Your innocence is irrelevant if you can’t afford to prove it.
Write. Laugh. Hope.
They say the system is blind.
But it sees color. It sees class. It sees cash.
And it keeps receipts.
This isn’t about right or wrong.
It’s about whether you have a lawyer who knows the judge.
Whether you can post bail before your life collapses.
Whether you can afford to wait for justice
without losing your kids, your job, your sanity.
Because courtrooms don’t serve the people.
They serve procedure—and profit.
If you’re poor, you’re guilty until proven broke.
If you’re wealthy, you’re eccentric—never dangerous.
If you’re Black, you’re threatening.
If you’re calm, you’re cold.
If you’re loud, you’re hysterical.
If you’re a victim, you’re lying.
If you’re innocent?
You better have proof—and a good suit.
They call it “due process,”
but it depends on which side of the bars you wake up on.
You don’t need evidence.
You need money.
Connections.
Time you probably don’t have because innocent people still lose everything while they wait to be believed.
The scales aren’t balanced.
They’re rigged.
The gavel doesn’t fall.
It crashes—on your reputation, your future, your faith in anything ever being fair again.
And when it’s all over—
if you make it through—
you get a record.
A label.
A lifetime sentence in the court of public opinion.
But the judge gets a pension.
The prosecutor gets reelected.
And the real criminals keep writing laws.
Write. Laugh. Hope.
Because justice isn’t real until it’s available to everyone.
