How are the federal courts faring during these tumultuous times? I thought it would be worthwhile to discuss this important subject with a former federal judge: someone who understands the judicial role well but could speak more freely than a sitting judge, liberated from the strictures of the bench.

Meet Judge Nancy Gertner (Ret.), who served as a U.S. District Judge for the District of Massachusetts from 1994 until 2011. I knew that Judge Gertner would be a lively and insightful interviewee—based not only on her extensive commentary on recent events, reflected in media interviews and op-eds, but on my personal experience. During law school, I took a year-long course on federal sentencing with her, and she was one of my favorite professors.

When I was her student, we disagreed on a lot: I was severely conservative back then, and Judge Gertner was, well, not. But I always appreciated and enjoyed hearing her views—so it was a pleasure hearing them once again, some 25 years later, in what turned out to be an excellent conversation.

Show Notes:

* Nancy Gertner, author website

* Nancy Gertner bio, Harvard Law School

* In Defense of Women: Memoirs of an Unrepentant Advocate, Amazon

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David Lat: Welcome to the Original Jurisdiction podcast. I’m your host, David Lat, author of a Substack newsletter about law and the legal profession also named Original Jurisdiction, which you can read and subscribe to at davidlat.substack.com. You’re listening to the eighty-fifth episode of this podcast, recorded on Monday, November 3.

Thanks to this podcast’s sponsor, NexFirm. NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email [email protected]. Want to know who the guest will be for the next Original Jurisdiction podcast? Follow NexFirm on LinkedIn for a preview.

Many of my guests have been friends of mine for a long time—and that’s the case for today’s. I’ve known Judge Nancy Gertner for more than 25 years, dating back to when I took a full-year course on federal sentencing from her and the late Professor Dan Freed at Yale Law School. She was a great teacher, and although we didn’t always agree—she was a professor who let students have their own opinions—I always admired her intellect and appreciated her insights.

Judge Gertner is herself a graduate of Yale Law School—where she met, among other future luminaries, Bill and Hillary Clinton. After a fascinating career in private practice as a litigator and trial lawyer handling an incredibly diverse array of cases, Judge Gertner was appointed to serve as a U.S. District Judge for the District of Massachusetts in 1994, by President Clinton. She retired from the bench in 2011, but she is definitely not retired: she writes opinion pieces for outlets such as The New York Times and The Boston Globe, litigates and consults on cases, and trains judges and litigators. She’s also working on a book called Incomplete Sentences, telling the stories of the people she sentenced over 17 years on the bench. Her autobiography, In Defense of Women: Memoirs of an Unrepentant Advocate, was published in 2011. Without further ado, here’s my conversation with Judge Nancy Gertner.

Judge, thank you so much for joining me.

Nancy Gertner: Thank you for inviting me. This is wonderful.

DL: So it’s funny: I’ve been wanting to have you on this podcast in a sense before it existed, because you and I worked on a podcast pilot. It ended up not getting picked up, but perhaps they have some regrets over that, because legal issues have just blown up since then.

NG: I remember that. I think it was just a question of scheduling, and it was before Trump, so we were talking about much more sophisticated, superficial things, as opposed to the rule of law and the demise of the Constitution.

DL: And we will get to those topics. But to start off my podcast in the traditional way, let’s go back to the beginning. I believe we are both native New Yorkers?

NG: Yes, that’s right. I was born on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, in an apartment that I think now is a tenement museum, and then we moved to Flushing, Queens, where I lived into my early 20s.

DL: So it’s interesting—I actually spent some time as a child in that area. What was your upbringing like? What did your parents do?

NG: My father owned a linoleum store, or as we used to call it, “tile,” and my mother was a homemaker. My mother worked at home. We were lower class on the Lower East Side and maybe made it to lower-middle. My parents were very conservative, in the sense they didn’t know exactly what to do with a girl who was a bit of a radical. Neither I nor my sister was precisely what they anticipated. So I got to Barnard for college only because my sister had a conniption fit when he wouldn’t pay for college for her—she’s my older sister—he was not about to pay for college. If we were boys, we would’ve had college paid for.

In a sense, they skipped a generation. They were actually much more traditional than their peers were. My father was Orthodox when he grew up; my mother was somewhat Orthodox Jewish. My father couldn’t speak English until the second grade. So they came from a very insular environment, and in one sense, he escaped that environment when he wanted to play ball on Saturdays. So that was actually the motivation for moving to Queens: to get away from the Lower East Side, where everyone would know that he wasn’t in temple on Saturday. We used to have interesting discussions, where I’d say to him that my rebellion was a version of his: he didn’t want to go to temple on Saturdays, and I was marching against the war. He didn’t see the equivalence, but somehow I did.

There’s actually a funny story to tell about sort of exactly the distance between how I was raised and my life. After I graduated from Yale Law School, with all sorts of honors and stuff, and was on my way to clerk for a judge, my mother and I had this huge fight in the kitchen of our apartment. What was the fight about? Sadie wanted me to take the Triborough Bridge toll taker’s test, “just in case.” “You never know,” she said. I couldn’t persuade her that it really wasn’t necessary. She passed away before I became a judge, and I told this story at my swearing-in, and I said that she just didn’t understand. I said, “Now I have to talk to my mother for a minute; forgive me for a moment.” And I looked up at the rafters and I said, “Ma, at last: a government job!” So that is sort of the measure of where I started. My mother didn’t finish high school, my father had maybe a semester of college—but that wasn’t what girls did.

DL: So were you then a first-generation professional or a first-generation college graduate?

NG: Both—my sister and I were both, first-generation college graduates and first-generation professionals. When people talk about Jewish backgrounds, they’re very different from one another, and since my grandparents came from Eastern European shtetls, it’s not clear to me that they—except for one grandfather—were even literate. So it was a very different background.

DL: You mentioned that you did go to Yale Law School, and of course we connected there years later, when I was your student. But what led you to go to law school in the first place? Clearly your parents were not encouraging your professional ambitions.

NG: One is, I love to speak. My husband kids me now and says that I’ve never met a microphone I didn’t like. I had thought for a moment of acting—musical comedy, in fact. But it was 1967, and the anti-war movement, a nascent women’s movement, and the civil rights movement were all rising around me, and I wanted to be in the world. And the other thing was that I didn’t want to do anything that women do. Actually, musical comedy was something that would’ve been okay and normal for women, but I didn’t want to do anything that women typically do. So that was the choice of law. It was more like the choice of law professor than law, but that changed over time.

DL: So did you go straight from Barnard to Yale Law School?

NG: Well, I went from Barnard to Yale graduate school in political science because as I said, I’ve always had an academic and a practical side, and so I thought briefly that I wanted to get a Ph.D. I still do, actually—I’m going to work on that after these books are finished.

DL: Did you then think that you wanted to be a law professor when you started at YLS? I guess by that point you already had a master’s degree under your belt?

NG: I thought I wanted to be a law professor, that’s right. I did not think I wanted to practice law. Yale at that time, like most law schools, had no practical clinical courses. I don’t think I ever set foot in a courtroom or a courthouse, except to demonstrate on the outside of it. And the only thing that started me in practice was that I thought I should do at least two or three years of practice before I went back into the academy, before I went back into the library. Twenty-four years later, I obviously made a different decision.

DL: So you were at YLS during a very interesting time, and some of the law school’s most famous alumni passed through its halls around that period. So tell us about some of the people you either met or overlapped with at YLS during your time there.

NG: Hillary Clinton was one of my best friends. I knew Bill, but I didn’t like him.

DL: Hmmm….

NG: She was one of my best friends. There were 20 women in my class, which was the class of ‘71. The year before, there had only been eight. I think we got up to 21—a rumor had it that it was up to 21 because men whose numbers were drafted couldn’t go to school, and so suddenly they had to fill their class with this lesser entity known as women. It was still a very small number out of, I think, what was the size of the opening class… 165? Very small. So we knew each other very, very well. And Hillary and I were the only ones, I think, who had no boyfriends at the time, though that changed.

DL: I think you may have either just missed or briefly overlapped with either Justice Thomas or Justice Alito?

NG: They’re younger than I am, so I think they came after.

DL: And that would be also true of Justice Sotomayor then as well?

NG: Absolutely. She became a friend because when I was on the bench, I actually sat with the Second Circuit, and we had great times together. But she was younger than I was, so I didn’t know her in law school, and by the time she was in law school, there were more women. In the middle of, I guess, my first year at Yale Law School, was the first year that Yale College went coed. So it was, in my view, an enormously exciting time, because we felt like we were inventing law. We were inventing something entirely new. We had the first “women in the law” course, one of the first such courses in the country, and I think we were borderline obnoxious. It’s a little bit like the debates today, which is that no one could speak right—you were correcting everyone with respect to the way they were describing women—but it was enormously creative and exciting.

DL: So I’m gathering you enjoyed law school, then?

NG: I loved law school. Still, when I was in law school, I still had my feet in graduate school, so I believe that I took law and sociology for three years, mostly. In other words, I was going through law school as if I were still in graduate school, and it was so bad that when I decided to go into practice—and this is an absolutely true story—I thought that dying intestate was a disease. We were taking the bar exam, and I did not know what they were talking about.

DL: So tell us, then, what did lead you to shift gears? You mentioned you clerked, and you mentioned you wanted to practice for a few years—but you did practice for more than a few years.

NG: Right. I talk to students about this all the time, about sort of the fortuities that you need to grab onto that you absolutely did not plan. So I wind up at a small civil-rights firm, Harvey Silverglate and Norman Zalkind’s firm. I wind up in a small civil-rights firm because I couldn’t get a job anywhere else in Boston. I was looking in Boston or San Francisco, and what other women my age were encountering, I encountered, which is literally people who told me that I would never succeed as a lawyer, certainly not as a litigator. So you have to understand, this is 1971. I should say, as a footnote, that I have a file of everyone who said that to me. People know that I have that file; it’s called “Sexist Tidbits.” And so I used to decide whether I should recuse myself when someone in that file appeared before me, but I decided it was just too far.

So it was a small civil-rights firm, and they were doing draft cases, they were doing civil-rights cases of all different kinds, and they were doing criminal cases. After a year, the partnership between Norman Zalkind and Harvey Silverglate broke up, and Harvey made me his partner, now an equal partner after a year of practice.

Shortly after that, I got a case that changed my career in so many ways, which is I wound up representing Susan Saxe. Susan Saxe was one of five individuals who participated in robberies to get money for the anti-war movement. She was probably five years younger than I was. In the case of the robbery that she participated in, a police officer was killed. She was charged with felony murder. She went underground for five years; the other woman went underground for 20 years.

