For a long while I lived in a cramped room behind the municipal court — a twin bed, a metal desk, a shared hallway shower. I slept better there than I ever had in the new apartment, because the building had twenty-four-hour security and nobody got in without being registered.

I went back to training the day after mediation. At the end of a long class, I gathered the students on the mats.

“What we learn here isn’t for showing off, or starting fights, or punishing someone who hurt you,” I told them. “It’s for creating one chance to get out.

Force without purpose just turns a victim into another aggressor. Force with purpose protects a life.”

Kimberly raised her hand from the back row.

“What do we do if there’s no way out?”