On the Stand: How to Handle Court When You're Dealing with a High-Conflict Ex
Jun 11, 2026Hundreds of hearings later, I can spot the parent who's about to lose custody the second they walk into the courtroom.
It's not the one with the worst story. It's not the one with the worst ex. It's the one who showed up unprepared, dressed wrong, fidgeting in their seat, and trusting Larry to save them. And in 45 minutes, that parent is going to cry on the stand. Defend themselves on cross. Glare at their ex. And hand over their damn kids without realizing what they just did.
That's the truth half of you don't want to hear. The hearing you lost wasn't because the judge couldn't see your truth. It was because the second their attorney asked you the question Larry never warned you about, you broke. Larry took your retainer, walked into court with your file, and watched you implode in real time while your ex's attorney sat there smiling.
Welcome to family court. The place where prepared parents walk out with their kids and emotional parents walk out with every other damn weekend.
This week I'm tearing through the six things your attorney was supposed to coach you on and almost certainly didn't. I survived hundreds of hearings in my own custody case. Not an exaggeration. I know what it's like to throw up the morning of court. Cotton mouth. Diarrhea. Cry-shaking in the parking lot. And then walk in there and deliver a damn sermon when the judge looked at me.
The physical prep your attorney skipped. The mental prep nobody bothered to mention. The 45-degree angle that makes the judge take your ass seriously. The water-sip trick that physically stops you from crying mid-answer. The 5x7 photo move that anchors your focus when their attorney comes for blood. The bingo card system that turned me from a babbling wreck the night before court into the parent opposing counsel stopped calling to the stand because he knew he couldn't crack me.
I'm also coming for the storytellers. The parents who walked in last time thinking their truth would carry them. It didn't. It never fucking does. The judge isn't moved by your truth. The judge is moved by your composure, your patterns, and whether you can stay Eeyore while their attorney bait-questions you into oblivion.
Plus the part nobody wants to admit out loud. The judge is judging your ass the second you walk through the door. Your outfit. Your nails. Your tattoos. Your sniffing nose. Your RBF. Your eye rolls when your ex lies. All of that shit goes into the file. And if you walked into your last hearing in a black suit you couldn't breathe in, sniffing into the microphone, glaring at your ex like a damn teenager? You lost the case before the gavel ever came down.
If you've got a hearing on the calendar in the next year, this is the episode you don't get to skip.
Here’s What You Can Actually Take Away:
- Preparation Beats Truth - The parent who practiced is the parent who walks out with the custody plan they wanted, regardless of who had the better story.
- Walk The Building First - Sit in on a hearing weeks before yours so the parking lot, the metal detector, and the courtroom layout don't add to the anxiety on day one.
- Answer To The Judge - Sit at a 45-degree angle, look at whoever asks the question, but always deliver your answer to the person taking the notes.
- Water Stops Tears - The most underrated emotional regulation tool on the stand is a small sip of water at the exact moment you feel yourself losing it.
- The Bingo Card Saves Your Case - Write down every question their attorney could ask that would rattle you, prep the answer in advance, and the cross-examination loses its power.
- Patterns Beat Stories - "He's always late" loses; "He was late 43 of 72 visits over seven months" wins.
- How You Show Up Matters - Your outfit, your nails, your RBF, your sniffing nose, all of it goes into the judge's decision whether anyone wants to admit it or not.
- Don't Try To Win On Cross - Cross-examination is where you survive, not where you win; let your attorney clean it up on redirect.
The Truth Bombs
- "You're not losing on the stand because you're lying. You're losing because you're unprepared."
- "Court is not where you process your pain. It's where you present your proof."
- "Sit your ass still. There's no if, ands, or buts about it."
- "When you get called to testify about your best job in the world of being a parent, you show the fuck up."
- "Do not try to win your case during cross-examination. That's where cases get lost."
- "Emotions are okay. Losing control is not."
- "You're not up there to describe your ex. You're up there to demonstrate their behaviors over time."
- "First impressions matter. The second you walk in that room and the second you open your mouth, you're being judged. As you should be."
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Samantha Boss: Most people don't lose credibility on the stand because they're lying. They lose because they get too emotional. They're unprepared. They talk too much.
