Chapter 9 - My Kick Became Part Of The Investigation Too
I wanted to forget the moment I kicked Mallory.
The law didn’t.
Nor should it have.
When she lunged toward my phone, I threw it away.
At that point she was no longer holding a weapon.
Then I studied her face.
Realized she wasn’t Vanessa.
And kicked her.
Once.
Hard enough to send her into the table.
I told investigators exactly that.
I did not say self-defense.
Because by the time I kicked her, the immediate attempt to grab the phone had already stopped.
I was furious.
I reacted.
That distinction mattered.
Mallory had allegedly engaged in a serious planned crime.
My conduct did not become automatically righteous because hers was worse.
The prosecutor ultimately treated the kick as a separate, limited incident in the broader context of an unfolding emergency.
I faced consequences far smaller than Mallory did, but I was required to own the act.
Vanessa asked me later:
“Do you regret stopping her?”
“I regret kicking her.”
“Even after what she did?”
“Yes.”
That answer surprised her.
I continued:
“Stopping her and hurting her weren’t necessarily the same thing.”
I wanted our future children—if we ever had them—to grow up in a house where anger did not magically make violence noble.
That standard had to include me.
May you like
Especially me.
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