If it happened to a Fortune 500 company with a full legal department, it can happen on your Instagram.
Last week, a jury found for the plaintiffs — 28 states — and ruled that Live Nation, owner of Ticketmaster, has been acting as a monopoly (and a pretty unprincipled one at that). The company could be broken up, it will most certainly be paying a lot of people a lot of money.
The Case Against Live Nation
Anyone who bought a concert ticket in the last two decades has had the same experience. You find a show, select your seats, proceed to checkout, and watch the price climb — service fees, facility fees, order processing fees, the occasional fee whose purpose defies explanation — until the $45 ticket becomes a $78 transaction.
Or worse, infinitely worse in some cases, the dreaded Dynamic Pricing scheme that turns concert tickets into a choice between going or buying a new BMW.
Live Nation Entertainment owns Ticketmaster, controls more than 265 venues across North America, manages over 400 artists, and promotes the vast majority of major concerts in the United States. Despite years of complaints and boycotts, they have long claimed their pricing merely reflects the market and their fees are standard industry practice.
Millions of fans, along with the Justice Department, disagree. In May 2024, joined by attorneys general from 39 states and the District of Columbia, the DOJ filed an antitrust lawsuit alleging that Live Nation had illegally maintained a monopoly across the live entertainment industry — controlling the venues, the ticketing, the promotion, and the artist management simultaneously, using that control to squeeze out competitors, lock in venues with exclusive contracts, and leave consumers with nowhere else to go.
The trial began in Manhattan on March 2nd. One week in, Live Nation and the Justice Department reached a settlement. Twenty-six states rejected it and continued with the same jury.
Then the Slack Messages Surfaced
They were a series of internal messages between executives Ben Baker and Jeff Weinhold. Live Nation fought to keep them out — characterizing them as “irrelevant” private remarks between two friends. Just “off-the-cuff banter, not policy, decision-making or facts of consequence.” The court disagreed.
Here’s what the world got to read:
Baker, discussing VIP pricing in Tampa: “These people are so stupid.”
Weinhold: “I set VIP parking priced at $250.”
Baker: “I almost feel bad taking advantage of them.”
Baker, reviewing a financial table showing premium parking revenue topping out at $666,000: “Robbing them blind baby. That’s how we do.”
Baker: “I gouge them on ancil[liary] prices to make up for it.”
Baker, it should be noted, is by any reasonable reading a senior executive describing the company’s pricing strategy in plain English. Not, as Live Nation tried to assert, a junior employee chatting with a friend. How that friend got onto the company’s Slack account was not explained.
This wasn’t the first time Live Nation’s own words were used against it. In a 2016 lawsuit, an email surfaced in which CEO Michael Rapino described a $14.75 fee on a $36 ticket as “not defensible.” Not a great thing to have read aloud in an open courtroom.
The Lesson They Keep Not Learning
The lesson Live Nation appears incapable of learning is one of the oldest in litigation: there is no such thing as a private work communication. This time it really cost them.
Slack, like mainstream social media chats and DMs and all that, feels like a conversation. It has the cadence of a text message, the informality of the long-gone watercooler chat. People say things in Slack they would never put in an email, precisely because it feels less like a document and more like talking. This feeling is wrong. Slack messages are stored, searchable, and in any company of meaningful size, subject to litigation hold and discovery the moment a lawsuit is filed — or reasonably anticipated.
What This Has to Do With Your Family Law Matter
If it can happen to a Fortune 500 company with a legal department and years of litigation experience, consider what it means when the platform isn’t Slack — it’s Instagram. TikTok. A Facebook post at 11pm. A Snapchat you assumed disappeared. A vague-post you’re pretty sure only three people will understand.
“Private” on social media means your followers can’t see it. It does not mean opposing counsel cannot.
Look, seriously, if you’re involved in any kind of family law matter, remember: never — NEVER — talk about it on any app or website or messaging service. It will be found. That’s not a theory, it’s a certainty if the other side wants it enough.
Questions about protecting yourself during a family law matter? We’re here to help.