In the middle of writing a post about what it means to be “chic,’ my notifications blew up:
“There’s a verdict!.
I switched tabs.
Guilty on all 36 charges.
*Gasp*
Forgive me, I’m having a moment.
For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I live in the upside-down world.
I didn’t follow the trial blow-by-blow, but I checked the papers daily and listened to the Rachel Maddow podcast.
The prosecution’s arguments seemed air-tight.
To me.
The prosecution brought all the receipts.
It seemed to me.
It seemed to me like the jury had to convict.
Yet I had no faith it would happen.
I believed he would skate: hung jury, mistrial, some mishegas. That’s because, since 2016, we don’t all live in the same reality, and I was predicting that the jury was probably in that one I don’t subscribe to where up is down, right is wrong, and facts are mostly inconvenient nuisances.
I was expecting things to go the same way the Mueller Report went. Mueller also brought incontrovertible evidence, but Bill Barr managed to wang-doodle it away.
I was expecting a similar kind of wang-doodling to occur here, and when it didn’t, I felt a rush. Was it happiness? Elation? Satisfaction? Justice?
For the first time since 2016, I felt a shared reality with the people on this jury—people who had the intelligence to analyze evidence, the power to convict, and the courage to do so—every single one of them.
The fallout from today will continue for months, but I am thrilled that this time, the reality I live in prevailed,
Read more: Today’s Verdict
Inspiration Location 