Transcript of Adults in the Room: The Price of Belief

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In the fall of 2023, Romana Dittalo, a woman calling herself the Queen of Canada, drove into Richmond, Saskatchewan with a fleet of and set up her kingdom in an abandoned school. So the town banded together to get the cult out by any means necessary. My name is Rachel Brown, and in this season of Uncover, I explore what happens when a conspiracy theory lands in your backyard. The Cult Queen of Canada, available now on CBC Listen and everywhere you get your podcasts.

This is a serialized story. So if you haven't yet, we recommend first listening to episode one. Focus from KUW, Puget Sound Public Radio. A warning. This episode touches on sexual and physical abuse. Please take care while listening. The condom broke on a Saturday. That was the opening line of the first story I ever wrote for The Messenger, the student newspaper at Garfield High School in Seattle. I was 16 years old. The article was about the morning afterpill. Edgy and sure to get my journalism teacher's attention, which I desperately wanted. We all did. His name was David Eric. When I went to Garfield in the late '90s, journalism was like a varsity sport. It was hard to get a position on the student newspaper, and Mr. Eric rejected me at first. I had to sit on the floor by my best friend's desk in the newsroom every day to prove I was committed enough until he finally relented. For those who did make it, the schedule was punishing. We'd stay until 10: 00 PM many nights working on the next edition. Miss a deadline, Mr. Eric would reem you out in front of everybody. Whisper when he was talking, beware the pen he'd throw at your head.

Mind you, Mr. Eric gave us a lot of freedom. We came up with the story ideas. We wrote the editorials. But there was a throne, and Mr. Eric sat on it. He was king and kingmaker. If Mr. Eric liked you, he'd give you a plum roll, and hopefully, a strong college recommendation letter. Mr. Eric said he wrote the best ones. So for superachievers like us, winning him over was a huge deal. But it wasn't just about a letter. We craved being singled out as special. A misstep could mean the worst fate imaginable, being ignored. At Garfield, this drive for recognition went beyond the messenger, and nowhere was it more evident than in Post-84, the school's outdoor education club, which took hundreds of kids into the wilderness every year. They climbed mountains in the Pacific Northwest and scuba dived in Hawaii. Post 84 was run by Tom Hudson, one of Garfield's most celebrated teachers. He orchestrated a cult of personality that had kids clamoring to sign up for these excursions, which sometimes lacked necessary safety controls. I investigated and wrote about the climb he led on Mount Olympus in Washington State, which left Hudson and several club members injured.

But my story barely made a dent in the reputation of a man who engendered so much devotion at Garfield. Like Dave Eric, Mr. Hudson created a hierarchy of which he was firmly in control. He incentivized loyalty. His acolytes got to call him by his first name. They even wore fern crowns as they followed him through the woods. I called them Hudsonites. This may seem strange to you, high school students seeking out close relationships with their teachers, but this was the gospel according to Garfield, and we all believe the unusual intimacy between us made the school great. Until my senior year when scandal rocked the school, and my best friend, Ella Hushhagen and I started interrogating that gospel. We dedicated an entire issue of the messenger to our newfound suspicions and asked if this culture of devotion made us vulnerable to our teachers' darker impulses? It was a bold question, one that a lot of people didn't want us to ask, because it poked holes in a sacred narrative, the foundational myth of our legendary high school. We couldn't have known it at the time, but that addition of the messenger would kick off a chain of events, leading to a tragedy that Ella and I would be blamed for.

A tragedy that changed many of our lives forever. A tragedy that we're only coming to terms with now. From KUOW in Seattle, this is Adults in the Room, episode 2, The Price of Belief. I'm Azolda Raftery. On YouTube, I found this video of Garfield's Homecoming Rally in 1998. The audio is hard to hear. It's taken from an old VHS recording, but I love it. I remember this rally so well. I was a junior. The entire school was packed into the gym More than a thousand of us, a sea of purple and white. We squished next to each other like teen sardines as the marching band laid into their horns. The brass was blasting. The tall white dude on the gym floor, gyrating slowly, that was my buddy Forest. He was a cheerleader, and the cheerleaders owned the gym. Within seconds, everyone was standing. The good mood was catching, and we were grooving as one. Black, white, Asian, all together. So what if the room smelled like a sweaty deep friar? Our homecoming kings could be proudly gay. Our homecoming queens, loud and funny. We hailed our nerds. We bowed down to the bump and grind.

