This article invites feminists to leverage the #MeToo Movement as a critical analytical tool to explore the longevity of the enduring rape crisis framing of victim services. Long before the #MeToo Movement, victim services in communities nationwide were framed around a crisis model. For nearly half a century, victims have visited rape crisis centers, called rape crisis hotlines, and mobilized rape crisis response teams to provide services and support. This enduring political and social framing around rape as a crisis is opaque, has prompted a political backlash, and risks distorting hard-fought feminist legal, social, and political battles. It has yielded underreporting, underutilization, and recurring risks of budgetary cuts. Yet, this model and terminology have gone virtually unchanged for nearly half a century.

The issue of pretrial detention is part of a larger, national conversation on criminal justice reform. However, no single issue permeates the landscape of criminal justice like the treatment of pretrial defendants. The policies and practices around pretrial detention have contributed to the country’s mass incarceration numbers; created a crisis for local jail management; generated unsustainable budgets; and raised important questions about race, class, and the constitutional implications of incarcerating people because they are too poor to pay a money bond. Legal scholars have written about the issue, highlighting the inequities and constitutional difficulties with such a system. Much of the discussion has surrounded solutions involving the implementation of and reliance on evidence-based practices to determine pretrial detention, rather than solutions involving reliance on money. These evidence-based practices usually take the form of pretrial assessment tools and pretrial supervision systems. Because the politics involved in criminal justice reform often paralyze reform attempts, the method by which these practices are implemented is often litigation. However, due to procedural impediments in federal court and the polit- ical realities of state courts, litigation often results in incomplete remedies that do not fully address, rectify, or prevent the range of harms inflicted by the money bail system.

In 1971, in the midst of the Vietnam War, the United States Su-preme Court decided that to qualify as a conscientious objector (“CO”) one must oppose all war, and not just a particular war. The Court’s decision in Gillette v. United States turned on its interpretation of section 6(j) of the Military Selective Service Act.2 Section 6(j) provided, in relevant part, that no person shall “be subject to combatant training and service in the armed forces of the United States who, by reason of religious training and belief, is conscientiously opposed to participation in war in any form.” According to the Court, “an objection involving a particular war rather than all war would plainly not be covered by § 6(j).” Consequently, the Court construed the exemption from combatant military service in section 6(j) not to extend to so-called “selective conscientious objectors” (“SCOs”).

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* Associate Professor, Elon University School of Law. The author would like to thank Sue Liemer and William A. Eagles for their feedback on drafts of this article. The author also thanks Timaura Barfield for her outstanding work as a research assistant.

Several states are barred by their own constitutions from spending public monies in support of sectarian institutions. The United States Supreme Court has manifested great ambivalence about the constitutionality of such limitations. Sometimes, the Court has impliedly endorsed them as a reasonable measure to assure that Establishment Clause guarantees are respected. At other times, the Court has suggested that such limitations are constitutionally disfavored, although the Court has not yet held that such amend-ments are per se unconstitutional. The Court’s most recent decision addressing state constitutional spending limitations, Trinity Lutheran Church of Columbia, Inc. v. Comer, adds another layer of complexity and confusion to an already muddled jurisprudence. That decision, unless modified, could have surprising implications that the Court is avowedly unwilling to endorse.

Race, sports, and free speech rights intersected in a very controversial and public way during the 2016 and 2017 National Football League (“NFL”) seasons. On August 26, 2016, Colin Kaepernick spurred a national debate when he refused to stand during the playing of the national anthem before the NFL preseason game between the Green Bay Packers and the San Francisco 49ers, Kaepernick’s team at the time.

When authorities in Richland County, South Carolina, arrived on the scene after receiving a report of shots fired on July 29, 2014, they found a wounded man but no suspect. The victim seemed to have been on the receiving end of an armed robbery gone wrong and had been shot during a “physical altercation” with the would be thief. Because of this “physical altercation,” officers from the sheriff’s department were able to recover deoxyribonucleic acid (“DNA”) samples from the victim’s clothing. A short time later, suspect Brandon Berry was taken into custody after being apprehended at a traffic stop; Berry would go on to be convicted of, among other charges, attempted murder and attempted armed robbery.