Judge Prescott thought he could silence Pam Bondi with a fine.
He never expected her to dismantle his entire argument in front of everyone.
The courthouse in Tampa, Florida, had seen its fair share of legal battles, but on this particular morning, no one could have predicted the storm that was about to unfold.
Pam Bondi, sharp as ever, stepped through the heavy wooden doors, briefcase in one hand, the other adjusting the lapel of her blazer.
She was here for what should have been a routine hearing—one she could argue in her sleep.
As she made her way to the defendant’s table, she felt the judge’s eyes on her before he even spoke.
Judge Alan Prescott, a man known for his no-nonsense demeanor, was staring not at her face, but at something just below her collarbone—a simple gold cross.
The air in the courtroom shifted into a quiet stillness.
Then, in a tone as sharp as a gavel strike, Prescott cleared his throat and leaned forward.
“Miss Bondi, I must remind you that religious symbols have no place in my courtroom,” he said.
Pam barely blinked.
“Your Honor, you’re wearing a cross. That violates the neutrality of the space. You’ll need to remove it or face a fine.”
A murmur rippled through the few spectators in attendance.
The bailiff shifted uncomfortably.
The clerk darted a glance at the judge, then back at Pam.
This wasn’t the first time a judge had tried to assert control over his courtroom in an unusual way, but it was the first time anyone had thought to fine a lawyer over a necklace.
Pam didn’t move.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor, but my cross is no different than a wedding ring or a locket with a family photo inside.”
Judge Prescott’s face remained unreadable.
“That’s not how I see it,” he sighed, as if already growing tired of the discussion.
“Either remove it or I’ll have to issue a fine for disregarding courtroom neutrality.”
For the first time in her career, Pam Bondi found herself fined—not for misconduct, not for a procedural violation, but for wearing a piece of jewelry.
The fine wasn’t the issue.
It was what it represented.
She didn’t take off the cross.
Instead, she folded her hands over her briefcase, her expression cool.
She wasn’t about to let this go.
“Your Honor, before we continue, I’d like to address this issue formally.”
Judge Prescott raised a brow.
“Address it?”
“Yes,” Pam replied.
“I’ll be filing an objection and would like to state my argument on record.”
The judge smirked, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Miss Bondi, I’m sure you’re aware this hearing is about a business dispute, not your personal grievances.”
Pam didn’t flinch.
“I’m also aware that the First Amendment doesn’t take a recess for personal opinions.”
That got his attention.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly.
The court reporter’s fingers hovered over her keyboard.
The room was now on edge—not because of a legal battle over a contract, but because a seasoned attorney had just challenged a judge’s authority to his face.
Pam knew she was walking a thin line, but backing down wasn’t an option.
“You’re fining me for wearing a cross. Let’s break that down legally, shall we?”
The judge exhaled, rubbing his temples.
But before he could respond, Pam was already reaching into her briefcase.
She wasn’t just going to argue—she was about to dismantle his entire premise.
Judge Prescott didn’t realize just how deep of a hole he had started digging for himself.
Pam pulled out a single sheet of paper from her briefcase and placed it carefully on the table in front of her.
She didn’t rush.
Every movement was deliberate.
Every second of silence was another tightening of the tension in the room.
“Ms. Bondi,” the judge sighed. “I don’t have time for theatrics.”
Pam didn’t blink.
“Neither do I, Your Honor. But what I do have is a firm understanding of constitutional law.”
The judge leaned forward, his fingers laced together, as if bracing for what was coming next.
“You’re fining me for wearing a cross, claiming it violates courtroom neutrality. But tell me, Your Honor—what legal precedent are you basing that on?”
The room went silent.
The court reporter’s fingers hovered.
The bailiff barely shifted.
Judge Prescott let out a slow breath.
“This courtroom operates under my authority, Ms. Bondi.”
Pam nodded.
“It does. But that authority is not above the Constitution.”
She tapped the paper.
“And under the First Amendment, personal religious expression is protected—especially when it does not disrupt proceedings.”
The judge scoffed.
“You’re an attorney, not a law professor.”
Pam smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
“Then let’s talk case law, shall we?”
She picked up the paper.
“Tinker v. Des Moines, 1969—a landmark case that established that individuals do not shed their constitutional rights when they enter a government institution, whether that’s a school or a courtroom.”
Judge Prescott’s jaw tightened slightly.
He knew that case.
Everyone in the legal field did.
Pam didn’t stop.
“West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette, 1943. The Supreme Court ruled that compelling individuals to remove or hide symbols of personal belief is a violation of their First Amendment rights.”
She set the paper down.
“Now, Your Honor, would you like me to keep going, or would you prefer to reconsider that fine?”
The judge’s fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair.
He was cornered, and he knew it.
But his pride wouldn’t let him concede—not yet.
“This is not a religious debate, Miss Bondi.”
Pam tilted her head.
“Then why did you make it one?”
A few quiet gasps broke out in the courtroom.
Judge Prescott’s face darkened.
His voice was sharp, but his authority was slipping.
Pam leaned forward, her voice steady.
“With all due respect, Your Honor, I’ll stop when I receive a legal justification for this fine. Because so far, I haven’t heard one.”
A long pause followed.
The judge finally looked at the clerk.
“Mark the fine as pending review.”
Pam smirked.
“I’ll take that as a temporary victory.”
But she wasn’t done yet.
The real fight was just getting started.
Prescott had expected quiet compliance—not a full-blown constitutional challenge.
The courtroom was electric.
Pam could feel every set of eyes on her.
She had drawn a line in the sand, and now the judge had two choices: stand by his weak justification and risk humiliation, or find a way to backtrack without losing control.
Prescott wasn’t one to back down easily.
“Ms. Bondi,” he began, “courtroom rules exist for a reason. If I allow one form of personal expression, I open the door to all of them.”
Pam’s lips pressed together.
“You mean like the wedding bands worn by half the attorneys here? Or the lapel pins you allow on government officials?”
Prescott’s jaw tightened.
Pam didn’t let up.
“Or let’s talk about the time you allowed a defense attorney to wear a pink ribbon for breast cancer awareness during a trial. You had no issue with that.”
A few quiet murmurs broke out.
Prescott shot a glare at them.
But the damage was done.
Pam had exposed his selective enforcement.
She sat back, crossing her arms.
“So tell me, Your Honor—why does this rule apply only to my cross?”
Prescott’s fingers curled around the edge of his desk.
He was trapped.
Everyone in the courtroom could see it.
He had enforced an unwritten rule based on personal bias, and now it was crumbling beneath him.
For the first time since the hearing began, he didn’t have a response.
Pam didn’t need to gloat.
She let the silence stretch just long enough for everyone to absorb the truth.
Then she delivered the final blow.
“If you stand by this fine, Your Honor, I will be filing an appeal before the ink dries on the ruling.
And when that happens, I guarantee this case will make headlines.”
She let that sink in.
A sitting judge fining a woman for wearing a cross in court?
She was sure the higher courts would love to weigh in on that.
Prescott’s nostrils flared.
His ego and pride were at war with the reality in front of him.
Pam didn’t look away.
She let him sit with it.
The longer he delayed, the more obvious his mistake became.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he exhaled sharply.
“The fine is rescinded,” he muttered.
Pam smiled.
“Much appreciated, Your Honor.”
But this wasn’t just about a fine anymore.
She had sent a message loud and clear—one that Prescott wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