Susan wanted me to represent her, not because she had any sense that I was any good—it’s really quite wonderful—she wanted me to represent her because she figured her case was hopeless. And her case was hopeless because the three men involved in the robbery either fled or were immediately convicted, so her case seemed to be hopeless. And she was an extraordinarily principled woman: she said that in her last moment on the stage—she figured that she’d be convicted and get life—she wanted to be represented by a woman. And I was it. There was another woman in town who was a public defender, but I was literally the only private lawyer. I wrote about the case in my book, In Defense of Women, and to Harvey Silvergate’s credit, even though the case was virtually no money, he said, “If you want to do it, do it.”

Because I didn’t know what I was doing—and I literally didn’t know what I was doing—I researched every inch of everything in the case. So we had jury research and careful jury selection, hiring people to do jury selection. I challenged the felony-murder rule (this was now 1970). If there was any evidentiary issue, I would not only do the legal research, but talk to social psychologists about what made sense to do. To make a long story short, it took about two years to litigate the case, and it’s all that I did.

And the government’s case was winding down, and it seemed to be not as strong as we thought it was—because, ironically, nobody noticed the woman in the bank. Nobody was noticing women in general; nobody was noticing women in the bank. So their case was much weaker than we thought, except there were two things, two letters that Susan had written: one to her father, and one to her rabbi. The one to her father said, “By the time you get this letter, you’ll know what your little girl is doing.” The one to her rabbi said basically the same thing. In effect, these were confessions. Both had been turned over to the FBI.

So the case is winding down, not very strong. These letters have not yet been introduced. Meanwhile, The Boston Globe is reporting that all these anti-war activists were coming into town, and Gertner, who no one ever heard of, was going to try the Vietnam War. The defense will be, “She robbed a bank to fight the Vietnam War.” She robbed a bank in order to get money to oppose the Vietnam War, and the Vietnam War was illegitimate, etc. We were going to try the Vietnam War.

There was no way in hell I was going to do that. But nobody had ever heard of me, so they believed anything. The government decided to rest before the letters came in, anticipating that our defense would be a collection of individuals who were going to challenge the Vietnam War. The day that the government rested without putting in those two letters, I rested my case, and the case went immediately to the jury. I’m told that I was so nervous when I said “the defense rests” that I sounded like Minnie Mouse.

The upshot of that, however, was that the jury was 9-3 for acquittal on the first day, 10-2 for acquittal on the second day, and then 11-1 for acquittal—and there it stopped. It was a hung jury. But it essentially made my career. I had first the experience of pouring my heart into a case and saving someone’s life, which was like nothing I’d ever felt before, which was better than the library. It also put my name out there. I was no longer, “Who is she?” I suddenly could take any kind of case I wanted to take. And so I was addicted to trials from then until the time I became a judge.

DL: Fill us in on what happened later to your client, just her ultimate arc.

NG: She wound up getting eight years in prison instead of life. She had already gotten eight years because of a prior robbery in Philadelphia, so there was no way that we were going to affect that. She had pleaded guilty to that. She went on to live a very principled life. She’s actually quite religious. She works in the very sort of left Jewish groups. We are in touch—I’m in touch with almost everyone that I’ve ever known—because it had been a life-changing experience for me. We were four years apart. Her background, though she was more middle-class, was very similar to my own. Her mother used to call me at night about what Susan should wear. So our lives were very much intertwined. And so she was out of jail after eight years, and she has a family and is doing fine.

DL: That’s really a remarkable result, because people have to understand what defense lawyers are up against. It’s often very challenging, and a victory is often a situation where your client doesn’t serve life, for example, or doesn’t, God forbid, get the death penalty. So it’s really interesting that the Saxe case—as you talk about in your wonderful memoir—really did launch your career to the next level. And you wound up handling a number of other cases that you could say were adjacent or thematically related to Saxe’s case. Maybe you can talk a little bit about some of those.

NG: The women’s movement was roaring at this time, and so a woman lawyer who was active and spoke out and talked about women’s issues invariably got women’s cases. So on the criminal side, I did one of the first, I think it was the first, battered woman syndrome case, as a defense to murder. On the civil side, I had a very robust employment-discrimination practice, dealing with sexual harassment, dealing with racial discrimination. I essentially did whatever I wanted to do. That’s what my students don’t always understand: I don’t remember ever looking for a lucrative case. I would take what was interesting and fun to me, and money followed. I can’t describe it any other way.

These cases—you wound up getting paid, but I did what I thought was meaningful. But it wasn’t just women’s rights issues, and it wasn’t just criminal defense. We represented white-collar criminal defendants. We represented Boston Mayor Kevin White’s second-in-command, Ted Anzalone, also successfully. I did stockholder derivative suits, because someone referred them to me. To some degree the Saxe case, and maybe it was also the time—I did not understand the law to require specialization in the way that it does now. So I could do a felony-murder case on Monday and sue Mayor Lynch on Friday and sue Gulf Oil on Monday, and it wouldn’t even occur to me that there was an issue. It was not the same kind of specialization, and I certainly wasn’t about to specialize.

DL: You anticipated my next comment, which is that when someone reads your memoir, they read about a career that’s very hard to replicate in this day and age. For whatever reason, today people specialize. They specialize at earlier points in their careers. Clients want somebody who holds himself out as a specialist in white-collar crime, or a specialist in dealing with defendants who invoke battered woman syndrome, or what have you. And so I think your career… you kind of had a luxury, in a way.

NG: I also think that the costs of entry were lower. It was Harvey Silverglate and me, and maybe four or five other lawyers. I was single until I was 39, so I had no family pressures to speak of. And I think that, yes, the profession was different. Now employment discrimination cases involve prodigious amounts of e-discovery. So even a little case has e-discovery, and that’s partly because there’s a generation—you’re a part of it—that lived online. And so suddenly, what otherwise would have been discussions over the back fence are now text messages.

So I do think it’s different—although maybe this is a comment that only someone who is as old as I am can make—I wish that people would forget the money for a while. When I was on the bench, you’d get a pro se case that was incredibly interesting, challenging prison conditions or challenging some employment issue that had never been challenged before. It was pro se, and I would get on the phone and try to find someone to represent this person. And I can’t tell you how difficult it was. These were not necessarily big cases. The big firms might want to get some publicity from it. But there was not a sense of individuals who were going to do it just, “Boy, I’ve never done a case like this—let me try—and boy, this is important to do.” Now, that may be different today in the Trump administration, because there’s a huge number of lawyers that are doing immigration cases. But the day-to-day discrimination cases, even abortion cases, it was not the same kind of support.

DL: I feel in some ways you were ahead of your time, because your career as a litigator played out in boutiques, and I feel that today, many lawyers who handle high-profile cases like yours work at large firms. Why did you not go to a large firm, either from YLS or if there were issues, for example, of discrimination, you must have had opportunities to lateral into such a firm later, if you had wanted to?

NG: Well, certainly at the beginning nobody wanted me. It didn’t matter how well I had done. Me and Ruth Ginsburg were on the streets looking for jobs. So that was one thing. I wound up, for the last four years of my practice before I became a judge, working in a firm called Dwyer Collora & Gertner. It was more of a boutique, white-collar firm. But I wasn’t interested in the big firms because I didn’t want anyone to tell me what to do. I didn’t want anyone to say, “Don’t write this op-ed because you’ll piss off my clients.” I faced the same kind of issue when I left the bench. I could have an office, and sort of float into client conferences from time to time, but I did not want to be in a setting in which anyone told me what to do. It was true then; it certainly is true now.

DL: So you did end up in another setting where, for the most part, you weren’t told what to do: namely, you became a federal judge. And I suppose the First Circuit could from time to time tell you what to do, but….

NG: But they were always wrong.

DL: Yes, I do remember that when you were my professor, you would offer your thoughts on appellate rulings. But how did you—given the kind of career you had, especially—become a federal judge? Because let me be honest, I think that somebody with your type of engagement in hot-button issues today would have a challenging time. Republican senators would grandstand about you coming up with excuses for women murderers, or what have you. Did you have a rough confirmation process?

NG: I did. So I’m up for the bench in 1993. This is under Bill Clinton, and I’m told—I never confirmed this—that when Senator Kennedy…. When I met Senator Kennedy, I thought I didn’t have a prayer of becoming a judge. I put my name in because I knew the Clintons, and everybody I knew was getting a job in the government. I had not thought about being a judge. I had not prepared. I had not structured my career to be a judge. But everyone I knew was going into the government, and I thought if there ever was a time, this would be it. So I apply. Someday, someone should emboss my application, because the application was quite hysterical. I put in every article that I had written calling for access to reproductive technologies to gay people. It was something to behold.

Kennedy was at the tail end of his career, and he was determined to put someone like me on the bench. I’m not sure that anyone else would have done that. I’m told (and this isn’t confirmed) that when he talked to Bill and Hillary about me, they of course knew me—Hillary and I had been close friends—but they knew me to be that radical friend of theirs from Yale Law School. There had been 24 years in between, but still. And I’m told that what was said was, “She’s terrific. But if there’s a problem, she’s yours.” But Kennedy was really determined.

The week before my hearing before the Senate, I had gotten letters from everyone who had ever opposed me. Every prosecutor. I can’t remember anyone who had said no. Bill Weld wrote a letter. Bob Mueller, who had opposed me in cases, wrote a letter. But as I think oftentimes happens with women, there was an article in The Boston Herald the day before my hearing, in which the writer compared me to Lorena Bobbitt. Your listeners may not know this, but he said, “Gertner will do to justice, with her gavel, what Lorena did to her husband, with a kitchen knife.” Do we have to explain that any more?

DL: They can Google it or ask ChatGPT. I’m old enough to know about Lorena Bobbitt.

NG: Right. So it’s just at the tail edge of the presentation, that was always what the caricature would be. But Kennedy was masterful. There were numbers of us who were all up at the same time. Everyone else got through except me. I’m told that that article really was the basis for Senator Jesse Helms’s opposition to me. And then Senator Kennedy called us one day and said, “Tomorrow you’re going to read something, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” And the Boston Globe headline says, “Kennedy Votes For Helms’s School-Prayer Amendment.” And he called us and said, “We’ll take care of it in committee.” And then we get a call from him—my husband took the call—Kennedy, affecting Helms’s accent, said, ‘Senator, you’ve got your judge.’ We didn’t even understand what the hell he said, between his Boston accent and imitating Helms; we had no idea what he said. But that then was confirmed.

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So turning to your time as a judge, how would you describe that period, in a nutshell? The job did come with certain restrictions. Did you enjoy it, notwithstanding the restrictions?

