Nancy Grace called me handsome by Ryan Schocket
Two weeks ago, I arrived at the small Barnes & Noble on the Upper West Side — alone — filled with excitement and intensity. I was excited because I didn’t get lost — I just started commuting from New Jersey, and figuring out NYC has been overwhelming. I was intense because I was going to a Nancy Grace book signing.
For those that don’t know, Nancy Grace is an occasionally cantankerous, always controversial legal analyst, who reports on crime. She has a 100 percent conviction rate as a prosecutor and is a 100-percent badass.
I love her.
Inside, there was a throng of middle-aged people congregating around an unoccupied stage. They were discussing the Jodi Arias trial, exchanging their favorite Nancy Grace zingers and dissecting components of the U.S. justice system. Now, I felt a sense of calmness.
These were my people. I was no longer alone.
I chimed in, challenging some of their opinions and agreeing with others’. I even discussed the Job Benet Ramsey case with a group of three women who were wearing homemade “CASEY ANTHONY, WE THE PEOPLE FIND YOU GUILTY” T-shirts.
And then Nancy came out. She was kind, funny and thoughtful. She took every picture, answered every question, FaceTimed with my parents and called me handsome.
Two hours later, I walked out with a mother-of-two. “This place is like my secret spot,” she said.
Since then, it’s been mine too.