Welcome to Garfield. Let your freak flag fly. Whenever I watch this video, I lose myself in the moment. The beauty of it all, kids of different races and backgrounds, dancing, unself-conscious, happy. Decades before in the Garfield gym, Dr Martin Luther King Jr. Gave an early version of his I Have A Dream speech. According to Laure, MLK said that Garfield, with its racially diverse student body, was that dream dream. But it was an illusion. At the assembly, we were together, but in our classes, we were apart. Garfield is in the Central district, Seattle's historically Black neighborhood. But I was bused in from the city's North end for Garfield's advanced placement program. We were called the AP Kids for short, most of us white or Asian. In contrast, almost all the Black students were in the quote, regular classes. Kids in the regular classes often didn't get textbooks, but us AP kids got one for our lockers, one for home, and one for the classroom. The regular class kids got photocopies of our books. I'd be lying if I said I didn't see how unfair this was back then. As a student reporter, I saw inequities everywhere, like how Garfield sports teams got locker rooms and free uniforms, but our cheerleaders didn't.

So I pitched an article about the cheer squad to the messenger. At first, our sports editor felt the story was too frivolous. What a waste of column inches, he told me. But I thought Garfield cheerleaders were more than athletes deserving equal treatment. They were stars, mostly bigger-bodied Black girls who moved together like water. And when they danced, we would lose our their minds. I convinced them to let me tackle it.

If you get out there and you're not good, it's bad for you at Garfield. That's all I knew.

Christina Mitchell was a senior in 1998 and had just joined the squad. Christina took her role very seriously. At Garfield, she had to. We let her know if she wasn't bringing it.

You would literally get stuff thrown at you and made fun of the whole year. So I was just like, Oh, man, if I come out, I I got to get this together, guys. Yes. We can't be coming out here halfway.

No. I remember Christina is kind and so pretty, big brown eyes and lashes out to space.

I was definitely an outgoing person, and I guess I called myself a free spirit.

Christina was one of the best dancers on the Garfield Squad. I wanted to interview her, but I couldn't find her. One day, someone She mentioned she might be outside, so I went looking for her in the parking lot. Sure enough, there was Christina. She was sitting in the driver's seat of our principal's gray SUV. He was in the passenger seat next to her. Is Dr. Jones teaching her how to drive, I wondered. It wouldn't be surprising if he was. After all, teachers did a lot for students at Garfield. Plus, Dr. Jones was cool. He was a respected Black leader, which gave him credibility in the neighborhood around Garfield, and he seemed to genuinely care about us.

He was always there at all the games with all the cheerleaders, and he was helping everybody with their college applications. He would literally lecture me. Hours of lecture.

Really?

In teaching, yeah. In teaching. It was like that 24/7 with him. He was definitely like a super, super, super educator.

At Garfield, these tight relationships between students and teachers often continued outside school hours. I had friends who slept over at our teachers' homes. My best friend Ella and I cat sat for one, houseboat sat for another. We did this for free, like we'd been specially selected for these tasks, as though the chores were gifts reserved for the best and brightest students. Shoveling cat turds. What an honor. I never did interview Christina, but I wrote about the Garfield cheerleaders and moved on to the next story. The school year ended and Christina graduated. I spent that summer babysitting my little brother every day for $3 an hour. At night, I rode around with my friends and my boyfriend, Tobi Crittenden. Tobi was a post-84 kid and close to Mr Hudson. In August, he went on a scuba diving trip to Maui with Mr Hudson and students from the club. When they got back, Tobi mentioned something that caught my ear. He said that one day, he was helping Mr Hudson haul gear across the island, and Mr Hudson said he was tired. He pulled over to the side of the road, got in the back of the truck, and urge Tobi to lie down and nap alongside him, which he did.

I didn't know what to make of that, but Tobi didn't seem too bothered. I He asked Tobi recently if he remembered this. He didn't, but his mom did, and it struck her as not wrong per se, but definitely odd. A week or two later, I heard a second story about Mr. Hudson. A close friend of mine told me Mr Hudson had invited him to play racquetball at a local gym. Afterward, Mr Hudson insisted they shower together. And in the gym's locker room, while they were naked, Mr Hudson whipped his butt with a towel. My friend made it sound awkward and uncomfortable, but no weirder than seeing your dad change. Come fall and the start of school, Ella and I began our new jobs as editors at the Messenger. We were ready to have the greatest senior year ever. But then, in October, big news broke. The school district put our principal, Dr. Jones, on leave. Rumors swirled as we tried to figure out why. Was he inflating test scores, embezzling school funds? Here's how Ella remembers the school administration letting us know.

