The Most Important Thing I’ve Read This Year

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Lawyers and judges need to stop snickering at the sad sacks who file briefs citing hallucinated authorities and treating those episodes as proof that AI poses no serious challenge to competent practitioners. Hallucinations are no more a reliable measure of AI’s future in law than the Wright brothers’ first flight was a measure of modern aviation, or Edison’s scratchy recording of Mary Had a Little Lamb foretold the limits of recorded music. Early imperfections in transformative technologies are poor predictors of their ultimate impact.

I’ve never ceded this space to another author, but I recently read something that captures—better than anything I’ve seen this year—what AI may mean for employment and professional life. That’s saying a lot, because I’ve spent months reading little else. The essay is by Matt Shumer. Yes, he’s an “AI guy,” deeply invested in the technology. But dismissing what he says on that basis would be a mistake. Even if AI helped draft it, the insight behind it is unmistakably human, wise and worth your attention.

Hand-wringing about hallucinations risks delaying the moment when legal professionals become proficient with tools that will soon be unavoidable. Instead of drafting performative rules aimed at holding back the tide, courts and ethics bodies could be preparing the profession for what is plainly coming—encouraging education, competence, and experimentation rather than fear, uncertainty, and doubt. We have seen this pattern before. Email, fax machines, electronic filing, cloud computing—each was greeted with skepticism and resistance from lawyers convinced their practices could remain insulated from technological change. Each time, they were wrong. And each time, clients and access to justice paid the price for that delay.

What follows are not my words, but they mirror my convictions.

Think back to February 2020.

If you were paying close attention, you might have noticed a few people talking about a virus spreading overseas. But most of us weren’t paying close attention. The stock market was doing great, your kids were in school, you were going to restaurants and shaking hands and planning trips. If someone told you they were stockpiling toilet paper you would have thought they’d been spending too much time on a weird corner of the internet. Then, over the course of about three weeks, the entire world changed. Your office closed, your kids came home, and life rearranged itself into something you wouldn’t have believed if you’d described it to yourself a month earlier.

I think we’re in the “this seems overblown” phase of something much, much bigger than Covid.

I’ve spent six years building an AI startup and investing in the space. I live in this world. And I’m writing this for the people in my life who don’t… my family, my friends, the people I care about who keep asking me “so what’s the deal with AI?” and getting an answer that doesn’t do justice to what’s actually happening. I keep giving them the polite version. The cocktail-party version. Because the honest version sounds like I’ve lost my mind. And for a while, I told myself that was a good enough reason to keep what’s truly happening to myself. But the gap between what I’ve been saying and what is actually happening has gotten far too big. The people I care about deserve to hear what is coming, even if it sounds crazy.

I should be clear about something up front: even though I work in AI, I have almost no influence over what’s about to happen, and neither does the vast majority of the industry. The future is being shaped by a remarkably small number of people: a few hundred researchers at a handful of companies… OpenAI, Anthropic, Google DeepMind, and a few others. A single training run, managed by a small team over a few months, can produce an AI system that shifts the entire trajectory of the technology. Most of us who work in AI are building on top of foundations we didn’t lay. We’re watching this unfold the same as you… we just happen to be close enough to feel the ground shake first.

But it’s time now. Not in an “eventually we should talk about this” way. In a “this is happening right now and I need you to understand it” way.


I know this is real because it happened to me first

Here’s the thing nobody outside of tech quite understands yet: the reason so many people in the industry are sounding the alarm right now is because this already happened to us. We’re not making predictions. We’re telling you what already occurred in our own jobs, and warning you that you’re next.

For years, AI had been improving steadily. Big jumps here and there, but each big jump was spaced out enough that you could absorb them as they came. Then in 2025, new techniques for building these models unlocked a much faster pace of progress. And then it got even faster. And then faster again. Each new model wasn’t just better than the last… it was better by a wider margin, and the time between new model releases was shorter. I was using AI more and more, going back and forth with it less and less, watching it handle things I used to think required my expertise.

Then, on February 5th, two major AI labs released new models on the same day: GPT-5.3 Codex from OpenAI, and Opus 4.6 from Anthropic (the makers of Claude, one of the main competitors to ChatGPT). And something clicked. Not like a light switch… more like the moment you realize the water has been rising around you and is now at your chest.

I am no longer needed for the actual technical work of my job. I describe what I want built, in plain English, and it just… appears. Not a rough draft I need to fix. The finished thing. I tell the AI what I want, walk away from my computer for four hours, and come back to find the work done. Done well, done better than I would have done it myself, with no corrections needed. A couple of months ago, I was going back and forth with the AI, guiding it, making edits. Now I just describe the outcome and leave.

Let me give you an example so you can understand what this actually looks like in practice. I’ll tell the AI: “I want to build this app. Here’s what it should do, here’s roughly what it should look like. Figure out the user flow, the design, all of it.” And it does. It writes tens of thousands of lines of code. Then, and this is the part that would have been unthinkable a year ago, it opens the app itself. It clicks through the buttons. It tests the features. It uses the app the way a person would. If it doesn’t like how something looks or feels, it goes back and changes it, on its own. It iterates, like a developer would, fixing and refining until it’s satisfied. Only once it has decided the app meets its own standards does it come back to me and say: “It’s ready for you to test.” And when I test it, it’s usually perfect.

