Elijah Blue Allman, Marieangela King Divorce: Cher Hires 'Pitbull' Lawyer To Protect Son's Trust

The image is almost absurdly Hollywood: Cher, the woman who turned defiance into a career, quietly deploying one of Los Angeles' most feared divorce lawyers to protect a wayward son's dwindling fortune.

Behind it, though, is a much smaller, sadder story — of a 49‑year‑old musician allegedly "broke as a joke", an estranged wife chasing unpaid support, and a trust fund from a dead rock star father that has become the latest battleground in a deeply messy split.

Elijah Blue Allman, Cher's only child with Allman Brothers Band legend Gregg Allman, has brought in celebrity attorney Laura Wasser to fight his corner in his ongoing divorce from British‑born singer Marieangela "Queenie" King. Wasser is not cheap and she is not gentle. Her arrival on the case looks, to those close to the family, like Cher stepping in with claws out.

Cher, Elijah Blue Allman And A 'Pitbull' Brought Off The Bench

Court records show Wasser formally joined Allman's legal team on 23 January. Within days, she had requested a hearing to challenge a motion King filed in December to enforce money she says she is owed.

King, 38, served divorce papers on Allman last April after 13 years of marriage, citing 'irreconcilable differences'. A judge later ordered Allman to pay her $6,500 (£5,200) a month in spousal support, as well as contributing to her legal fees. According to King's filings, he now owes more than $26,000 in unpaid support and costs.

Allman, a musician with a long‑documented history of drug addiction, is not exactly awash with his own income. He reportedly receives around $120,000 a year from a trust set up by Gregg Allman before his death in 2017. Even that, insiders say, is under strain.

'Elijah has been burning through his trust fund for years now, and the word is that he's broke as a joke,' one source told US tabloid Globe, which first reported Wasser's involvement. 'So going cap in hand to his mum is his best chance to climb out of debt.'

Cher, now 79, is not named in the court papers. There is no hard proof she is footing Wasser's bill. But the lawyer is reputed to charge $850 to $1,000 an hour simply to pick up the phone. Few people in Elijah Blue's position could remotely afford that, and friends assume the cheque book behind the "pitbull" is his mother's.

Wasser's client list reads like a roll‑call of modern celebrity chaos: Kim Kardashian, Angelina Jolie, Johnny Depp, Kevin Costner, Britney Spears, Ryan Reynolds, Ariana Grande. She is hired when rich people expect a fight and want someone who already knows where every legal tripwire on the California family‑law landscape is buried.

That she is now aiming her considerable firepower at King is telling. For all Cher's public silence, it suggests she has chosen a side.

Trust Fund At The Heart Of Elijah Blue Allman Divorce War

King's December motion was blunt in its logic. If her estranged husband would not pay the court‑ordered $6,500 a month, she argued, then the trustee managing Gregg Allman's estate should be forced to release funds to cover his obligations.

'The court would be unable to issue effective and enforceable orders concerning the use of the Trust assets or income for satisfaction of the support obligations,' she wrote, essentially asking the judge to reach past Elijah and tap the money pot directly.

Wasser's response was equally direct — and far more technical. In new documents, she characterises King's motion as 'defective' and insists the California court has no jurisdiction over either the trustee, who lives in New Jersey, or the trust itself, which is registered in Georgia.

In plainer English: you cannot use a Los Angeles divorce court to raid a Southern estate administered across state lines.

It is a dry jurisdictional argument wrapped around a very human fear: that Elijah's only reliable income stream could be carved up by legal orders he cannot control. For Cher, who has watched one husband die too young and one son spend years lurching in and out of addiction, the trust is not just money. It is a last backstop.

There is also, undeniably, an element of damage control. Publicly, Elijah is now the archetypal 'nepo baby' gone to seed — famous parents, famous demons, dwindling options. Protecting the trust is as much about shielding him from himself as it is about insulating the family's assets from an angry ex.

King, for her part, is portrayed in the tabloid coverage as the aggrieved spouse on the outside, trying to prise open a vault she never controlled. Her argument is not exactly radical: if a man is under a court order to pay support and has a trust paying him $120,000 a year, why shouldn't that money be considered fair game?

The uncomfortable answer, from Wasser's filings, is that the law simply may not allow it — at least not in the way King is attempting. US trust structures are built precisely to put assets one step removed from messy personal liabilities like divorce and debt. That is the point.

A Family Drama With Familiar Hollywood Edges

Strip away the glittering names and this is, in many ways, a painfully ordinary divorce: a couple splitting after more than a decade together, a spouse insisting they have done their time and are owed support, the other allegedly missing payments and pleading a lack of cash.

What makes it feel different — stranger, more theatrical — is the supporting cast. Cher, the mother caught between love and exasperation. Gregg Allman, still paying bills from beyond the grave. Laura Wasser, dropping into the case like a legal cruise missile. It is almost cartoonishly "LA", and yet the stakes are grindingly real.

Allman has been open in the past about his struggles, vanishing for long stretches and resurfacing, gaunt and unsteady, at industry events. The trust was supposed to be his safety net. King now says she is being left to chase scraps while the money stays protected, out of reach.

Cher has said nothing publicly about any of this. But the title on every lurid supermarket tabloid — the "mama bear" defending her cub — is not entirely wrong. If she is indeed bankrolling Wasser, she is not doing it gently. She is hiring the best she can find to ring‑fence what remains of her son's inheritance and, by extension, her late husband's legacy.

Whether that leaves King fairly treated is a different question, one that will likely be argued in dry tones before a judge rather than in the pages of gossip rags. For now, what is clear is that another Hollywood family drama is no longer just about love lost. It is about who gets to lay claim to the money that outlived the marriage — and how far a mother will go to keep that cash, and her troubled son, under her protection.