Coverage Limits
There’s something uniquely brutal about watching your trauma converted into arithmetic. Brain bleed. Collapsed lung. Facial reconstruction. Months of recovery. And at the end of it all? Coverage limits. It isn’t justice. It’s math.
Justice Before Sunrise
At 4:30 in the morning, I’m not chasing vengeance. I’m chasing a word this country was built on: justice. If someone can make a negligent U-turn, nearly kill a motorcyclist, and walk away without so much as a citation, what does that say about liberty? About accountability? About fairness?
Lawyers, Leadership, and Lips
What a fucking week. Lawyers talking numbers. Leadership finding its footing again. Surgery scheduled for the part of my face that never fully healed. Justice, it turns out, isn’t a courtroom ideal, it’s an insurance calculation. And I’m still learning how to live in the space between gratitude and anger.
We Used to Hang Horse Thieves. Now We Bill Them by the Hour.
Once upon a time, justice was swift. A horse thief caught with the horse? A gunman seen by the whole bar? The verdict wasn’t a two-season Netflix drama — it was a rope and a tree by sundown. Today, justice isn’t about truth; it’s about lawyers billing hours, juries awarding millions for potholes, and semantics drowning common sense.