NG: I candidly was not sure that I would last beyond five years, for a couple of reasons. One was, I got on the bench in 1994, when the sentencing guidelines were mandatory, when what we taught you in my sentencing class was not happening, which is that judges would depart from the guidelines and the Sentencing Commission, when enough of us would depart, would begin to change the guidelines, and there’d be a feedback loop. There was no feedback loop. If you departed, you were reversed. And actually the genesis of the book I’m writing now came from this period. As far as I was concerned, I was being unfair. As I later said, my sentences were unfair, unjust, and disproportionate—and there was nothing I could do about it. So I was not sure that I was going to last beyond five years.

In addition, there were some high-profile criminal trials going on with lawyers that I knew that I probably would’ve been a part of if I had been practicing. And I hungered to do that, to go back and be a litigator. The course at Yale Law School that you were a part of saved me. And it saved me because, certainly with respect to the sentencing, it turned what seemed like a formula into an intellectual discussion in which there was wiggle room and the ability to come up with other approaches. In other words, we were taught that this was a formula, and you don’t depart from the formula, and that’s it. The class came up with creative issues and creative understandings, which made an enormous difference to my judging.

So I started to write; I started to write opinions. Even if the opinion says there’s nothing I can do about it, I would write opinions in which I say, “I can’t depart because of this woman’s status as a single mother because the guidelines said only extraordinary family circumstances can justify a departure, and this wasn’t extraordinary. That makes no sense.” And I began to write this in my opinions, I began to write this in scholarly writings, and that made all the difference in the world. And sometimes I was reversed, and sometimes I was not. But it enabled me to figure out how to push back against a system which I found to be palpably unfair. So I figured out how to be me in this job—and that was enormously helpful.

DL: And I know how much and how deeply you cared about sentencing because of the class in which I actually wound up writing one of my two capstone papers at Yale.

NG: To your listeners, I still have that paper.

DL: You must be quite a pack rat!

NG: I can change the grade at any time….

DL: Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed your time today, Judge, and will keep the grade that way!

But let me ask you: now that the guidelines are advisory, do you view that as a step forward from your time on the bench? Perhaps you would still be a judge if they were advisory? I don’t know.

NG: No, they became advisory in 2005, and I didn’t leave until 2011. Yes, that was enormously helpful: you could choose what you thought was a fair sentence, so it’s very advisory now. But I don’t think I would’ve stayed longer, because of two reasons.

By the time I hit 65, I wanted another act. I wanted another round. I thought I had done all that I could do as a judge, and I wanted to try something different. And Martha Minow of Harvard Law School made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, which was to teach at Harvard. So that was one. It also, candidly, was that there was no longevity in my family, and so when I turned 65, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. So I did want to try something new. But I’m still here.

DL: Yep—definitely, and very active. I always chuckle when I see “Ret.,” the abbreviation for “retired,” in your email signature, because you do not seem very retired to me. Tell us what you are up to today.

NG: Well, first I have this book that I’ve been writing for several years, called Incomplete Sentences. And so what this book started to be about was the men and women that I sentenced, and how unfair it was, and what I thought we should have done. Then one day I got a message from a man by the name of Darryl Green, and it says, “Is this Nancy Gertner? If it is, I think about you all the time. I hope you’re well. I’m well. I’m an iron worker. I have a family. I’ve written books. You probably don’t remember me.” This was a Facebook message. I knew exactly who he was. He was a man who had faced the death penalty in my court, and I acquitted him. And he was then tried in state court, and acquitted again. So I knew exactly who he was, and I decided to write back.

So I wrote back and said, “I know who you are. Do you want to meet?” That started a series of meetings that I’ve had with the men I’ve sentenced over the course of the 17-year career that I had as a judge. Why has it taken me this long to write? First, because these have been incredibly moving and difficult discussions. Second, because I wanted the book to be honest about what I knew about them and what a difference maybe this information would make. It is extremely difficult, David, to be honest about judging, particularly in these days when judges are parodied. So if I talk about how I wanted to exercise some leniency in a case, I understand that this can be parodied—and I don’t want it to be, but I want to be honest.

So for example, in one case, there would be cooperators in the case who’d get up and testify that the individual who was charged with only X amount of drugs was actually involved with much more than that. And you knew that if you believed the witness, the sentence would be doubled, even though you thought that didn’t make any sense. This was really just mostly how long the cops were on the corner watching the drug deals. It didn’t make the guy who was dealing drugs on a bicycle any more culpable than the guy who was doing massive quantities into the country.

So I would struggle with, “Do I really believe this man, the witness who’s upping the quantity?” And the kinds of exercises I would go through to make sure that I wasn’t making a decision because I didn’t like the implications of the decision and it was what I was really feeling. So it’s not been easy to write, and it’s taken me a very long time. The other side of the coin is they’re also incredibly honest with me, and sometimes I don’t want to know what they’re saying. Not like a sociologist who could say, “Oh, that’s an interesting fact, I’ll put it in.” It’s like, “Oh no, I don’t want to know that.”

DL: Wow. The book sounds amazing; I can’t wait to read it. When is it estimated to come out?

NG: Well, I’m finishing it probably at the end of this year. I’ve rewritten it about five times. And my hope would be sometime next year. So yeah, it was organic. It’s what I wanted to write from the minute I left the bench. And it covers the guideline period when it was lunacy to follow the guidelines, to a period when it was much more flexible, but the guidelines still disfavored considering things like addiction and trauma and adverse childhood experiences, which really defined many of the people I was sentencing. So it’s a cri de cœur, as they say, which has not been easy to write.

DL: Speaking of cri de cœurs, and speaking of difficult things, it’s difficult to write about judging, but I think we also have alluded already to how difficult it is to engage in judging in 2025. What general thoughts would you have about being a federal judge in 2025? I know you are no longer a federal judge. But if you were still on the bench or when you talk to your former colleagues, what is it like on the ground right now?

NG: It’s nothing like when I was a judge. In fact, the first thing that happened when I left the bench is I wrote an article in which I said—this is in 2011—that the only pressure I had felt in my 17 years on the bench was to duck, avoid, and evade, waiver, statute of limitations. Well, all of a sudden, you now have judges who at least since January are dealing with emergencies that they can’t turn their eyes away from, judges issuing rulings at 1 a.m., judges writing 60-page decisions on an emergency basis, because what the president is doing is literally unprecedented. The courts are being asked to look at issues that have never been addressed before, because no one has ever tried to do the things that he’s doing. And they have almost overwhelmingly met the moment. It doesn’t matter whether you’re ruling for the government or against the government; they are taking these challenges enormously seriously. They’re putting in the time.

I had two clerks, maybe some judges have three, but it’s a prodigious amount of work. Whereas everyone complained about the Trump prosecutions proceeding so slowly, judges have been working expeditiously on these challenges, and under circumstances that I never faced, which is threats the likes of which I have never seen. One judge literally played for me the kinds of voice messages that he got after a decision that he issued. So they’re doing it under circumstances that we never had to face. And it’s not just the disgruntled public talking; it’s also our fellow Yale Law alum, JD Vance, talking about rogue judges. That’s a level of delegitimization that I just don’t think anyone ever had to deal with before. So they’re being challenged in ways that no other judges have, and they are being threatened in a way that no judges have.

On the other hand, I wish I were on the bench.

DL: Interesting, because I was going to ask you that. If you were to give lower-court judges a grade, to put you back in professor mode, on their performance since January 2025, what grade would you give the lower courts?

NG: Oh, I would give them an A. I would give them an A. It doesn’t matter which way they have come out: decision after decision has been thoughtful and careful. They put in the time. Again, this is not a commentary on what direction they have gone in, but it’s a commentary on meeting the moment. And so now these are judges who are getting emergency orders, emergency cases, in the midst of an already busy docket. It has really been extraordinary. The district courts have; the courts of appeals have. I’ve left out another court….

DL: We’ll get to that in a minute. But I’m curious: you were on the District of Massachusetts, which has been a real center of activity because many groups file there. As we’re recording this, there is the SNAP benefits, federal food assistance litigation playing out there [before Judge Indira Talwani, with another case before Chief Judge John McConnell of Rhode Island]. So it’s really just ground zero for a lot of these challenges. But you alluded to the Supreme Court, and I was going to ask you—even before you did—what grade would you give them?

NG: Failed. The debate about the shadow docket, which you write about and I write about, in which Justice Kavanaugh thinks, “we’re doing fine making interim orders, and therefore it’s okay that there’s even a precedential value to our interim orders, and thank you very much district court judges for what you’re doing, but we’ll be the ones to resolve these issues”—I mean, they’re resolving these issues in the most perfunctory manner possible.

In the tariff case, for example, which is going to be argued on Wednesday, the Court has expedited briefing and expedited oral argument. They could do that with the emergency docket, but they are preferring to hide behind this very perfunctory decision making. I’m not sure why—maybe to keep their options open? Justice Barrett talks about how if it’s going to be a hasty decision, you want to make sure that it’s not written in stone. But of course then the cases dealing with independent commissions, in which you are allowing the government, allowing the president, to fire people on independent commissions—these cases are effectively overruling Humphrey’s Executor, in the most ridiculous setting. So the Court is not meeting the moment. It was stunning that the Court decided in the birthright-citizenship case to be concerned about nationwide injunctions, when in fact nationwide injunctions had been challenged throughout the Biden administration, and they just decided not to address the issue then.

Now, I have a lot to say about Justice Kavanaugh’s dressing-down of Judge [William] Young [of the District of Massachusetts]….

DL: Or Justice Gorsuch, joined by Justice Kavanaugh.

NG: That’s right, it was Justice Gorsuch. It was stunningly inappropriate, stunningly inappropriate, undermines the district courts that frankly are doing much better than the Supreme Court in meeting the moment. The whole concept of defying the Supreme Court—defying a Supreme Court order, a three-paragraph, shadow-docket order—is preposterous. So whereas the district courts and the courts of appeals are meeting the moment, I do not think the Supreme Court is. And that’s not even going into the merits of the immunity decision, which I think has let loose a lawless presidency that is even more lawless than it might otherwise be. So yes, that failed.

DL: I do want to highlight for my readers that in addition to your books and your speaking, you do write quite frequently on these issues in the popular press. I’ve seen your work in The New York Times and The Boston Globe. I know you’re working on a longer essay about the rule of law in the age of Trump, so people should look out for that. Of all the things that you worry about right now when it comes to the rule of law, what worries you the most?

