In Auckland's High Court, a defamation case brought by drag performers against Brian Tamaki and Destiny Church has become a contest not only over words spoken in public, but over evidence withheld in private. The plaintiffs—who run Rainbow Library events for children—allege that internal church communications, including a Facebook group chat, have been concealed despite repeated court orders to disclose them, making a fair trial impossible. At stake is a deeper question that courts have always faced: whether the pursuit of justice can survive when one party controls the very documents that mig
Drag queens' lawyer accuses Destiny Church of withholding messages in defamation case
Toddlers and young children at a drag library event in West Auckland were barricaded inside a library room to avoid Destiny Church protesters in February 2025.
They are God-fearing Christian people, so when they put their hand on the Bible, there should be some recognition of that.
Mark
Why does it matter whether these messages exist? Couldn't the case proceed without them?
Mimi
Because discovery is the foundation of a fair trial. If one side has evidence they're not sharing, the other side is fighting blind. Griggs is saying: we know these messages exist because Tamaki himself admitted being in the group chat. If they're not produced, how can we cross-examine what was actually said and planned?
Mark
But the defence says they searched their phones and found nothing. Why would they lie about that?
Mimi
That's the tension. Either they're lying, or they genuinely didn't search properly, or the messages are somewhere they didn't think to look. But when two other defendants suddenly change their story about lost phones—first saying they were broken, then saying they were lost during moves—it starts to look like a pattern of convenient explanations.
Mark
What does the Bible submission tell us?
Mimi
It's almost darkly comic. When asked to produce documents, they handed over a King James Bible. Whether it was a statement of faith or a deliberate non-answer, it signals they weren't taking the discovery process seriously. That's what made Griggs say credibility was broken.
Mark
Is there a real chance the judge strikes out their defence?
Mimi
It's possible, but Justice Gellert seemed to be looking for a way forward. She reminded both sides that Facebook Messenger works across devices. She's essentially saying: there might be a technical solution here. But if the messages really are gone, or if the defendants keep changing their stories, the judge may decide they've forfeited the right to defend themselves.
Mark
What happens to the drag performers if the defence is struck?
Mimi
They win by default. The court would likely award damages similar to what Hohepa Haeata was ordered to pay—$40,000. But they'd rather have their day in court, to prove what was said and why it was false. That's what a fair trial means to them.
The Pulse
- A Facebook Messenger group chat in which Tamaki allegedly shared a drag event advertisement has gone entirely unproduced—what the plaintiffs' lawyer calls a 'smoking gun' that exposes the church's non-compliance with discovery orders.
- Two church members initially claimed their phones were broken, then revised their story to say the phones were lost in house moves—and submitted only a copy of the King James Bible as their discovery evidence.
- The defence insists its clients acted in good faith, with their lawyer invoking their Christian faith as a marker of credibility, while arguing that any gaps in disclosure can be addressed with more time and targeted searches.
- The plaintiffs warn that without these communications they cannot prepare their case, pointing to a pattern of disruption that includes protesters barricading toddlers inside a West Auckland library in February 2025.
- Justice Gellert has reserved her decision on whether to strike out the church's defence entirely, while noting that Facebook Messenger is accessible across multiple devices—leaving open a technical path to recovering what has gone missing.
In Auckland's High Court, a defamation case brought by drag performers against Brian Tamaki and Destiny Church has become a contest not only over words spoken in public, but over evidence withheld in private. The plaintiffs—who run Rainbow Library events for children—allege that internal church communications, including a Facebook group chat, have been concealed despite repeated court orders to disclose them, making a fair trial impossible. At stake is a deeper question that courts have always faced: whether the pursuit of justice can survive when one party controls the very documents that might illuminate the truth. Justice Gellert has reserved her decision, leaving the case suspended between accountability and obstruction.
A defamation case in Auckland's High Court has taken a sharp turn, with drag performers who run Rainbow Library events accusing Brian Tamaki and Destiny Church of defying court orders to hand over private communications. Their lawyer, Chris Griggs, told Justice Liz Gellert that a Facebook Messenger group chat—in which Tamaki himself allegedly shared an advertisement for one of the performers' Gisborne events—had never been produced by any of the defendants. He called it the 'smoking gun': proof that the church had coordinated a campaign to shut the events down, and that its members were now concealing the evidence of that coordination.
The defence offered explanations that the plaintiffs found implausible. Tamaki's lawyer said his client had conducted keyword searches on his iPhone as ordered, but could not account for why the group chat had not appeared. Two other church members, Leighton Packer and Terangimarie Ngahuka, first claimed their phones were broken, then said they had been lost during house moves. Their combined discovery submission consisted of a single item: a copy of the King James Bible. Griggs told the court this 'strained credibility beyond breaking point.' Their lawyer countered that the inconsistencies were minor and could be tested at trial, and accused Griggs of making unproved allegations of perjury.
