Class-action lawyer went from being 50 Cent's roadie to taking on TikTok
After working for the rapper 50 Cent, Kelvin Goode decided to become a lawyer. (Photo courtesy of ClaimsHero.)
Kelvin Goode always hoped he’d end up advocating for the kind of people he grew up with in the Jamaica, Queens, neighborhood of New York City—hardworking individuals hoping to raise healthy, happy kids. Now, as CEO of Arizona-based ClaimsHero, he says he’s doing just that.
The consumer online platform helps families bring class-action-style mass arbitrations.
Goode developed the idea while working at a large law firm and co-founded the business in 2024 to bring together families who claim TikTok caused their children to experience severe emotional distress and want to hold the social media platform legally accountable.
It’s a quest—and a career—that Goode never could have imagined when, as a troubled teen, he left home to work for a hometown hero: rap legend Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson.
How did you get connected with 50 Cent and his company, G-Unit? Were you an aspiring musician?
No. I can’t rap, and I never wanted to be famous. Here’s what happened: 50 Cent was recovering from a near-fatal shooting and was looking to assemble a crew from the neighborhood to protect him. There were a couple of us who had graduated from high school and were on the wrong path, and he brought us on as basically free security guards. He eventually took about 20 kids from the neighborhood with him on tour, moving bags and accompanying him to shows. I had never left the Tristate area, and there I was on tour, traveling all over the country.
My peers glamorized the lifestyle, but I looked at it as an opportunity to change my life. 50 didn’t indulge in drugs or alcohol either, and he ended up taking a liking to me and putting me under his wing. This was 2003, and he had just released Get Rich or Die Tryin’, and everything changed overnight. We were on the road constantly, touring for two years straight.
What an incredible experience.
It was a first-class education in business, entertainment, clothing, beverages and video games. During that time, I noticed that the people who controlled the budgets and made things happen—the collabs, the endorsements—all had degrees. So I decided to go to school to get a business management degree. I found a school with a summer program where you could take three classes in one month, and I asked for a month off. I didn’t tell anyone I was going to school because that way, if I went to college and failed, no one would know.
When I asked for another month off, 50 thought I was in legal trouble, so I told him. I remember the look on his face when I told him, “No, I’m in school.”
Everyone thought I was crazy for leaving the mansion, the cars and the tour life, but 50 looked at me and said, “If you’re sure you want to do this, you’ll have whatever you need.” And he supported me through the entire degree.
So at the age of 28, I moved from 50 Cent’s mansion into a dorm room that was the size of my bathroom. I was able to finish my four-year degree in just two years with all As, and I attribute that to my time at G-Unit and the time I spent with 50, who is one of the hardest-working people I know.
Why did you decide to go to law school?
I had started helping with the books, and I saw that 50 was spending millions a year on legal fees. That got me thinking about the value of understanding the law. I also saw that new artists would sign away valuable rights because they didn’t understand what they were signing. That fueled my passion to go to law school, and I decided to go to Chicago, to Northwestern.
After graduating, you joined Weil, Gotshal & Manges in the New York City office. What made you decide to go to a big law firm?
Weil had a top-tier entertainment practice. They represented streaming services, CBS and Showtime, and were practicing law at the most sophisticated levels. I wanted to ensure I was trained by the best. I knew it was going to be intense, but I had a golden ticket in my pocket. I thought, if I woke up on any day and didn’t want to be doing what I was doing, I could go back to the music industry.
Was it challenging to navigate what I imagine was a new and different work culture?
Not really. Look, one of the things I never did, even at Northwestern, was code-switch. Despite the environment, I wanted people to say, “He might be wearing a hoodie, he might speak differently—but he’s smart as hell.”
At the firm, I got put on an important class action because a partner knew I liked boxing. He represented a lot of media companies, and the suit involved Showtime and the Floyd Mayweather versus Conor McGregor fight that aired on pay-per-view, but there had been technical difficulties. With that case, I got a crash course in the terms and conditions of online platforms and how to bring claims against them. This is actually how I learned about mandatory arbitration provisions and ended up becoming the firm’s mandatory arbitration provisions guy.
I know you eventually left Weil to join a startup boutique firm, where you were able to use these skills in a different way. Tell me about that.
The firm, now Freedman Normand Friedland LLP, quickly became a leader in the crypto space, so I started to get a lot of emails and phone calls from people whose crypto wallets had been hacked. They’d say: “I lost my life savings.” “I’m losing my house.”
They all had similar stories, and they all had used a Coinbase wallet. What happened was a type of “pig butchering” scam: People would be on a dating site or social media platform, and they’d develop an online relationship with someone who eventually said: “I am investing in crypto, you should, too—here’s a website.” When you clicked the link and connected it to your crypto wallet, it would activate a loophole in the wallet that gave the website control over your wallet.
Coinbase has a class action waiver, so I thought, if we could band these plaintiffs together, we might be able to fight in a different way. And that’s how I ended up being part of a multiclaimant arbitration against Coinbase. Before this case, I had been under the impression that mandatory arbitration provisions were like silver bullets that stopped claims. But I realized that you can actually use these claims to hold companies liable to a group of people. Because I had flipped to the other side, I was able to anticipate some of the moves that the companies would make. And I was finally helping regular people—people who are where I am from.
Are you bringing your arbitration strategy to ClaimsHero?
Yes. We are working with law firms that are sophisticated in the arbitration space.
What’s your goal with ClaimsHero?
For our TikTok campaign, we hope our clients are compensated for the real harms their kids are facing. I speak to hundreds of parents every week, and I hear heartbreaking stories like not finding the right therapy for their kids and having to pay out-of-pocket for therapy that’s not covered by health insurance.
I’ve heard from a parent who found out her daughter wanted to commit suicide because of bullying on TikTok. I want to hold these companies accountable. I also want to see these platforms make changes to make them safer environments for kids in general. They’re designed to keep people in front of the screen because that’s how they get paid, and there’s no warning to parents that these spaces can be addictive and harmful.
I compare it to the cigarette litigation in the 1990s. Those lawsuits were successful, and there are now warnings in every bodega, on every cigarette package. These companies know what they can do to make their spaces safer, they just choose not to.
Why not just sue TikTok?
We chose to go this route because this is what TikTok required in its terms of service. In general, arbitration is designed to be a more efficient platform than going to court. Studies show that it is a speedier process, and people who run their claim through arbitration tend to get higher damages.
I noticed your company is called ClaimsHero, not ‘TikTok Hero.’ Does that mean you might expand its scope at some point?
Absolutely. We plan to launch new campaigns by the end of [2024]. We’re closely monitoring the consumer space and putting companies on notice that we are watching—and we can be very innovative in what we pursue.
This story was originally published in the December 2024-January 2025 issue of the ABA Journal under the headline: “Clause and Effect: This Arizona lawyer is using an arbitration angle to take on TikTok.”
Jenny B. Davis is a journalism professor at Southern Methodist University, a fashion stylist and former practicing attorney. Her most recent book is Style Wise, a guide for aspiring fashion stylists.