NG: I worry that the president will ignore and disobey a Supreme Court order. I think a lot about the judges that are dealing with orders that the government is not obeying, and people are impatient that they’re not immediately moving to contempt. And one gets the sense with the lower courts that they are inching up to the moment of contempt, but do not want to get there because it would be a stunning moment when you hold the government in contempt. I think the Supreme Court is doing the same thing. I initially believed that the Supreme Court was withholding an anti-Trump decision, frankly, for fear that he would not obey it, and they were waiting till it mattered. I now am no longer certain of that, because there have been rulings that made no sense as far as I’m concerned. But my point was that they, like the lower courts, were holding back rather than saying, “Government, you must do X,” for fear that the government would say, “Go pound sand.” And that’s what I fear, because when that happens, it will be even more of a constitutional crisis than we’re in now. It’ll be a constitutional confrontation, the likes of which we haven’t seen. So that’s what I worry about.

DL: Picking up on what you just said, here’s something that I posed to one of my prior guests, Pam Karlan. Let’s say you’re right that the Supreme Court doesn’t want to draw this line in the sand because of a fear that Trump, being Trump, will cross it. Why is that not prudential? Why is that not the right thing? And why is it not right for the Supreme Court to husband its political capital for the real moment?

Say Trump—I know he said lately he’s not going to—but say Trump attempts to run for a third term, and some case goes up to the Supreme Court on that basis, and the Court needs to be able to speak in a strong, unified, powerful voice. Or maybe it’ll be a birthright-citizenship case, if he says, when they get to the merits of that, “Well, that’s really nice that you think that there’s such a thing as birthright citizenship, but I don’t, and now stop me.” Why is it not wise for the Supreme Court to protect itself, until this moment when it needs to come forward and protect all of us?

NG: First, the question is whether that is in fact what they are doing, and as I said, there were two schools of thought on this. One school of thought was that is what they were doing, and particularly doing it in an emergency, fuzzy, not really precedential way, until suddenly you’re at the edge of the cliff, and you have to either say taking away birthright citizenship was unconstitutional, or tariffs, you can’t do the tariffs the way you want to do the tariffs. I mean, they’re husbanding—I like the way you put it, husbanding—their political capital, until that moment. I’m not sure that that’s true. I think we’ll know that if in fact the decisions that are coming down the pike, they actually decide against Trump—notably the tariff ones, notably birthright citizenship. I’m just not sure that that’s true.

And besides, David, there are some of these cases they did not have to take. The shadow docket was about where plaintiffs were saying it is an emergency to lay people off or fire people. Irreparable harm is on the plaintiff’s side, whereas the government otherwise would just continue to do that which it has been doing. There’s no harm to it continuing that. USAID—you don’t have a right to dismantle the USAID. The harm is on the side of the dismantling, not having you do that which you have already done and could do through Congress, if you wanted to. They didn’t have to take those cases. So your comment about husbanding political capital is a good comment, but those cases could have remained as they were in the district courts with whatever the courts of appeals did, and they could do what previous courts have done, which is wait for the issues to percolate longer.

The big one for me, too, is the voting rights case. If they decide the voting rights case in January or February or March, if they rush it through, I will say then it’s clear they’re in the tank for Trump, because the only reason to get that decision out the door is for the 2026 election. So I want to believe that they are husbanding their political capital, but I’m not sure that if that’s true, that we would’ve seen this pattern. But the proof will be with the voting rights case, with birthright citizenship, with the tariffs.

DL: Well, it will be very interesting to see what happens in those cases. But let us now turn to my speed round. These are four questions that are the same for all my guests, and my first question is, what do you like the least about the law? And this can either be the practice of law or law as an abstract system of governance.

NG: The practice of law. I do some litigation; I’m in two cases. When I was a judge, I used to laugh at people who said incivility was the most significant problem in the law. I thought there were lots of other more significant problems. I’ve come now to see how incredibly nasty the practice of law is. So yes—and that is no fun.

DL: My second question is, what would you be if you were not a lawyer/judge/retired judge?

NG: Musical comedy star, clearly! No question about it.

DL: There are some judges—Judge Fred Block in the Eastern District of New York, Judge Jed Rakoff in the Southern District of New York—who do these little musical stylings for their court shows. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried that?

NG: We used to do Shakespeare, Shakespeare readings, and I loved that. I am a ham—so absolutely musical comedy or theater.

DL: My third question is, how much sleep do you get each night?

NG: Six to seven hours now, just because I’m old. Before that, four. Most of my life as a litigator, I never thought I needed sleep. You get into my age, you need sleep. And also you look like hell the next morning, so it’s either getting sleep or a facelift.

DL: And my last question is, any final words of wisdom, such as career advice or life advice, for my listeners?

NG: You have to do what you love. You have to do what you love. The law takes time and is so all-encompassing that you have to do what you love. And I have done what I love from beginning to now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

DL: Well, I have loved catching up with you, Judge, and having you share your thoughts and your story with my listeners. Thank you so much for joining me.

NG: You’re very welcome, David. Take care.

DL: Thanks so much to Judge Gertner for joining me. I look forward to reading her next book, Incomplete Sentences, when it comes out next year.

Thanks to NexFirm for sponsoring the Original Jurisdiction podcast. NexFirm has helped many attorneys to leave Biglaw and launch firms of their own. To explore this opportunity, please contact NexFirm at 212-292-1000 or email [email protected] to learn more.

Thanks to Tommy Harron, my sound engineer here at Original Jurisdiction, and thanks to you, my listeners and readers. To connect with me, please email me at [email protected], or find me on Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn, at davidlat, and on Instagram and Threads at davidbenjaminlat.

If you enjoyed today’s episode, please rate, review, and subscribe. Please subscribe to the Original Jurisdiction newsletter if you don’t already, over at davidlat.substack.com. This podcast is free, but it’s made possible by paid subscriptions to the newsletter.

The next episode should appear on or about Wednesday, November 26. Until then, may your thinking be original and your jurisdiction free of defects.

Welcome to Original Jurisdiction, the latest legal publication by me, David Lat. You can learn more about Original Jurisdiction by reading its About page, and you can email me at [email protected]. This is a reader-supported publication; you can subscribe by clicking here.

Yesterday, Southern California Edison (SCE), the utility whose power lines may have started the devastating Eaton Fire, announced its Wildfire Recovery Compensation Program. Under the program, people affected by the fire can receive hundreds of thousands or even millions of dollars in compensation, in a matter of months rather than years—but in exchange, they must give up their right to sue.

It should come as no surprise that SCE, in designing the program, sought the help of Kenneth Feinberg. For more than 40 years, often in the wake of tragedy or disaster, Feinberg has helped mediate and resolve seemingly intractable crises. He’s most well-known for how he and his colleague Camille Biros designed and administered the September 11th Victim Compensation Fund. But he has worked on many other headline-making matters over the years, including the Agent Orange product liability litigation, the Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill Trust, the multidistrict litigation involving Monsanto’s Roundup weed killer—and now, of course, the Eaton Fire.

How did Ken develop such a fascinating and unique practice? What is the most difficult aspect of administering these giant compensation funds? Do these funds represent the wave of the future, as an alternative to (increasingly expensive) litigation? Having just turned 80, does he have any plans to retire?

Last week, I had the pleasure of interviewing Ken—the day after his 80th birthday—and we covered all these topics. The result is what I found to be one of the most moving conversations I’ve ever had on this podcast.

Thanks to Ken Feinberg for joining me—and, of course, for his many years of service as America’s go-to mediator in times of crisis.

Show Notes:

* Kenneth Feinberg bio, Wikipedia

* Kenneth Feinberg profile, Chambers and Partners

* L.A. Fire Victims Face a Choice, by Jill Cowan for The New York Times

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

Sponsored by:

NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email [email protected].

Three quick notes about this transcript. First, it has been cleaned up from the audio in ways that don’t alter substance—e.g., by deleting verbal filler or adding a word here or there to clarify meaning. Second, my interviewee has not reviewed this transcript, and any errors are mine. Third, because of length constraints, this newsletter may be truncated in email; to view the entire post, simply click on “View entire message” in your email app.

David Lat: Welcome to the Original Jurisdiction podcast. I’m your host, David Lat, author of a Substack newsletter about law and the legal profession also named Original Jurisdiction, which you can read and subscribe to at davidlat.substack.com. You’re listening to the eighty-fourth episode of this podcast, recorded on Friday, October 24.

Thanks to this podcast’s sponsor, NexFirm. NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email [email protected]. Want to know who the guest will be for the next Original Jurisdiction podcast? Follow NexFirm on LinkedIn for a preview.

I like to think that I’ve produced some good podcast episodes over the past three-plus years, but I feel that this latest one is a standout. I’m hard-pressed to think of an interview that was more emotionally affecting to me than what you’re about to hear.

Kenneth Feinberg is a leading figure in the world of mediation and alternative dispute resolution. He is most well-known for having served as special master of the U.S. government’s September 11th Victim Compensation Fund—and for me, as someone who was in New York City on September 11, I found his discussion of that work profoundly moving. But he has handled many major matters over the years, such as the Agent Orange product liability litigation to the BP Deepwater Horizon Disaster Victim Compensation Fund. And he’s working right now on a matter that’s in the headlines: the California wildfires. Ken has been hired by Southern California Edison to help design a compensation program for victims of the 2025 Eaton fire.

Ken has written about his fascinating work in two books: What Is Life Worth?: The Unprecedented Effort to Compensate the Victims of 9/11 and Who Gets What: Fair Compensation after Tragedy and Financial Upheaval. Without further ado, here’s my conversation with Ken Feinberg.

Ken, thank you so much for joining me.

Ken Feinberg: Thank you very much; it’s an honor to be here.

DL: We are recording this shortly after your 80th birthday, so happy birthday!

KF: Thank you very much.

DL: Let’s go back to your birth; let’s start at the beginning. You grew up in Massachusetts, I believe.

KF: That’s right: Brockton, Massachusetts, about 20 miles south of Boston.

DL: Your parents weren’t lawyers. Tell us about what they did.

KF: My parents were blue-collar workers from Massachusetts, second-generation immigrants. My father ran a wholesale tire distributorship, my mother was a bookkeeper, and we grew up in the 1940s and ‘50s, even the early ‘60s, in a town where there was great optimism, a very vibrant Jewish community, three different synagogues, a very optimistic time in American history—post-World War II, pre-Vietnam, and a time when communitarianism, working together to advance the collective good, was a prominent characteristic of Brockton, and most of the country, during the time that I was in elementary school and high school in Brockton.

DL: Did the time in which you grow up shape or influence your decision to go into law?

KF: Yes. More than law—the time growing up had a great impact on my decision to give back to the community from which I came. You’ve got to remember, when I was a teenager, the president of the United States was John F. Kennedy, and I’ll never forget because it had a tremendous impact on me—President Kennedy reminding everybody that public service is a noble undertaking, government is not a dirty word, and especially his famous quote (or one of his many quotes), “Every individual can make a difference.” I never forgot that, and it had a personal impact on me and has had an impact on me throughout my life. [Ed. note: The quotation generally attributed to JFK is, “One person can make a difference, and everyone should try.” Whether he actually said these exact words is unclear, but it’s certainly consistent with many other sentiments he expressed throughout his life.]

