Local
The lawyer strengthening LGBTQ partnerships for five decades
Larry Jacobs’s lifetime of advocacy
When most people come out, becoming a pillar of the queer community isn’t usually top of mind. Instead, they often reflect on gaining confidence in their environment, finding love and relationships, and embracing their true selves. But when one Maryland lawyer came out, he unexpectedly found himself becoming a hero to many.
Fifty years ago Lawrence (Larry) Jacobs was living a life that looked picture-perfect: A successful law career, a wife, and a son. But when he came out as gay, everything changed.
“When I started practicing law 50 years ago, there was basically no such thing by and large as openly gay people, much less openly gay lawyers,” Jacobs told the Blade about his days prior to coming out. “I was married to a woman and had a kid. I was pretty closeted until the first 10 years of my career.”
Despite the beginnings of a successful career, Jacobs felt he wasn’t being truly himself and decided to change that. It was difficult leaving his familiar beginnings and facing unsupportive people.
“When I did come out in ‘83 I got tossed out of my own law firm for being gay by my [law] partner,” he said. “So that was not a good start.”
Yet he didn’t let this change in track become a setback. Instead he used what he learned through college, law school, and life to direct him to where he needed to be. This direction, stemming from his understanding of law, began to flourish into much more for the Maryland LGBTQ community.
“I started representing gay business owners in doing corporate and business work, which was always something I was interested in,” Jacobs said. “So lo and behold, as I got more comfortable being out and I had a [romantic] partner, I started nibbling around the edges of doing activist work in Montgomery County.”
This work began with working on wills and estate planning.
“I had my first set of gay business owner clients who said, ‘Larry, we need wills,’” he recounted. “And I said, ‘I’ve never written a will.’ And they basically said, ‘Figure it out.’ That was almost 2,000 wills ago.”
During the time when Jacobs started writing wills in the 1980s, HIV, AIDS, bigotry, and sadness came to many in the community with little support from mainstream politicians.
“You know the old AIDS days, ‘80s and ‘90s, where the families would swoop in and carry the body off to Iowa and the partner would never see them again,” Jacobs recalled. “There were all these heartbreaking stories about that.”
He explained that these stories were not just kept to the queer media sidelines either. This issue was growing more and more prevalent in American society.
“One of the turning points, ironically, was a made-for-TV movie that was on HBO called ‘If These Walls Could Talk.’” Jacobs said. “It was a series of vignettes about lesbians. A fabulous actress played a grieving surviving spouse of her partner who had just died. They’re literally carrying stuff out of the house, carrying the TV and furniture and paintings out, and she’s sitting there crying.”
Seeing these tragic stories playing out in front of him, both on screen and in real life motivated Jacobs. He knew he could do more to help.
“What little bits of things can I do to make gay life better in Montgomery County, for the people that come after me,” Jacobs began to wonder. He realized that in the fight for rights, being seen is crucial to gaining acceptance.
“Working with some people, we actually put together early Montgomery Prides and ran them for a few years, just to sort of build political visibility,” he said. “I kept telling people, ‘Nobody’s gonna listen to us if they don’t see us!’ And then right around the same time, around ‘95, everything just kind of took off.”
“I got appointed to the Montgomery County Human Relations Commission by our then county executive, Doug Duncan, as an openly gay man,” Jacobs said. “Well, I had never been an openly gay man much of anything before then, but it was like, ‘Yeah, yeah, OK.’”
This seat on the Montgomery County Human Relations Commission gave Jacobs the ability to wield power to help those who needed it the most. He remembered that fighting for LGBTQ student rights in schools was a particularly big hurdle that seems all too familiar today.
“Through an odd combination of coincidences, I, with Bonnie Berger, launched the Safe Schools movement in Montgomery County to protect LGBT kids in schools, and that turned into a three ring media circus,” he began to explain. “I mean, you want to see ugly? It included getting interviewed on a radio station with a Christian fundamentalist woman who said right to my face, ‘You know, gay men on average die at age 40.’ I was like, ‘Yeah, I’m already past that. So is my partner.’”
Despite the “three ring circus,” Jacobs and Berger were able to make progress.
“We did get it passed, it got swept under the rug, but eventually we got more supportive schools,” he said. “But then I sort of somehow got involved more on the state level with the statewide organization that was then ironically called FreeState Justice.”
This then marked a shift from fighting for local policy changes to state policy changes, which Jacobs foresaw as the next step to gaining equality.
“We were desperately trying to get domestic partnership benefits,” Jacobs explained. “Nobody could get married. If you’re not married to somebody, you’re a stranger, whether that’s in Maryland or even in the District. Unless you’re registered domestic partners, you’re nothing [in the eyes of the law].”
Jacobs used his platform to inform the queer public. Without legal domestic partnerships he understood that everything two people in love had, regardless of gender and gender expression, could be taken away in an instant.