In today's episode, we're really going to dive into the six major things that I think are important that your attorney should be coaching you on. Your attorney should be saying, "Hey, here's how to come into this prepared." Because for most of us listening, we've never been to court. We're rule followers. We maybe had a traffic ticket when we were 17, and we didn't have to go to court for it. So for a lot of us, this is our first time ever walking into the building. Let alone the courtroom. Let alone sitting on the stand.
So a lot of it is how to get yourself prepared will cut down your anxiety. I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to twist this up and make it sound glorified. This is one of the worst experiences of your life. Having to go in front of a judge and openly talk about yourself, your past, your future, your kids, your ex, and your situation. It's rather humiliating.
I went to court a lot in my custody battle. A lot. Like, hundreds of times. That is not an exaggeration. It was a long stint. But I can still remember the first time, and here are the things I wish I would have done by preparing.
Scope Out The Damn Building Before Trial Day
I wish I would have gone to the courthouse before my court date. I wish I would have figured out the parking lot. How to walk in. What I'm allowed to wear. Metal detectors. Can I bring drinks. Can I bring food. Where the bathrooms are. What the vending machines take. I needed to get a lay of the land. Because when you're walking in, you can literally feel your breath shaking.
You're nervous about, "Am I going to see my ex? Is he bringing his mom? Is she walking in with her new boyfriend?" You get really anxious about the people around you. You kind of just numb out.
So court is very difficult. It's not just going up on the stand and speaking. It's just the whole showing up that's really hard.
So I highly recommend, as a taxpayer, go listen to court a couple weeks before your trial. Get familiar with the lay of the land. Go in and watch your judge work. You can sit and listen to any court case you want. Make yourself more comfortable with the physical environment. Watch a case work itself out in front of you so you see how it goes. They call somebody up. They swear to tell the truth. One person talks, then the next, then the judge. Get familiar with it.
Stop Winging It. Write The Damn Story Out.
Now besides the physical prep is the mental prep. I want you to write your story out.
People get confused on this. They think, "I don't want to bore someone. I don't want to waste anyone's time." No. This is how you get more comfortable with your story and your facts. You talk about it. Whether you hire a divorce coach or you get a friend to sit down with you, you talk about your case. You tell your story. You get feedback.
You need to know what points you really want to hit on. Some of you want to word vomit your whole life. No. That's not what we're doing.
We're breaking things down into segments. Money conversations. Children conversations. Communication. Future. You really need to lay it out in segments. You need to know what's a good story to hit on under each category.
You also need to write out what questions you would love to be asked about specific things. Money, conversations, the ex, school, medical. Or what questions are you hoping don't come up. I would prepare for those, because those are the questions your ex's counsel is going to ask you.
What better tool than to already know what dirt they have on you, or think they have on you, or things they know will rattle you. You prepare your answers. If you don't prepare for answers, you are going to be an emotional wreck when you try to answer them. You do not want zero preparation and then go up there. When they ask "Why did you do this?" and you're like, "Oh shit, I didn't know they were going to ask that."
First off, where is your attorney? Why didn't your attorney prepare you? And I'm sorry, but for some of you, this is the first time anyone's told you any of this. Which I think is sad and pathetic. Not you. Your attorney.
Park Your Ass And Don't Move A Muscle
How do you physically show up on the stand?
First and foremost. If you are a fidgety person, not today. Not the day of court you're not.
You will sit your ass still. You will not be tapping your leg. You will not be fidgeting. You will not be picking at your fingers. I'm a hair twirler. Anybody else? Hair twirlers out there listening, I can twirl my hair, tie it in 17 knots, sit there and keep doing it. For court, your ass will be sitting still.
Bring tissues. Tuck them in your sleeve, in your sweater, in your pocket. There will be tissues out there. There should be a box sitting somewhere. If not, bring some. Because you're going to use them. Hands get sweaty. Upper lip starts to sweat. You cry. Or you're one of those people who gather spit in the corners of your mouth. You need to be able to wipe.
Bring water or have access to water. When you did the surveillance, you went in on that pre-week and looked around. Do they have open water in the courtroom. Where's the water fountain. Are you allowed to bring an empty bottle. Please don't bring pop and coffee and Starbucks. No judgment. Just water.
The other part. Bring pictures of your kids so you can focus on why you're there.
I brought 5x7 pictures. They were slid into a three-ring notebook with the plastic clear cover. So when the case got hairy, when it was a bad emotional moment, I would just stare at my kids and keep my focus. And the judge could see those 5x7 pictures on my table. So he knew I came to play the game of seriousness. I came for my kids.
