I laughed out loud, in spite of myself, as I watched a rape victim tell her best friend what had happened to her. Yes: “laughter,” “rape,” and “victim,” all in the same sentence. To the average hypercritical Columbia student, that statement likely sets off several alarm bells.
Once upon a time, students who followed the yellow brick road to law school were guaranteed bright futures: jobs at private downtown firms, paychecks that made a dream apartment in New York a reality, and a prestigious place in society.
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