19th April, 2025
- Black Lawyer
- Apr 19
- 2 min read
Entry Title: The Puppet Has the Floor
Filed Under: Mental Incompetency (Of Counsel)
Dearest Diary,
There are days when the legal profession demands intellectual rigor. Other days, it requires divine patience, lavender oil, and a firm grip on your last nerve.
Today was the latter.
We were in a routine hearing—a custody modification, nothing too salacious.
Opposing counsel, whom I shall refer to as Theatrics Esq., made her grand entrance in four-inch patent heels, a pantsuit that could blind the dead, and—brace yourself—a ventriloquist dummy.
Yes, Diary.
A dummy.
Named Justice Jack.
She introduced it solemnly, like one might a medical expert or a war hero. “My client struggles to express herself,” she intoned, “so Justice Jack helps facilitate emotional clarity.”
I turned slowly to the judge, who gasped once in disbelief, removed her glasses, and whispered, “I’m sorry—am I awake?”
The judge allowed them to proceed for the sake of decorum, which felt like letting a toddler drive to preserve traffic flow.
The mother—my client—looked at me like she was being punked by the entire judicial system.
I reassured her the court had not, in fact, lost the plot entirely. Only… misplaced it.
Justice Jack “spoke” in a scratchy falsetto and claimed the child “preferred grilled cheese to emotional manipulation.”
He also referred to my client as “the angry lady with the evil eyebrows,” at which point I politely inquired whether Jack would be cross-examined or exorcised.
At one point, the judge attempted to sustain an objection but paused, perhaps unsure of whether one could overrule felt and polyester.
And then—like a divine gift from the petty gods—the dummy’s head fell off.
Snapped clean off and rolled under opposing counsel’s table like a disgraced gavel.
Silence.
Followed by a single cough from the court reporter, who was visibly crying from holding in laughter.
Even the bailiff turned away, shoulders trembling.
Opposing counsel, unbothered, scooped up Jack’s head and muttered, “He’s been through worse.”
A phrase I now plan to embroider on a throw pillow.
As I left the courtroom, the mother asked if this would hurt our case.
I told her the only thing harmed today was the reputation of the legal profession.
I remain, as ever— Cross-examined. Composed. And Questioning My Life Choices.
Disclaimer:This entry is a fictionalized satire. Any resemblance to actual people, events, or lawsuits is entirely coincidental—but not impossible.
Tag someone who would object to a puppet in court—but still buy one if it came with receipts.
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