Eyes On The Judge. Not Your Damn Lawyer.
Picture this. Your attorney is asking you questions. We've all seen TV. The witness looks at the jury. In family court, most of the time, there is no jury.
So where do I want you looking? The judge.
I want you turned at a 45-degree angle. Knees at 45. So you have your attorney or their attorney in front of you, the judge over to your left or your right, and you split the difference with your knees. Look at whoever is asking the question. But when you answer, you're not answering for your attorney to keep notes. You're answering for the judge to keep notes.
Why?
Number one. It screams, "I'm telling the truth. I'm making eye contact with the person who's making the determination." I'm confident with my answer. I don't need to look at my attorney for reassurance or guidance.
When my attorney says, "Sam, tell me about your children." I say, "Well, Judge, I have a three-year-old and a one-year-old. Walker is my three-year-old. He's the oldest, a very active kid, an early riser..." I'm looking at the judge. I'm addressing the judge.
"Well, Judge, about my job, I'm a school teacher. I have been for 15 years."
I want the judge to know I'm talking to the person making the decision. I want the judge taking good notes. If they're looking at me and I'm looking at them, they better be paying attention.
Here's what I've realized observing a lot of cases. Judges write grocery lists. Judges work on other cases. Judges open files from the next case and start signing or stamping while you're talking. It's absolute bullshit. But if I'm looking at them and they can feel my eyes on them, they better be paying attention.
I'll keep saying, "Judge," before I speak. "Your Honor." Whatever it is where you're from. Make sure you're engaging with the person making the determination in your case.
The Wreck The Night Before Becomes The Sermon On The Stand
Should you look at your ex? I'm team yes. Because I'm confident.
Two cents. Before every court case, hundreds of them, I was nervous. Diarrhea. Sweaty palms. Cotton mouth. Throwing up. Sleepless nights for weeks.
All of that washes away the second your ass gets on the stand. If you're telling the truth. If you're the good fit for the children. All of it washes away. There is some kind of superpower that comes over you and you're able to deliver your message.
You might be hearing this with court coming up Monday and going, "Sam, there is no way I'm going to be that confident." The person speaking to you now as Sam was not who I was back in those days. But who I showed up in court as was that person.
I would be nervous walking in. Nervous sitting next to my attorney. But the second I got on the stand, my shoulders went back. My chest came out. My head got higher. I sat up straighter. And I just, "Yes sir. Judge, here's what you need to know." All of a sudden, I was giving a sermon.
When I'd get off the stand and go back to the table, when I'd get home, I'd be in the fetal position. Crying. Shaking. But when you get called to testify about your best job in the world of being a parent, you show the fuck up.
For women, I categorize it like this. There's some magic that happens that we're able to push a child out of a hole. That's magical. I've had four come out of there. Still mesmerized. I think that's just as magical as how I performed on the stand. I overcame my fears and still somehow spoke sentences. The night before court, no way. I was a blubbering idiot. But on the stand, I said what I needed to say.
When Their Lawyer Is Trying To Rip You Apart
Your attorney is asking you questions. This is your time to explain. You should know the questions ahead of time. You know what details to give. You know what examples. You're showing patterns of behavior. Both that you're amazing, and that the other parent maybe is not.
Talk about your kids in depth. Go into detail. Be humorous. Be real. I want to close my eyes when you're talking about your kids and physically picture them.
"Walker. He's a gorgeous three-year-old. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Active. The kid wakes up no matter what time of night he goes to bed. He's a picky eater. He excuses himself to the bathroom in every restaurant we've ever been in. But if you created a sport today, he'd already be good at it at three."
That's what I would say to the judge. Or, "Josie. She's one. She's really into her pacifier right now. We're trying to take it away. I think she's going to be an early potty trainer. She likes to snuggle."
I'm describing in detail. Not like, "Oh, she's athletic, loves to read." What kind of books do they like to read? What position do they play in the sports they play? Are they annoying at bedtime? Do they like their teachers? Show that you know your kids the best. Think about whether your ex would say the same.
When their attorney is asking you questions, keep it factual. Keep it brief. Keep it direct. Do not over explain. Do not get tongue-tied. Do not get frazzled. Do not try to defend yourself.
You give facts. Asked and answered. "I do not recall." Work out a phrase with your attorney for "I don't know what that means" or "I don't understand that question." There is nothing wrong with saying that. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that question?" "Can you show me where I said that?" "Do you have evidence I can read?" Ask for clarity.
