26th, April 2025

Black Lawyer
Apr 26
2 min read

Truth Day: A Most Inconvenient Miracle

Filed under: Unholy Revelations

Dearest Diary,

Today, the Lord tested me.

Not with trials or tribulations, but with the sheer, unfiltered absurdity of a courthouse plunged into complete and total honesty.

It began innocently enough.

I was seated at counsel’s table, assembling my paperwork with the resigned grace of a woman who knew her exhibit list better than her own blood type, when the first tremor of chaos struck: opposing counsel leaned over, dead-eyed, and whispered, "Frankly, I think my client is a certifiable moron. I'm just here for the retainer."

Diary, I nearly crossed myself.

Moments later, the mother in a custody case rose to give her testimony—and promptly confessed, voice trembling with righteous pettiness: "I don't actually want full custody. I just want to ruin his weekends forever."

The courtroom gasped. Somewhere, the ancestors gasped. I gasped.

Then came the parade of unholy revelations:

A father admitting he only requested equal parenting time "to look good on Bumble."
A witness blurting out, "I didn’t even read what I signed. I just wanted the free sandwich and parking validation."
The bailiff muttering under his breath, "Honestly, this job annoys me."
A paralegal confessing, "I've been making up half the scheduling conflicts just to leave early on Fridays."

Even Her Honour herself — a woman with a spine forged from steel and seasonal allergies — slipped.

As she adjusted her glasses, she sighed audibly into the microphone:

"God help me, if I have to hear one more 'he said/she said' about a toaster oven, I am putting in an application at Target."

I, ever the professional, tried to maintain composure—until, in a moment of divine weakness, I caught myself remarking (out loud, mind you) that opposing counsel's demonstrative exhibit had the graphic design sensibilities of a ransom note assembled by pigeons.

There was no saving me after that.

Courtroom alliances crumbled.

Clients openly wept.

Someone threw a highlighter.

Someone else proposed marriage.

I accepted, out of pure exhaustion.

It was, without question, the most miraculous, catastrophic, and soul-restoring day of my legal career.

Or so I thought—

until the bailiff banged his clipboard against the wall, and I awoke, drooling slightly onto my own cross-motion, to the grim, grey reality that none of it had happened.

Opposing counsel was still lying.

The client was still delusional.

The judge was still pretending not to be three exasperated sighs away from early retirement.

The only true miracle that day, Diary, was that the bailiff finally fixed the thermostat.

I remain as ever, Poised. Petty. Trying not to drool on my legal pad.

Disclaimer: All names, events, truths, and confessions in this entry are fictionalized for satirical purposes. I respectfully decline to comment on the accuracy of the dreams and nightmares experienced.

Tag a friend who would thrive in a world without lies.