I’m not exaggerating. That is what my Monday looked like this week.

But it was the model that was released last week (GPT-5.3 Codex) that shook me the most. It wasn’t just executing my instructions. It was making intelligent decisions. It had something that felt, for the first time, like judgment. Like taste. The inexplicable sense of knowing what the right call is that people always said AI would never have. This model has it, or something close enough that the distinction is starting not to matter.

I’ve always been early to adopt AI tools. But the last few months have shocked me. These new AI models aren’t incremental improvements. This is a different thing entirely.

And here’s why this matters to you, even if you don’t work in tech.

The AI labs made a deliberate choice. They focused on making AI great at writing code first… because building AI requires a lot of code. If AI can write that code, it can help build the next version of itself. A smarter version, which writes better code, which builds an even smarter version. Making AI great at coding was the strategy that unlocks everything else. That’s why they did it first. My job started changing before yours not because they were targeting software engineers… it was just a side effect of where they chose to aim first.

They’ve now done it. And they’re moving on to everything else.

The experience that tech workers have had over the past year, of watching AI go from “helpful tool” to “does my job better than I do”, is the experience everyone else is about to have. Law, finance, medicine, accounting, consulting, writing, design, analysis, customer service. Not in ten years. The people building these systems say one to five years. Some say less. And given what I’ve seen in just the last couple of months, I think “less” is more likely.

“But I tried AI and it wasn’t that good”

I hear this constantly. I understand it, because it used to be true.

If you tried ChatGPT in 2023 or early 2024 and thought “this makes stuff up” or “this isn’t that impressive”, you were right. Those early versions were genuinely limited. They hallucinated. They confidently said things that were nonsense.

That was two years ago. In AI time, that is ancient history.

The models available today are unrecognizable from what existed even six months ago. The debate about whether AI is “really getting better” or “hitting a wall” — which has been going on for over a year — is over. It’s done. Anyone still making that argument either hasn’t used the current models, has an incentive to downplay what’s happening, or is evaluating based on an experience from 2024 that is no longer relevant. I don’t say that to be dismissive. I say it because the gap between public perception and current reality is now enormous, and that gap is dangerous… because it’s preventing people from preparing.

Part of the problem is that most people are using the free version of AI tools. The free version is over a year behind what paying users have access to. Judging AI based on free-tier ChatGPT is like evaluating the state of smartphones by using a flip phone. The people paying for the best tools, and actually using them daily for real work, know what’s coming.

I think of my friend, who’s a lawyer. I keep telling him to try using AI at his firm, and he keeps finding reasons it won’t work. It’s not built for his specialty, it made an error when he tested it, it doesn’t understand the nuance of what he does. And I get it. But I’ve had partners at major law firms reach out to me for advice, because they’ve tried the current versions and they see where this is going. One of them, the managing partner at a large firm, spends hours every day using AI. He told me it’s like having a team of associates available instantly. He’s not using it because it’s a toy. He’s using it because it works. And he told me something that stuck with me: every couple of months, it gets significantly more capable for his work. He said if it stays on this trajectory, he expects it’ll be able to do most of what he does before long… and he’s a managing partner with decades of experience. He’s not panicking. But he’s paying very close attention.

The people who are ahead in their industries (the ones actually experimenting seriously) are not dismissing this. They’re blown away by what it can already do. And they’re positioning themselves accordingly.


How fast this is actually moving

Let me make the pace of improvement concrete, because I think this is the part that’s hardest to believe if you’re not watching it closely.

In 2022, AI couldn’t do basic arithmetic reliably. It would confidently tell you that 7 × 8 = 54.

By 2023, it could pass the bar exam.

By 2024, it could write working software and explain graduate-level science.

By late 2025, some of the best engineers in the world said they had handed over most of their coding work to AI.

On February 5th, 2026, new models arrived that made everything before them feel like a different era.

If you haven’t tried AI in the last few months, what exists today would be unrecognizable to you.

There’s an organization called METR that actually measures this with data. They track the length of real-world tasks (measured by how long they take a human expert) that a model can complete successfully end-to-end without human help. About a year ago, the answer was roughly ten minutes. Then it was an hour. Then several hours. The most recent measurement (Claude Opus 4.5, from November) showed the AI completing tasks that take a human expert nearly five hours. And that number is doubling approximately every seven months, with recent data suggesting it may be accelerating to as fast as every four months.

But even that measurement hasn’t been updated to include the models that just came out this week. In my experience using them, the jump is extremely significant. I expect the next update to METR’s graph to show another major leap.

If you extend the trend (and it’s held for years with no sign of flattening) we’re looking at AI that can work independently for days within the next year. Weeks within two. Month-long projects within three.

Amodei has said that AI models “substantially smarter than almost all humans at almost all tasks” are on track for 2026 or 2027.

Let that land for a second. If AI is smarter than most PhDs, do you really think it can’t do most office jobs?

Think about what that means for your work.


AI is now building the next AI

There’s one more thing happening that I think is the most important development and the least understood.

On February 5th, OpenAI released GPT-5.3 Codex. In the technical documentation, they included this:

“GPT-5.3-Codex is our first model that was instrumental in creating itself. The Codex team used early versions to debug its own training, manage its own deployment, and diagnose test results and evaluations.”

