You don't have a lawyer, but the courtroom still has rules nobody hands you. A veteran litigator on how to look, sound, and argue like you belong there.
A pro se litigant is someone who goes to court without a lawyer, representing themselves. (You'll also hear "self-represented litigant," which means the same thing.) In a high-conflict divorce, plenty of people end up here not by choice because you spent your savings on the divorce itself, and now you're back in court post-judgment, either because your ex ignored an order or filed a new motion, and there's nothing left to pay an attorney with. Lisa lived exactly this: after spending roughly a hundred thousand dollars on her divorce, her own lawyer told her plainly that she'd be back in court and wouldn't be able to afford representation, so she'd better start planning to go it alone. Dozens of court appearances later, she has.
If that's where you are, the courtroom still runs on a culture nobody usually explains to you, and getting it wrong costs too much. So we asked someone who spends his life inside courtrooms on a daily basis. Eric Reinken is a Connecticut civil litigator with over forty years in practice, the founder of The Reinken Law Firm in Stamford, who's known Lisa throughout a number of years of her own court journey. Although he isn't a family lawyer, his advice covers how any courtroom actually works, and how to walk into one alone without handing the other side an advantage you don't need to give.
What "pro se litigant" means, and why how you carry yourself matters
The legal definition is simple: a pro se litigant argues their own case instead of hiring an attorney to do it. What isn't obvious is how much of the outcome rides on things that have nothing to do with the law. "You want to present yourself in the best possible way you can," Eric says, and most of that is "a bunch of minor things” which together decide whether you read to the judge as credible.
"You want to get all those minor little things that could be a 0.01% against you and take them off the table," Eric says. Although so much is out of your hands, these are things you can control, and a self-represented litigant who gets them right looks like someone the court can take seriously.
Look the part, and sweat the small things
Dress presentably, but don't overdo it in either direction. Eric's rule is to look professional without looking rich. If you're asking the court for money you're owed, don't walk in covered head to toe in designer labels. Skip the heavy jewelry, cover tattoos, take out facial piercings, and if your hair is an unusual color that week, put it back to normal. For family court specifically, the guidance Lisa was given from other professionals fit: don't try to dress like a lawyer, because you don't want to look like you're competing with one. Look like a clean, presentable version of yourself. (One concrete tip BTGO gives male clients heading in pro se: wear a white shirt. Simple, neutral, and it shows respect for the court.)
Resist the opposite temptation, too, which Eric sees constantly: the person who dresses down to look broke so they won't be ordered to pay. Judges, clerks, and mediators see straight through this tactic. As Eric puts it, that’s about “as transparent as Saran Wrap." It reads as manipulation, not poverty, to a room full of people whose whole job is reading people.
Then there are the mechanics most people never think about. Be polite to the marshals at security, bring the bare minimum through the metal detector: no food or drinks, nothing sharp, not even a bottle opener. And the single thing Eric names as most important before you even open your mouth: turn off your phone. Not silent, not vibrate. Off. Courtrooms are recorded, and a vibrating phone can hum through the microphone. Make sure anyone who comes with you does the same, because their ringing phone reflects poorly on you.
Know exactly why you're in court that day
One of the most common pro se mistakes is showing up without being clear on what's actually being heard. Courts run on specific motions, calendared for specific days. Before you go, find out which motion of yours is on the calendar, whether it's been marked ready, and prepare for that one with proper documentation, witnesses, objections, and any evidence you'll need to present.
The temptation, especially when you're carrying months of grievances, is to think that since you finally have the judge's attention, that's the time to raise everything else too. However, the judge most often must be narrowly focused on what's on the calendar, and trying to widen it rarely works. If you genuinely have several issues pending, the better move is procedural: in many courts you can ask to have your motions heard together on the same date, as long as you notify the other side. Check how it works where you are.
On exhibits, prepare like a professional. Eric's habit is an original plus three copies: the original goes into evidence, one is for your opponent, and one is a courtesy copy for the judge. You can buy exhibit stickers cheaply and label things in advance (colors are assigned by which party you are, so confirm yours), or have them marked at court. In many jurisdictions you can also upload exhibits to the court's website ahead of time, and there's usually a deadline, often somewhere from a week to 48 hours before. Both sides are supposed to have seen what's being presented. The principle underneath all of it: courtrooms don't like surprises.
Talk to the judge, not your ex
When it's your turn, know that the judge is your only audience. Eric is firm on etiquette, because judges notice a lot. Call the judge "Your Honor" every time, not "sir." Never interrupt the judge. And when you disagree with something your ex or their attorney says, do not argue across the aisle at them. Address it to the court. Instead of "that's a lie, you didn't pay!" you can say, "Your Honor, what my opponent said is not completely accurate. The fact is…" You don't even have to look at the other side.
