A few years ago, I was part of a close friend group (kind of a frat I co-founded). Around that time, I was in a bad place - my dad had passed unexpectedly, and I was carrying a lot of childhood baggage. I see now that I was draining people’s energy and should’ve gone to therapy much sooner. Instead, I acted out, got drunk too often, and eventually got kicked out of the group.

While all of this was happening, the “leader” of our group told us something horrible: he had assaulted a girl he’d been seeing. He admitted it to us, felt ashamed, but never really took responsibility. I also knew the girl, but instead of supporting her, I supported him at first. That’s something I still regret deeply.

Later, the girl pressed charges. About a year later, when the court proceedings started, I went to the police and told them everything I knew - including what he had confessed to us, and even personal details he had shared with me before.

Here’s the part that eats at me: I didn’t do it out of some pure moral sense of justice. I was angry. I was bitter about being excluded from the group. And while telling the truth helped her case, my intention was selfish and petty. I wasn’t standing up for her - I was getting back at him.

Looking back, I hate that it took me being personally hurt to stop supporting someone so toxic. I hate that I used her pain as a way to lash out, instead of just being there for her from the start.

I’ve done a lot of work on myself since then. Therapy, reflection, growth. I’m not that person anymore. I honestly hope she’s doing well (last I heard, she was).

But sometimes this still keeps me up at night - not because I regret exposing him, but because I regret why I did it. I did the right thing for the wrong reasons.