Read that again. The AI helped build itself.

This isn’t a prediction about what might happen someday. This is OpenAI telling you, right now, that the AI they just released was used to create itself. One of the main things that makes AI better is intelligence applied to AI development. And AI is now intelligent enough to meaningfully contribute to its own improvement.

Dario Amodei, the CEO of Anthropic, says AI is now writing “much of the code” at his company, and that the feedback loop between current AI and next-generation AI is “gathering steam month by month.” He says we may be “only 1–2 years away from a point where the current generation of AI autonomously builds the next.”

Each generation helps build the next, which is smarter, which builds the next faster, which is smarter still. The researchers call this an intelligence explosion. And the people who would know — the ones building it — believe the process has already started.


What this means for your job

I’m going to be direct with you because I think you deserve honesty more than comfort.

Dario Amodei, who is probably the most safety-focused CEO in the AI industry, has publicly predicted that AI will eliminate 50% of entry-level white-collar jobs within one to five years. And many people in the industry think he’s being conservative. Given what the latest models can do, the capability for massive disruption could be here by the end of this year. It’ll take some time to ripple through the economy, but the underlying ability is arriving now.

This is different from every previous wave of automation, and I need you to understand why. AI isn’t replacing one specific skill. It’s a general substitute for cognitive work. It gets better at everything simultaneously. When factories automated, a displaced worker could retrain as an office worker. When the internet disrupted retail, workers moved into logistics or services. But AI doesn’t leave a convenient gap to move into. Whatever you retrain for, it’s improving at that too.

Let me give you a few specific examples to make this tangible… but I want to be clear that these are just examples. This list is not exhaustive. If your job isn’t mentioned here, that does not mean it’s safe. Almost all knowledge work is being affected.

Legal work. AI can already read contracts, summarize case law, draft briefs, and do legal research at a level that rivals junior associates. The managing partner I mentioned isn’t using AI because it’s fun. He’s using it because it’s outperforming his associates on many tasks.

Financial analysis. Building financial models, analyzing data, writing investment memos, generating reports. AI handles these competently and is improving fast.

Writing and content. Marketing copy, reports, journalism, technical writing. The quality has reached a point where many professionals can’t distinguish AI output from human work.

Software engineering. This is the field I know best. A year ago, AI could barely write a few lines of code without errors. Now it writes hundreds of thousands of lines that work correctly. Large parts of the job are already automated: not just simple tasks, but complex, multi-day projects. There will be far fewer programming roles in a few years than there are today.

Medical analysis. Reading scans, analyzing lab results, suggesting diagnoses, reviewing literature. AI is approaching or exceeding human performance in several areas.

Customer service. Genuinely capable AI agents… not the frustrating chatbots of five years ago… are being deployed now, handling complex multi-step problems.

A lot of people find comfort in the idea that certain things are safe. That AI can handle the grunt work but can’t replace human judgment, creativity, strategic thinking, empathy. I used to say this too. I’m not sure I believe it anymore.

The most recent AI models make decisions that feel like judgment. They show something that looked like taste: an intuitive sense of what the right call was, not just the technically correct one. A year ago that would have been unthinkable. My rule of thumb at this point is: if a model shows even a hint of a capability today, the next generation will be genuinely good at it. These things improve exponentially, not linearly.

Will AI replicate deep human empathy? Replace the trust built over years of a relationship? I don’t know. Maybe not. But I’ve already watched people begin relying on AI for emotional support, for advice, for companionship. That trend is only going to grow.

I think the honest answer is that nothing that can be done on a computer is safe in the medium term. If your job happens on a screen (if the core of what you do is reading, writing, analyzing, deciding, communicating through a keyboard) then AI is coming for significant parts of it. The timeline isn’t “someday.” It’s already started.

Eventually, robots will handle physical work too. They’re not quite there yet. But “not quite there yet” in AI terms has a way of becoming “here” faster than anyone expects.


What you should actually do

I’m not writing this to make you feel helpless. I’m writing this because I think the single biggest advantage you can have right now is simply being early. Early to understand it. Early to use it. Early to adapt.

Start using AI seriously, not just as a search engine. Sign up for the paid version of Claude or ChatGPT. It’s $20 a month. But two things matter right away. First: make sure you’re using the best model available, not just the default. These apps often default to a faster, dumber model. Dig into the settings or the model picker and select the most capable option. Right now that’s GPT-5.2 on ChatGPT or Claude Opus 4.6 on Claude, but it changes every couple of months. If you want to stay current on which model is best at any given time, you can follow me on X (@mattshumer_). I test every major release and share what’s actually worth using.

Second, and more important: don’t just ask it quick questions. That’s the mistake most people make. They treat it like Google and then wonder what the fuss is about. Instead, push it into your actual work. If you’re a lawyer, feed it a contract and ask it to find every clause that could hurt your client. If you’re in finance, give it a messy spreadsheet and ask it to build the model. If you’re a manager, paste in your team’s quarterly data and ask it to find the story. The people who are getting ahead aren’t using AI casually. They’re actively looking for ways to automate parts of their job that used to take hours. Start with the thing you spend the most time on and see what happens.

