Snoop Dogg Stands His Ground: How a Judge Tried to Fine Him for Wearing a Cross—And Got Schooled in His Own Courtroom

On a crisp March morning in 2025, the Riverside, Oregon Courthouse was preparing for what should have been a routine civil hearing. But as the wooden doors swung open and Snoop Dogg walked in, the atmosphere shifted.

Dressed in a tailored black leather jacket, dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and a thick gold chain with a cross pendant swinging across his chest, Snoop moved with the effortless confidence of a man who had nothing to prove—until Judge Harold Grayson decided otherwise.

Grayson, a no-nonsense judge with a reputation for rigid court decorum, barely concealed his disapproval as he watched the rapper take his seat at the defendant’s table. It wasn’t Snoop’s fame that bothered him, nor the business dispute he was there to settle. It was the cross.

The tension in the room thickened as Grayson cleared his throat and leaned forward.

“Mr. Dogg,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet murmurs of the courtroom, “this is a place of neutrality, and religious symbols have no place here. You’ll need to remove your chain, or you’ll be fined for disrupting court order.”

A hushed gasp rippled through the room. The reporters at the back straightened in their seats, pens poised. Even the bailiff, a typically expressionless figure, shifted uneasily.

Snoop, who had faced everything from industry battles to courtroom brawls in the past, didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, adjusting his sunglasses, before tilting his head toward the judge with a slow, measured smirk.

“Respectfully, Judge,” he said, his deep voice calm but firm, “this cross ain’t different from a wedding ring or a lapel pin. You telling me people can wear symbols of their commitments, but I can’t wear mine?”

The courtroom fell into silence, waiting for the judge’s response.

Grayson’s jaw tightened. “This is my courtroom, Mr. Dogg. The rules are clear—remove the chain, or I’ll impose a fine for noncompliance.”

Snoop let out a slow exhale, tapping his fingers on the table as if considering his next verse in a battle rap. Then, he leaned forward.

“Yo, Judge. Before we roll on with this case, let’s get this on record,” he said, locking eyes with Grayson. “Because last I checked, the First Amendment don’t take a backseat in a courthouse.”

The audience sat stunned. The judge’s expression flickered, just for a moment, before he masked it with his usual stern gaze.

“This hearing is about your business dispute, not your jewelry,” Grayson snapped.

“But my rights are the business here, too,” Snoop shot back. “You trying to make me take this off ‘cause you don’t like it? That’s a violation of my First Amendment rights.”

Grayson shifted in his seat, sensing the shift in power. He had expected resistance, but not this level of legal savvy from the rapper sitting before him.

Snoop wasn’t done.

“You’re fining me over a cross, saying it messes with neutrality,” he continued, his voice smooth yet edged with steel. “Cool. Show me where in the law that stands.”

A murmur passed through the crowd. Even the court reporter hesitated for a second before resuming her furious typing.

Grayson’s lips pressed into a thin line. He had ruled this courtroom for two decades, but today, the control was slipping through his fingers.

Snoop reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper.

“Tinker v. Des Moines, 1969. Supreme Court ruled that people don’t lose their rights just ‘cause they step into a government space,” he said, unfolding the paper and reading aloud. “West Virginia v. Barnette, 1943—government can’t force people to remove personal expressions. That includes religious symbols, Judge.”

The weight of Snoop’s words hung in the air.

For the first time, Grayson hesitated.

His fingers tapped on the edge of the desk. The usual confidence in his rulings wavered as he realized he’d walked straight into a legal battle he hadn’t anticipated.

Finally, after a tense pause, he exhaled sharply. “Mark the fine as pending review,” he muttered to the court clerk, not quite admitting defeat, but not daring to push further.

Snoop smirked and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll take that as a win for now.”

The courtroom buzzed. Reporters whispered into their microphones, preparing for the headlines that would soon flood the media.

The Fallout: The Courtroom Drama Goes Viral

By the time Snoop walked out of the courthouse, his phone was already vibrating with notifications.

Within hours, the headlines spread like wildfire:

“Snoop Dogg Schools Oregon Judge in First Amendment Showdown.”
“Judge Tries to Fine Snoop for Wearing a Cross—Regrets It Immediately.”
“Rapper Turns Courtroom into a Constitutional Debate and Walks Away Victorious.”

Social media exploded. Fans hailed Snoop not just as a music icon, but as a defender of rights. The hashtags #SnoopVsSystem and #FirstAmendmentBattle trended worldwide.

Even legal experts chimed in.

“This case isn’t just about Snoop Dogg,” said legal analyst Mia Carter in a live segment that evening. “It’s about the precedent. If a judge can arbitrarily decide what personal symbols are allowed in court, where does it stop?”

But the fallout didn’t stop at public opinion.

The Oregon Judicial Review Board announced an inquiry into Grayson’s ruling. Under mounting pressure, legal organizations questioned the judge’s motives, and even his past cases were being reexamined for bias.

Snoop, however, remained unfazed by the storm he had stirred. That night, he posted a simple video on Instagram:

“By now, y’all seen the headlines,” he said, lounging in his studio, the infamous cross still swinging from his neck. “And let me say this—I wasn’t trying to make a scene. I just don’t back down when I see something wrong. So, if you ever find yourself in a room where someone tries to tell you your rights don’t apply—stand tall, speak up, and let ‘em know the law’s got your back.”

The video racked up millions of views within hours.

The next morning, Snoop’s lawyer Tara walked into his office, tossing a newspaper onto the desk.

“Oregon courts are scrambling,” she said with a smirk. “Grayson’s people are already trying to walk it back.”

Snoop leaned back in his chair, picked up the paper, and scanned the front page.

“Judge Faces Backlash After Fining Snoop Dogg—Oregon Courts Under Scrutiny.”

He chuckled, setting it down.

“Guess we ain’t done yet,” he mused.

One judge’s attempt to flex his authority had instead ignited a conversation that wouldn’t be silenced. And Snoop? He didn’t just walk out of that courtroom with his chain intact—he walked out with a legacy cemented not just in music, but in standing up for what was right.

One chain. One courtroom. One legend proving once again—when you know your rights, no one can take them from you.