I should be asleep.

Instead, I am wondering what makes Judge Susan K. Weaver in Arkansas make decisions that appear both irrational and cruel.

She probably didn’t wake up one morning and think, “It will be fun to take a sixty-year-old woman’s retirement away from her.”

But what happens when old connections come calling, reminding her of past favors, shared history, or mutual interests? In small legal circles, old friendships, old debts, and old ambitions tend to resurface at just the right time. Maybe it wasn’t a direct call from an old friend—maybe it was a favor for a friend of a friend, the kind of unspoken arrangement that keeps the system running smoothly.

And why would a court reporter, Jana Perry, risk her reputation and possible criminal charges by falsifying transcriptions of hearings, like she did on the Pietrczak case? Court reporters hold an extraordinary power—recording, preserving, and, at times, shaping history. When a transcript deviates from reality, one has to wonder: was it a mistake, or was there a reason for the alteration? It’s curious, to say the least, that Jana Perry’s name intersects with legal controversies involving Judge Weaver. Coincidence? Maybe. But in the world of law, coincidences are often just patterns we haven’t fully unraveled yet.

Most people don’t think they’re evil. Even the worst villains rationalize their choices. Corruption isn’t always about greed or malice—it’s often about convenience. It’s easier to go along with the system than to stand against it. It’s easier to help a friend than to do what’s right. And once that first compromise is made, the next one comes easier.

Until one day, you wake up and find yourself as Judge Susan Weaver.

So maybe that’s how it happens. It’s not one big choice, but a series of small ones. A favor here, a shortcut there. A whisper instead of a wager. And before long, you’re not just playing the game—you own the game.

And people like Judge Susan Weaver get to keep playing, while the rest of us pay the price.