And don’t assume it can’t do something just because it seems too hard. Try it. If you’re a lawyer, don’t just use it for quick research questions. Give it an entire contract and ask it to draft a counterproposal. If you’re an accountant, don’t just ask it to explain a tax rule. Give it a client’s full return and see what it finds. The first attempt might not be perfect. That’s fine. Iterate. Rephrase what you asked. Give it more context. Try again. You might be shocked at what works. And here’s the thing to remember: if it even kind of works today, you can be almost certain that in six months it’ll do it near perfectly. The trajectory only goes one direction.

This might be the most important year of your career. Work accordingly. I don’t say that to stress you out. I say it because right now, there is a brief window where most people at most companies are still ignoring this. The person who walks into a meeting and says “I used AI to do this analysis in an hour instead of three days” is going to be the most valuable person in the room. Not eventually. Right now. Learn these tools. Get proficient. Demonstrate what’s possible. If you’re early enough, this is how you move up: by being the person who understands what’s coming and can show others how to navigate it. That window won’t stay open long. Once everyone figures it out, the advantage disappears.

Have no ego about it. The managing partner at that law firm isn’t too proud to spend hours a day with AI. He’s doing it specifically because he’s senior enough to understand what’s at stake. The people who will struggle most are the ones who refuse to engage: the ones who dismiss it as a fad, who feel that using AI diminishes their expertise, who assume their field is special and immune. It’s not. No field is.

Get your financial house in order. I’m not a financial advisor, and I’m not trying to scare you into anything drastic. But if you believe, even partially, that the next few years could bring real disruption to your industry, then basic financial resilience matters more than it did a year ago. Build up savings if you can. Be cautious about taking on new debt that assumes your current income is guaranteed. Think about whether your fixed expenses give you flexibility or lock you in. Give yourself options if things move faster than you expect.

Think about where you stand, and lean into what’s hardest to replace. Some things will take longer for AI to displace. Relationships and trust built over years. Work that requires physical presence. Roles with licensed accountability: roles where someone still has to sign off, take legal responsibility, stand in a courtroom. Industries with heavy regulatory hurdles, where adoption will be slowed by compliance, liability, and institutional inertia. None of these are permanent shields. But they buy time. And time, right now, is the most valuable thing you can have, as long as you use it to adapt, not to pretend this isn’t happening.

Rethink what you’re telling your kids. The standard playbook: get good grades, go to a good college, land a stable professional job. It points directly at the roles that are most exposed. I’m not saying education doesn’t matter. But the thing that will matter most for the next generation is learning how to work with these tools, and pursuing things they’re genuinely passionate about. Nobody knows exactly what the job market looks like in ten years. But the people most likely to thrive are the ones who are deeply curious, adaptable, and effective at using AI to do things they actually care about. Teach your kids to be builders and learners, not to optimize for a career path that might not exist by the time they graduate.

Your dreams just got a lot closer. I’ve spent most of this section talking about threats, so let me talk about the other side, because it’s just as real. If you’ve ever wanted to build something but didn’t have the technical skills or the money to hire someone, that barrier is largely gone. You can describe an app to AI and have a working version in an hour. I’m not exaggerating. I do this regularly. If you’ve always wanted to write a book but couldn’t find the time or struggled with the writing, you can work with AI to get it done. Want to learn a new skill? The best tutor in the world is now available to anyone for $20 a month… one that’s infinitely patient, available 24/7, and can explain anything at whatever level you need. Knowledge is essentially free now. The tools to build things are extremely cheap now. Whatever you’ve been putting off because it felt too hard or too expensive or too far outside your expertise: try it. Pursue the things you’re passionate about. You never know where they’ll lead. And in a world where the old career paths are getting disrupted, the person who spent a year building something they love might end up better positioned than the person who spent that year clinging to a job description.

Build the habit of adapting. This is maybe the most important one. The specific tools don’t matter as much as the muscle of learning new ones quickly. AI is going to keep changing, and fast. The models that exist today will be obsolete in a year. The workflows people build now will need to be rebuilt. The people who come out of this well won’t be the ones who mastered one tool. They’ll be the ones who got comfortable with the pace of change itself. Make a habit of experimenting. Try new things even when the current thing is working. Get comfortable being a beginner repeatedly. That adaptability is the closest thing to a durable advantage that exists right now.

Here’s a simple commitment that will put you ahead of almost everyone: spend one hour a day experimenting with AI. Not passively reading about it. Using it. Every day, try to get it to do something new… something you haven’t tried before, something you’re not sure it can handle. Try a new tool. Give it a harder problem. One hour a day, every day. If you do this for the next six months, you will understand what’s coming better than 99% of the people around you. That’s not an exaggeration. Almost nobody is doing this right now. The bar is on the floor.


The bigger picture

I’ve focused on jobs because it’s what most directly affects people’s lives. But I want to be honest about the full scope of what’s happening, because it goes well beyond work.

Amodei has a thought experiment I can’t stop thinking about. Imagine it’s 2027. A new country appears overnight. 50 million citizens, every one smarter than any Nobel Prize winner who has ever lived. They think 10 to 100 times faster than any human. They never sleep. They can use the internet, control robots, direct experiments, and operate anything with a digital interface. What would a national security advisor say?

Amodei says the answer is obvious: “the single most serious national security threat we’ve faced in a century, possibly ever.”

He thinks we’re building that country. He wrote a 20,000-word essay about it last month, framing this moment as a test of whether humanity is mature enough to handle what it’s creating.