Be concise. We often say, imagine that you're paying 8 million for a 30 second Super Bowl commercial. The judge will cut you off eventually, and if you've buried your important points under everything else, you'll never get to them. Have bulleted notes, hit your key points, and stop talking. Know too that reading from your notes is completely fine here; this is a judge, not a jury, and organization beats improvisation. And whatever happens, thank the judge on your way out, even if you lost. As Eric points out, in a high-conflict case you will likely be back in front of that same judge, so don't go out like a sore loser. Lisa says it a slightly different way to clients: divorce is only part one, so never leave a bad impression you'll have to pay for later.
Keep your emotions off your face
This is the hardest one for the people we work with, and Eric flags it as one of the fastest ways to lose ground. No rolling your eyes, no huffing, no theatrics. He's watched judges stop proceedings to rebuke someone for it, once even a spectator who wasn't a party to the case. It reads as juvenile, and you're trying to come across like a pro.
Of course it's normal to feel triggered in court, especially against someone like your ex. Our clients are usually sitting through false allegations and outright lies, and every instinct screams that if you don't react right now, the judge will believe it. Eric's counsel is to do the opposite. Let the other side talk. When they're grandstanding and think they're landing great points, glance down at your notes as if it isn't worth your attention. Let them talk themselves out, and answer with substance: a clear, organized narrative with evidence, and case law.
This is exactly the kind of thing we spend real time on with our own clients, because in a high-conflict case, composure matters. Staying calm and factual under provocation isn't just good manners. It's a strategy, and it's one to practice before you ever walk in.
Structure your argument the way a lawyer would
Eric's most concrete tip is about how to organize what you say so the judge actually retains it. He points to two old ideas from rhetoric. One is primacy and recency: people remember the first and last thing you say, and the middle fades, so put your strongest material in your opening and closing statements. The other is grouping your argument into a small number of clear parts so the judge can follow the structure.
Applied to a family-court motion, that looks like this. Open with why you're there today. In the middle, lay out what happened, which is mostly the facts. Then close with why you're entitled to the relief you're asking for. Anchor the whole thing to the order itself. Have the relevant order printed and next to you, with the violated sections highlighted, and quote the exact language. Do not paraphrase or misquote it, because the judge knows precisely what they wrote. If you're the one accused of violating an order, point to its exact wording and show what you did to comply, or give a legitimate reason as to why you couldn't.
It's your one shot: the transcript is your memory
Treat each hearing as your only chance to argue that point, because it usually is. Judges rarely grant a motion to re-argue; it typically takes significant new evidence or a clear mistake by the court. So don't leave anything out, even the items you think are minor. And know the ceiling above that: an appeal is built on the record, not on what you wish you'd said. You can't introduce new evidence on appeal, and family-court decisions are largely discretionary, which makes them hard to overturn. Most family appeals that succeed turn on errors about evidence, not on a judge's judgment call.
One tool Eric and Lisa both swear by is the transcript. If you want a transcript of a hearing, order it from the court reporter out of your opponent's earshot, ideally during a break, so they don't think to order one too. Lisa's practice with long, contentious cases is to get transcripts as soon as possible and use them as a foundation the next time she's in court: on this date, the record shows the court said this. She submits past transcripts as exhibits to demonstrate a clear, documented pattern of behavior over time, and notes how often the other side hasn't even bothered to read them. Judges don't have time to reread every proceeding, so a party who has the record at their fingertips has a real advantage.
There's another benefit, too. When you're representing yourself through something traumatic, your memory of what happened in the room is unreliable, and whereas a transcript is emotionless and typed. More than once, Lisa has walked out certain she'd fumbled, then read the record and found she'd done well. It's a record of what actually happened, not what your nervous system makes you harshly believe occurred.
Questions to ask yourself
- If you had to walk into court tomorrow, what 2 small, controllable things can you do to prepare yourself better?
- When the other side provokes you, how might you respond in a way that reads as composed rather than reactive?
- For your next hearing, what motion is being heard?
- How might you structure your next argument so your strongest points land first and last, instead of getting buried in the middle?
- What past hearings might be worth ordering the transcript for, and how could that record support the pattern you're trying to show the court?
Moving forward
Almost none of this is about the law, and that's encouraging. You may not be able to afford an attorney, but you can control how you dress, whether your phone is off, how you speak to the judge, how to structure your argument, and whether you keep your composure when you're baited. Those are learnable, and they're the difference between a self-represented litigant a judge writes off and one the court takes seriously. Pick a few of these to work on before your next appearance, and build from there. You're carrying more of this than anyone should have to. Getting these things right is how you give your actual case its best chance to be heard.
Resources
Eric Reinken is a Connecticut civil-litigation attorney with over forty years of experience and the founder of The Reinken Law Firm in Stamford, CT, representing injured people and survivors of abuse. (Note: Eric is a civil litigator, not a family-law attorney; his guidance here is about courtroom conduct generally, not family-law advice.)
From Been There Got Out:
- Been There Got Out: Toxic Relationships, High-Conflict Divorce, and How to Stay Sane Under Insane Circumstances, our guide to surviving the whole marathon.
