17th April, 2025
- Black Lawyer
- Apr 17
- 2 min read
Entry No. 190: “The $750,000 Baby Daddy Plot Twist”
Filed under: Offshore Affairs, Mediated Mayhem & Ego on Entry
Dearest Diary,
Some clients seek legal representation.Others seek spiritual redemption through reckless litigation.
And then, there are men like my client—a devoted father of three, two of whom his wife did not know about until mediation.
We begin, as one must, with the wire transfer.
This gentleman—an elegantly dressed, accent-laced West African king of confidence—transferred $750,000 in community funds overseas to what he described as a “joint international enterprise.”
By “enterprise,” he meant his girlfriend in Nigeria. By “joint,” he meant fertile, as she had not one, but two surprise children during his marriage.
When this came to light (via a printed WhatsApp transcript he failed to redact), his wife said to her lawyer, which she relayed to me, “I would like to exit this delusion with my name, my child, and a functioning blood pressure.”
Fair.
We proceeded to mediation.
Tense.
Dramatic.
It was giving Downton Abbey meets Nollywood courtroom crossover.
And yet, against all odds—and probably the will of God—we reached an agreement.
Assets divided. Child’s 529 college fund protected.
Everyone signed.
Even the husband, who nodded as if he'd written the agreement himself in a past life.
I emailed him, texted him, and called him to say:“DO NOT GO TO COURT ON THE DAY OF ENTRY. THE DECREE WILL BE SIGNED WITHOUT A HEARING.”
He replied with a thumbs up emoji and the prayer hands.
So naturally…he showed up.
In court.
In person.
In an Ankara blazer and moral confusion.
He stood up in the back like a soap opera villain who’s faked his death and returned to reclaim the family fortune.
"Your Honour!" he declared, “I have changed my mind!”
The judge peered over her glasses like she’d just been asked for her Beyoncé concert tickets.
He ranted.
He flailed.
He said the agreement had been signed under duress.
(“What kind of duress?” the judge asked.)
He pointed at me.
Me.
The one who warned him three times and said, verbatim, “You will not embarrass me in court.”
He argued the 529 account “was not necessary because our daughter is not my only daughter I need to take care of."
He said the money sent overseas was “an investment in pan-African legacy.”(We later found out it bought a duplex and a goat named Destiny.)
Opposing counsel just sipped her iced matcha and whispered, “I love this job.”
Eventually, the judge ruled as any judge with a calendar and a moral compass would:“Sir, the agreement is binding. Please sit down.”
He did.
Slowly.
Like a man who’d just been evicted from a fantasy.
Because you can send $750,000 to your secret family.
You can call it “business.”
You can even show up uninvited in court like a Z-list Marvel villain.
But you cannot undo a signed mediated settlement agreement because you woke up feeling whimsical.
I remain, as ever—Briefed. Betrayed. But Billing for All of It.
Disclaimer:This entry is a fictionalized satire. Any resemblance to actual baby daddies, foreign investments, or courtroom theatrics is entirely coincidental—but spiritually predictable.
Have you ever had a client ignore your advice?
Comments