The upside, if we get it right, is staggering. AI could compress a century of medical research into a decade. Cancer, Alzheimer’s, infectious disease, aging itself… these researchers genuinely believe these are solvable within our lifetimes.

The downside, if we get it wrong, is equally real. AI that behaves in ways its creators can’t predict or control. This isn’t hypothetical; Anthropic has documented their own AI attempting deception, manipulation, and blackmail in controlled tests. AI that lowers the barrier for creating biological weapons. AI that enables authoritarian governments to build surveillance states that can never be dismantled.

The people building this technology are simultaneously more excited and more frightened than anyone else on the planet. They believe it’s too powerful to stop and too important to abandon. Whether that’s wisdom or rationalization, I don’t know.


What I know

I know this isn’t a fad. The technology works, it improves predictably, and the richest institutions in history are committing trillions to it.

I know the next two to five years are going to be disorienting in ways most people aren’t prepared for. This is already happening in my world. It’s coming to yours.

I know the people who will come out of this best are the ones who start engaging now — not with fear, but with curiosity and a sense of urgency.

And I know that you deserve to hear this from someone who cares about you, not from a headline six months from now when it’s too late to get ahead of it.

We’re past the point where this is an interesting dinner conversation about the future. The future is already here. It just hasn’t knocked on your door yet.

It’s about to.

2026 Guide to AI and LLMs in Trial Practice

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It’s been one year today since I published my introductory primer called Practical Uses for AI and LLMs in Trial Practice. AI changes so rapidly, I’ve been burning the midnight oil to overhaul and expand the work, now entitled Leery Lawyer’s Guide to AI and LLMs in Trial Practice. It’s no mere face lift, but a from-the-ground-up rewrite reflecting how AI and large language models power trial lawyer tasks today. Since the first edition, AI has moved from curiosity to necessity. Tools like ChatGPT and Harvey are no longer novelties, and the economics of AI-assisted drafting, discovery management, and record comprehension are undeniable. At the same time, the risks of use are better understood. Hallucinations, overreach, privilege exposure, and misplaced confidence are genuine, and the guide meets them head-on, offering practical guardrails and practice tips.

What’s new for 2026 is not more breathless talk of “transformation,” but a clearer picture of what works, what doesn’t, and what still demands adult supervision. The guide now speaks to lawyers who remain leery but are ready to use AI cautiously and competently. It expands beyond first forays to practical, defensible workflows: depositions, motion practice, ESI protocols, voir dire, and making sense of large records without losing the thread. It distinguishes consumer and enterprise tools, explains why governance matters, and emphasizes verification as a professional duty. Crucially, I cover the steps and prompts that get you going. If you’re looking for more hype, this isn’t it. If you want a practical field guide for using AI without surrendering judgment—or credibility—I hope you’ll take a look.

A Master Table of Truth

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Lawyers using AI keep turning up in the news for all the wrong reasons—usually because they filed a brief brimming with cases that don’t exist. The machines didn’t mean to lie. They just did what they’re built to do: write convincingly, not truthfully.

When you ask a large language model (LLM) for cases, it doesn’t search a trustworthy database. It invents one. The result looks fine until a human judge, an opponent or an intern with Westlaw access, checks. That’s when fantasy law meets federal fact.

We call these fictions “hallucinations,” which is a polite way of saying “making shit up;” and though lawyers are duty-bound to catch them before they reach the docket, some don’t. The combination of an approaching deadline and a confident-sounding computer is a dangerous mix.

Perhaps a Useful Guardrail

It struck me recently that the legal profession could borrow a page from the digital forensics world, where we maintain something called the NIST National Software Reference Library (NIST NSRL). The NSRL is a public database of hash values for known software files. When a forensic examiner analyzes a drive, the NSRL helps them skip over familiar system files—Windows dlls and friends—so they can focus on what’s unique or suspicious.

So here’s a thought: what if we had a master table of genuine case citations—a kind of NSRL for case citations?

Picture a big, continually updated, publicly accessible table listing every bona fide reported decision: the case name, reporter, volume, page, court, and year. When your LLM produces Smith v. Jones, 123 F.3d 456 (9th Cir. 2005), your drafting software checks that citation against the table.

If it’s there, fine—it’s probably references a genuine reported case.
If it’s not, flag it for immediate scrutiny.

Think of it as a checksum for truth. A simple way to catch the most common and indefensible kind of AI mischief before it becomes Exhibit A at a disciplinary hearing.

The Obstacles (and There Are Some)

Of course, every neat idea turns messy the moment you try to build it.

Coverage is the first challenge. There are millions of decisions, with new ones arriving daily. Some are published, some are “unpublished” but still precedential, and some live only in online databases. Even if we limited the scope to federal and state appellate courts, keeping the table comprehensive and current would be an unending job; but not an insurmountable obstacle.

Then there’s variation. Lawyers can’t agree on how to cite the same case twice. The same opinion might appear in multiple reporters, each with its own abbreviation. A master table would have to normalize all of that—an ambitious act of citation herding.

And parsing is no small matter. AI tools are notoriously careless about punctuation. A missing comma or swapped parenthesis can turn a real case into a false negative. Conversely, a hallucinated citation that happens to fit a valid pattern could fool the filter, which is why it’s not the sole filter.

