When we last checked in on All’s Fair, we described it as legally inaccurate, ethically unhinged, and weirdly addictive. We imagine they’ve received feedback along those lines, which should explain why in episode 2, “When We Were Young,” we get pretty much the same level of unhinged television.
Instead of dialing things back, the show doubles down. The outfits get sharper, the personal entanglements messier, and the legal accuracy more theoretical than ever. If episode 1 was a glossy declaration of intent, episode 2 is confirmation that this series has no interest in learning how family law actually works.
And frankly, that consistency is almost admirable.
Let’s start with the names, because…wow
Allura Grant. Carrington Lane. Dina Standish. Emerald Greene. Liberty Ronson.
These are not names so much as brand activations. At this point, the seven dwarfs’ names seem more grounded in reality. If someone walked into our offices with one of these names, we would quietly assume it was an alias and check the intake form twice.
The show clearly wants these characters to feel iconic, larger than life, and unmistakably fictional. Mission accomplished.
Conflicts of interest? Ignored with confidence
Episode 2 introduces a subplot that almost brushes up against real legal ethics. We learn that Carrington Lane (Sarah Paulson) — a rival attorney with a long-simmering grudge against Allura Grant (Kim Kardashian) — has taken on Chase, Allura’s soon-to-be ex-husband, as a client. This immediately sets up a dramatic legal face-off: former colleagues with a shared history and plenty of unresolved feelings.
In the real world, red flags would be raised when a lawyer’s personal history overlaps this heavily with a case. On this absurd show, it barely registers.
Carrington doesn’t take Chase on because she’s uniquely qualified to represent him but because it gives her a convenient way to antagonize Allura and the women who left her out of their firm. It’s less legal strategy and more professional-grade pettiness.
Yes, conflicts of interest are a real thing. However, in reality, the scenario depicted in this plotline would collapse under its own ethical weight. On television, it’s framed as bold and empowering. But if you ask actual family law attorneys like us, Carrington Lanes simply do not exist in the legal profession.
Female lawyers supporting female lawyers…creatively
There’s an obvious attempt in this episode to frame certain decisions as feminist solidarity. But support does not mean abandoning professional boundaries.
The feminist solidarity in question is depicted here with Allura recruiting Dina (Glenn Close) to represent her in the divorce. Watching this dynamic may feel emotionally satisfying, especially if you take note of the fact that Carrington loathes Dina. Watching these alliances form feels less like legal strategy and more like a carefully orchestrated power move.
That said, this scenario isn’t entirely implausible. And we suspect this subplot was masterminded by creator Ryan Murphy who probably wants to see Sarah Paulson and Glenn Close square off in a beautifully dressed, slow-burn catfight.
When the plot jumps off a cliff
There is a point in the episode where a client of Grant, Ronson & Green’s, Dr. Deandre Barber (Elizabeth Berkley), jumps to her death. She did so upon finding out her husband got her involved in a manufacturing company that ended up buried under massive debt.
Is it unrealistic that a client under extreme stress might spiral? Not entirely. High-conflict divorces and financial collapse can push people to dark places. But a client ending her life at a glossy, high-powered law firm, in full view of the attorneys? That’s where the show veers firmly into comedy.
Real clients in crisis don’t behave the way TV writers imagine they do. And if something this traumatic were to happen in real life, the lawyers and staff who witnessed it would be deeply affected, professionally, emotionally, and likely for a very long time.
On All’s Fair, that trauma is wildly short. By the next scene, Allura and company are sipping champagne on a private jet, as if witnessing a client’s death on the office balcony was just another meeting that ran long. If nothing else, the emotional whiplash they impose upon viewers is impressive.
On champagne, private jets, and the fantasy of family law wealth
The show also insists that family law is fueled by meetings with free-flowing champagne, attorneys taking private jets to go anywhere, and midday crises resolved between wardrobe changes.
Reality check: most family lawyers get around on calendar invites and lukewarm coffee. If family law paid as much as this show wants you to believe, we would all be commuting via private jet a la attorney Allura Grant.
It bears repeating that nothing about this depiction resembles the actual economics or rhythms of the profession.
Carrington Lane: The reason we keep watching
And yet! Sarah Paulson’s Carrington Lane remains the show’s secret weapon. She is sharp, controlled, and deliciously antagonistic. Every scene she’s in snaps into focus.
From a lawyer’s perspective, she is a walking ethics violation. From a viewer’s perspective, she is one of the best things that happened to television. We stay for Carrington, not the case law.
Our verdict
Is episode 2 accurate? No. Is it ethically sound? Absolutely not. Is it entertaining? 100%.
All’s Fair continues to be legally wrong in almost impressive ways. We at LaGrandeur & Williams will continue watching, strictly for professional research purposes. As always, nothing in this show should be mistaken for legal advice. For that, real lawyers still matter — reach out if you need us.