You do not try to win your case during cross-examination. Listen to this. Do not try to win your case during cross.
When you get rattled, get frustrated, start lashing out, start being defensive, start crying, start screaming, you will lose your case.
In my case, when my attorney interviewed me, I was well put together. When his attorney interviewed me, he asked me a few questions and said, "I'm done." Because he knew he couldn't break me. I was a superhero that day. All the days. He never ever in my whole case would put me on the stand and ask me questions. He knew I was not the fuck up.
Now reverse it. When I got on the stand for my attorney, fine. When my ex got up for his attorney, decent. He knew the questions. But when my attorney cross-examined my ex? Woo. He hadn't been coached properly. Defensive. Argumentative. Sarcastic. Demeaning. He'd question my attorney like he was equal to her. That did not bode well with the judge.
Build The Damn Bingo Card Or Get Buried
If you're worried about your ex's counsel, go through a bunch of questions they could ask to rattle you. Put a bingo card together.
A bingo card is a piece of paper with little boxes all over it. You write down every possible question that could be asked of you that would piss you off, frazzle you, upset you, trigger you. That way if it happens, you're quietly on the stand going, "Hmm. I had that on the bingo card. I'm prepared for that answer."
When you don't prepare for the difficult questions, you'll be the one who cries. Gets defensive. Lashes out. Breaks down. Hyperventilates. Or all of the above.
Remember. You watched enough court TV to know this. You will be questioned like an Oreo. Your attorney, their attorney, your attorney again. If you get frazzled on cross, your attorney can clean it up on redirect. "Hey Sam, it seems we got in the weeds back there talking about the daycare debacle. Take a breath. Explain what really happened." Boom. Open mic. I can now explain it with the comfort of my attorney asking. Looking at the judge. "Well Judge, I got confused, but here's what really happened."
Cry If You Need To. Just Don't Lose Control.
It's okay to have feelings on the stand. It's okay to pull that tissue out of your shirt and check your tears and wipe your nose. God, nobody wants to listen to somebody sling snot up and down their nose, so please blow your nose. Pull away from the microphone, blow your nose, come back. And stop sniffing your nose. You know who you are. Your family needs to tell you that you're a nose sniffer. Don't do that.
A judge is judging you. Bad hygiene. Appearance. Sniffing your nose. Being annoying. Yes. They will. That's the reality.
But here's the trick. If you start crying in a spot you don't want to cry, drink. Take that water with you to the stand. Drink water. It stops the crying. Keep drinking until you stop. Take a breath. Regain control.
When is a good time to cry? When your attorney asks a question and you're crying about a story. About your children. Sure, cry. But not hyperventilate cry. Some tears rolling down. Ask to gather yourself for a second. Keep going.
Some of your cases are very intense. Lots of abuse. Lots of trauma. Crying is a natural response. But a judge has to be able to write down something you're saying. You being emotional is not evidence. Emotions are okay. Losing control is not.
A judge has to look at you and go, "You're well put together. You conduct yourself well. You seem rational. You seem reasonable. You have control over your emotions. Even when opposing counsel came at you, you stayed legit. You stayed controlled. You stayed normal."
Because that's part of the game. I want to show that no matter how hard the opposing attorney comes for me with a bingo card full of irrational questions, bullshit accusations, falsehoods, I stayed Eeyore.
But if I show rattled. Emotional. Reactive. Then my ex gets on the stand and says, "She's irrational. She lashes out. She's unpredictable. She's moody. I think the kids are scared of her." One and one is two.
Quit Slapping Labels On Your Ex. Show The Damn Patterns.
We're not labeling our ex. We're showing patterns.
We're not saying "he's always late." We're saying, "In the last 72 visit opportunities over the last seven months, they've been late 43 times. That's a percentage of this."
We speak in facts. Timelines. Consistencies that have happened.
A lot of you tell the one-off story. "This one time, they were 45 minutes late." Cool. Maybe they had a flat tire. But if they've shown a pattern of always being late. Never paying. Never communicating. Neglect. Harm. I'm going to talk about those patterns.
I'm not labeling somebody a psycho, a narcissist, a bitch, an asshole. That's not my job. My job is to say, "Here's how my kids have come back from the last seven visits alone. Disheveled. Unclean. Same underwear. Taking big poops because they say they haven't pooped in three days."