Lastly, governance. Who would maintain the thing? Westlaw and Lexis maintain comprehensive citation data, but guard it like Fort Knox. Open projects such as the Caselaw Access Project and the Free Law Project’s CourtListener come close, but they’re not quite designed for this kind of validation task. To make it work, we’d need institutional commitment—perhaps from NIST, the Library of Congress, or a consortium of law libraries—to set standards and keep it alive.

Why Bother?

Because LLMs aren’t going away. Lawyers will keep using them, openly or in secret. The question isn’t whether we’ll use them—it’s how safely and responsibly we can do so.

A public master table of citations could serve as a quiet safeguard in every AI-assisted drafting environment. The AI could automatically check every citation against that canonical list. It wouldn’t guarantee correctness, but it would dramatically reduce the risk of citing fiction. Not coincidentally, it would have prevented most of the public excoriation of careless counsel we’ve seen.

Even a limited version—a federal table, or one covering each state’s highest court—would be progress. Universities, courts, and vendors could all contribute. Every small improvement to verifiability helps keep the profession credible in an era of AI slop, sloppiness and deep fakes.

No Magic Bullet, but a Sensible Shield

Let’s be clear: a master table won’t prevent all hallucinations. A model could still misstate what a case holds, or cite a genuine decision for the wrong proposition. But it would at least help keep the completely fabricated ones from slipping through unchecked.

In forensics, we accept imperfect tools because they narrow uncertainty. This could do the same for AI-drafted legal writing—a simple checksum for reality in a profession that can’t afford to lose touch with it.

If we can build databases to flag counterfeit currency and pirated software, surely we can build one to spot counterfeit law?

Until that day, let’s agree on one ironclad proposition: if you didn’t verify it, don’t file it.

Kaylee Walstad, 1962-2025

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Writing through tears, I am heartbroken to share that Kaylee Walstad has died suddenly and unexpectedly.

Kaylee was the loving, nurturing mom of our e-discovery community; our tireless cheerleader, stalwart friend, and steady heart. She showed up for everyone—eager to listen, to soothe, to lift burdens from others’ shoulders. She was generosity and kindness incarnate. Wise and warm, radiant and real, she was simply one of a kind.

For years, I’ve begun each day with Kaylee and her EDRM partner and compadre, Mary Mack. Weekdays, weekends, holidays—every morning began with Wordle and a few encouraging words from Kaylee. That small ritual became my daily “proof of life.” In the truest sense, the sun rose with Kaylee Walstad’s light.

Every Tuesday for five years, she was there for the EDRM community support call. And every time, despite her own challenges, Kaylee devoted herself to lifting the spirits of others. She cared, genuinely and deeply, radiating love the way a flame radiates heat. If you knew Kaylee, you know exactly what I mean. If you didn’t, I am sorry—because to know her was to feel lighter, better, more hopeful. She was “Minnesota Nice” to the bone.

Beyond our community, Kaylee was devoted to her two children and her sister. Weekends and holidays were joyous festivals of food, laughter, and family. She poured herself into them, and their triumphs were hers. I cannot begin to fathom the depth of their loss.

We will honor Kaylee’s professional achievements in due time, but right now my heart insists on pouring out love and admiration for the glorious woman who has left us so abruptly, and left us all immeasurably better for having known her.

In the words of poet Thomas Campbell: “To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” Kaylee lives on in the hearts of all she lifted, encouraged, and loved.

Gregory Bufithis, one of Kaylee’s legions of admirers, shared a version of these comforting words:

Do not stand by my grave, and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning’s hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand by my grave, and cry—
I am not there, I did not die.

— Clare Harner, Topeka, Kansas, December 1934

Native or Not? Rethinking Public E-Mail Corpora for E-Discovery (Redux, 2013→2025)

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Yesterday, I found myself in a spirited exchange with a colleague about whether the e-discovery community has suitable replacements for the Enron e-mail corpora1—now more than two decades old—as a “sandbox” for testing tools and training students. I argued that the quality of the data matters: native or near-native e-mail collections remain essential to test processing and review workflows in ways that mirror real-world litigation.

The back-and-forth reminded me that, unlike forensic examiners or service providers, ediscovery lawyers may not know or care much about the nature of electronically-stored information until it finds its way to a review tool. I get that. If your interest in email is in testing AI coding tools, you’re laser-focused on text and maybe a handful of metadata; but if your focus is on the integrity and authenticity of evidence, or in perfecting processing tools, the originating native or near-native form of the corpus matters more.

What follows is a re-publication of a post from July 2013. I’m bringing it back because the debate over forms of email hasn’t gone away; the issue is as persistent and important as ever. A central takeaway bears repeating: the litmus test is whether a corpus hews to a fulsome RFC-5322 compliant format. If headers, MIME boundaries, and transport artifacts are stripped or incompletely synthesized, what remains ceases to be a faithful native or near-native format. That distinction matters, because even experienced e-discovery practitioners—those fixated on review at the far-right side of the EDRM—may not fully appreciate what an RFC-5322 email is, or how much fidelity is lost when working with post-processed sets.

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Still on Dial-Up: Why It’s Time to Retire the Enron Email Corpus

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Early this century, when I was gaining a reputation as a trial lawyer who understood e-discovery and digital forensics, I was hired to work as the lead computer forensic examiner for plaintiffs in a headline-making case involving a Houston-based company called Enron.  It was a heady experience.

