Senate Confirms Aaron Peterson As Alaska’s Newest Federal Judge
There is now one less federal judge vacancy in Alaska after the U.S. Senate voted 58 to 39 to confirm Aaron Peterson as the state’s newest federal judge. Peterson is currently the state’s natural resources attorney.
Peterson said in a legal notice issued soon after the vote that he would be leaving the Alaska Department of Law right away. There are three federal judges in Alaska, but since Joshua Kindred resigned in July 2024 amid a misconduct scandal, there has been only one sitting judge.
Peterson, a registered Republican, will take over for Judge Tim Burgess, who retired on the last day of 2021. That open seat was one of the oldest in the whole U.S. federal court system, as reported by Alaska Beacon.
Alaska’s federal court has had to rely on judges from other states and semi-retired judges who are on senior status because it only has one full-time judge.
There was a lot of bipartisan support for Peterson’s confirmation, with six Democrats voting for it along with most of the Senate’s Republicans. All 39 “no” votes came from Democrats, and three senators did not vote.
Sen. Dick Durbin, a Democrat from Illinois and the highest-ranking member of the Senate Judiciary Committee from the opposing party, voted “yes.”
Peterson said last year that he wouldn’t say whether President Donald Trump lost the 2020 election or whether the January 6, 2021, insurrection at the U.S. Capitol was legal because he might have to rule on the matter as a judge.
Carl Tobias, the Williams Chair in Law at the University of Richmond School of Law, has been closely monitoring Peterson’s confirmation process.
“It wasn’t a party line vote. And so I think that means that some of the Democrats are signaling that if a person looks like he’s going to be competent, as I think Peterson will be, then they’re going to move forward and vote for that person,” he said.
Alaska Republican Sen. Dan Sullivan organized a committee that examined Peterson’s judicial application and forwarded it to President Donald Trump for official nomination.
The committee bypassed the usual procedure, which relies on advice from the Alaska Bar Association.
“I’m confident that he will be a great federal judge for our state,” he said in a prepared written statement.
According to the information Peterson submitted to the U.S. Senate’s judiciary committee, he was born in Anchorage in 1981 and served in the U.S. Air Force from 2000 to 2003 before attending the University of Alaska Anchorage, graduating in 2007. He attended Gonzaga University School of Law and graduated in 2010. He was admitted to the Alaska bar that year.
He returned to Alaska after graduation, serving first as a clerk to Judge Michael Spaan of the Anchorage Superior Court, then as a prosecutor with the Municipality of Anchorage.
Peterson worked in the Anchorage District Attorney’s office starting in 2012, including on violent felonies, such as murder and sexual assault. He moved to the Department of Law’s office of special prosecutions in 2015 before beginning work with the Department of Law’s natural resources section in 2019.
Alaska Republican Sen. Lisa Murkowski didn’t participate in Peterson’s application process but offered her support after Trump nominated Peterson and voted for his confirmation on Wednesday.
“I look forward to Mr. Peterson hitting the ground running to help an overworked court, while working to address and reform the culture of abuse and low morale that has permeated the District Court in recent years,” Murkowski said in a prepared written statement. “Mr. Peterson is a born-and-raised Alaskan with a strong record of legal practice in our state, including in natural resources and criminal and civil law, and his leadership will be invaluable to Alaska. We now turn our focus to filling the remaining vacancy as soon as possible.”
House Passes Bill to Ban Gender Transition Treatments for Minors
Legislation that would criminalize gender transition treatments for minors, such as surgery and hormone supply, and punish providers with up to ten years in federal prison was approved by a divided House on Wednesday.
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On a vote of 216 to 211, the bill—which civil rights organizations claimed was among the most extreme anti-trans legislation ever considered by Congress—was approved nearly entirely along party lines.
It is unlikely to be taken up by the Senate, where it would require a bipartisan alliance to move forward. However, the ultraconservative Republican majority and President Trump’s priorities were reflected in its discussion and passage in the House.
Republican Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia pushed it through the House after she demanded earlier this month that Speaker Mike Johnson bring her bill to the floor in exchange for her backing of the defense policy measure she was otherwise threatening to sabotage.
According to Greene, the legislation fulfilled one of Trump’s major campaign pledges, and Congress must take action to formalize his executive order banning gender-affirming medical procedures.
“Most Americans agree that kids just need to grow up before they do anything radical, like a mastectomy on a 15-year-old girl,” she said on Wednesday on the House floor, pointing at a poster board of a child who had undergone such a surgery.
Greene has recently gained odd new respect from some Democrats for disagreeing with the president on a number of issues. She abruptly announced last month that she was leaving Congress one year before the end of her term.
“If a child believes they’re a unicorn, do adults take their word for it as well?” Greene said, adding that in electing Trump in 2024, the American people voted to end gender transition treatments.
Republican Representative Barry Moore of Alabama claimed that Democrats were indoctrinating children by falsely framing gender-affirming procedures as necessary.