They put out this announcement that was very vague. It was like, Oh, inappropriate relationship with a student.

An inappropriate relationship with a student. We were hanging out at our teachers' houses, traveling with them, sleeping over. So what What did inappropriate even mean? And who was the student? A week after the announcement, I found out. I bumped into an acquaintance on the bus. She told me that Dr. Jones was involved with her big sister, Christina, the cheerleader I tried to interview for the messenger. I was stunned. Dr. Jones was 54 years old. He had two adult kids of his own. What the heck? News of the relationship spun the school into chaos. You might assume people thought our principal was a creep for sleeping with a student, but you'd be wrong. The student body wanted Dr. Jones reinstated. In a diary entry from this time, I wrote about a school walkout in protest of his removal. Students marched down Alder Street and chanted, So DJ got a DJ. Who cares? Who cares? I watched from the messenger office. Local reporters stood across the street waiting to interview the protesters, but the rally accomplished nothing. Dr. Jones was forced to resign. He left Seattle, and Christina seemingly disappeared, too. I never found out what happened to her until Ella and I started working on this podcast.

Garfield had been so focused on losing Dr. Jones. It was like nobody cared how the scandal affected Christina. She'd been forgotten, but she likely had a lot to say about how Garfield's culture of closeness could turn exploitative if she was willing to revisit that time in her life. I found Christina on Facebook and sent her a message. She replied immediately and over a phone call, told me what happened. Senior year, Christina scored low on the ACTs and didn't think she'd get into college. At the time, she was desperate to get away from her dad. He was strict and expected her to be home caring for her younger siblings. At least cheerleading got her out of the house. With few options left, Christina signed up for the military, and Dr. Jones, who often hung around the cheerleaders, found out.

And he was just like, Oh, no. What are you doing? And I was just like, I don't think I'm college material because... And once I started talking about all the things I didn't really think I was capable of doing. He was like, Oh, no, we're going to make this happen.

Christina said that for a long time, Dr. Jones was just a mentor. He helped her write essays and apply to schools. And thanks to Dr. Jones, she got into Western Washington University in Bellingham, north of Seattle. Christina said things became physical with him just before she graduated.

It wasn't really romantic, and that's where it made it weird. I just loved him in a way like, wow, no one's ever done this for me ever. You don't make me feel bad for things I don't know. I was to make fun of because I was a little slower in school, and it would take me longer to catch on. If a person wanted to manipulate someone or sleep with someone younger than them, they definitely wouldn't have to do all of those things that he did.

Christina left for college, and then her dad found out about her relationship with Dr. Jones. She said her dad got mad at her and told the school district what he knew.

It was like my whole entire family turned on me.

Distraught, Christina dropped out of college and crashed with a friend in the Seattle area. But by then, her story had made the news, and she couldn't leave the house without someone shaming her.

They would come up to me. They would be like, Oh, you're that girl on the news with the principal. I remember I remember staying with my friends, and I remember us going somewhere, and they recognized me, and were pointing and talking about me. It was everywhere I went. It was really bad. For me, that's what you don't understand. It's like, if my dad wanted to punish me, he definitely succeeded.

The public ridicule pushed her closer to Dr. Jones. They decided to move to Memphis, Tennessee, to see where nobody would know them. Christina didn't feel like she had another option. But in Memphis, Dr. Jones blamed her for their situation. Christina said he physically abused her.

He was so angry about it that I really didn't know where he was going to go in terms of where he was mentally. How angry can he be? Would he be angry enough to take me out or something?

Dr. Jones died in 2013, so So we can't get his side of the story. But Christina said she feared for her life and left Dr. Jones. Christina was homeless for a while, couch surfing where she could. Eventually, she got back on her feet. Christina returned to college and became a special education teacher. Today, she lives in New Orleans with her husband and kids. She thanks God every day for that stability. But Christina's relationship with our former principal still haunt her.

It's easy to take advantage of an 18, 19-year-old or young. They have all these issues and problems, and I'm coming to the rescue with all these things, and naturally, they'll gravitate towards you in that way. But I just feel like in my mind, that's taking advantage of someone else's disadvantage.

Dr. Jones may have exploited Christina, but he didn't break any laws. Back then in Washington State, it was legal for a teacher to sleep with a student over 18 years old, which meant that their relationship was a question of morality, not one of law. Ella and I were shaken by the news that Dr. Jones had sex with a student So as we debated the theme for the next edition of The Messenger, this line between what was legal and what was ethical got us second-guessing our own relationships with teachers. And we would pose a question that would rattle our school. Just how close was too close?

