When the Criminal System Fails: Why Civil Lawsuits Are Sometimes the Only Path to Justice
By Trinity Barnette
Not every survivor gets justice in a courtroom. In fact, most don’t. For so many victims of sexual assault, abuse, harassment, or exploitation, the criminal system isn’t just slow—it’s stacked against them. That’s why civil lawsuits have become a powerful tool. Not for revenge. Not for “clout.” But for truth, accountability, and reclaiming power. From Cassie Ventura to E. Jean Carroll to Rodney “Lil Rod” Jones, survivors are turning to civil courts to say: you will not silence me.
What Is a Civil Lawsuit—and How Is It Different from Criminal Court?
Let’s start with the basics. A lawsuit is a legal action brought by one person (or party) against another, often in pursuit of justice, compensation, or accountability. When someone files a civil lawsuit, they’re not asking for the state to throw someone in jail—they’re asking the court to right a wrong. That could mean financial compensation, a public record of what happened, or a court order demanding someone stop a certain behavior.
But not all lawsuits are created equal. The criminal justice system and the civil legal system operate on two completely different tracks:
Criminal court is about the government vs. the accused. A prosecutor files charges on behalf of the state, not the victim. The goal? To determine if a crime occurred and if the defendant should be punished—often with jail or probation. The burden of proof here is beyond a reasonable doubt, which is the highest standard in law.
Civil court is about one person vs. another. You’re not trying to prove someone is a criminal. You’re trying to prove they caused harm. The burden of proof is lower—just preponderance of the evidence, meaning it’s more likely than not that what you’re saying is true.
And this is important: you don’t need a police report or a conviction to file a civil lawsuit.
Survivors who’ve been ignored, disbelieved, or retraumatized by the criminal system can still choose civil action as a way to demand accountability. It’s not about revenge—it’s about being seen, being heard, and regaining control when everything else failed you.
Why the Criminal System Fails Survivors Again and Again
We’re told to “go to the police.”
We’re told “justice will be served.”
But for most survivors, the criminal justice system is a locked door with no key.
Even when the evidence exists, the trauma is real, and the harm is undeniable, the system often refuses to act. Why? Because it was never built with survivors in mind. It was built to protect power, prioritize institutions, and demand “perfect victims” who don’t exist.
Here’s the truth most people won’t say out loud:
Prosecutors rarely file charges in sexual assault cases, especially when there’s no physical evidence or delayed reporting. That’s not because they don’t believe you—it’s because they don’t think they can win. And the system cares more about conviction rates than your healing.
The standard of proof—“beyond a reasonable doubt”—is nearly impossible to meet in trauma-based crimes, where memory is foggy, victims may freeze or delay reporting, and consent gets twisted into a legal gray zone.
Cross-examinations retraumatize victims. Defense attorneys attack your credibility, pick apart your behavior, your clothes, your choices—anything but the actions of the person who harmed you.
And when survivors do report?
They’re often met with disbelief, humiliation, or flat-out silence.
This isn’t just a flaw in the system. It’s a feature.
The criminal court is structured to protect the rights of the accused—not the victim. And while due process is essential, it often comes at the cost of retraumatizing people who never should’ve had to prove they were in pain to begin with.
That’s why civil court exists. It’s not perfect, but for many—it’s the only real shot at being heard.
Why Civil Lawsuits Can Be Powerful (and Necessary)
When the criminal system slams the door in your face, civil court cracks a window open. It’s not always easy, but it offers something the criminal system rarely does: a chance to speak your truth on your terms.
Civil lawsuits give survivors more control. You’re not waiting on a prosecutor. You’re not begging the state to believe you. You’re taking legal action into your own hands and saying, “You harmed me. And I want accountability.”
Here’s what makes civil litigation powerful:
Lower burden of proof. You don’t need a smoking gun. You don’t need a conviction. You only need to prove it’s more likely than not that what you say happened—did.
Survivors are the plaintiff. You’re not just a witness in someone else’s case. You’re the one telling the story, pushing the case forward, and demanding justice.
It can lead to public accountability. Civil lawsuits create a paper trail. They expose truth. They make it harder for powerful abusers to hide behind PR teams, NDAs, and silence.
