January 31st, 2023

Hochul Chooses Profits Over People; Vetos Grieving Families Act

The bill had sailed through New York’s Assembly for three decades. Then in June 2022, it finally passed the state Senate 57-6.

Late last night, seven months after it finally passed, Gov. Kathy Hochul vetoed the bill. There wasn’t enough time to study it, she said.

Seriously. That was an excuse.

That bill is the Grieving Families Act, an update to New York’s first-in-the-nation wrongful death law, in 1847.

The law, as it currently stands — and has stood since the time that southern states still allowed people to own other humans and work them to death — gave the immediate families of those killed by negligence the right for recompense for pecuniary loss. Essentially, the lost wages of the family breadwinner.

The bill Hochul vetoed, which I wrote about in 2017 and again in July 2022 after it finally passed, is an update to bring New York into line with 48 other states, including the deep red south. It would permit recompense for grief to close family members in addition to the lost wages.

Now no one would ever pretend that money is a perfect solution to the lost life of a loved one, as nothing in this world would be. But we use money as a yardstick to measure accountability as it is the best tool we have. And I know from firsthand experience that the overwhelming majority of New Yorkers agree with this as I, and every other personal injury attorney, ask this as a standard question during jury selection. Rare is the person that says no, even though they know that this would be the ticket to getting bounced from the jury panel.

In addition, the Grieving Families Act extends the statute of limitations from its current dismal two years to three and one-half years.

Why is two years dismal? Aside from trying to recover from the grief, a family must also petition the Surrogate’s Court for letters of administration. Because without letters, you don’t have a proper party under our Estates Powers and Trusts law to bring suit. No standing.

Think that’s easy? The two years is not measured from the time letters are issued by the Surrogate, but from death. I currently have a petition pending in one county for 16 months. 16 months! Do the math.

Hochul tried to claim that she wanted a reasonable bill. She said so in an op-ed in yesterday’s Daily News. The Governor, and it dismays me to use this language as I voted for her, is full of shit.

Allow me to deconstruct the lousy excuses — bearing in mind that when one makes bad arguments it means that they don’t have good ones:

First, she claimed, as I opened in this piece, that there wasn’t enough time:

This bill passed at the very end of the legislative session; the bill was approved in committee and voted on by both the Assembly and Senate, in full, on the very same day. What was missing was a serious evaluation of the impact of these massive changes on the economy, small businesses, individuals, and the state’s complex health care system.

Assemblywoman Helene Weinstein carried this bill for 29 years. Then there was another seven months after Senate approval. So this was not an honest excuse. As we say in other contexts, res ipsa loquitur. The thing speaks for itself. Or in this case, the calendar.

Hochul pretended to offer a compromise, which wasn’t a compromise at all, but completely eviscerated the bill. She said it should only apply to those under 18.

So who does this exclude? Well, everyone that is retired. Because families don’t feel grief over the negligent death of a retired parent?

It excludes the families of those that are unemployed or underemployed, which affects minority and immigrant communities more than white ones. Do they not feel grief over loss due to negligence?

It excludes stay at home, child rearing parents. Does the child of such a victim not feel grief? The spouse and the parents?

It excludes — get this — victims of medical malpractice. Do these families not feel grief when someone dies from medical negligence? Gosh, I wonder how that snuck into her “compromise?”

Hochul was not tinkering around the edges of the bill. She was completely neutering it.

So who was left? Kids killed in auto accidents? Is that about it? And the vast majority of those won’t have sufficient insurance anyway, with insurance policies ranging from an unconscionable 25K to 100K?

And more excuses: She claims that she needs ” time to look at data and grapple with complex issues, such as our state’s unique constitutional prohibition against limits on damages.“

Well, Governor, we don’t have a “unique prohibition against limits on damages.” That is utter nonsense. New York has had limits on damages since at least 1812: See: How New York Caps Personal Injury Damages. It’s kinda on point.

But this excuse may be the one that really takes the cake: “It is reasonable to think that the legislation as drafted will drive up already-high health insurance premiums;

Well, there’s no easy way to say this, so here goes: Dead people don’t drive up healthcare costs. Sick people do. The insurance industry benefits when sick people die as healthcare payments stop. The insurance industry, oddly enough, doesn’t like to talk about that.