“It is not lifesaving care,” he said. “It is child abuse.”
In response, Democrats claimed that proponents of the bill were attempting to replace medicine with ideology by focusing on a small and vulnerable group of trans youth. They claimed that by threatening parents with jail time, the law violated their rights and gave politicians the authority to make extremely private decisions for families.
“Does anyone believe that the Freedom Caucus and President Trump love America’s children more than their parents do?” said Representative Jamie Raskin, Democrat of Maryland.
California Democratic Rep. Mark Takano said the surgeries on minors that Greene described were extremely rare.
What the bill would really do, he said, is ban “safe and effective medications for an entire group of people.”
Takano said that the bill would not make children safe and that it would “interfere with parental choice and open private medical data up to investigation.”
A second anti-trans bill, also supported by Greene, that would prohibit Medicaid coverage of gender-affirming care for trans youth is scheduled to be voted on by the House later this week.
The first openly transgender lawmaker to serve in Congress, Rep. Sarah McBride, a Democrat from Delaware, claimed before Wednesday’s vote that Republicans were “obsessed” with transgender people and were concentrating on a “misunderstood and vulnerable 1 percent of the population” rather than taking any action to safeguard Americans’ health care.
“They think more about trans people than trans people think about trans people,” McBride said, speaking to reporters on the steps of the Capitol. “They are consumed with this and they are extreme on it.”
Three Democrats and four Republicans voted across party lines. Democrats Henry Cuellar and Vicente Gonzalez, both from Texas, and Don Davis of North Carolina voted for the measure.
Republicans Gabe Evans of Colorado, Brian Fitzpatrick of Pennsylvania, Mike Lawler of New York, and Mike Kennedy of Utah voted against it.
I Tried to Stay Invisible While Cleaning His Mansion. Now, I'm the Only Weakness of a Ruthless Syndicate Boss.
“Don’t Get in the Car,” the Maid Warned While Fixing His Tie—The Mafia Boss Saw the Gun Too Late
Blood smelled like copper, but impending violence smelled like ozone and cold sweat.
Nora knew both intimately.
As she reached up to straighten Dominic’s silk tie, her knuckles brushed the steady pulse in his throat. He smelled of bergamot and bitter espresso.
Over his shoulder, through the glass double doors, she saw the driver.
His jacket hung incorrectly. A heavy metallic bulk ruined its bespoke lines.
Nora smoothed the silk.
“Your driver has a gun,” she whispered. “Don’t get in the car.”
Lemon oil and beeswax.
That was the scent of survival.
Nora moved the microfiber cloth in punishing concentric circles over the mahogany console table in the foyer. The wood was already immaculate, a dark mirror reflecting the cut-crystal chandelier overhead, but stillness inside the house was a liability.
If she stood still, she was listening.
If she was listening, she was a threat.
Nora kept her hands moving.
Her knuckles were raw, and harsh detergent had split the skin around her cuticles. Every flex of her fingers produced a mild sting.
It was a grounding pain.
It kept her awake.
Morning inside the Rossi estate was a sterile and muted affair. The walls were thick, and the carpets were plush enough to swallow the sound of a falling body.
Nora had worked there for 11 months, long enough to understand the architecture of power and the geometry of keeping her head down.
She was a maid, a ghost inside a gray uniform with white trim. Every Friday, she collected a cash envelope and deposited it directly into a checking account that was slowly and painfully building toward a 1-way ticket out of the state.
Footsteps sounded on the grand staircase.
They were not the hurried, heavy steps of the men guarding the perimeter. They were the measured, rhythmic clicks of leather against marble.
Dominic.
Nora did not look up immediately.
She moved to the side of the hall, lowered her head slightly, and blended into the damask wallpaper.
Dominic Rossi descended into the foyer, bringing a displacement of air that felt physically heavy.
He was not the hulking, scarred brute found in cheap films. He was lean, built with the coiled and wiry tension of a greyhound.
That morning, he wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than Nora’s annual rent.
As he stepped from the final stair into the natural light coming through the frosted doors, Nora saw the frayed edges of his immaculate appearance.
His jaw was clenched.
Faint purple shadows beneath his dark eyes revealed nights spent staring at ceilings and calculating betrayals.
Dominic stopped beside the mirror above the console table.
He did not examine his reflection. He stared through the glass, his mind elsewhere, perhaps dissecting supply chains or arranging someone’s quiet disappearance.
Nora stood near the coat rack with his wool overcoat.
Her role was to hand it to him, open the door, and disappear.
Something was wrong.
Dominic’s tie was a heavy, woven midnight-blue silk. Its knot had been pulled slightly to the left, causing the collar of his white shirt to pinch awkwardly.
For anyone else, it would have meant nothing.
For Dominic Rossi, a man who controlled his surroundings with terrifying precision, it was an alarm.
He was distracted.
Dangerously so.
Nora stepped forward.
Her rubber-soled shoes squeaked softly against the marble.