He started sharing his information by tabling and talking with members of the LGBTQ community about the state of things wherever he could, highlighting what could happen if a partner dies.
“Sometimes my husband and I, well, I would get a booth at Pride, and my husband would come with me and swelter. Sometimes my son would come with us and swelter, and it just started growing,” Jacobs said.
He would share stories about how having legally binding documents can protect a couple even against the most hateful of people.
“I had these two elderly women, one of whom was sick and we knew her partner was going to die,” he began. “I don’t remember how old she was, but she was sick. She died not long thereafter, and my client, the surviving client, went into the funeral home, and they gave her a hard time. ‘Who the hell are you? Why do you think you can make decisions?’”
“And she literally called me up and told me this. She [then] brought in a manila envelope with all the documents that we had done and pulled out the funeral document that named her, of course, as the power behind the throne, and handed it over to the funeral director, and he went ‘Oh, OK. That’s all we need.’”
While many of the issues that had plagued same-sex couples prior to Obergefell v. Hodges, the Supreme Court case that gave same-sex couples the same protections as opposite-sex couples, went away, Jacobs made it very clear legally being seen as a couple is the strongest defense to protecting everything you and your partner own.
“There’s certainly more acceptance because of marriage equality,” Jacobs explained. “And I will, without violating client confidentiality, tell you there are numerous clients that I have said to, ‘You need to get married. Yes, we’re doing these great documents, but you need to get married too for this and this and this and this reason.’ The right documents and a wedding license are a very powerful combination. Neither one by itself is foolproof, and marriage gets you a lot of things, but doesn’t get you everything.”
To summarize an extremely rewarding and impactful career Jacobs offers this piece of advice: “If I could be remembered for anything it would be ‘Get married, and get married while you can, because someday you’re going to need it, want it!” Jacobs said he plans to retire effective Dec. 27.
District of Columbia
How Pepper the courthouse dog helps victims of abuse
Reshaping how the legal system balances compassion with procedure
Deborah Kelly’s blind husband, Alton, was dragged for blocks to his death by a hit-and-run driver who had already plowed into her on Alabama Ave., S.E., in June 2024.
But her trauma had only just begun. It took 10 months before the driver, Kenneth Trice, Jr., was arrested, and another six months before he was sentenced to just six months behind bars.
As she heaved and sobbed in the courtroom in November, Kelly had a steady four-legged presence by her side: Pepper the Courthouse Dog, as the black Labrador retriever is known in D.C. Superior Court.
Abby Stavitsky, a former federal prosecutor who now serves as a victims’ advocate, is the owner and handler of nine-year-old Pepper. She says that one of the things that has made Pepper such a great asset in the court in the past six years is the emotional support and comfort she provides to victims.
“She absorbs all of the feelings and the emotions around her, but she’s very good at handling it,” Stavitsky said.
Pepper and Stavitsky started working in Magistrate Judge Mary Grace Rook’s courtroom — and now works in Magistrate Judge Janet Albert’s — to provide support for youth who suffer trauma, especially young survivors of commercial sexual exploitation.
These specially trained dogs offer emotional support to trauma victims of all ages. Courthouse dogs can reduce victims’ and witnesses’ anxiety and stress, making it easier for them to provide clear statements in the courtroom, according to a 2019 report in the Criminal Justice Review.
“Having something to pet and interact with is a distraction that results in victims being calmer when testifying in court,” says Stavitsky. “This gives them an extra level of comfort.”
What brought Stavitsky and Pepper together
Stavitsky, who spent 25 years as an assistant U.S attorney, handled a lot of victim-based crimes, mostly domestic violence and sex offenses. She was also a dog lover, and once she learned about courthouse dogs and their use, she was inspired.
In 2019, Pepper was given to Stavitsky by a Massachusetts-based organization, NEADS, formerly known as the National Education for Assistance Dog Services. Although Pepper was originally trained to be a service dog, evaluators determined her character was best suited for a courthouse dog.
Pepper now works regularly in various treatment court cases involving juveniles, many of whom have experienced trauma or are involved in the child welfare system. She also sits with victims while they are testifying in a trial.
“She loves people, especially children,” Stavitsky said. “She loves that interaction.”
Courthouse dogs have a long history
In courthouses across the U.S. specially trained “facility dogs” are becoming an important part of how the justice system supports vulnerable victims and witnesses.
Since the late 1980s, these dogs were used to help trauma survivors and anxious children during testimonies and interviews. The first dog to make an appearance in a courtroom was Sheba, a German shepherd who assisted child sexual abuse victims in the Queens (N.Y.) District Attorney’s Office. Courthouse dogs help them communicate more clearly, especially in these settings that make them anxious and stressed.
Unlike service dogs, courthouse facility dogs are professionally trained through accredited assistance dog organizations and work daily alongside prosecutors, victim advocates, and forensic interviewers. For example, courthouse dogs can have more social interaction, unlike service dogs.
