The Defamation Lawsuit That Should’ve Never Happened

Scene: A courtroom filled with a jury, lawyers, and a judge who looks one nonsense case away from quitting law altogether. The plaintiff—let’s call her Karen Holloway—stands before the court, complaining about how I “damaged her reputation” on Twitter (X). Her lawyer looks like he’s mentally drafting his resignation letter. Meanwhile, I sit on the defendant’s bench, completely unbothered, waiting for my turn.

Judge: Ms. Nilea, you may now respond.

[I raise a hand slightly, my tone calm but firm.]

Me: Your Honor, just… give me a second. Please. I have something to say. After that, I will not utter another word in this entire courtroom.

The judge, intrigued, nods for me to continue.

Me: [Turning to Karen, locking eyes with her]—You know what? If I’m going to be sentenced, just do it now. Please, Your Honor. Right here, right this second. Because I do not have time for this absolute nonsense.

And if, as we all already know, I win this case, please ensure that every single cent this woman pays—after my lawyer fees—gets divided among every single jury member sitting here today.

Because the real crime here isn’t defamation—it’s the fact that these people had to waste hours of their lives sitting here, listening to this foolishness.

And as for her lawyer—please charge her an extra tax. Call it the Tax on Stupidity and Nonsense. Because truly, if we are going to be out here throwing lawsuits around like confetti, at least let there be a financial consequence for this level of foolishness.

[Now, I shift my gaze back to Karen, whose self-righteous expression is starting to fade.]

Me: And you—why are you here?

Why are you out here, spiraling, dragging your nonsense through public legal records in a desperate attempt to seek validation for your foolishness?

Do you not see that you’re making it worse? You are doubling down on embarrassing yourself instead of fixing your life.

Here’s an idea: change yourself. Or fix your life.

That’s all I have to say. No other word will be coming out of me in this courtroom.

[I lean back, completely done with the situation. The courtroom is so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. The jury members look like they just witnessed live entertainment. The judge looks like they want to laugh but won’t. Karen’s lawyer is visibly regretting his career choices. And Karen? She just sits there, slowly realizing that her bad decisions have now been immortalized in a court transcript.]