You were up against Rex Alexander—a well-respected lawyer. Smart, calculated, and dangerously persuasive in front of a jury. But he had one glaring weakness: panic attacks.

Every time he stood in court, it began the same way—trembling hands, beads of sweat on his brow, a stutter in his voice… and then, collapse. It had been a shock to the legal world. After disappearing from the public eye for a while, Rex returned with a bold new strategy: Rex Is Not Your Lawyer.

Clients could hire him to train them to represent themselves in court. It was radical, and oddly effective. But it had its flaws—flaws your team could exploit.

As opposing counsel, your strategy was simple: undermine the client's understanding of the law. No matter how well Rex trained them, they weren’t lawyers. And today, it was working. You could feel it. The client was floundering under pressure, visibly rattled and backed into a corner.

And so was Rex.

From across the room, you saw his hands fidget. His leg bounced beneath the table. He stood up abruptly.

“I… I have something I’d like to say,” he announced, his voice projecting with forced confidence, but something was off.

His eyes scanned the courtroom—too fast, too erratic. He opened his mouth, but no words came. His face paled. Hands trembled. A thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead. He was spiraling. The courtroom hushed, all eyes on him.

Then it happened.

His knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling above. The courtroom erupted into noise, but for Rex, it all faded into a high-pitched ringing. His chest heaved as he fought for air, eyes wide, heart hammering against his ribs.

He was drowning in silence… and everyone was watching.