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Each edition of the Messenger had a four-page spread called Focus. One topic, lots of articles. Ella was the primary editor, but we often brainstormed together. After Dr. Jones resigned, all we could think about was our teachers and how we were seeing their behavior in a new light.

We did have these really cozy relationships with teachers. It was like, was that qualifying? Is there some risk to these other teachers, or was there something more going on in this relationship?

Ella and I started talking about moments with teachers that unsettled us. Like the time Mr. Hudson made To be nap with him on Maui and whacked my friend's butt in the shower, or when Mr. Eric threw a chair across the room in journalism class because he was mad that two messenger kids were whispering during an article brainstorm. Maybe we did know what qualified as inappropriate, and maybe it was time to start writing about it. Mr. Eric taught us to find relevant stories by taking a topic everyone is consumed with, poking it, analyzing it, and then zooming out. Principal sleeps with cheerleader. How does that pertain to the rest of us at Garfield? Ella and I had an idea.

We decided to do a spread in the student newspaper to say, What is an inappropriate relationship between a a student? What does that look like? There was maybe three or four articles.

Our main story explored the pros and cons of being close with teachers. Another featured kids and teachers discussing the line between appropriate and inappropriate behavior. And the third was an editorial, which I wrote with full dramatic flair. It went like this, They have power over us. They develop our minds. We love them and we hate them. They They inspire us, and they infuriate us. They are supposed to be our role models. Who are they? They're our teachers, and that's all they should be. Rosie Bancroft, the Post-84 student we heard from in episode one, was also a reporter for the Messenger. When Rosie learned about the upcoming issue, she had a pitch for Ella. Rosie said a friend of hers from Post-84 had also been coerced by Mr. Hudson to shower with him. He shared even more graphic details about their teacher's behavior.

Sometimes he was aroused in the shower. Sometimes he was playing who dropped the soap in the shower. Then it went all the way to providing pornography to students, watching it together with them, being out on the boat drunk, driving the boat around in very rough weather, having kids stripped down naked and like, damps on the deck of the boat.

Rosie's friend also told her that during a camping trip, Mr Hudson had kicked him. Rosie sat on all of this for months. She didn't want to tell her parents. That would violate her friend's trust. On the other hand, if she did nothing, then Mr Hudson might continue hurting her friend and other kids, too.

But I have no idea what to do about it or who to tell, or what would happen if we told. Anyway, so that's why when that came up about the article, I think I was like, This, this is the chance.

Rosie wanted to write about her friend's allegations, but Ella wasn't so sure. She just wanted us to come up with a few stories about blurry boundaries for our next issue. An investigation into potential abuse? That was well beyond our scope.

I said, I think we should talk to our teacher. Let's tell Dave Eric about this.

Ella asked Mr. Eric to meet with her and Rosie at the football field. The girls didn't want anyone to overhear their conversation. Once outside, they revealed what they heard about Mr. Hudson.

He basically said, Keep this under your hat. Don't tell anyone else right now while I figure out how to handle it.

But when the weekend hit, Ella did what any '90s teen would do. She took the family cordless phone and called me her best friend.

I thought it was distressing to learn this about another student and about a teacher who was really well loved and had tons of access to students. I also just felt like, as old as you're, you're my sounding board, you're my best friend. What do I do?

Ella thought I would agree with her and let Mr. Eric have the weekend to think about Rosie's friend's allegations. But that felt wrong to me.

She just had this very rational response, which was like, This is abuse, and I'm telling my mom, who's also a mandated reporter, she's a social worker, and, Forget it. I think I felt mad at her that she just did that.

As a social worker, my mom was required by law to report allegations of child abuse. I didn't consider that if I told her about Mr Hudson, I would betray Ella's confidence and expose Rosie and her friend to inquiries neither of them signed up for. But it bothered me that everyone was talking about these allegations like they were a secret I was pretty sure they were crimes. So I sat my parents down and I told them what I knew. My mom has always been clutch in a crisis. This moment was custom made for her. She said we needed to report the allegations and debate it whether to call the police or child protective services. My dad reacted differently. He said if I disclosed what I'd heard about Mr Hudson, I risked destroying a program and a man many people loved. He said I could be called a liar, shunned, retaliated against. Then my dad cleared his throat and told me something I'll never forget. If you report this, everything will change, he said. Your life will be separated by the time before you reported it and the time that came after. Be very, very certain this is something you want to do.