So yeah, I call bullshit on the Governor. Her attempts to claim she cares about the issue are empty, and she will embarrass herself by further repeating it.

It can never be said enough times: When people make bad arguments it means they don’t have good ones.

July 8th, 2022

Gov. Hochul Should Sign The Grieving Families Act

Back in 2017 I wrote the piece below on New York’s wrongful death law, and updated it with some additional links in 2021. It’s about New York’s ancient law, which, once upon a time, led the nation in giving rights to families whose family breadwinner had been killed by negligence.

But what once was, is no more. Now we trail the nation, for the reasons set forth below.

The Grieving Families Act has now, finally, passed the legislature. It was an act that has been percolating for as long as I have been practicing law. (See also Daily News Op-Ed: What Gov. Hochul owes grieving families, by Assemblymen Ron Kim of Queens).

Gov. Hochul should sign this very long overdue measure.—-

New York’s Grieving Families

[Updated May 11, 2021 with new legislative links at the bottom]

Once upon a time — like in 1847 — New York was a progressive state. We had, I believe, the first ever wrongful death statute for the benefit of families whose bread-winner was killed due the negligence of others.

And back then that was progressive.

The problem is that we have stagnated. This first-ever law has never been updated.

Essentially, if a family’s non-breadwinner is killed by the negligence of others, that person’s life — in the eyes of New York’s law — is worthless. Because there is no “economic loss” associated with the death. Mostly this means a child or retiree. Neither an infant, nor college student nor retired parent is likely to be providing an “economic” benefit in New York.

The grief of family members is, in New York, completely non-compensable.

Just as I addressed Lavern’s Law last week — the proposed legislation that measures the medical malpractice statute of limitations from the time the malpractice could reasonably have been discovered instead of when it happened — I address different legislation today.

If I can do my little part to help push New York into the 21st century I’ll be happy.

There is really no justification for telling families of the deceased that the court house doors are closed to them for their grief. Many of our sister states have such legislation. When out out-of-state lawyers call me to discuss potential wrongful death matters in New York, they are stunned to hear of the antiquated state of our civil justice system.

For many people, the courts are the only outlet for justice. We don’t encourage vigilantism, by any means, and a working, viable justice system is part of what makes a society function in a semi-civil fashion. And having this outlet oft-times provides a small means of holding people or companies accountable so that the same thing doesn’t happen to someone else’s kid, or parent.

2021 updates:

In the Senate the bill is S. 4006.

In the Assembly it is A. 5612.

The legislature is in session now and considering the bill.

If you don’t know your legislators, you can find them here by simply popping in your address.

Give a call to voice your support. It takes only a few moments.

July 14th, 2021

What is a Signature? (Does your unsigned email count?)

We lawyers love, love, love our formality, oft times filling pages with pretentious legalese. I’m sure that wax seals and red ribbons were invented by lawyers, to make doubly, triply sure that everything was authentic. And redundant.

And when seals and ribbons went by the wayside, wet ink signatures became the standard-bearer of authenticity.

Last week the Appellate Division (First Department) confronted the formality of signatures regarding a settlement. The court sought to answer a question: If lawyers agree to a settlement via our now ubiquitous email, but use a standard signature block instead of retyping their names, is a settlement valid?

In other words, what kind of seals and red ribbons do we now need?

While at first blush this looks like a small esoteric question of law regarding the informality of email and the courts’ respect for stipulations, it has the potential to carry over to a thousand different aspects of law as now practiced.

The fact pattern of The Matter of Philidelphia Insurance v. Kendall is not too complicated (if you practice personal injury law here in New York), but for the others a short background: The liability insurance you buy for your car is not for your injuries, but for the injuries of others in a collision. Thus, if the other person has only a $25,000 policy, you might be shit out of luck — a technical legal term — if you lost your leg. That’s why you buy Supplementary Uninsured/Underinsured Motorist (SUM) insurance. That part is for you. If the other driver has only $25K in insurance, and you have $1M, you can turn to your own insurer for the $975K difference.

And that’s what happened here. Kendall was clobbered in a collision. The motorcycle that hit her had only the 25K minimum but she had $1M in SUM. She collected the $25K from the other driver and proceeded to arbitration against her own insurer.