Courthouse dogs’ growing use has prompted state laws and professional guidelines to recognize the dogs as a trauma-informed tool that helps victims participate in the justice process without compromising courtroom fairness.
As more jurisdictions adopt these programs, courthouse dogs are reshaping how the legal system balances compassion with procedure, ensuring that victims’ voices can be heard in environments that might otherwise silence them.
Pepper makes it easy to see why.
“I really love people, especially kids, and can provide emotional support and comfort during all stages of the court process,” reads the business card Stavitsky hands out with Pepper’s picture. “I’m calm, quiet and can stay in place for several hours.”
(This article was written by a student in the journalism program at Bard High School Early College DC. This work is part of a partnership between the Washington Blade Foundation and Youthcast Media Group, funded through the FY26 Community Development Grant from the Office of D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser.)
Rehoboth Beach
Women’s FEST returns to Rehoboth Beach next week
Golf tournament, mini-concerts, meetups planned for silver anniversary festival
Women’s+ FEST 2026 will begin on Thursday, April 9 at CAMP Rehoboth Community Center.
The festival will celebrate a remarkable milestone in 2026: its silver anniversary. For 25 years, Women’s+ FEST has brought fun and entertainment for all those on the spectrum of the feminine spirit. There will be a variety of events including a golf tournament, mini-concerts and happy hour meetups.
For more information, visit Camp Rehoboth’s website.
District of Columbia
How new barriers to health care coverage are hitting D.C.
Federally qualified health centers bracing for influx of newly uninsured patients
Washington, D.C. has the second-lowest rate of people who lack health insurance in the country, but many residents are facing new barriers to health care due to provisions of the sweeping federal law passed in July, which threatens access for thousands.
Changes to insurance eligibility and the rising cost of premiums, which kicked in for some in October and others more recently, are expected to leave many more patients uninsured or unable to afford medical care. Federally qualified health centers, including D.C.’s Whitman-Walker Health, where 10 to 12 percent of patients are uninsured, are bracing for an influx of newly uninsured patients while facing their own financial challenges.
Even in D.C., where uninsured rates have been among the lowest in the country, changes brought on by the passage of the Republican mega bill (known as the “Big Beautiful Bill”) will have major effects.
The changes from the bill affect Medicaid, which is free to low-income patients, and subsidies for insurance that people buy on the health insurance exchanges that were started under the Affordable Care Act, which were allowed to expire on Dec. 31.
Erin Loubier, vice president for access and strategic initiatives at Whitman-Walker Health, says some Whitman-Walker Health patients have received notices about premium increases, including several who say the increases are up to 1,000 percent more than they were paying.
“That is like paying rent,” she says. “We live in an expensive city, so any increases are going to be really, really hard on people.”
Whitman-Walker Health and other healthcare providers are expecting the changes to have multiple effects — some patients may not be able to afford coverage or may avoid going to the doctor and allow health conditions to worsen because they can’t afford care, and many more will be seeking care who don’t have insurance.
“I’m worried that we’re going to not just have people who can’t get care, but that they delay care until they’re really sick, and then the care is not as effective because they might have waited too long, and then we may have a less healthy population,” Loubier says.
Loubier says delaying care, and serving more people without insurance has major implications for Whitman-Walker Health and other health centers serving the community.
“There’s going to be a lot of pressure on us to try to find and raise more money, and that’s going to be harder, because I think all organizations who provide health care are going to be facing this,” she says.
The U.S. health care system is the most expensive in the world, and has much higher out-of-pocket costs for individuals. But in other countries like the United Kingdom, Australia, Canada, and many others, health care is much less expensive — or even free.
Even though the U.S. has a high-priced healthcare system, critics say there are still ways to bring down costs by forcing insurance and pharmaceutical companies to absorb more of the costs, rather than transferring the costs to patients.
“In the U.S., they end up trying to cut costs at the person’s level, not at the level of the different corporations or structures that are making a lot of money in healthcare,” said Loubier. “Our system is so complicated and there is probably waste in it, but I don’t think that that cost and waste is at the ‘people’ level. I think it’s higher up at the system level, but that is much, much harder to get people to try to make cuts at that end.”
Ultimately at Whitman-Walker Health, healthcare providers and insurance navigators are planning to help with everyday necessities when it comes to healthcare coverage and striving to provide healthcare in partnership with patients, said Loubier.
“The key here is we’re going to have a lot of people who may lose insurance, and they’re going to rely on places like Whitman-Walker Health and other community health centers, so we have to figure out how we keep providing that care,” she said.
(This article was written by a student in the journalism program at Bard High School Early College DC. This work is part of a partnership between the Washington Blade Foundation and Youthcast Media Group, funded through the FY26 Community Development Grant from the Office of D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser.)
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