DL: When you went to college at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, what did you study?

KF: I studied history and political science. I was very interested in how individuals over the centuries change history, the theory of historians that great individuals articulate history and drive it in a certain direction—for good, like President Kennedy or Abraham Lincoln or George Washington, or for ill, like Adolf Hitler or Mussolini. And so it was history that I really delved into in my undergraduate years.

DL: What led you then to turn to law school?

KF: I always enjoyed acting on the stage—theater, comedies, musicals, dramas—and at the University of Massachusetts, I did quite a bit of that. In my senior year, I anticipated going to drama school at Yale, or some other academic master’s program in theater. My father gave me very good advice. He said, “Ken, most actors end up waiting on restaurant tables in Manhattan, waiting for a big break that never comes. Why don’t you turn your skills on the stage to a career in the courtroom, in litigation, talking to juries and convincing judges?” That was very sound advice from my father, and I ended up attending NYU Law School and having a career in the law.

DL: Yes—and you recount that story in your book, and I just love that. It’s really interesting to hear what parents think of our careers. But anyway, you did very well in law school, you were on the law review, and then your first job out of law school was something that we might expect out of someone who did well in law school.

KF: Yes. I was a law clerk to the chief judge of New York State, Stanley Fuld, a very famous state jurist, and he had his chambers in New York City. For one week, every six or seven weeks, we would go to the state capitol in Albany to hear cases, and it was Judge Fuld who was my transition from law school to the practice of law.

DL: I view clerking as a form of government service—and then you continued in service after that.

KF: That’s right. Remembering what my father had suggested, I then turned my attention to the courtroom and became an assistant United States attorney, a federal prosecutor, in New York City. I served as a prosecutor and as a trial lawyer for a little over three years. And then I had a wonderful opportunity to go to work for Senator Ted Kennedy on the Senate Judiciary Committee in Washington and stayed with him for about five years.

DL: You talk about this also in your books—you worked on a pretty diverse range of issues for the senator, right?

KF: That’s right. For the first three years I worked on his staff on the Senate Judiciary Committee, with some excellent colleagues—soon-to-be Supreme Court justice Stephen Breyer was with me, noted litigator David Boies was in the office—and for the first three years, it was law-related issues. Then in 1978, Senator Kennedy asked me to be his chief of staff, and once I went over and became his chief of staff, the issues of course mushroomed. He was running for president, so there were issues of education, health, international relations—a wide diversity of issues, very broad-based.

DL: I recall that you didn’t love the chief of staff’s duties.

KF: No. Operations or administration was not my priority. I loved substance, issues—whatever the issues were, trying to work out legislative compromises, trying to give back something in the way of legislation to the people. And internal operations and administration, I quickly discovered, was not my forte. It was not something that excited me.

DL: Although it’s interesting: what you are most well-known for is overseeing and administering these large funds and compensating victims of these horrific tragedies, and there’s a huge amount of administration involved in that.

KF: Yes, but I’m a very good delegator. In fact, if you look at the track record of my career in designing and administering these programs—9/11 or the Deepwater Horizon oil spill or the Patriots’ Day Marathon bombings in Boston—I was indeed fortunate in all of those matters to have at my side, for over 40 years, Camille Biros. She’s not a lawyer, but she’s the nation’s expert on designing, administering, and operating these programs, and as you delve into what I’ve done and haven’t done, her expertise has been invaluable.

DL: I would call Camille your secret weapon, except she’s not secret. She’s been profiled in The New York Times, and she’s a well-known figure in her own right.

KF: That is correct. She was just in the last few months named one of the 50 Women Over 50 that have had such an impact in the country—that list by Forbes that comes out every year. She’s prominently featured in that magazine.

DL: Shifting back to your career, where did you go after your time in the Senate?

KF: I opened up a Washington office for a prominent New York law firm, and for the next decade or more, that was the center of my professional activity.

DL: So that was Kaye Scholer, now Arnold & Porter Kaye Scholer. What led you to go from your career in the public sector, where you spent a number of your years right out of law school, into so-called Biglaw?

KF: Practicality and financial considerations. I had worked for over a decade in public service. I now had a wife, I had three young children, and it was time to give them financial security. And “Biglaw,” as you put it—Biglaw in Washington was lucrative, and it was something that gave me a financial base from which I could try and expand my different interests professionally. And that was the reason that for about 12 years I was in private practice for a major firm, Kaye Scholer.

DL: And then tell us what happened next.

KF: A great lesson in not planning too far ahead. In 1984, I got a call from a former clerk of Judge Fuld whom I knew from the clerk network: Judge Jack Weinstein, a nationally recognized jurist from Brooklyn, the Eastern District, and a federal judge. He had on his docket the Vietnam veterans’ Agent Orange class action.

You may recall that there were about 250,000 Vietnam veterans who came home claiming illness or injury or death due to the herbicide Agent Orange, which had been dropped by the U.S. Air Force in Vietnam to burn the foliage and vegetation where the Viet Cong enemy might be hiding. Those Vietnam veterans came home suffering terrible diseases, including cancer and chloracne (a sort of acne on the skin), and they brought a lawsuit. Judge Weinstein had the case. Weinstein realized that if that case went to trial, it could be 10 years before there’d be a result, with appeals and all of that.

So he appointed me as mediator, called the “special master,” whose job it was to try and settle the case, all as a mediator. Well, after eight weeks of trying, we were successful. There was a master settlement totaling about $250 million—at the time, one of the largest tort verdicts in history. And that one case, front-page news around the nation, set me on a different track. Instead of remaining a Washington lawyer involved in regulatory and legislative matters, I became a mediator, an individual retained by the courts or by the parties to help resolve a case. And that was the beginning. That one Agent Orange case transformed my entire professional career and moved me in a different direction completely.

DL: So you knew the late Judge Weinstein through Fuld alumni circles. What background did you have in mediation already, before you handled this gigantic case?

KF: None. I told Judge Weinstein, “Judge, I never took a course in mediation at law school (there wasn’t one then), and I don’t know anything about bringing the parties together, trying to get them to settle.” He said, “I know you. I know your background. I’ve followed your career. You worked for Senator Kennedy. You are the perfect person.” And until the day I die, I’m beholden to Judge Weinstein for having faith in me to take this on.

DL: And over the years, you actually worked on a number of matters at the request of Judge Weinstein.

KF: A dozen. I worked on tobacco cases, on asbestos cases, on drug and medical device cases. I even worked for Judge Weinstein mediating the closing of the Shoreham nuclear plant on Long Island. I handled a wide range of cases where he called on me to act as his court-appointed mediator to resolve cases on his docket.

DL: You’ve carved out a very unique and fascinating niche within the law, and I’m guessing that most people who meet you nowadays know who you are. But say you’re in a foreign country or something, and some total stranger is chatting with you and asks what you do for a living. What would you say?

KF: I would say I’m a lawyer, and I specialize in dispute resolution. It might be mediation, it might be arbitration, or it might even be negotiation, where somebody asks me to negotiate on their behalf. So I just tell people there is a growing field of law in the United States called ADR—alternative dispute resolution—and that it is, as you say, David, my niche, my focus when called upon.

DL: And I think it’s fair to say that you’re one of the founding people in this field or early pioneers—or I don’t know how you would describe it.

KF: I think that’s right. When I began with Agent Orange, there was no mediation to speak of. It certainly wasn’t institutionalized; it wasn’t streamlined. Today, in 2025, the American Bar Association has a special section on alternative dispute resolution, it’s taught in every law school in the United States, there are thousands of mediators and arbitrators, and it’s become a major leg in law school of different disciplines and specialties.

DL: One question I often ask my guests is, “What is the matter you are most proud of?” Another question I often ask my guests is, “What is the hardest matter you’ve ever had to deal with?” Another question I often ask my guests is, “What is the matter that you’re most well-known for?” And I feel in your case, the same matter is responsive to all three of those questions.

KF: That’s correct. The most difficult, the most challenging, the most rewarding matter, the one that’s given me the most exposure, was the federal September 11 Victim Compensation Fund of 2001, when I was appointed by President George W. Bush and Attorney General John Ashcroft to implement, design, and administer a very unique federal law that had been enacted right after 9/11.

DL: I got chills as you were just even stating that, very factually, because I was in New York on 9/11, and a lot of us remember the trauma and difficulty of that time. And you basically had to live with that and talk to hundreds, even thousands, of people—survivors, family members—for almost three years. And you did it pro bono. So let me ask you this: what were you thinking?

KF: What triggered my interest was the law itself. Thirteen days after the attacks, Congress passed this law, unique in American history, setting up a no-fault administrator compensation system. Don’t go to court. Those who volunteer—families of the dead, those who were physically injured at the World Trade Center or the Pentagon—you can voluntarily seek compensation from a taxpayer-funded law. Now, if you don’t want it, you don’t have to go. It’s a voluntary program.

The key will be whether the special master or the administrator will be able to convince people that it is a better avenue to pursue than a long, delayed, uncertain lawsuit. And based on my previous experience for the last 15 years, starting with Agent Orange and asbestos and these other tragedies, I volunteered. I went to Senator Kennedy and said, “What about this?” He said, “Leave it to me.” He called President Bush. He knew Attorney General John Ashcroft, who was his former colleague in the U.S. Senate, and he had great admiration for Senator Ashcroft. And so I was invited by the attorney general for an interview, and I told him I was interested. I told him I would only do it pro bono. You can’t get paid for a job like this; it’s patriotism. And he said, “Go for it.” And he turned out to be my biggest, strongest ally during the 33 months of the program.

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You talk about this in your books: you were recommended by a very prominent Democratic politician, and the administration at the time was Republican. George W. Bush was president, and John Ashcroft was the attorney general. Why wouldn’t they have picked a Republican for this project?

KF: Very good question. Senator Kennedy told both of them, “You better be careful here. This is a very, very uncertain program, with taxpayer money used to pay only certain victims. This could be a disaster. And you would be well-advised to pick someone who is not a prominent friend of yours, who is not perceived as just a Republican arm of the Justice Department or the White House. And I’ve got the perfect person. You couldn’t pick a more opposite politician than my former chief of staff, Ken Feinberg. But look at what he’s done.” And I think to Senator Kennedy’s credit, and certainly to President Bush and to John Ashcroft’s, they selected me.

