I once stood in court as opposing counsel—a woman—interrupted me, raised her voice, and bulldozed the hearing with the subtlety of a protest march. The judge said nothing. Later, someone leaned in and whispered: “She fundraised for his last campaign.” And just like that, the rules bent. Some of our hardest trials don’t happen in court. They unfold in silence.

What if, just for one day, everyone in court told the truth? The mother admits she only wants custody to ruin his weekends. The witness says they're just here for the sandwich. The judge threatens to apply at Target. And I? I accepted a marriage proposal out of sheer exhaustion. Truth Day: A Most Inconvenient Miracle — now live on Diary of a Black Lawyer.

The husband claimed she signed the decree. She arrived in a wheelchair—unable to speak, but able to blink. Once for yes. Twice for no. And just like that, the courtroom became a polygraph test in pearls. Read the full scandal at www.diaryofablacklawyer.com.

The witness wasn’t just testifying—she was recording. Live. Mid-trial, we discovered her statement necklace doubled as a covert camera, beaming court drama to a Dropbox folder labeled “CamilleCam.” By the time the judge called chambers, opposing counsel was paler than a ghost with law school debt. Justice may be blind, but apparently, her witnesses are Bluetooth enabled.

The jury wasn’t deliberating justice—they were running a group chat called “Justice League” to rank the attorneys and vote on custody like it was Survivor: Family Court. One AirDrop later, and the trial collapsed like a bad BBL. Read how courtroom decorum got dragged into digital disgrace.

An anonymous submission reveals a husband whose list of affairs rivals a church program—complete with the child’s teacher, taekwondo instructor, Amazon driver, and the wife’s own sister. Court was held. Judgment was swift. And the tea? Piping. Read more at www.diaryofablacklawyer.com

A puppet named Justice Jack took the stand today. His head fell off in open court. So did my will to live. #DiaryOfABlackLawyer

When a child’s afro was replaced with a military fade, one mother brought receipts, rage, and a Ziploc bag of curls to court. What followed?

She entered the courtroom draped in pearls and pettiness. Her ex? Collapsed in despair—possibly from heartbreak, more likely from a subpoena

He collapsed. She sipped. The court paused. Just another day in family law with a touch of theater and top-tier side-eye.

He cried over Legos. She came for justice. The judge lost his wig. Family law: where bricks and breakdowns collide.