According to the decision, this funky fact-pattern popped up regarding the arbitrator’s decision and settlement with the arbitrator awarding the maximum 975K. But Kendall’s lawyer settled for only 400K because he hadn’t see the decision yet:

The arbitrator rendered her decision on September 16, 2019, awarding Kendall $975,000. The same day, the decision was emailed to Kendall’s counsel and faxed to Philadelphia’s counsel. However, neither counsel received the decision and they continued to negotiate. On September 19, 2019, the parties reached an agreement to settle the dispute for $400,000.

How did they shake hands on this deal? Via email:

On that day [Kendall’s] counsel emailed [Philadelphia’s] counsel: “Confirmed -we are settled for 400K.” Below this appeared “Sincerely,” followed by counsel’s name and contact information. Shortly thereafter, [Philadelphia’s] counsel emailed in reply, attaching a general release, styled a “Release and Trust Agreement,” and saying, “Get it signed quickly before any decision comes in, wouldn’t want your client reneging.” [Kendall’s] counsel answered, “Thank you. Will try to get her in asap.” This email concluded with the same valediction, name, and contact information as had [Kendall’s] counsel’s earlier email.

The lawyer for the injured Kendall then learned of the $975K decision and wanted to go back on the $400K agreement, arguing that it was’t “subscribed” as per CPLR 2104 by retyping his name in the email in addition to his prepopulated contact information block.

So, is the email agreement “in writing” as required by statute? If it sounds like a boring one-off kinda issue, you are not thinking of all those emails you send on a daily basis and how those might be viewed by a court.

Now previously, our Court of Appeals had held that a preprogrammed name on a fax transmission did not fulfill the subscription requirement. So email should be the same, right? (Parma Tile Mosaic & Marble Co. v Estate of Short)

The times, they are a changin’. A mid-level appeals court has now held that the old fax decision from New York’s top court is not controlling as the practice of law has changed:

The Parma court wrote in a different era, when paper records were still an important modality, maybe the most important modality, of recording information in law and business. Since that time, the electronic storage of records has become the norm, email has become ubiquitous, and statutes allowing for electronic signatures have become widespread. For these reasons, and those that follow, we find that Parma is not controlling.

While this very same court held in 2013 that “an email in which a party’s or its attorney’s name is prepopulated in the email is not sufficiently subscribed for purposes of CPLR 2104” it has now reversed itself and said “wet ink” signatures are not needed, nor is any retyped signature:

We now hold that this distinction between prepopulated and retyped signatures in emails reflects a needless formality that does not reflect how law is commonly practiced today. It is not the signoff that indicates whether the parties intended to reach a settlement via email, but rather the fact that the email was sent.

In fact, even the signature block doesn’t appear to be needed — it must only be sent from the lawyer’s account, forming a rebuttable presumption that the lawyer sent it:

We find that if an attorney hits “send” with the intent of relaying a settlement offer or acceptance, and their email account is identified in some way as their own, then it is unnecessary for them to type their own signature.

But wait, there’s more: It has been customary over the years for defendants and insurance companies to create ever more complex general releases and settlement agreements. Back in the day, the simple Blumberg form was the gold standard, until those that bill by the hour figured out there may be a bit more gold to be mined by creating ever more complex forms.

The First Department, however, found that the simple email was binding when the sole issue was the amount of the settlement. The digital handshake was good enough, and the formal release wasn’t particularly relevant as it is merely a ministerial condition:

The Release and Trust Agreement was to be further documentation of the binding agreement constituted by the parties’ counsel’s emails agreeing to settle respondent’s claim for $400,000, rather than something on which that binding agreement was contingent. The material term of the parties’ agreement to settle respondent’s claim being the sum of money that petitioner would pay respondent, respondent’s execution of a general release was essentially a ministerial condition precedent to payment (see CPLR 5003-a[a].

So, your emailed agreements will be held up the same as if they had a fancy wax seal and a red ribbon. And probably so too with any other assertion that you make. And those complex general releases that defendants like to waste time with may well be meaningless to a court.

Don’t think twice before hitting send. Think it though three times. Because “send” is your signature.

February 16th, 2021

A Year of COVID – And 3 Litigation Changes

It’s been a year since I last set foot in a real courthouse. I appeared for jury selection in a Bronx nursing malpractice case in mid-February. Some money was on the table, but I was pushing for better.