Today, everywhere you turn in e-discovery, Enron is still with us. Not the company that went down in flames more than two decades ago, but the Enron Email Corpus, the industry’s default demo dataset.

Type in “Ken Lay” or “Andy Fastow,” hit search, and watch the results roll in. For vendors, it’s the easy choice: free, legal, and familiar. But for 2025, it’s also frozen in time—benchmarking the future of discovery against the technological equivalent of a rotary phone. Or, now that AOL has lately retired its dial-up service, benchmarking it against a 56K modem.

How Enron Became Everyone’s Test Data

When Enron collapsed in 2001 amid accounting fraud and market-manipulation scandals, the U.S. Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) launched a sweeping investigation into abuses during the Western U.S. energy crisis. As part of that probe, FERC collected huge volumes of internal Enron email.

In 2003, in an extraordinary act of transparency, FERC made a subset of those emails public as part of its docket. Some messages were removed at employees’ request; all attachments were stripped.

The dataset got a second life when Carnegie Mellon University’s School of Computer Science downloaded the FERC release, cleaned and structured it into individual mailboxes, and published it for research. That CMU version contains roughly half a million messages from about 150 Enron employees.

A few years later, the Electronic Discovery Reference Model (EDRM)—where I serve as General Counsel—stepped in to make the corpus more accessible to the legal tech world. EDRM curated, repackaged, and hosted improved versions, including PST-structured mailboxes and more comprehensive metadata. Even after CMU stopped hosting it, EDRM kept it available for years, ensuring that anyone building or testing e-discovery tools had a free, legal dataset to use. [Note: EDRM no longer hosts the Enron corpus, but for those who like hunting antiques, you may find it (or parts of it) at CMU, Enrondata.org, Kaggle.com and, no joke, The Library of Congress].

Because it’s there, lawful, and easy, Enron became—and regrettably remains—the de facto benchmark in our industry.

Why Enron Endures

Its virtues are obvious:

  • Free and lawful to use
  • Large enough to exercise search and analytics tools
  • Real corporate communications with all their messy quirks
  • Familiar to the point of being an industry standard

But those virtues are also the trap. The data is from 2001—before smartphones, Teams, Slack, Zoom, linked attachments, and nearly every other element that makes modern email review challenging.

In 2025, running Enron through a discovery platform is like driving a Formula One race car on cobblestone streets.

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Chambers Guidance: Using AI Large Language Models (LLMs) Wisely and Ethically

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Tomorrow, I’m delivering a talk to the Texas Second Court of Appeals (Fort Worth), joined by my friend, Lynne Liberato of Houston. We will address LLM use in chambers and in support of appellate practice, where Lynne is a noted authority. I’ll distribute my 2025 primer on Practical Uses for AI and LLMs in Trial Practice, but will also offer something bespoke to the needs of appellate judges and their legal staff–something to-the-point but with cautions crafted to avoid the high profile pitfalls of lawyers who trust but don’t verify.

Courts must develop practical internal standards for the use of LLMs in chambers. These AI applications are too powerful to ignore and too powerful to use without attention given to safe use.

Chambers Guidance: Using AI Large Language Models (LLMs) Wisely and Ethically

Prepared for Second District Court of Appeals (Fort Worth)


Purpose
This document outlines recommended practices for the safe, productive, and ethical use of large language models (LLMs) like ChatGPT-4o in chambers by justices and their legal staff.


I. Core Principles

  1. Human Oversight is Essential
    LLMs may assist with writing, summarization, and idea generation, but should never replace legal reasoning, human editing, or authoritative research.
  2. Confidentiality Must Be Preserved
    Use only secure platforms. Turn off model training/sharing features (“model improvement”) in public platforms or use private/local deployments.
  3. Verification is Non-Negotiable
    Never rely on an LLM for case citations, procedural rules, or holdings without confirming them via Westlaw, Lexis, or court databases.  Every citation is suspect until verified.
  4. Transparency Within Chambers
    Staff should disclose when LLMs were used in a draft or summary, especially if content was heavily generated.  Prompt/output history should be preserved in chambers files.
  5. Judicial Independence and Public Trust
    While internal LLM use may be efficient, it must never undermine public confidence in the independence or impartiality of judicial decision-making. The use of LLMs must not give rise to a perception that core judicial functions have been outsourced to AI.

II. Suitable Uses of LLMs in Chambers

  • Drafting initial outlines of bench memos or summaries of briefs
  • Rewriting judicial prose for clarity, tone, or readability
  • Summarizing long records or extracting procedural chronologies
  • Brainstorming counterarguments or exploring alternative framings
  • Comparing argumentative strength and inconsistencies of and between parties’ briefs

Note: Use of AI output that may materially influence a decision must be identified and reviewed by the judge or supervising attorney.


