Obsession

The bodybuilder thinks I’m obsessed. He told me I need to get past this. I need to do intensive trauma therapy. He was trying to be nice and caring, but I don’t need anyone else telling me to stop. I hear people when they say it.

Everyone seems to think I dismiss the idea that I need to stop. I don’t dismiss it. I think deeply about that topic daily. Every day, I question my own motives. I question if I’m obsessive. I question why I am still here. I’ve questioned if this is just my new identity.

Then I remember, I am still living this. Is two years a long time ago? And yes, had it been in some way resolved two years ago, I wouldn’t be here.

Let’s timeline my life here. We have the initial event. We have the apocalypse. Three months later, we have the Wolfson meeting. Five months later, I get the police report and the whole fucking thing makes no sense.

Six months later, we do the bar complaint. I’ve got Carson City all over my website, and they won’t talk to me. Now let’s be really clear. A deputy of the attorney general of the state of Nevada, per the 2018 Crime Victims’ Bill of Rights/Marsy’s Law, is required to meet with the victim regarding charging decisions should the victim request. This is an actual law in this state. The attorney general is in violation of that law.

Now it is here that I want to add a couple things about me. Nothing pisses me off more than being ignored. Replying and telling me to go fuck myself will piss me off less than ignoring me. The second thing is I won’t stop until I understand something. All of my whys are necessary for me. This is a personality flaw of mine. This is not the only thing I do this with.

And honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever said this publicly, what happened after Wolfson. I kind of threw my hands in the air. I knew he was wrong. I had spent the months prior watching the videos over and over and over because I needed to figure out what I did wrong. I was questioning every single move. I ran through every question. And I am still going, this doesn’t make sense. So when Wolfson called me a whore, I kind of believed him.

Being me, I said this has to change. This isn’t okay. Like, at all. So I contacted one of the women’s groups, and I wrote an impassioned email, and I told her what happened, and I included the video. I then went on to say that this has to change. If what you see on the video isn’t considered sexual assault in this state, we need to change the laws. And I’m like, show that to legislators. Make them watch it because there needs to be a law about this. If a prosecutor has reason to turn that down, the law needs to change. And I said I would go to Carson City, and I was like, I’m well educated and well spoken. I can help. And I have this video, and there is no way someone can watch that video and not agree there is a serious issue in the law.

She wrote me back. It was a long fucking email. She said, no, he shouldn’t have said that or declined that that way, and here is why. She then proceeded to send me case law, statutes, federal statutes. Just this long email of the legal protections in place.

That renewed something in me.

I was in intensive therapy for months. I started the blog. Frankly, I’m still not sure what this is. It’s a records depository and an educational website that actually ranks. I did a great job on my articles. They are well written, well sourced, and trusted. Those are my Google and AI hits, those articles. The blog is multipurpose. I realized pretty quickly people from Carson City were reading. I had their attention. I could plead my case. I could make points. They weren’t talking to me, which of course was super frustrating because I know they fucking know because they were reading it.

Regardless of anything anyone wants to believe, my logic in this blog has always been sound. It might not be correct because I do not have the information because they won’t fucking give it to me, and I will say that. I will back up what I am saying and my reasoning for believing it. I back up my logic. I may be crazy, I may cuss a lot, and I may be aggressive, but you can’t generally argue with my logic. I make sense. I really actually do.

Now, we get to the part of {D} being at the VT AG. That, honest to fucking God, terrified me. What {D} said to me repeatedly was, “I could get away with anything in Vermont.” I believe him. I know at least one DUI and an entire fucking divorce that doesn’t even have an old PDF posted of a docket. It’s fucking gone. And, of course, he told a story of his child getting a ticket, and {D} talked to the cop and basically said, “If you ever get in trouble, I am the guy who defends you. Don’t piss me off.”

So in my mind, I’m thinking, have there been other complaints? Are there more victims in Vermont? I can guarantee there is at least one in Nevada, and the state knows and has her information because {D} had her banned from the building. They won’t give it to me, and they won’t follow up on it. It stands to reason Vermont has victims too.

The question is, how do I reach them?

So I started friend-requesting everyone, basically, in Vermont. I started with the town he lives in. Ran into {A}’s husband , and that was eye opening for the both of us. Then my favorite thing ever happened, and that is I was sent a picture of {D} and {A} at the grocery store with {D} just looking pissed, and the husband is like, “I just got a text asking me if that was my ex with the weirdo rapist lawyer.” That was unexpected. But my sense of humor thought it was very funny.

I have made all attempts to make certain that pretty much you have to know {D} to know that “{D}” is {D}. Were you to Google him, this website will not show up. I make certain of that. The only places his name would appear are in actual original public records. Those I choose not to keep indexed by search engines.

Now we get to last summer, the lawsuit phase. I had no intention of suing. I don’t want to do that. I still fucking don’t. This lawsuit is its own trauma.