- Presentation and strategic oversight are two of the things we coach directly.
Frequently asked questions
What is a pro se litigant?
A pro se litigant is a person who represents themselves in court instead of hiring a lawyer. "Pro se" is Latin for "on one's own behalf," and you'll also see the term "self-represented litigant," which means the same thing. People go pro se for different reasons, but in high-conflict divorce it's often financial: the initial divorce drains their resources, and they're back in court post-judgment with nothing left for an attorney. Being pro se doesn't change the rules of the courtroom or the standard you're held to, which is exactly why understanding court culture matters so much. As litigator Eric Reinken frames it, a self-represented person should aim to come across "as much like a lawyer as you can" in conduct and preparation, even without the law degree.
How should a pro se litigant dress for court?
Aim for clean, professional, and unremarkable, without going too far in either direction. Eric Reinken's rule is to look presentable but not rich; if you're asking the court for money, don't arrive in obvious designer clothing. Remove heavy jewelry, cover tattoos, take out facial piercings, and fix an unusual hair color. For family court, don't try to dress like an attorney, since you're not competing in that field. Look like a tidy version of yourself. One tip BTGO gives male clients is to wear a plain white shirt. Just as important, don't dress down to look poor to avoid paying, a tactic Reinken says judges and clerks see through instantly.
What should you never do in front of the judge?
Never interrupt the judge, and never put on a show. Eric Reinken is emphatic that eye-rolling, huffing, grandstanding, slamming papers, or any theatrics can turn a judge against you fast, and he's seen judges stop to rebuke people, even spectators, for it. Keep your phone completely off, not on vibrate, since courtroom microphones can pick it up. Don't argue directly at your ex or their attorney across the aisle; direct everything to the court. And don't try to raise issues that aren't on the calendar for that day. All of it comes down to one idea: you want to read as calm, prepared, and professional, because a self-represented litigant who looks composed is easier for a judge to take seriously.
How do you address the judge when you're representing yourself?
Call the judge "Your Honor" every single time, not "sir" or "ma'am," and speak to the court rather than to the other side. When you need to correct something your ex or their attorney claimed, phrase it to the judge: "Your Honor, what my opponent said is not completely accurate. The fact is…" Be concise, because the judge will eventually cut you off, and you don't want your key points buried. Reading from prepared notes is perfectly acceptable in front of a judge. And thank the judge before you leave, even if the ruling went against you, Eric Reinken advises, because in a high-conflict case you will almost certainly appear before that same judge again.
How do you prepare exhibits as a pro se litigant?
Prepare them the way an attorney would. Eric Reinken's standard is an original plus three copies: the original goes into evidence, one copy is for your opponent, and one is a courtesy copy for the judge. You can buy exhibit stickers inexpensively and label your exhibits in advance, though the sticker colors are assigned by which party you are, so confirm which is yours, or you can have them marked at court. Many courts also let you upload exhibits to their website ahead of time, usually by a deadline somewhere between a week and 48 hours before the hearing. The guiding rule is that courts don't allow surprises: both sides are entitled to review anything that will be presented, so check your jurisdiction's filing procedure early.
How should you structure what you say to the judge?
Organize it so the important points stick. Eric Reinken leans on two rhetorical ideas. First, primacy and recency: people best remember the first and last things they hear, so put your strongest material at the beginning and end and keep the facts in the middle. Second, group your argument into a few clear parts and signal them as you go. For a family-court motion, that means opening with why you're there, laying out what happened, then closing with why you're entitled to the relief you're requesting. Anchor everything to the order itself: keep it printed beside you, highlight the sections at issue, and quote the exact language rather than paraphrasing, because the judge knows precisely what was written.
Can you re-argue or appeal if a hearing goes badly?
Usually not, which is why each hearing matters so much. Eric Reinken notes that judges rarely grant a motion to re-argue; it generally requires significant new evidence or a clear error by the court. So make every point you have while you have the floor, even the ones that feel minor, because you likely won't get a second chance to argue them. An appeal is also more limited than people expect: it's based on the existing record, not on new evidence you wish you'd introduced, and it typically succeeds only on mistakes of law. Family-court rulings are largely discretionary, which makes them especially hard to overturn, so the appeals that win usually turn on evidentiary errors rather than the judge's judgment.
Are court transcripts worth ordering as a pro se litigant?
Often, yes, especially in long, contentious cases. A transcript gives you an exact, emotionless record of what was said, which serves two purposes. Strategically, you can cite it in later hearings ("on this date, the record shows the court said…") and submit past transcripts as exhibits to demonstrate a documented pattern of behavior over time. Lisa does this routinely, and notes how often the other side never reads them; since judges can't reread every proceeding, having the record ready is an advantage. Practically, it also protects you from your own memory, which trauma tends to distort. Order the transcript from the court reporter out of your opponent's earshot, ideally during a break, so they aren't prompted to order one too.
