Litigators set the record straight on Hollywood's legal myths

"You're a lawyer, right? Okay, so your job is just like 'Matlock' 1.0 or 2.0, 'The Good Wife,' 'Good Fight,' 'The Firm,' Legally Blonde,' the collected works of David E. Kelley, or every other film or TV legal drama?"

We've all been there. Between a deep sigh, an attempt to not visibly roll your eyes or a constrained cry of "you can't do that in real life," you wonder which trope will be excitedly brought up by your new acquaintance. It's flattering that Hollywood finds the law so interesting, but perhaps surprising that it takes so many liberties with our world. We understand that some creative license is necessary to make legal tales more captivating to audiences; no one is going to watch someone typing discovery responses or redlining deal documents. But we're not convinced it has to be this way. Shows like "The Pitt" have proven that content can still attract large audiences without forgoing a precise -- minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour and, at times, gory -- depiction of a profession. See e.g., John Shumway, "How Accurate Is 'The Pitt'"? "A UPMC Doctor Weighs In.," CBS News, June 10, 2025; Reggie Ugwu, "Busy Doctors Can't Get Enough of 'The Pitt'", New York Times, Feb. 19, 2025.

Not to mention, the impact of entertainment-generated preconceived notions about the legal system isn't necessarily limited to obligatory explainers at cocktail parties. Those same preconceived notions could even be held by potential clients or jurors who will quickly find out that their matter won't be resolved overnight via a dramatic takedown on the stand or that their jury room experience will tend not to resemble "12 Angry Men." (Of course, we thank and excuse comedies like "My Cousin Vinny," which were never intended to be accurate. For movies like these, we are willing to suspend our disbelief.)

Without further ado, here are our four favorite pervasive inaccuracies in almost every show featuring attorneys:

No, a trial will not occur within a month of the incident; no, we are not getting surprises at trial.

We're litigators. We take our discovery, depositions and trial prep very seriously. While it makes sense that TV shows designed to entertain would condense a trial into one (or maybe two) 45-minute episodes, is there anything more annoying than the fast-tracking of what we do? We often see depictions of a matter going from client intake to the jury announcing its decision within a few weeks. Where are the years' worth of discussions with opposing counsel about deadlines? What about the late nights poring over deposition testimony, witness lists and evidence to meticulously plan for a trial that is surprise-free? A civil trial is an event that is years in the making -- where is the "Three Years Later" title card where all the attorneys (not to mention paralegals) have just a bit more grey hair?

We wish more TV and film writers understood that most multimillion-dollar disputes, especially those that go to trial, are not wrapped up and resolved within a few months. The best trope in this category? That the same speedily executed trials are resolved only after a surprise witness takes the stand with bombshell testimony! In real life, we plan to avoid surprises. Whether civil or criminal, many are expecting a sly Ben Matlock or clever Elle Woods to take down a weeping witness with a case-ending flourish, or an intrepid Kalinda Sharma to show up with the right manila envelope at the right time.

Most attorneys are not closing deals and going to trial on the same day.

Say you, like us, are California-based and barred litigators. Have you ever been asked for your insights on divorce law in Ohio? To advise on your friend's cousin's business sale in Arkansas? We think this is thanks to another bothersome favorite in the writer's room: that every barred attorney is an expert when it comes to any issue, anywhere, on which someone may need to consult counsel. Gone are our industry-standard distinctions between transactional attorneys and litigators, and God forbid there should be any understanding of sub-specialties within an area of law. But it's not uncommon to see, in a single episode of TV, the same lawyer character handling a civil litigation trial and subsequently negotiating a major merger agreement on behalf of a multinational corporation.

We appreciate that TV and film writers think lawyers can do anything! But now we should come with a disclaimer that, even though we went to law school and passed the bar, litigators litigate. We're not going to represent you in family court or on your house sale. We're always happy to provide a referral.

And it goes without saying that the creative industries don't typically capture how rigorous bar admissions procedures actually are, given their love of fictional attorneys who are questionably barred or are, say, practicing under a false identity.

We are not getting or receiving a U-Haul of documents.

E-discovery is real; We all know it, but our chroniclers don't. One of the most pervasive (and annoying) details we see over and over again is how discovery is depicted onscreen. We've all seen it: the moving truck filled to the brim with brown banker boxes of paper documents. Now the legal team has to go through each printed document, equipped with a highlighter, a large coffee and a dream in order to locate the perfect hot document that will either make or break the case. Great dramatic effect, but of course, the real-life experience is not nearly as scintillating. What television audience wants to watch a dramatization of data being extracted from a phone or someone clicking through an e-discovery platform to review and code docs? 

And of course, that perfect hot doc that will make or break the case is a lot like the surprise witness. Writers love to imply that all our work hinges on smoking guns of various kinds. If only. But we get it -- a clever procedural move or beautifully-written motion for summary judgement doesn't have quite the same dramatic effect.

There isn't a standard lawyer lifestyle.

There are also the inevitable lifestyle and personality stereotypes. Yes, we are thirty-something attorneys, but no, we are not just eating popcorn and drinking wine for dinner. No, we do not necessarily identify with the ensemble character who happens to be an attorney, is a partner and also has time to have a daily lunch-and-gab with her three closest friends. No, neither of us is secretly a superhero fighting nefarious foes as a side hustle after getting a blood transfusion from a cousin. No, we are not all naturally confrontational in our personal lives.

It makes sense that TV attorneys need character development. While most of us attorneys have our fair share of late nights or rushed meals, every lawyer's day-to-day varies, and there is no standard lawyer lifestyle. We contain multitudes! The same is true of lawyer personality stereotypes that chiefly revolve around fast-talking people in sleek suits or those who are confrontational because we "like to argue." For every Saul Goodman in the content sphere, a lot of us aren't larger-than-life characters (although, let's be honest, we have a few in our profession). Don't even get us started on tropes around TV judges, especially the quirky ones who mete out genuinely bizarre verdicts or punishments. As much as we'd like to see more realistic depictions of what we do included onscreen, we know that drama and story come first. So for now, what do we do when someone assumes our lives are just like the attorneys they see on TV? This is where we employ a key element of good judgment associated with being an attorney, when we choose between explaining the reality to our new acquaintance and not bursting their little "Law & Order" bubble. Sometimes we just smile and say, "Oh yeah, my work life is perfectly depicted in that TV show where some people did not go to law school, and everyone is simultaneously closing deals and going to a high-stakes trial while living on popcorn!" And we just move on.

In sum, you can't handle the truth

Okay, we understand that the point of legal drama is to create digestible, bite-size nuggets of entertainment that thrill and chill and surprise and cajole. The truth is that there are plenty of high-intensity moments in a litigation practice; their structured environment is just not always conducive to high drama, and no, we are not all enmeshed in figuring out how to get away with murder. So we will continue to understand that suspended reality is a critical part of Hollywood's view of a litigation practice. We just hope that you will also understand that we, as litigators, are still waiting for our real-life "you can't handle the truth" moment.