DL: As you would expect with a program of this size and complexity, there was controversy and certainly criticism over the years. But overall, looking back, I think people regard it widely as a huge success. Do you have a sense or an estimate of what percentage of people in the position to accept settlements through the program did that, rather than litigate? Because in accepting funds from the program, they did waive their right to bring all sorts of lawsuits.

KF: That’s correct. If you look at the statistics, if the statistics are a barometer of success, 5,300 applicants were eligible, because of death—about 2,950, somewhere in there—and the remaining claims were for physical injury. Of the 5,300, 97 percent voluntarily accepted the compensation. Only 94 people, 3 percent, opted out, and they all settled their cases five years later. There was never a trial on who was responsible in the law for 9/11. So if statistics are an indication—and I think they are a good indication—the program was a stunning success in accomplishing Congress’s objective, which was diverting people voluntarily out of the court system.

DL: Absolutely. And that’s just a striking statistic. It was really successful in getting funds to families that needed it. They had lost breadwinners; they had lost loved ones. It was hugely successful, and it did not take a decade, as some of these cases involving just thousands of victims often do.

I was struck by one thing you just said. You mentioned there was really no trial. And in reading your accounts of your work on this, it seemed almost like people viewed talking to you and your colleagues, Camille and others on this—I think they almost viewed that as their opportunity to be heard, since there wasn’t a trial where they would get to testify.

KF: That’s correct. The primary reason for the success of the 9/11 Fund, and a valuable lesson for me thereafter, was this: give victims the opportunity to be heard, not only in public town-hall meetings where collectively people can vent, but in private, with doors closed. It’s just the victim and Feinberg or his designee, Camille. We were the face of the government here. You can’t get a meeting with the secretary of defense or the attorney general, the head of the Department of Justice. What you can get is an opportunity behind closed doors to express your anger, your frustration, your disappointment, your sense of uncertainty, with the government official responsible for cutting the checks. And that had an enormous difference in assuring the success of the program.

DL: What would you say was the hardest aspect of your work on the Fund?

KF: The hardest part of the 9/11 Fund, which I’ll never recover from, was not calculating the value of a life. Judges and juries do that every day, David, in every court, in New Jersey and 49 other states. That is not a difficult assignment. What would the victim have earned over a work life? Add something for pain and suffering and emotional distress, and there’s your check.

The hardest part in any of these funds, starting with 9/11—the most difficult aspect, the challenge—is empathy, and your willingness to sit for over 900 separate hearings, me alone with family members or victims, to hear what they want to tell you, and to make that meeting, from their perspective, worthwhile and constructive. That’s the hard part.

DL: Did you find it sometimes difficult to remain emotionally composed? Or did you, after a while, develop a sort of thick skin?

KF: You remain composed. You are a professional. You have a job to do, for the president of the United States. You can’t start wailing and crying in the presence of somebody who was also wailing and crying, so you have to compose yourself. But I tell people who say, “Could I do what you did?” I say, “Sure. There are plenty of people in this country that can do what I did—if you can brace yourself for the emotional trauma that comes with meeting with victim after victim after victim and hearing their stories, which are...” You can’t make them up. They’re so heart-wrenching and so tragic.

I’ll give you one example. A lady came to see me, 26 years old, sobbing—one of hundreds of people I met with. “Mr. Feinberg, I lost my husband. He was a fireman at the World Trade Center. He died on 9/11. And he left me with our two children, six and four. Now, Mr. Feinberg, you’ve calculated and told me I’m going to receive $2.4 million, tax-free, from this 9/11 Fund. I want it in 30 days.”

I said to Mrs. Jones, “This is public, taxpayer money. We have to go down to the U.S. Treasury. They’ve got to cut the checks; they’ve got to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s. It may be 60 days or 90 days, but you’ll get your money.”

“No. Thirty days.”

I said, “Mrs. Jones, why do you need the money in 30 days?”

She said, “Why? I’ll tell you why, Mr. Feinberg. I have terminal cancer. I have 10 weeks to live. My husband was going to survive me and take care of our two children. Now they’re going to be orphans. I have got to get this money, find a guardian, make sure the money’s safe, prepare for the kids’ schooling. I don’t have a lot of time. I need your help.”

Well, we ran down to the U.S. Treasury and helped process the check in record time. We got her the money in 30 days—and eight weeks later, she died. Now when you hear story after story like this, you get some indication of the emotional pressure that builds and is debilitating, frankly. And we managed to get through it.

DL: Wow. I got a little choked up just even hearing you tell that. Wow—I really don’t know what to say.

When you were working on the 9/11 Fund, did you have time for any other matters, or was this pretty much exclusively what you were working on for the 33 months?

KF: Professionally, it was exclusive. Now what I did was, I stayed in my law firm, so I had a living. Other people in the firm were generating income for the firm; I wasn’t on the dole. But it was exclusive. During the day, you are swamped with these individual requests, decisions that have to be made, checks that have to be cut. At night, I escaped: opera, orchestral concerts, chamber music, art museums—the height of civilization. During the day, in the depths of horror of civilization; at night, an escape, an opportunity to just enjoy the benefits of civilization. You better have a loving family, as I did, that stands behind you—because you never get over it, really.

DL: That’s such an important lesson, to actually have that time—because if you wanted to, you could have worked on this 24/7. But it is important to have some time to just clear your head or spend time with your family, especially just given what you were dealing with day-to-day.

KF: That’s right. And of course, during the day, we made a point of that as well. If we were holding hearings like the one I just explained, we’d take a one-hour break, go for a walk, go into Central Park or into downtown Washington, buy an ice cream cone, see the kids playing in playgrounds and laughing. You’ve got to let the steam out of the pressure cooker, or it’ll kill you. And that was the most difficult part of the whole program. In all of these programs, that’s the common denominator: emotional stress and unhappiness on the part of the victims.

DL: One last question, before we turn to some other matters. There was also a very large logistical apparatus associated with this, right? For example, PricewaterhouseCoopers. It wasn’t just you and Camille trying to deal with these thousands of survivors and claimants; you did have support.

KF: That’s right. Pricewaterhouse won the bid at the Justice Department. This is public: Pricewaterhouse, for something like around $100 million, put 450 people to work with us to help us process claims, appraise values, do the research. Pricewaterhouse was a tremendous ally and has gone on, since 9/11, to handle claims design and claims administration, as one of its many specialties. Emily Kent, Chuck Hacker, people like that we worked with for years, very much experts in these areas.

DL: So after your work on the 9/11 Fund, you’ve worked on a number of these types of matters. Is there one that you would say ranks second in terms of complexity or difficulty or meaningfulness to you?

KF: Yes. Deepwater Horizon in 2011, 2012—that oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico blew up and killed about, I don’t know, 15 to 20 people in the explosion. But the real challenge in that program was how we received, in 16 months, about 1,250,000 claims for business interruption, business losses, property damage. We received over a million claims from 50 states. I think we got probably a dozen claims from New Jersey; I didn’t know the oil had gotten to New Jersey. We received claims from 35 foreign countries. And the sheer volume of the disaster overwhelmed us. We had, at one point, something like 40,000 people—vendors—working for us. We had 35 offices throughout the Gulf of Mexico, from Galveston, Texas, all the way to Mobile Bay, Alabama. Nevertheless, in 16 months, on behalf of BP, Deepwater Horizon, we paid out all BP money, a little over $7 billion, to 550,000 eligible claimants. And that, I would say, other than 9/11, had the greatest impact and was the most satisfying.

DL: You mentioned some claims coming from some pretty far-flung jurisdictions. In these programs, how much of a problem is fraud?

KF: Not much. First of all, with death claims like 9/11 or the Boston Marathon bombings or the 20 first-graders who died in Sandy Hook, Connecticut, at the hands of a deranged gunmen—most of the time, in traumatic death and injury, you’ve got records. No one can beat the system; you have to have a death certificate. In 9/11, where are your military records, if you were at the Pentagon? Where are the airplane manifests? You’ve got to be on the manifest if you were flying on that plane.

Now, the problem becomes more pronounced in something like BP, where you’ve got over a million claims, and you wonder, how many people can claim injury from this explosion? There we had an anti-fraud unit—Guidepost, Bart Schwartz’s company—and they did a tremendous job of spot-checking claims. I think that out of over a million claims, there may have been 25,000 that were suspicious. And we sent those claims to the Justice Department, and they prosecuted a fair number of people. But it wasn’t a huge problem. I think the fraud rate was something like 3 percent; that’s nothing. So overall, we haven’t found—and we have to be ever-vigilant, you’re right—but we haven’t found much in the way of fraud.

DL: I’m glad to hear that, because it would really be very depressing to think that there were people trying to profiteer off these terrible disasters and tragedies. Speaking of continuing disasters and tragedies, turning to current events, you are now working with Southern California Edison in dealing with claims related to the Eaton Fire. And this is a pending matter, so of course you may have some limits in terms of what you can discuss, but what can you say in a general sense about this undertaking?

KF: This is the Los Angeles wildfires that everybody knows about, from the last nine or ten months—the tremendous fire damage in Los Angeles. One of the fires, or one of the selected hubs of the fire, was the Eaton Fire. Southern California Edison, the utility involved in the litigation and finger-pointing, decided to set up, à la 9/11, a voluntary claims program. Not so much to deal with death—there were about 19 deaths, and a handful of physical injuries—but terrible fire damage, destroyed homes, damaged businesses, smoke and ash and soot, for miles in every direction. And the utility decided, its executive decided, “We want to do the right thing here. We may be held liable or we may not be held liable for the fire, but we think the right thing to do is nip in the bud this idea of extended litigation. Look at 9/11: only 94 people ended up suing. We want to set up a program.”

They came to Camille and me. Over the last eight weeks, we’ve designed the program, and I think in the last week of October or the first week of November, you will see publicly, “Here is the protocol; here is the claim form. Please submit your claims, and we’ll get them paid within 90 days.” And if history is an indicator, Camille and I think that the Eaton Fire Protocol will be a success, and the great bulk of the thousands of victims will voluntarily decide to come into the program. We’ll see. [Ed. note: On Wednesday, a few days after Ken and I recorded this episode, Southern California Edison announced its Wildfire Recovery Compensation Program.]

DL: That raises a question that I’m curious about. How would you describe the relationship between the work that you and Camille and your colleagues do and the traditional work of the courts, in terms of in-the-trenches litigation? Because I do wonder whether the growth in your field is perhaps related to some developments in litigation, in terms of litigation becoming more expensive over the decades (in a way that far outstrips inflation), more complicated, or more protracted. How would you characterize that relationship?