I speak in facts I can prove. Not my theory that they're an asshole. My level of mean could be different than yours. Or the judge's. You don't know. So you give facts. Not opinion.
You stay calm. Show your details. Have your evidence organized. That makes you credible.
Force Their Ass To Say One Nice Thing About You
A judge is trying to determine who's a better fit for the kids most of the time. Or are these people okay to do joint?
If I'm trying to come across that I'm in control, I'm good for joint. I can rise above. I can deal with their ass. I can put it aside. I do that every day at my job. I'll show you that by having three witnesses come in and say I don't hold precedent.
But can my ex? Can my ex show that they can work with me?
One of the best questions I love attorneys to ask both sides is to say something good about the other parent.
"Sam, what are you good at?" "I'm good at making sure my home is safe, welcoming, that my children can show up any way they need to, and I'll fill their love tank."
"Can you tell me something great about your ex?" "Absolutely. He has financially provided for them. Made sure they've had insurance their whole lives. And he teaches them that a routine is good for them."
That's it. I gave them something. Now, I'll later talk about how that routine is over the top. But I gave a positive. If your ex refuses to say anything nice about you? That speaks volumes.
Dress Like A Damn Parent. Not A Hot Mess.
Bring pictures of your kids. Water. Tissues. All documents organized. Make three copies of everything. A copy to opposing counsel, the judge, and your team. Three copies. Saves on billing. Your attorney can tell you that.
Bring something to fidget with under the table. A bracelet. Something small to roll between your fingers. Because we're sitting still.
What to wear? A judge is looking out and seeing two parents walk in. I don't care if it's man-woman, woman-woman, man-man, they-them. They're looking at two parents.
A lot of us in this decade have lost the idea that court is a professional setting. Sunday best on.
I don't need you dressing out of character. I've seen guys who are worker bees, tatted up, look amazing in a t-shirt and jeans. But then they put on a suit they haven't worn in three years. Stuffed sausage. Uncomfortable. White socks. Miserable. If they'd just worn nice dark jeans and a button-down or polo and clean boots, they'd present so much better. When you feel better, you present better.
I'm not saying you have to wear a suit. Wear what makes you look like a parent. Wear neutral colors. Enough with the black and dark and doom and gloom. If I want to present as light and love, but I'm wearing a three-piece black suit, no I'm not. I want to look like a dad.
For the women, we have to look at these judges. If you're not looking to see who your judge is, what age bracket they're in, are you even trying? No way I'm walking in with four-inch nails to a judge with white hair. I'm probably not going to show my tattoos if my judge is a boomer. Let's be smart about this. I don't want to get judged. I have tattoos. I'm not going to show them off, even though that's who I am. You have to know your audience.
Neutral colors. Soft colors. Not black. Maybe navy with khaki, or blush pink with navy. I want to present as a loving parent. Nothing tacky. Nothing distracting. Borrow clothes. Go to the thrift store.
If you're going in there to say "I'm broke" but you've got new highlights, fresh nails, and a brand new expensive outfit? We have to know how to present ourselves.
Research your judge. Younger judges may be okay with tattoos and piercings and bold makeup. Do I want to take that chance? No. I want to put my best foot forward with the best chances possible.
The Judge Is Watching You The Damn Second You Walk In
For those who think evidence is the only thing weighing on whether you get your kids or not, that's not true.
I am friends with a lot of judges. First impressions matter. They do. When you're sitting at the table with your attorney and you have RBF (resting bitch face) so hard, it's a distraction. When you're glaring at your ex. When you're going "ugh" every time they lie on the stand. That is a distraction. A judge will judge you for it. As they should.
You should be showing up the best. Look your best. Feel your best. Try your best. Acting like a juvenile with eye rolls and fidgeting? No. Put your shit together. Show up for your kids. Try your hardest. Because this makes or breaks how much you see your kids.
Ask your attorney to help you with these things. They should already be doing this. But I probably wouldn't have a job if they were.
Being on the stand isn't about telling your story perfectly. It's about showing up to court through your behavior. Of being stable. The reliable parent who hits the needs of your children. And proving the other side does not.
Practice makes perfect. If you wait until the day of court to be the first time you walk in the building, you're adding stress that's not needed. If you wait to practice what you're saying on the stand, you will fumble.
Practice. You'll be able to tell how much your attorney practiced. And you'll definitely be able to tell how much your ex practiced.
Good luck.
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