I thought Mr. Hudson was on an overnight trip in the woods with Post-84 kids that weekend. We have to tell someone, I said. My mom got up from the table and went to the phone. She called the authorities. Neither of us remembers now if it was the cops, child protective services, or the school district. The police might go out there tonight, she told me. I pictured them weaving through backcountry roads, sirens blaring to find Mr Hudson? Would they handcuff him? Put him in the back of a squad car? Would the post-84 kids have to watch? My mom hung up. The house was quiet. And then we waited.

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Monday morning, I rode the school bus in. My parents wouldn't let me get a driver's license, so I was one of two seniors surrounded by a sworn of allowed freshmen. I felt shaky as I walked up the steps into Garfield. I expected to enter a school that was frantic with the news that Mr Hudson had been arrested. When I got into the building, My eyes darted up and down the long, crowded hallway, looking for a sign that something was off. Maybe a friend grabbing my arm saying, Did you hear what happened? Then I saw some kids from Post-84 who looked totally fine. That's because nothing had happened to Mr Hudson. He was in his classroom at that very moment, preparing for first-period biology. I was stunned. My parents told me to expect backlash. I wasn't prepared for silence. I found Ella, who was still hoping Mr. Eric would step up. Not much later, he pulled her aside and told her his plan for Mr. Hudson.

We're going to talk man to man. Man to man, I definitely remember. I'm going to tell him that he needs to stop. That's how I'm going to handle it. You don't need to tell anyone else, basically.

But it was too late. Ella had already told me, and now the authorities knew, too. Here's where I need to pause and tell you something. Over the weekend, I didn't just share what I knew about Mr. Hudson with my parents. I also told my aunt Mary, a prominent investigative journalist in Ireland. In the US, people don't generally know about Mary Raftery, but in the late '90s in Ireland, she was a household name. Mary had recently exposed how poor Irish children were locked up in institutions and often abused by priests and nuns. Her reporting caught the attention of US news outlets, and it prompted investigations into abusive priests here. When I told Mary about Mr. Hudson, and Garfield, she said it reminded her of the priests she investigated, respected men who were trusted by society to be around children, charismatic men who groomed entire communities to look the other way. As Mary Mary had learned and taught me, a predator wasn't always who you would expect. A predator didn't necessarily present as a villain. He could wear a priest collar or hiking boots and flash a winsome smile as he took your kid for a ride on his boat.

Mary assured me I'd done the right thing by not sitting on the allegations, and she gave me hope that given time, Mr Hudson would be held accountable. But as the week went on, Mr Hudson remained at Garfield. Ella and I obsessed over the situation. Every day we went round and round wondering how on Earth Mr Hudson seemed to be getting away with child abuse. At lunch, I'd find a car to pile into and rant that no one cared about us kids. My friends would get quiet. They didn't know what to say to me. Ella was incessant about Mr Hudson, too. Towards the end of the week, she told her ex-boyfriend about the allegations from Rosie's friend. His reply shocked her. It turned out Mr Hudson had also pressured Ella's ex to strip down and shower with him after they played racquetball together. Ella's ex talked to me for this podcast, but he didn't want us to use his name.

So he's naked, and I was naked. And the distinct thing that I remember was, he had this be big features and big cheekbones, this big distinct face, and he had these big, bushy eyebrows. I remember the water running over his face, and then him opening an eye in the water, big, his eye, looking across the room with me. And I remember he's distinctly looking at me. And that definitely felt weird. And I guess what I told Ella back when I talked to her about it was something along the lines of that made me feel uncomfortable. And I stopped hanging out with Hudson and stopped doing stuff with that program at that point for that reason. And I don't really remember it being that distinct. I'm really freaked out by this. I don't feel like a victim of him in any way. I just feel like he's also somebody who, I guess the terminology would be like it's grooming behavior or something like that.

Ella asked her ex if she could write about what he told her for the student teacher edition. He agreed. Ella knew it would be risky to name Mr. Hudson in an article. And since Mr. Eric could still be planning on that man-to-man talk with Mr. Hudson, any story that directly indicted him could be seen as going around Mr. Eric's back. So Ella wrote with extreme caution, giving her ex a pseudonym and removing the identifying details about Racket Ball and the shower. Rosie and I helped her with it. In the end, we stated that a boy felt sexual tension from an unnamed teacher, and that this teacher seemed angry with him for taking his distance after. Not exactly the exposé Rosie wanted, but it still struck a chord. When the issue was finally published on November 23rd, two days before Thanksgiving, it was the talk of Garfield. Our classmates hounded us to spill the identities of the boy and the teacher, but we kept our source a secret, and school adhered for the long holiday weekend. The Tuesday after Thanksgiving was November 30th, 1999. Seattleites may remember this as the infamous day when protesters marched against the World Trade Organization, which was meeting downtown.