But the news. In the news was the virus. It wasn’t here yet. As far as we knew. But it was coming. And when it came it would come hard, and the world was going to be shut down.

It could be days wasted up in the Bronx waiting for a jury room. More days wasted waiting for a judge assignment after that. If I picked that jury, my gut told me I would never make it to verdict. And then what? How long would it be before my client had another chance?

The client approved of settlement, and I beat a hasty retreat from the courthouse.

It was an unseasonably warm day for February in New York, but I put on my regular winter gloves anyway as I rode the subway out of the Yankee Stadium station near the courthouse. No one, after all, was sure exactly how the virus was transmitted. I touched nothing. The virus was novel.

And a few weeks later news helicopters spun over head as my home was in the bulls eye of the first East Coast Containment Zone. The virus, of course, was not contained. (See: Greetings from the Containment Zone)

What did we learn over the past year? A lot. But I’ll only cover changes to the litigation system. ‘Cause that’s what you came for.

Here we go with three critical changes; the first two have already been implemented (will they continue when it’s over?), and the third will relieve the mammoth courthouse backlog caused by the virus. Given that they collectively change the way litigation has been done for the last 200 years, I would call it significant:

Many Courthouse Conferences Waste Time: Anyone that’s been to the high volume parts of New York City’s courts knows this problem. Hundreds of cases may be on a calendar call. Oft times, if you part of this cattle call, you are just given a new date a few months away. Lawyers gotta schlep to the courthouse for this?

If the case is still in discovery, most issues are resolved by counsel in the hallways. If you have a real issue, you wait (and wait, and wait) for a conferences that takes 5 minutes when you get your turn at the bench. But those five minutes might consume an entire morning of travel, waiting, more waiting, discussion and then travel again. It’s been this way since forever. (See: How One Brooklyn Courtroom Wastes $10M per Year)

On March 13th of last year, at the directive of New York’s Chief Administrative Judge, Lawrence K. Marks, virtual conferences were put in motion in order to reduce foot traffic in the courthouse. (See, Will Coronavirus Push New York’s Courts Out of the Colonial Era?)

Lawyers will now often “meet and confer” to iron out discovery issues without conferences. Sadly, it was not habit before because one side of the equation gets paid by the hour. But now only real problems are likely to see a judge or law secretary (virtually).

For routine conferences this has worked very well, and I hope our judiciary continues this pattern after the pandemic is over. (And it will be over one day. I think it will, I think it will, I think it will.)

Put on a suit, spend 10 minutes in front of the computer, and done. No need to blow half a day for minor discovery issues.

Virtual Depositions Work: While some defense lawyers tried to use the pandemic as an excuse to delay (“We need to see the witnesses face to face!”) that door was firmly slammed shut by the courts. Depositions proceeded virtually. (See: New York Judges Order Virtual Depositions Due to COVID-19)

And you know what? They have worked just fine. I’ve heard few complaints from attorneys on either side. And if you want to be in the room with your own client, have at it. But there’s no need for others to be there if they don’t want to for health reasons, or for mere convenience. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to take the deposition of someone in Albany or Buffalo while sitting in my office if I so choose. Pandemic or not.

And if anyone thinks they need to see the reactions of the of the witnesses better, they can always record them. This, of course, is not new. We have had this option for many, many years, but it is very much the exception when done, not the rule.

A bad faith law is needed to move cases: Cases won’t settle without a jury. We knew this before, of course, but it really comes home now. Without the threat of a jury in the box the incentive to settle evaporated for liability insurers, even on clear-cut matters. Worse yet, can now offer even fewer pennies on the dollar if the injured plaintiff was in additional financial distress (and potentially leaning on tax-funded safety net programs to get by).

Insurers have no down side in delay, delay, delay. They just keep the premiums (nicely invested thank you very much) while postponing the benefits. The pandemic is a sweet deal for them, while the victims (and tax-payers) suffer the costs.

And now with the resulting mammoth backlog in the courts due to unresolved cases, and then topped off with cutbacks in the courts due to statewide financial shortfalls (older judges no longer getting certified), there are years of waiting ahead.