Dominic’s eyes snapped toward her reflection.
They were cold and empty, the eyes of a predator registering movement.
Nora did not freeze.
Freezing was what prey did.
She kept her posture neutral and concentrated on his collar, ignoring the lethal weight of his attention.
She closed the distance between them.
“Your tie, sir,” she said without inflection.
He did not grant permission, but he did not step away.
That was enough.
Nora raised her hands.
The silk was cool beneath her rough fingertips.
She moved the knot precisely into the center of his throat, and the backs of her knuckles touched his skin.
He was burning.
Feverish heat radiated from his neck.
She smelled the clean citrus of his cologne. Beneath it was the acrid bitterness of old coffee and unrestrained stress.
He was a man holding a collapsing empire together with his bare hands.
As Nora smoothed his lapels, her eyes moved past his shoulder.
Through the reinforced glass of the front doors, she could see the circular driveway.
The armored black sedan was idling. Small clouds of white exhaust vanished into the cold morning air.
Arthur, the morning driver, stood beside the rear passenger door.
Nora had served him coffee many times.
He was a thickly built man who normally leaned against the fender, scrolling through his telephone with bored indifference.
That morning, Arthur was not leaning.
He stood rigidly upright.
His left hand was completely hidden behind his back.
It was the right side of his body that captured Nora’s attention.
His suit jacket hung incorrectly.
It did not drape. A bulge pulled the fabric tightly across his ribs, and the weight dragged the hem downward.
It was the unmistakable outline of a suppressed firearm inside a shoulder holster. The weapon sat higher and appeared bulkier than the standard sidearms carried by the estate guards.
Arthur was also sweating.
A thin layer of moisture reflected the sunlight across his forehead.
It was 40° outside.
His eyes repeatedly moved toward the front door.
He was not scanning the perimeter or waiting for his employer.
He was watching the glass.
Waiting for a target.
Nora’s hands remained on Dominic’s chest.
Her heart struck violently against her ribs.
If Dominic walked outside, Arthur would draw the gun.
There would be shouting, blood, and retaliation.
The estate would enter lockdown. No one would leave, and no one would be paid.
The fragile and quiet life Nora had constructed inside the shadows of the criminal organization would collapse.
She did not care about Dominic Rossi.
She cared about the Friday envelope.
She cared about routine.
Nora kept her expression completely blank.
She gave the silk tie 1 final and decisive adjustment.
Then she leaned forward by a fraction, her mouth near the lapel of Dominic’s suit.
“Your driver has a gun,” she whispered, barely audible over the grandfather clock ticking inside the hall. “Don’t get in the car.”
Dominic did not react.
That was the most frightening part.
A normal man would have jerked backward, looked through the doors, gasped, or demanded an explanation.
Dominic did nothing.
His breathing did not change.
His eyes remained fixed on Nora’s pale face without widening.
The coldness in his gaze seemed to deepen.
For 2 agonizing seconds, the foyer’s silence pressed against Nora’s ears.
Her hands still rested lightly against his chest.
She felt the calm and steady movement of his heart.
Then Dominic raised his hand.
His fingers closed around Nora’s wrist.
The grip was a steel vise, completely disproportionate to the elegance of his appearance. Pressure came immediately, grinding the delicate bones together.
A sharp gasp escaped her.
“You missed a spot,” Dominic said.
His low voice was pitched for ordinary conversation. It sounded casual and bored.
He did not look at the doors or Arthur.
Dominic pivoted smoothly and used his grip on her wrist to pull Nora with him.
He dragged her away from the glass and toward the interior of the estate, positioning her body between himself and the outside world.
A human shield.
The realization struck Nora with a wave of nausea.
If Arthur panicked and fired through the doors, the bullets would enter her spine first.
“Sir, my arm,” she said through clenched teeth.
She stumbled over the hem of her uniform skirt while trying to match Dominic’s long, unhurried strides.
“Quiet.”
The word carried the finality of a guillotine.
He pulled Nora past the dining room and toward the floor-to-ceiling oak doors of his private study.
She was permitted to clean that room only on Tuesdays and under a guard’s supervision.
It was Thursday.
Dominic opened the doors, pulled Nora inside, and kicked them closed.
The reinforced lock engaged with the sound of a vault sealing.
The study was dark and smelled of old paper, leather bindings, and faint cigar smoke. Heavy velvet drapes covered the windows.
The moment the lock engaged, Dominic’s facade disappeared.
He released Nora’s wrist.
She moved backward, rubbing the red marks already forming across her skin while her breath came in short, hard movements.
Dominic was already in motion.
The exhaustion was gone, replaced by kinetic violence.
He crossed the room in 3 steps and reached beneath the mahogany desk.
Metal scraped.
A slide moved with a heavy, oily clack.
When Dominic straightened, he held a black handgun.
He did not aim it at Nora. The barrel remained angled toward the Persian rug, but his body was coiled and ready.
