Chapter 9 - My Kick
Eugenia filed a complaint.
She had bruising on her hip and thigh from my kick and fall.
I admitted it.
No:
I barely touched her.
No:
She deserved it.
Sequence mattered.
She had just dumped trash on Niles.
He was recoiling.
Was she still physically threatening him?
Not clearly.
I moved toward her and kicked before pulling Niles away.
My attorney said:
“Your protective instinct explains. It does not automatically justify.”
I knew.
The district attorney offered pretrial diversion.
No prior record.
One strike.
Significant provocation.
No continuing attack.
Anger-management assessment.
Community service.
No direct contact with Eugenia outside counsel for six months.
Successful completion:
dismissal.
I accepted.
People in the family said:
“I’d have done worse.”
I stopped rewarding that sentence.
Niles saw me knock his grandmother down.
That became part of his birthday memory.
I told him:
“I kicked Grandma.”
“You saved me.”
“I got between you and her. That was saving. The kick was something I did because I was furious.”
“She bad.”
“She did something very wrong.”
“So you kick.”
“No.”
He stared at me.
“Grown-up rules weird.”
“Yes.”
May you like
We could not teach him bodily dignity by pretending violence became correct when our side used it.
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