stopped striking her.”
“Yes.”
“Victoria stepped between you.”
“Yes.”
“She reached for your arm.”
“Yes.”
“Did she raise a weapon?”
“No.”
“Strike you?”
“No.”
“Try to take Gigi?”
“She said give her to me.”
“Did she physically attempt to remove Gigi?”
“Not before I kicked.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Then we do not call this self-defense unless evidence changes.”
I felt tears start.
“I was protecting my daughter.”
“You were emotionally protecting her.”
“That sounds ridiculous.”
“It means the motive is understandable. The physical necessity is weaker.”
I hated her.
Then:
“What happens?”
“First offense. Minor injury. Strong mitigating circumstances. The prosecutor may offer diversion or reduction.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you can litigate.”
“Could I be convicted?”
“Yes.”
No fantasy.
No hero exemption.
I eventually accepted a pretrial diversion agreement on a low-level assault charge.
Anger-management course.
Community service.
No new offenses.
Restitution for Victoria’s documented urgent-care copay and brace.
If completed, dismissal under the terms available in my case.
I paid.
Did the class humiliate me?
At first.
Then one instructor said:
“You can be morally right about the reason you were angry and still wrong about the action you chose.”
May you like
There.
I wrote it down.