Let me make some shit very clear: it is horrific to have to be the one doing this case. I have to objectively look at evidence. I have to create arguments that are unbiased. I have to put up with lies and insults and attacks on my character and respond without telling that cunt to go fuck herself. I have also learned it’s all smoke and mirrors. His defense is that he didn’t hear me and didn’t interpret what I was saying as a revocation of consent. Their play is to make enough side noise and make me look bad so they won’t see the forest for the trees. It’s a non-answer to the actual issue and victim blaming. I’m recovering from this, and I’m dodging the victim blaming. This is so retraumatizing I’m at a loss.

Why did I file it? I was running out of time to do so, and Disbarment Dude was dragging his fucking feet. So this was the fallback to the fallback.

I need, for my own sanity, this case to be adjudicated. There have been too many questions and inconsistencies with the lack of actual prosecution in this case. I need to know if I’m crazy or they are. It is one of the two.

I will also say it does give me an advantage in some ways. First, I get to tell the story, and I get to argue against his story. That means they get to argue against mine as well, and I am prepared for that. I am expecting the worst on that. However, during a trial, I am the person who knows every scrap of paper in this case like the fucking Bible. If something comes out of left field, I was there. I react on my feet to it. The old joke between {D} and I remains: I know everything, but he is always right.

So looking at it, I have not gotten out of the trauma. It didn’t conclude two years ago; it persists. This is above all a victim’s narrative. I still live this.

I get a lot of questions about my goals and the end game on this. I get a lot of “well, you have destroyed this dude’s life, what else do you want?” I want him in prison, and I want other women to be safe. Right now, they are not safe. I have a duty to keep pushing until there is nothing left to push. I need to know I did everything I possibly could.

The end game is that I have to make it through the lawsuit. It’s already been a fucking year, and nothing is really happening. It’s a slow process, and I just have to live in it. That’s stressful, and it is difficult, and I don’t want to. But Disbarment Dude took my hearing away. This is my last shot at getting an impartial opinion on who is to blame.

Part of trauma recovery is acceptance that it wasn’t your fault. His actions are the actual question. What I did isn’t. The question is basically, did I do enough for it to be clear to any reasonable person that I was withdrawing consent? That is the law on it. The rest is noise.

So did I? If so, why won’t anyone in any state take this to a hearing?

The biggest question in my mind, though, is if this is who I am now. I spent a lot of time mourning myself. I know I can never go back to who I was before. The spirit of advocacy in things is real and very much fits with my personality. Is this advocacy something I am going to continue with for the rest of my life? Is that the choice and path I’m taking, or am I just completely entangled in this and I can’t see what I’m really doing? That is a struggle in my mind.

I taught my children and my students the most important thing that has ever changed history is standing the fuck up when it’s wrong. You stand up when you see injustice. You stand up. Because if you stand up, even if you’re alone, you know you have done the right thing. And if someone sees you stand up, it might give them the courage to stand up with you, and that is how you change the world. I do currently feel like I’ve been lying to children my whole life.

So I don’t know.

What I do know right now is I’ve got eyes on me. And in good Katie fashion, I will fucking fuck with these motherfuckers because I can. Trust me, kids, I can fuck with people. I’ve been doing it my whole life. And I am fucking with {D}. He is here. He shouldn’t be. He hated when I was in his head because I always was right. And it currently makes him crazy that I can still do it.

{D} knows who he is. And hates that guy. Like, truly hates himself. He feels remorse, and I am certain he feels bad for what he did to me. He would never admit it unless he was blackout drunk. I can tell. We were above all best friends. I understood him, and he understood me in a way I don’t think anyone else understood us. That wasn’t part of the rape or even the sexual relationship. We just kind of got the other. I’ve probably betrayed him, in his mind, more than anyone ever has. I am fiercely loyal. It’s an Irish thing. But this he had to be exposed. He had to. Because this is the second fucking state government cover-up he has been part of. He has raped women and told me that. This has to end. It has to.

I hate to be the one to do it to him. But I also hate the fact he did that to me. He used everything he knew about me against me to maintain control and to harm me. I have no loyalties left. He didn’t understand the concept of loyalty to begin with.

Final note to {D}: that memo. Bro. For real? There is no fucking way that happened. Bro, you can’t even not fuck up being on my website. You thought ahead and did that off the work network? You didn’t even fucking think to do that when you commented on my website. The hell that happened. You know exactly what fits, though? The concept of you doing something like that to cover your ass. That is the {D} move. That’s the only move you would make. Sweetheart, you know I know, and you know I’m right. Who the fuck do you think you’re kidding? Honest to Christ.

I will add this: everyone was concerned that you would argue consensual non-consent. That was the call from everyone. And I said nope. And I was told I was wrong. Look at what you’re arguing. You know why I knew you would not dare argue that? Because you knew it wasn’t true. And everyone said, like that would stop him from saying it. And I believed that you did not know what I had. You have no clue if I could pull a text or something. If you fucked it up, you would be fucked. And you knew it wasn’t true, but you didn’t know what I had. Smart move there. Way to err on the side of caution with your perjury.