KF: I would say that the programs that we design and administer—like 9/11, like BP, plus the Eaton wildfires—are an exception to the rule. Nobody should think that these programs that we have worked on are the wave of the future. They are not the wave of the future; they are isolated, unique examples, where a company—or in 9/11, the U.S. government—decides, “We ought to set up a special program where the courts aren’t involved, certainly not directly.” In 9/11, they were prohibited to be involved, by statute; in some of these other programs, like BP, the courts have a relationship, but they don’t interfere with the day-to-day administration of the program.

And I think the American people have a lot of faith in the litigation system that you correctly point out can be uncertain, very inefficient, and very costly. But the American people, since the founding of the country, think, “You pick your lawyer, I’ll pick my lawyer, and we’ll have a judge and jury decide.” That’s the American rule of law; I don’t think it’s going to change. But occasionally there is a groundswell of public pressure to come up with a program, or there’ll be a company—like the utility, like BP—that decides to have a program.

And I’ll give you one other example: the Catholic Church confronted thousands of claims of sexual abuse by priests. It came to us, and we set up a program—just like 9/11, just like BP—where we invited, voluntarily, any minor—any minor from decades ago, now an adult—who had been abused by the church to come into this voluntary program. We paid out, I think, $700 million to $800 million, to victims in dioceses around the country. So there’s another example—Camille did most of that—but these programs are all relatively rare. There are thousands of litigations every day, and nothing’s going to change that.

DL: I had a guest on a few weeks ago, Chris Seeger of Seeger Weiss, who does a lot of work in the mass-tort space. It’s interesting: I feel that that space has evolved, and maybe in some ways it’s more efficient than it used to be. They have these multi-district litigation panels, they have these bellwether trials, and then things often get settled, once people have a sense of the values. That system and your approach seem to have some similarities, in the sense that you’re not individually trying each one of these cases, and you’re having somebody with liability come forward and voluntarily pay out money, after some kind of negotiation.

KF: Well, there’s certainly negotiation in what Chris Seeger does; I’m not sure we have much negotiation. We say, “Here’s the amount under the administrative scheme.” It’s like in workers’ compensation: here’s the amount. You don’t have to take it. There’s nothing to really talk about, unless you have new evidence that we’re not aware of. And those programs, when we do design them, seem to work very efficiently.

Again, if you ask Camille Biros what was the toughest part of valuing individual claims of sexual-abuse directed at minors, she would say, “These hearings: we gave every person who wanted an opportunity to be heard.” And when they come to see Camille, they don’t come to talk about money; they want validation for what they went through. “Believe me, will you? Ken, Camille, believe me.” And when Camille says, “We do believe you,” they immediately, or almost immediately, accept the compensation and sign a release: “I will not sue the Catholic diocese.”

DL: So you mentioned there isn’t really much negotiation, but you did talk in the book about these sort of “appeals.” You had these two tracks, “Appeals A” and “Appeals B.” Can you talk about that? Did you ever revisit what you had set as the award for a particular victim’s family, after hearing from them in person?

KF: Sure. Now, remember, those appeals came back to us, not to a court; there’s no court involvement. But in 9/11, in BP, if somebody said, “You made a mistake—you didn’t account for these profits or this revenue, or you didn’t take into account this contract that my dead firefighter husband had that would’ve given him a lot more money”—of course, we’ll revisit that. We invited that. But that’s an internal appeals process. The people who calculated the value of the claim are the same people that are going to be looking at revisiting the claim. But again, that’s due process, and that’s something that we thought was important.

DL: You and Camille have been doing this really important work for decades. Since this is, of course, shortly after your 80th birthday, I should ask: do you have future plans? You’re tackling some of the most complicated matters, headline-making matters. Would you ever want to retire at some point?

KF: I have no intention of retiring. I do agree that when you reach a certain pinnacle in what you’ve done, you do slow down. We are much more selective in what we do. I used to have maybe 15 mediations going on at once; now, we have one or two matters, like the Los Angeles wildfires. As long as I’m capable, as long as Camille’s willing, we’ll continue to do it, but we’ll be very careful about what we select to do. We don’t travel much. The Los Angeles wildfires was largely Zooms, going back and forth. And we’re not going to administer that program. We had administered 9/11 and BP; we’re trying to move away from that. It’s very time-consuming and stressful. So we’ve accomplished a great deal over the last 50 years—but as long as we can do it, we’ll continue to do it.

DL: Do you have any junior colleagues who would take over what you and Camille have built?

KF: We don’t have junior colleagues. There’s just the two of us and Cindy Sanzotta, our receptionist. But it’s an interesting question: “Who’s after Feinberg? Who’s next in doing this?” I think there are thousands of people in this country who could do what we do. It is not rocket science. It really isn’t. I’ll tell you what’s difficult: the emotion. If somebody wants to do what we do, you better brace yourself for the emotion, the anger, the frustration, the finger pointing. It goes with the territory. And if you don’t have the psychological ability to handle this type of stress, stay away. But I’m sure somebody will be there, and no one’s irreplaceable.

DL: Well, I know I personally could not handle it. I worked when I was at a law firm on civil litigation over insurance proceeds related to the World Trade Center, and that was a very draining case, and I was very glad to no longer be on it. So I could not do what you and Camille do. But let me ask you, to end this section on a positive note: what would you say is the most rewarding or meaningful or satisfying aspect of the work that you do on these programs?

KF: Giving back to the community. Public service. Helping the community heal. Not so much the individuals; the individuals are part of the community. “Every individual can make a difference.” I remember that every day, what John F. Kennedy said: government service is a noble undertaking. So what’s most rewarding for me is that although I’m a private practitioner—I am no longer in government service, since my days with Senator Kennedy—I’d like to think that I performed a valuable service for the community, the resilience of the community, the charity exhibited by the community. And that gives me a great sense of self-satisfaction.

DL: You absolutely have. It’s been amazing, and I’m so grateful for you taking the time to join me.

So now, onto our speed round. These are four questions that are standardized. My first question is, what do you like the least about the law? And this can either be the practice of law or law in a more abstract sense.

KF: Uncertainty. What I don’t like about the law is—and I guess maybe it’s the flip side of the best way to get to a result—I don’t like the uncertainty of the law. I don’t like the fact that until the very end of the process, you don’t know if your view and opinion will prevail. And I think losing control over your destiny in that regard is problematic.

DL: My second question—and maybe we touched on this a little bit, when we talked about your father’s opinions—what would you be if you were not a lawyer?

KF: Probably an actor. As I say, I almost became an actor. And I still love theater and the movies and Broadway shows. If my father hadn’t given me that advice, I was on the cusp of pursuing a career in the theater.

DL: Have you dabbled in anything in your (probably limited) spare time—community theater, anything like that?

KF: No, but I certainly have prioritized in my spare time classical music and the peace and optimism it brings to the listener. It’s been an important part of my life.

DL: My third question is, how much sleep do you get each night?

KF: Well, it varies from program to program. I’d like to get seven hours. That’s what my doctors tell me: “Ken, very important—more important than pills and exercise and diet—is sleep. Your body needs a minimum of seven hours.” Well, for me, seven hours is rare—it’s more like six or even five, and during 9/11 or during Eaton wildfires, it might be more like four or five. And that’s not enough, and that is a problem.

DL: My last question is, any final words of wisdom, such as career advice or life advice, for my listeners?

KF: Yes, I’ll give you some career and life advice. It’s very simple: don’t plan too far ahead. People have this view—you may think you know what you want to do with your career. You may think you know what life holds for you. You don’t know. If I’ve learned anything over the last decades, life has a way of changing the best-laid plans. These 9/11 husbands and wives said goodbye to their children, “we’ll see you for dinner,” a perfunctory wave—and they never saw them again. Dust, not even a body. And the idea I tell law students—who say, ”I’m going to be a corporate lawyer,” or “I’m going to be a litigator”—I tell them, “You have no idea what your legal career will look like. Look at Feinberg; he never planned on this. He never thought, in his wildest dreams, that this would be his chosen avenue of the law.”

My advice: enjoy the moment. Do what you like now. Don’t worry too much about what you’ll be doing two years, five years, 10 years, a lifetime ahead of you. It doesn’t work that way. Everybody gets thrown curveballs, and that’s advice I give to everybody.

DL: Well, you did not plan out your career, but it has turned out wonderfully, and the country is better for it. Thank you, Ken, both for your work on all these matters over the years and for joining me today.

KF: A privilege and an honor. Thanks, David.

DL: Thanks so much to Ken for joining me—and, of course, for his decades of work resolving some of the thorniest disputes in the country, which is truly a form of public service.

Thanks to NexFirm for sponsoring the Original Jurisdiction podcast. NexFirm has helped many attorneys to leave Biglaw and launch firms of their own. To explore this opportunity, please contact NexFirm at 212-292-1000 or email [email protected] to learn more.

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Who’s the Biglaw partner with the most star-studded client roster? Orin Snyder, co-chair of the Trials Practice Group at Gibson Dunn & Crutcher, has to be up there. Consider this: at least a half-dozen of his clients have performed at the Super Bowl halftime show, in Times Square on New Year’s Eve, or both. (In case you’re wondering, they are Marc Anthony, Mariah Carey, Lady Gaga, Jennifer Lopez, The Rolling Stones, and Bruce Springsteen.)

Most lawyers would be thrilled to have just one famous client. But Orin Snyder isn’t most lawyers. A former federal prosecutor, he has been recognized as one of the nation’s leading litigators—not just by Chambers and Partners and Forbes, but by entertainment-industry publications like Variety and The Hollywood Reporter.

In our conversation, we covered Orin’s family history in the entertainment industry; his service as an assistant U.S. attorney in the Southern District of New York; why celebrity clients are often a joy to represent, not annoying or aggravating (which was my guess); and his forthcoming memoir.

As a longtime Biglaw partner and member of Gibson’s executive committee, Orin is an expert on the business of law. So we discussed the virtues of boutique practice (he had his own boutique before joining Gibson), why so many Biglaw firms are shifting away from litigation, and why he thinks that’s a mistake. Finally, Orin told me how he came to represent the family of the late Professor Dan Markel, pro bono—for which I am, as a friend of Dan, especially grateful.

Show Notes:

* Orin Snyder bio, Gibson Dunn & Crutcher LLP

* Orin Snyder profile, Chambers and Partners

* Meet Orin Snyder, the Deadliest Trial Lawyer in Tech, by Greg Sandoval for The Verge

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

Sponsored by:

NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email careerdevelopment at nexfirm dot com.

Jeannie Rhee is one of the nation’s leading litigators, with the awards and accolades to prove it—including, most recently, recognition last month from Forbes as one of America’s Top 250 Lawyers. But her legal career is not only impressive; it’s also very interesting.

The past few years have been extremely eventful for Jeannie. From 2017 until 2019, she worked on a matter you might have heard of: special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation into Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election. She then became a partner in the Washington, D.C. office of Paul Weiss—her professional home until May 2025, when she and several other partners left (itself a newsworthy event).