It’s about more than money. Yes, civil court awards damages—but for many survivors, it’s not about the payout. It’s about validation. About forcing someone to sit in a courtroom and hear exactly how they changed your life.
This is why we’ve seen so many survivors—Cassie, E. Jean Carroll, Rodney “Lil Rod” Jones—go the civil route. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s possible. And sometimes, in a world that makes you feel powerless, possible is everything.
Real-Life Examples of Civil Suits Making an Impact
The headlines may focus on criminal charges, but the real shifts—the ones that change industries and public perception—often start with civil lawsuits. Survivors have used them not just to seek personal justice, but to expose entire systems of abuse, corruption, and control.
Here are just a few examples:
Cassie Ventura v. Sean “Diddy” Combs (2023) Cassie’s civil suit sent shockwaves through the music industry. In just over 24 hours, her graphic, deeply personal allegations of rape, physical abuse, and trafficking were settled—but not silenced. Her story opened the floodgates. More women came forward. More lawsuits were filed. And a powerful man who once seemed untouchable now faces a reckoning in both public opinion and the legal system.
Rodney “Lil Rod” Jones v. Diddy (2024) A former producer and close associate, Lil Rod’s lawsuit was detailed, damning, and full of receipts—photos, texts, and video evidence that alleged a violent, abusive, and sexually exploitative empire led by Diddy. His case wasn’t criminal. But it did turn the tide. It painted a pattern. It proved Cassie wasn’t alone.
E. Jean Carroll v. Donald Trump (2023–2024) When the criminal system wouldn’t touch her rape allegation, Carroll filed a civil suit. And she won. Twice. A jury found Trump liable for sexual abuse and defamation. Not only did her case validate her story—it made history. It showed the world that truth can still win, even when the accused holds immense power.
Each of these cases forced a conversation. They proved that civil court can create change—even when criminal court stays silent. These lawsuits weren’t about revenge. They were about reclaiming truth, dignity, and agency in a world that tries to strip all three away.
Addressing the Misconceptions: “They’re Just Doing It for Money”
Let’s be real—every time a survivor files a civil lawsuit, someone says it:
“She’s lying.”
“He just wants a payout.”
“They’re doing it for attention or money.”
That line of thinking is not only dismissive—it’s dangerous. It shames people out of seeking justice. It ignores the truth of what they endured. And worst of all? It treats financial compensation like it’s a dirty word.
But here’s the truth:
Money is the only form of justice the civil system has.
Survivors don’t get prison sentences handed down. They get damages. That’s literally the point of a civil case—to seek restitution. To be compensated for pain, trauma, therapy, lost opportunities, public humiliation, and so much more. It’s not “greedy” to want that—it’s human.
And let’s be honest—do you know how hard it is to file a lawsuit against a powerful figure?
It takes money.
It takes evidence.
It takes guts.
Most survivors know that when they go public, they’re opening themselves up to public scrutiny, media harassment, and retraumatization. So no—it’s not “for the money.” It’s despite all that.
The people who say, “Why now?”
The people who ask, “What do they want?”
Here’s your answer: To be heard. To be believed. And yes—to be compensated for what was stolen from them.
Money doesn’t heal—but in civil court, it’s one of the only tools we have to say: what happened to you mattered.
Why We Need to Respect Civil Action as Justice
We have to stop treating civil lawsuits like they’re less than. Like they don’t matter. Like they’re “Plan B” justice.
Because for most survivors, civil court is the only justice they’ll ever get.
Not every abuser ends up behind bars. Not every case makes it to trial. And not every victim is believed by a prosecutor, jury, or judge. But that doesn’t make the harm any less real. It doesn’t mean the truth doesn’t matter.
Civil action is justice. It’s courage. It’s power reclaimed.
And it doesn’t just affect one person—it sends a message. It creates a record. It exposes hidden abuse. It tells other survivors: you’re not alone. You don’t have to stay silent. You can speak. You can demand more. You can file your lawsuit even if the system failed you.
Whether it’s Cassie, E. Jean Carroll, or Lil Rod, these civil cases don’t just change the narrative. They are the narrative shift.
Let’s stop acting like the courtroom is the only place where truth lives. Sometimes, justice is a settlement. Sometimes, it’s a headline. Sometimes, it’s the first night of sleep a survivor gets knowing the world finally heard them.