Counsel’s Counsel: Oct. 29, 2025
Question:
Dear Jane,
There’s been a heavy weight on my conscience for the past several days. I attended Halloqueen last weekend to show off my wicked costume skills and got messed up enough to forget the name Pennoyer. While I’m pleased to say that lots of progress was made on both fronts, my evening took an unfortunate turn once I hit the dance floor. Whether my leg muscles had atrophied from hours upon hours of sitting at library desks or if I was spatially disoriented by the bright lights and colors that covered the venue, let’s just say that I wasn’t the most graceful belle at this ball. To my horror, I realized that I had managed to wind my ankles up in a Gordian knot of cables. As my Monster Mash became more of a Monster Mangle, I repeatedly tried to fix the situation at hand (or rather, at foot), but every time I moved, the music came to a screeching halt. The groans and jeers I heard in those moments of horrible silence will haunt me forever.
I didn’t want my fellow partygoers to know what I had done, so I did the only thing I could think of: I pointed fingers. With some well-timed gripes and eye rolls, I managed to successfully pin the blame on my peers dancing up on the stage next to the DJ booth. For the rest of the evening and the better part of Saturday, I watched my seasonally thematic spiderweb of lies weave and tangle around the UVA Law community.
Despite my aforementioned wicked costume skills, I’m afraid that a few of my classmates might have recognized me as I fought to escape the cords. Should I come clean to everyone about what I have done, or should I hide in my shame forever? Am I socially screwed for this week’s parties?
Sincerely,
The Electric Slider
P.S. I was going to double-dip on my costume for this week’s parties, but now I’m thinking that it may be good to assume some other identity for a while. Should I find another costume? If so, what would you suggest?
Answer:
Dear Electric,
I wouldn’t blame anyone for getting caught up in the spirit of Halloqueen. The bright lights are shining, the colors on the walls are oh so pretty, and the tequila shots are flowing. A reasonable level of foolishness is expected and simply in keeping with the spirit of the event.
What you have done, though, has dropped you into the same class of Halloween criminal lowlifes as the scoundrels who refuse to wear costumes to parties (seriously, just stay home) and the common rapscallions who take five pieces from a “Take One” candy bowl. Not only have you broken one of Rihanna’s sacred covenants by daring to “Stop the Music,” but you have also cast your own guilt onto an entire class of your fellow party people. Truly, my disgust for you in this moment knows no bounds, but as a benevolent columnist, I will nonetheless fulfill my duty and advise you through your (hopefully) lowest of lows.
Your choice of action this week is a matter of personal preference, but you should be aware of the respective consequences. Owning up to your mistakes and poor decisions is obviously going to be uncomfortable in the short term. No one likes to admit when they are wrong, but that is how we grow as people. The most difficult part will undoubtedly be facing those whom you have harmed with your deception. You will damage some friendships. Some will heal, but some might not. I think that accepting and dealing with these consequences could be good for you in the long run.
Should you choose the path of the yellow-bellied coward, however, I cannot guarantee such a light at the end of the tunnel. What lies ahead of you is a lifetime of paranoia and guilt. Under every desk at which you sit, in the corner of every courtroom you enter, the ghost of your shame will watch and remember what you are, even if you yourself forget. The weight of your lies will warp your shoulders until they break, and by running from your shadow, you will gain naught but burning lungs. Again, though, this is totally your decision.
Regarding your costume dilemma, the coward’s way is also an available path for you here. If there was any personally identifiable feature visible through your costume that night, you might commit to a full-coverage costume this weekend. Perhaps a gorilla suit, with mask and all? Or you may want to revive the pre-pandemic vibes by revisiting the Ghost Photoshoot trend. As a matter of principle, however, I suggest owning up to your mistake. Let your costume say to the world: “I am a worthless party pooper and I am not ashamed, even though I probably should be.” For a cute couple’s costume, might I suggest a sexy priest and a groveling penitent? Or you could skip to the good part and wear an old-fashioned witch costume in preparation for when you are inevitably burned at the stake for your sins.
Regardless of what you end up choosing, just remember that everyone makes mistakes. Yours was pretty heinous, but given enough time and enough future drama from other students, this, too, shall pass. If your classmates do end up choosing to go the traditional stake-burning route, though, please be sure to write back with the date and time of the event so that I might have sufficient time to acquire my own torch and pitchfork (and so that the Weekly can send a reporter).
Never show your unmasked face here again,
Jane Doe, J.D.
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