Together with top trial lawyers Karen Dunn (a past podcast guest) and Bill Isaacson, Jeannie co-founded Dunn Isaacson Rhee—in my opinion, the most exciting new firm to launch in 2025 to date. And since starting DIR, Jeannie continues to handle headline-making cases—most notably, the federal government’s antitrust case against Google.

Why did Jeannie and her partners leave Paul Weiss? What is their vision for DIR as a firm? Looking back in light of recent events, what does she think about her work on the Mueller investigation? We covered all this and more, including Jeannie’s service as a D.C. federal prosecutor and at the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel, in the latest Original Jurisdiction podcast.

Show Notes:

* Jeannie S. Rhee bio, Dunn Isaacson Rhee LLP

* Jeannie Rhee profile, Chambers and Partners

* Ex-Paul Weiss Stars Balance Big Law Ties, Autonomy at Firm, by Tatyana Monnay for Bloomberg Law

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

Sponsored by:

NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email careerdevelopment at nexfirm dot com.

As Omar Little of The Wire famously quipped, “When you come at the king, you best not miss.” It’s a very true saying—and an apt title for the third book by prosecutor turned bestselling author Elie Honig, When You Come at the King: Inside DOJ’s Pursuit of the President, from Nixon to Trump.

Special counsel Jack Smith investigated and prosecuted Donald Trump. But before either of Smith’s two cases could go to trial, Trump was reelected. Now Jack Smith finds himself under investigation—by the administration of a president who declared that Smith should be “considered mentally deranged” and “thrown out of the country.”

In the meantime, what will happen to the institution of the special counsel, during the administration of a president who is clearly not a fan? That’s one of many topics I tackled in my conversation with Elie Honig. We also discussed his journey for prosecution to punditry, highlights from his time as an assistant U.S. attorney, and how today’s Supreme Court might rule if asked to review the constitutionality of the Justice Department regulations that made Jack Smith’s investigation possible.

Thanks to Elie for joining me—and congratulations to him on his latest book.

Show Notes:

* Elie Honig bio, Wikipedia

* When You Come at the King: Inside DOJ’s Pursuit of the President, from Nixon to Trump, Amazon

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

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NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email careerdevelopment at nexfirm dot com.

Mass-tort and multidistrict litigation is one of the most interesting and important practice areas in American law today. But even though these cases represent more than 70 percent of the federal civil docket, involving thousands of plaintiffs and billions of dollars, they don’t get as much coverage as you might expect—including, I must admit, in the pages of this newsletter.

To address this gap, I interviewed one of mass-tort litigation’s most prominent practitioners, Christopher Seeger. A founding partner of Seeger Weiss, which he co-founded with Stephen Weiss in 1999, Chris has handled some of the biggest and most famous mass-tort litigations in history, over everything from the painkiller Vioxx to combat earplugs to concussions suffered by NFL players.

In addition, Chris and his firm have been in the news because of their involvement in an issue of critical importance to lawyers and the legal profession, namely, judicial independence and the rule of law. Earlier this year, Seeger Weiss made a donation of $500,000 to the Bolch Judicial Institute at Duke Law School, to establish The Seeger Weiss/Daniel Anderl Memorial Fund. The Fund will support the Institute’s mission of protecting the rule of law and defending the judiciary from attacks that threaten judicial independence and diminish public faith in the judicial system.

Thanks to Chris for shedding light on a fascinating field—and thanks to him and his partners at Seeger Weiss for doing their part to stand up for an independent judiciary.

Show Notes:

* Christopher A. Seeger bio, Seeger Weiss LLP

* Christopher A. Seeger profile, Chambers and Partners

* Seeger Weiss LLP Gift Establishes the Daniel Anderl Memorial Fund, New Jersey Business Magazine

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

Sponsored by:

NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email careerdevelopment at nexfirm dot com.

One question I frequently receive, as a lawyer turned writer, is whether I miss the practice of law. My honest answer is no. In my current job, I feel I get some of the best aspects of a legal career, such as the intellectual stimulation and challenge, without the worst ones, such as billable hours (or, for those lawyers who don’t bill time, the stress of being in a client-focused business).

But what if I had stayed in the practice of law? And what if I had remained at the firm where I started my post-clerkship legal career, Wachtell Lipton Rosen & Katz? And while I’m taking an imaginary trip down the road not taken, what if I had gone into corporate or transactional work, with a focus on mergers and acquisitions (M&A), instead of litigation?

If you changed a few other things about me—e.g., if you raised my IQ and ability to tolerate stress, while lowering my laziness—maybe I’d have a legal career like that of David Lam. We have a number of things in common. After graduating from fancy colleges, we went straight through to Yale Law School, where we overlapped. Following clerkships for prominent federal appellate judges, we started our careers at Wachtell Lipton, where we were sometimes confused with each other (based on our similar names and certain demographic similarities).

I left WLRK after a few years, while David Lam stayed—and went on to a spectacular legal career. He’s now one of the country’s top M&A lawyers, according to The American Lawyer, Chambers, Lawdragon, and many other authorities. He’s also co-chair of the M&A practice at Wachtell Lipton, viewed by many as the nation’s #1 firm for mergers and acquisitions.

Wachtell Lipton partners don’t give many interviews or speak to the media that often. So I was delighted and grateful when David agreed to join me on the Original Jurisdiction podcast. And I think you’ll enjoy our conversation, covering David’s high-powered legal career, the state of the current M&A market, some secrets of success for Wachtell Lipton as a firm, and more.

Show Notes:

* David K. Lam bio, Wachtell Lipton Rosen & Katz

* David Lam profile, Chambers and Partners

* Dealmakers of the Year: The Spinmeister—David Lam, by The American Lawyer

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

Sponsored by:

NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email careerdevelopment at nexfirm dot com.

Few lawyers in America have handled more headline-making cases than Marc Agnifilo of Agnifilo Intrater. A former prosecutor in both the Manhattan District Attorney’s Office and the U.S. Attorney’s Office for New Jersey—where he and I met and became friends, around 20 years ago—Marc has defended a number of famous (some might say infamous) figures. His clients over the years have included so-called “pharma bro” Martin Shkreli, former NXIUM cult leader Keith Raniere, and Luigi Mangione, who faces state and federal charges in connection with the shooting death of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson.

Earlier this month, Marc and his colleagues won acquittals for Sean “Diddy” Combs on federal racketeering and sex-trafficking charges—the most serious charges that Combs faced, which could have landed him in prison for life had he been convicted. Last week, I interviewed Marc about the trial and shared some highlights in these pages; now, I’m pleased to provide the complete podcast.

Thanks to Marc for taking the time to speak with me, so thoughtfully and openly, about an interesting and momentous case—as well as his remarkable career as one of the nation’s leading trial lawyers.

Show Notes:

* Marc Agnifilo bio, Agnifilo Intrater

* How Diddy’s Likable Defense Lawyer Helped Save His Unlikable Client (gift link), by Corinne Ramey and James Fanelli for The Wall Street Journal

* The husband-wife legal team working on two of today’s biggest criminal cases, by Eric Levenson for CNN

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

Sponsored by:

NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email careerdevelopment at nexfirm dot com.

Last month, the U.S. Supreme Court concluded its latest Term. And over the past few weeks, the Trump administration has continued to duke it out with its adversaries in the federal courts.

To tackle these topics, as well as their intersection—in terms of how well the courts, including but not limited to the Supreme Court, are handling Trump-related cases—I interviewed Professor Pamela Karlan, a longtime faculty member at Stanford Law School. She’s perfectly situated to address these subjects, for at least three reasons.

First, Professor Karlan is a leading scholar of constitutional law. Second, she’s a former SCOTUS clerk and seasoned advocate at One First Street, with ten arguments to her name. Third, she has high-level experience at the U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ), having served (twice) as a deputy assistant attorney general in the Civil Rights Division of the DOJ.

I’ve had some wonderful guests to discuss the role of the courts today, including Judges Vince Chhabria (N.D. Cal.) and Ana Reyes (D.D.C.)—but as sitting judges, they couldn’t discuss certain subjects, and they had to be somewhat circumspect. Professor Karlan, in contrast, isn’t afraid to “go there”—and whether or not you agree with her opinions, I think you’ll share my appreciation for her insight and candor.

Show Notes:

* Pamela S. Karlan bio, Stanford Law School

* Pamela S. Karlan bio, Wikipedia

* The McCorkle Lecture (Professor Pamela Karlan), UVA Law School

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

Sponsored by:

NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email careerdevelopment at nexfirm dot com.

I’ve been writing about the judiciary for more than 20 years, and in my opinion, the current time is the most difficult I’ve seen for serving as a federal judge. This is especially true in courts where a disproportionate number of cases challenging actions of the current administration have been filed, such as the U.S. District Courts for Southern District of New York (S.D.N.Y.) and the District of Columbia (D.D.C.).

Judges in these districts face heavy dockets, and high-profile cases involving the administration present special challenges. They often involve requests for urgent forms of relief, such as preliminary injunctions and temporary restraining orders, that must be heard on short timetables. Many of the cases present novel and knotty legal issues. And depending on how a judge rules, the judge could face strong criticism, from either the right or the left—and sometimes even more than that, such as impeachment efforts or even threats, whether to themselves or their families.

What is it like to be a judge at the eye of this storm, trying to calmly uphold values like the rule of law and judicial independence during tumultuous times? To find out, I interviewed Judge Ana Reyes, who was appointed to the D.D.C. by President Biden in 2023. Although she’s been on the bench for only two and a half years, Judge Reyes has already handled a number of headline-making cases—and while we could not and did not discuss any specific matters still pending before her, she spoke honestly and directly about many fascinating subjects, including her overall approach to judging, the rule of law and judicial independence, how she treats the lawyers appearing before her, media coverage of the judiciary, and more.

Thanks to Judge Reyes for a great conversation—and thanks to her and her fellow judges for the crucial work that they do. While observers of the courts, myself included, might disagree with specific rulings, I suspect I’m not alone in believing that on the whole, the federal judiciary is holding up well during an unusually stressful time.

Show Notes:

* Judge Ana C. Reyes bio, U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia

* Judge Ana C. Reyes bio, Wikipedia

* A D.C. lawyer learned English as a child from a teacher who tutored her each day. She found her to say thank you, by Sydney Page for The Washington Post

Prefer reading to listening? For paid subscribers, a transcript of the entire episode appears below.

Sponsored by:

NexFirm helps Biglaw attorneys become founding partners. To learn more about how NexFirm can help you launch your firm, call 212-292-1000 or email careerdevelopment at nexfirm dot com.