The case has its roots in a sustained conflict between Destiny Church and the LGBTQIA+ community. Tamaki issued a press release in March 2024 accusing the library events of 'grooming' children, and the drag collective says the church's campaign led directly to the cancellation of their shows. One defendant, Hohepa Haeata, did not contest the case and was ordered to pay $40,000 in damages after a judge detailed his Facebook posts calling performers 'sick pedo' and 'demons.' In February 2025, around 30 church protesters stormed a drag library event in West Auckland, forcing staff to barricade toddlers and young children inside a room.
Justice Gellert reserved her decision on whether to strike out the church's defence, but suggested there may be technical solutions still unexplored—noting that Facebook Messenger can be accessed from multiple devices. Whether the missing messages can be recovered, and whether the court will allow the case to continue if they are not, remains unresolved.
A defamation case unfolding in Auckland's High Court has surfaced allegations that Destiny Church and its leader Brian Tamaki are refusing to hand over private messages despite explicit court orders to do so. The drag performers suing them—a collective that runs Rainbow Library events—say they cannot receive a fair trial without access to these communications, which they believe will prove the church orchestrated a deliberate campaign to shut down their shows.
The drag collective's lawyer, Chris Griggs, laid out the problem to Justice Liz Gellert last Thursday with precision. Tamaki and other church members, he said, had been ordered by High Court judges at least twice to disclose their internal communications for a specific period. Yet when the time came to produce them, crucial evidence was missing. The most glaring gap: a Facebook Messenger group chat in which Tamaki himself had shared an advertisement for one of the drag queens' events in Gisborne. No record of this conversation had been provided by Tamaki, the church, or its trustees.
Griggs called this the "smoking gun"—evidence that contradicted the defendants' claims they had complied with discovery orders. He argued it was "inherently implausible" that a church mobilisation campaign could have unfolded without a single Facebook message, especially after Tamaki published a press release in March 2024 accusing the library events of "grooming" children and vowing to shut them down. Without access to these communications, Griggs told the court, his clients faced an impossible situation: how could they prepare a defence when the other side was withholding the very documents that might prove their case?
The defence team offered different explanations. Scott McColgan, representing Tamaki and Destiny Church, said his client had only one relevant device at the time—an iPhone—and had conducted keyword searches as ordered by the court. He couldn't explain why those searches hadn't surfaced the group chat. McColgan asked for patience, suggesting that now his clients understood what was being asked, they could "drill down" into why the right documents weren't found. He framed his clients as people acting in good faith: "They are God-fearing Christian people, so when they put their hand on the Bible, there should be some recognition of that."
But Griggs had a second line of attack. Two other defendants—church members Leighton Packer and Terangimarie Ngahuka—had submitted affidavits claiming their phones were broken and unusable at the time of the alleged defamation. Later, they changed their story: the phones weren't broken, they said, but lost during house moves. When first asked to provide discovery documents, both women submitted only one item: a copy of the King James Bible. "That strains credibility beyond breaking point," Griggs said. Umar Kuddus, representing the two women, pushed back hard, calling Griggs's characterisation of their account as "false" improper and unethical—an unproved allegation of perjury. He argued that their perceived inconsistencies could be explored at trial, where a fair hearing was still possible.
The case itself has roots in a broader conflict between Destiny Church and the LGBTQIA+ community. The drag collective is suing Tamaki and church members for defamation, claiming they made false statements calling the library events "grooming" and "targeting innocent kids with their filth." They've also alleged breach of contract, saying the church's campaign caused the cancellation of some of their shows. One defendant, church member Hohepa Haeata, chose not to mount a defence and was found liable. Justice David Johnstone's November judgment detailed Haeata's Facebook comments calling drag performers "sick pedo" and "demons," and vowing to "shut this sick event down." Johnstone ordered Haeata to pay $40,000 in damages.
Destiny Church has a history of court battles. Tamaki's grandson-in-law pleaded guilty to vandalising a rainbow crossing in 2024. In February 2025, about 30 church protesters stormed a drag library event in West Auckland; toddlers and young children inside had to be barricaded in a library room to avoid them. An Upper Hutt drag king story time was cancelled in 2024 after church opposition. Justice Gellert reserved her decision on whether to strike out the church's defence, but she signalled that the lawyers might find common ground. She noted that Facebook Messenger can be accessed from multiple devices, suggesting there may be technical solutions neither side has fully explored. The question now is whether the missing messages will surface—and whether the court will allow the case to proceed.
Notable Quotes
That strains credibility beyond breaking point— Chris Griggs, lawyer for the drag performers, on the defendants' changing accounts of their lost phones
The accusation of paedophilia is intrinsically a grave and cruel allegation— Justice David Johnstone, in judgment against Hohepa Haeata for defamatory comments
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