I’m Kayla. I’m a grad student in DC, and I never thought I’d need this kind of help. But I did. And I’m glad I asked for it. I later discovered that I wasn’t the only one—another student’s account of hiring a campus sexual assault attorney in Washington, DC echoed so much of what I felt.
Why I needed help (and fast)
Something happened after a campus event. I felt scared, small, and lost. I couldn’t sleep. Noise on the Metro made me jump. Even email felt hard. Reading a straightforward breakdown of campus sexual-assault statistics reminded me that what happened wasn’t rare—and that I deserved support.
Campus hate crimes and sexual-violence incidents spiked last year, according to the university’s annual crime report, which made the need for action feel even more urgent.
I told my friend. Then I called a campus counselor. She said, “You can talk to a Title IX lawyer.” I didn’t know where to start, so I googled around and found a DC attorney who works on campus cases. One of the clearest resources I came across was the End Campus Sexual Assault site (EndCampusSexualAssault.com), which lays out students’ rights in plain language. I’ll keep her name private here, but I’ll tell you what she did. Because that’s what helped.
First meeting: clear, calm, not weird
Her office was near Dupont Circle. I took the Red Line. My hands shook so bad I spilled water on my jeans. She didn’t rush me. She said, “You’re in charge.” She talked me through choices:
- School process (Title IX)
- Police report (if I wanted)
- No-contact orders
- Safety steps on campus
She used some legal words, sure, but then she translated them. Plain words. Lots of pauses. You know what? That part mattered.
What she actually did for me
This is the piece I needed to hear when I was searching at 2 a.m. So here’s my list, with real stuff:
- Wrote the email to the Title IX office, with me, line by line. We hit send together.
- Got a no-contact order from the school within a day. The person couldn’t reach me, in class or online.
- Helped me ask for housing and class changes. Two classes moved to Zoom for a bit. She even drafted a one-paragraph note for my professors.
- Prepped me for the school interview. We did a practice run with questions. She reminded me to breathe and take breaks.
- Cut my six-page statement down to two pages. Clear, not cold. I kept my voice.
- Came to the hearing. She didn’t speak for me, but she sat there, steady, with a legal pad and peppermint tea.
- Explained “standard of proof.” She said the school uses “more likely than not.” Not 100%. Just more likely. That helped my brain settle.
- Filed for a Civil Protection Order in DC Superior Court when a friend warned me he showed up near my building. The judge gave a temporary order. It lasted 12 months.
- Helped me save proof. Screenshots. Dates. Even a timeline in Google Docs. We color-coded it (yellow for school, blue for court).
- Told me it was okay not to tell every detail to every person. Boundaries are legal too, she said. I cried and believed her.
When she walked me through saving screenshots, the conversation shifted to how online exchanges—even ones that start out as playful—can become evidence if lines are crossed. If you’ve ever wondered where flirting ends and pressure begins, this practical sexting-dating primer lays out simple consent rules and screenshot-worthy red flags that could help you navigate the digital side of campus dating.
At the same time, some survivors find that reclaiming agency over their own intimacy means exploring experiences completely outside the college bubble. Looking at how professional companions structure consent can be eye-opening—check out this profile of a TS escort in Douglasville for a real-world example of clear boundaries, upfront communication, and mutual respect that’s spelled out before any meet-up, which can help you visualize what healthy, negotiated adult interactions look like.
How it turned out
The school found him responsible. He was suspended for a year. I got the no-contact order kept in place. The DC court order stayed, too. I still had bad days, but I slept again. I went back to the gym. I stopped scanning every face on the train.
Not every case ends like this. I know. But I felt heard. And safe enough to keep going.
What I liked (and why it stuck with me)
- Fast action. She replied to emails the same day, most times in a few hours.
- Trauma-aware. She never pushed pace. I set it.
- Practical help. Not just law talk. Real steps: safety plan, class notes, scripts for admin calls.
- Local know-how. She knew my campus process and the DC court flow. No guessing.
- Plain speech. No fluff. No scare tactics.
What I didn’t love
- Cost. The retainer was $4,500, and the hourly rate was $350. She did offer a payment plan, which helped.
- Weekends were slower. One Sunday reply slipped to Monday afternoon. I panicked. She apologized and called me right away.
- Paperwork fatigue. Forms, forms, more forms. She handled most of it, but it still felt heavy.
Little things that mattered more than I expected
- She brought a small snack pack to the hearing (crackers and ginger candy). I could eat something without thinking.
- She kept a spare sweater in the office. The AC was freezing. That sweater was like armor.
- She used the phrase “You’re not a problem to solve.” I wrote it on a sticky note.
If you’re wondering “Do I need a lawyer?”
You don’t have to decide today. But a consult can help. You can ask:
- Can you explain my school’s process in plain words?
- How do we get a no-contact order?
- What happens if I want to pause?
- What will this cost, for real?
And if you’re scared of not being believed—yeah, me too. My attorney didn’t make promises. She made a plan. That felt better than promises.
For students in DC
DC is busy and loud. But the system has doors. Title IX offices. Campus advocates. DC Superior Court for protection orders. Hospitals with trained nurses. If you’re the kind of person who needs numbers before making a move, here’s what another deep dive into the stats uncovered. You don’t have to use all of it. You can pick what works for you, and in what order.
National research shows that college women still face higher rates of sexual violence than their non-college peers, so leaning on the resources around you isn’t overreacting—it’s protecting yourself.
My lawyer kept saying that. It stuck.
Final take
I wish I never needed this. But I did. Hiring a campus sexual assault attorney in Washington, DC, gave me back my footing. Not magic. Just steps. Some hard, some small. But mine.
If you’re where I was—lost in tabs, worn out, staring at the ceiling—please take one step. Ask for a consult. Tell a friend. Write down one date. Drink some water. Then take the next step when you’re ready.
I’m still me. Maybe a little more steady now. And that’s worth it.