Ella, Tobi, and I skipped school to check out the demonstrations. I planned to report on them for the messenger. It was like a carnival at first, with protesters dressed as sea turtles decrying unsafe fishing practices. But then things spiraled. We watched as people dressed in black marched through the city's streets, smashing windows and setting cars on fire. With little warning, the police responded forcefully all around us. We inhaled pepper spray. I got hit with a rubber police bullet. I have to admit, I was thrilled to be there. I knew that history was unfurling before us. But when Ella and I came back to school on Wednesday, it was immediately clear that something had changed. Our classmates' faces were heavy, and our teachers were terse. Word traveled through the hallways and finally reached us. Mr Hudson had been placed on leave. I felt a weight lift off me. Finally, something was being done about Mr Hudson. He was out of the classroom and away from post-84. But my relief was soon eclipsed by anxiety. By that point, my mom had talked to people at the district office about Rosie's friend's allegation. Did her calls or our anonymous story prompt the school to take action?

Would our friends now blame us for Mr Hudson's suspension? At first, our classmates directed their anger at the school, just like when Dr Jones was suspended.

The general vibe in the school was like a groan, like a collective, Another one? Oh, no. What's happening? And not really like, what's happening that all these adults are inappropriate? More like, what's happening that the school district is targeting all of our best people? I think that That was the energy.

Ella and I were on edge as we waited to find out what the school district would do next. Then on Thursday, Mr. Eric called a mandatory messenger staff meeting at the end of the school day. Ella and I had a bad feeling about it.

He had really a short fuse. You never wanted to get on his bad side.

Ella had a hunch that Mr. Eric was upset about our article. Unfortunately, she was right.

He did not He didn't identify any of us by name, but he said, Some of the journalists on this paper have acted unethically, and they need to step down, and tied us directly to Tom Hudson being placed on administrative leave. They ran a story that was inappropriate and full of rumors, and now a teacher is facing professional consequences for it.

We had never seen Mr. Eric so angry, and he was not going to stop until took his pound of flesh from Ella and me.

He said, And I want them to step down. They need to step down from their positions on the paper. I'm asking for them to resign.

I still remember how crushed I was hearing this. The messenger was everything to me. I put every ounce of energy I had into that paper, and I couldn't imagine my life without it. Only now, Mr. Eric was forcing me and Ella out, and he was intent on humiliating both of us in front of our peers. My mind swirled. Had we really betrayed our school and one of its most popular teachers? Were we unethical, an embarrassment to journalism? Or were Dave Eric and Garfield High School defending a pedophile? Fired or not, there was no way either of us would go silently, and there was no way we were going to let Tom Hudson off the hook. That's next on Adults in the Room. On episode three of Adults in the room, the investigation into Tom Hudson begins, and it stretches on for months.

The whole investigation was in this position where, okay, there's plenty that we can't just let this go, but there's not enough that we can act on it.

But then it's disrupted by a terrible tragedy, and suddenly, Ella and I are in everyone's crosshairs.

My mom says I was grinding my teeth, waking up with night terrors. I don't remember any of that. I truly just was trying to survive.

That's coming up next. Adults in the Room is part of Focus, a dedicated documentary channel from KUOW Public Radio in Seattle, a proud member of the NPR Network. Original reporting for this project was done by me as Alder Raftery, Jeanie Yandel and Will James. Our producers are Will James and Alec Cohen. Our editor is Jeanie Yandel. Music by B. C. Campbell. Additional music by Alec Cauen. Logo designed by Alicia Via. Amelia Peacock manages our marketing and promotions. Kuow's Director of New Content is Brenda Sweeney, our Director of Marketing is Mikaela Giannadi-Boyle. Kuow's Chief Content Officer is Marshall Eisen. I'm Izolda Raftery. Thank you all so much for listening. On the latest Sound Politics, there's been a lot of drama around one bill being considered in Olympia. It creates a path for elected county sheriffs to be removed from office.

Sheriffs are mostly against it, but the bill raises important questions.

Should sheriffs only answer to the voters who elected them? Does the state removing them subvert democracy?

We'll talk about it on Sound Politics wherever you get your podcasts.