What I Witnessed Before Judge Victor Bolden in Prudential v. Kowalski
Lawyers are solemnly described as “officers of the court.” The phrase is repeated like scripture in law schools, bar admissions, and courtroom ceremonies. It suggests a noble duty to justice itself—higher than client loyalty, higher even than self-interest. In theory, the “officer” role binds attorneys to safeguard the integrity of the judiciary.
But in practice, “officer of the court” has become little more than a gag order dressed up as honorific. The truth of that hypocrisy is not abstract. It was laid bare in the Federal District of Connecticut under Judge Victor Bolden—most glaringly in the case of Prudential v. Kowalski.
The Bolden Courtroom: A Stage, Not a Forum
What unfolded in Prudential v. Kowalski was not blind justice but scripted theater. Issues of privacy rights and due process—bedrock principles in any free society—were at stake. The promise of the judiciary was that arguments would be heard, evidence weighed, and rulings grounded in law.
Instead, procedure was wielded like a weapon. One of the most shocking moments came when Judge Bolden ordered the civil confinement of my daughter because she refused to hand over her personal passwords. Think about that: incarceration, not for a crime, not for contempt of an order tied to violence or fraud, but for declining to surrender the keys to her own private digital life.
It was a ruling that cut directly against the grain of privacy rights, due process, and common sense. Yet in the courtroom, lawyers—the supposed “officers”—were expected to keep silent, to treat this overreach as normal, to salute the robe and move on.
The Oath as a Muzzle
That moment exposed the true meaning of the oath. “Officer of the court” did not empower attorneys to safeguard fairness; it muzzled them into complicity. To object too loudly was to risk sanction. To call out judicial abuse was to risk professional ruin. The oath elevated obedience over courage, silence over advocacy.
The bar’s rhetoric insists that officers of the court exist to preserve justice. But what was witnessed in Bolden’s courtroom was the opposite: lawyers compelled to play along in a production that undermined it.
PACER: A System That Cannot Guard Its Own Integrity
Layer this hypocrisy onto the judiciary’s crumbling infrastructure, and the absurdity becomes complete. PACER—the federal courts’ Public Access to Court Electronic Records system—is supposed to embody transparency. Instead, it has long functioned as a paywall, charging citizens ten cents a page for documents already funded by their tax dollars.
And now PACER itself has been hacked. Sensitive filings, sealed cases, and private data—the very backbone of public trust—compromised.
So what does it mean to be an “officer of the court” when the court cannot even secure its own records? When judicial officers like Bolden confine a young woman for refusing to disclose her passwords? When transparency is sold off by the page, and then breached outright? Lawyers are told to uphold the dignity of the system, but the system cannot uphold itself.
Witness to a Hollow System
As was witnessed in Prudential v. Kowalski, the phrase “officer of the court” survives not because it is meaningful, but because it is useful. It props up judicial authority, it intimidates lawyers into silence, and it maintains appearances long after reality has collapsed.
The judiciary hides behind the badge of “officership,” while judges like Bolden abuse the robe in plain sight and institutions like PACER leak like sieves. Lawyers are not empowered guardians of justice. They are stagehands in a production that too often insults the very ideals it claims to serve.
The Verdict
Judge Bolden’s order to civilly confine a young woman for refusing to turn over her passwords in Prudential v. Kowalski revealed the ugly truth: “officer of the court” is not a badge of honor—it is a muzzle. It demands silence in the face of corruption. It elevates obedience over courage. And it leaves those who dare to resist isolated, branded, and punished.
The system demanded complicity, enforced silence, and punished dissent. And now, with PACER hacked and public confidence eroding, the hypocrisy of that oath is undeniable.
If lawyers are truly to be officers of the court, then the court must first prove itself worthy of being served. Until then, the phrase is just theater—a line in a play that grows less convincing with every act.
The Valley Viewpoint 