But with a good bad faith law, this problem vanishes. Hang the Sword of Damocles over the heads of the insurers and watch their profitable recalcitrance vanish. (See, Why Can’t New York be Like Alabama)

There’s no excuse for New York not having a bad faith law with real teeth, as it has real benefits: Victims get justice, the overwhelmed court budgets get relief, there is less need for tax-payers to fund the costs of the injuries, and the insurance companies merely must do what they were always required to do (but never forced to do).

So there you have it, two very significant changes in the way law has been practiced the last couple hundred years, that we should keep on doing. And one legislative proposal to make the wheels of justice roll efficiently.

The pandemic has caused extraordinary heartbreak in a wide array of areas. We have adapted somewhat to it — and along with you I can’t wait to burn those masks. But some adaptions are worth keeping, and one legislative change is long overdue.

December 12th, 2019

A Feres Doctrine Repeal? Not so Fast…(Updated)

Lt. Rudolph Feres, for whom the Feres doctrine was named, parachuted into the darkness in the first hours of D-Day in 1944. He was killed later in a stateside barracks fire and his estate was barred from bringing suit. Photo via NY Times.

The rule is as old as government itself: You can’t sue the King.

The concept of “sovereign immunity” protects governments from suit unless they specifically consent. In the U.S. we are permitted to do so by various statutes, and in the case of the federal government, under the Federal Tort Claims Act.

Well, sometimes, anyway. Because there’s a big, fat hairy exception to that rule, and that exception is for those on active duty in the military. You can’t bring suit for acts “arising out of combatant activities.” The problem here is that it’s been extended to plain old negligence away from the battlefield.

Did your stateside barracks burn down? Sorry Charlie. Or in this case, sorry Rudolph Feres. We’re you raped by your drill sergeant? Tough noogies. Your wife died from blood loss after child birth because of a looooong delay in giving blood? You get our condolences and we wish you well raising the kid as a single parent.

The Feres Doctrine prevents all suits, because the U.S. Supreme Court extended the prohibition on suits from “combatant activities” to all situations. It has long been an unfair abomination of the law.

And so, as I took the train home yesterday and read in the NY Times that a portion of the Feres Doctrine was to be repealed for medical malpractice under the pending National Defense Authorization Act, I was elated for those that had been victimized twice.

But. And you knew there had to be a “but,” didn’t you? According to the Military Times, most claims are limited to $100,000. And the military doesn’t pay the legal fees. And it doesn’t happen under the Federal Tort Claims act, but under some kind of (not yet written) administrative procedure. You can find the text here.

If the claims are limited to $100,000 this medical malpractice exception is virtually useless. Because in order to prove the claim experts will be required. The military wouldn’t be responsible for the original illness, after all. Only for that which was caused by medical malpractice. And you need experts for that.

And experts cost money. As do depositions and medical records. And with military personnel involved, probably lots of travel too.

The military, of course has unlimited resources to defend and hire experts. And all medical malpractice cases are vigorously defended.

Even a simple medical malpractice case can cost a plaintiff $25,000 – $50,000 when you figure in experts for liability, causation and damages. And that doesn’t include a trial.

And more — the legal fee is capped at 20%.

The soldier or sailor is unlikely to have that money. It will be lent by the attorneys. But which attorneys are going to pony up so much money with so much risk for so little fee? It’s a path to bankruptcy.

A $100,000 limit is a shonda. A shame. An embarrassment. It’s like putting a band aid on an amputated limb. Few people will ever find a lawyer to handle such a small case at such great risk and cost.

The text of the bill says that the Secretary of Defense can create regulations that allow them to pay more. Regulations that haven’t been written.

So what is the purpose of setting that $100,000 bar? Will future Secretaries of Defense be paying those damages out of their own budgets? Who shall they take the money from?

Why is Congress allowing the Secretary of Defense to set its own rules? Why isn’t this done under the existing rules of the Federal Tort Claims act? Why wouldn’t the Judiciary handle such a claim?

Congress should treat our soldiers and sailors better. If they are mistreated by the military doctors they are compelled to use they should have access to justice. Real justice. Not this pretend crap.

It’s often said that perfect is the enemy of the good, but I can’t see how this will end out as good if this bill is so watered down that the Secretary of Defense can so easily circumvent Congress.