
Hunter Biden sat for a deposition over unpaid legal fees and told the attorneys across the table that "my family doesn't have any money." He testified under oath that he's too broke to own a car or even a cellphone.
A cellphone. In 2026.
This is the same Hunter Biden whose abandoned laptop revealed years of lucrative business dealings with foreign entities in Ukraine and China. The same man who sold paintings to anonymous buyers for as much as $500,000 a pop during his father's presidency. The same guy who sat on the board of Burisma Holdings pulling down $50,000 a month despite having zero experience in Ukrainian energy policy.
But now we're supposed to believe he can't scrape together enough for a prepaid phone from Walmart. Give me a break.
The deposition stems from millions in unpaid legal fees — bills racked up during Hunter's various legal battles, which have included federal tax charges and a gun case. His attorneys, apparently, would like to be paid for their work. Hunter's defense is that there's simply nothing left. The cupboard is bare. The Biden family fortune has evaporated like classified documents from a Wilmington garage.
The deposition details dropped this week, and the picture they paint is something between comedy and insult. Here's a man who flew on Air Force Two to conduct private business meetings in Beijing. A man whose business partner testified about meetings with Joe Biden himself. A man whose text messages referenced holding equity for "the big guy."
Now he doesn't have a car.
The legal system requires honesty under oath, which makes this particular performance interesting. Either Hunter Biden is telling the truth — meaning the millions that flowed through Biden family accounts from foreign sources have completely vanished and he didn't save any of it— or he's not telling the truth under oath, which has its own name and its own set of consequences.
There's no third option. The money either existed and went somewhere, or it didn't exist and several years of bank records, emails, and testimony from business associates are all fabricated. Nobody is arguing that second one.
The broader pattern here is familiar to anyone who's watched the Biden family operate. When the spotlight hits, the story changes. When subpoenas land, memories fade. When the bills come due — literal bills, from actual lawyers who did actual work — suddenly the family that leveraged the vice presidency into an international consulting empire is living like monks.
We spent four years watching Joe Biden insist he "never discussed business" with his son. We watched the media call the laptop "Russian disinformation." We watched fifty-one intelligence officials sign a letter saying the same thing. Every single one of those claims collapsed.
And now Hunter Biden, under oath, wants to add one more claim to the pile: that he's broke.


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