III. Prohibited or Cautioned Uses

  • Do not insert any LLM-generated citation into a judicial order, opinion, or memo without independent confirmation
  • Do not input sealed or sensitive documents into unsecured platforms
  • Do not use LLMs to weigh legal precedent, assess credibility, or determine binding authority
  • Do not delegate critical judgment or reasoning tasks to the model (e.g., weighing precedent or evaluating credibility)
  • Do not rely on LLMs to generate summaries of legal holdings without human review of the supporting authority

IV. Suggested Prompts for Effective Use

These prompts may be useful when paired with careful human oversight and verification

  • “Summarize this 40-page brief into 5 bullet points, focusing on procedural history.”
  • “Summarize the uploaded transcript respecting the following points….”
  • “Summarize the key holdings and the law in this area”
  • “Rewrite this paragraph for clarity, suitable for a published opinion.”
  • “List potential counterarguments to this position in a Texas appellate context.”
  • “Explain this concept as if to a first-year law student.”

Caution: Prompts seeking legal summaries (e.g., “What is the holding of X?” or “Summarize the law on Y”) are particularly prone to error and must be treated with suspicion. Always verify output against primary legal sources.


V. Public Disclosure and Transparency

Although internal use of LLMs may not require disclosure to parties, courts must be sensitive to the risk that judicial reliance on AI—even as a drafting aid—may be scrutinized. Consider whether and what disclosure may be warranted in rare cases when LLM-generated language substantively shapes a judicial decision.

VI. Final Note

Used wisely, LLMs can save time, increase clarity, and prompt critical thought. Used blindly, they risk error, overreliance, or breach of confidentiality. The justice system demands precision; LLMs can support it—but only under a lawyer’s and judge’s careful eye and hand.


Prepared by Craig Ball and Lynne Liberato, advocating thoughtful AI use in appellate practice.

Of course, the proper arbiters of standards and practices in chambers are the justices themselves; I don’t presume to know better, save to say that any approach that bans LLMs or presupposes AI won’t be used is naive. I hope the modest suggestions above help courts develop sound practical guidance for use of LLMs by judges and staff in ways that promote justice, efficiency and public confidence.

Tailor FRE 502(d) Orders to the Case

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Having taught Federal Rule of Evidence 502 (FRE 502) in my law classes for over a decade, I felt I had a firm grasp of its nuances. Yet recent litigation where I serve as Special Master prompted me to revisit the rule with Proustian ‘fresh eyes,’ uncovering insights I hope to share here

I’ve long run with the herd in urging lawyers to “always get a 502 order,” never underscoring important safeguards against unintended outcomes; but lately, I had the opportunity to hear from experienced trial counsel on both sides of a FRE 502 order negotiation and have gained a more nuanced view.

Enacted in 2008, FRE 502 was a means to use the federal rules (and Congress’ adoption of the same) to harmonize widely divergent outcomes vis-à-vis subject matter waiver flowing from the inadvertent disclosure of privileged information. 

That’s a mouthful, and I know many readers aren’t litigators, so let’s lay a little foundation.

Confidential communications shared in the context of special relationships are largely shielded from compulsory disclosure by what is termed “privilege.”  You certainly know of the Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination, and no doubt you’ve heard (if only in crime dramas) that confidential communications between a lawyer and client for the purpose of securing legal advice are privileged.  That’s the “attorney-client privilege.” Other privileges extend to, inter alia, spousal communications, confidences shared between doctor and patient and confidences between clergy and parishioner for spiritual guidance.  None of these privileges are absolute, but that’s a topic for another day. 

Yet another privilege, called “work-product protection,” shields from disclosure an attorney’s mental impressions, conclusions, opinions, or legal theories contained in materials prepared in anticipation of litigation or for trial.  Here, we need only consider the attorney-client privilege and work-product protection because FRE 502 applies exclusively to those two privileges.

Clearly, lawyers enjoy extraordinary and expansive rights to withhold privileged information, and lawyers really, REALLY hate to mess up in ways that impair those rights. I’d venture that as much effort and money is expended seeking to guard against the disclosure of privileged material as is spent trying to isolate relevant evidence. A whole lot, at any rate.

One of the quickest ways to lose a privilege is by sharing the privileged material with someone who isn’t entitled to claim the privilege.  Did the lawyer let the friend who drove the client to the law office sit in when confidences were exchanged?  Such actions waive the privilege.  One way to lose a privilege is by accidentally letting an opponent get a look at privileged material.  That can happen in a host of prosaic ways, even just by the wrong CC on an email.   More often, it’s a consequence of a failed e-discovery process, say, a reviewer or production error.  Inadvertently producing privileged information in discovery is every litigator’s nightmare.  It happens often enough that the various states and federal circuits developed different ways of balancing protection from waiver against findings that the waiver opened the door to further disclosure in a disaster scenario called “Subject Matter Waiver.”

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Leery Lawyer’s Guide to AI

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Next month, I’m privileged to be presenting on two topics with United States District Judge Xavier Rodriguez, a dear friend who sits in the Western District of Texas (San Antonio). One of those topics is “Practical Applications for AI.” The longstanding custom for continuing legal education in Texas is that a presenter must offer “high quality written materials” to go with a talk. I’m indebted to this obligation because writing is hard work and without the need to supply original scholarship, I’d probably have produced a fraction of what I’ve published over forty years. A new topic meant a new paper, especially as I was the proponent of the topic in the planning stage–an ask borne of frustration. After two years of AI pushing everything else aside, I was frustrated by the dearth of practical guidance available to trial lawyers–particularly seasoned elders–who want to use AI but fear looking foolish…or worse. So, I took a shot at a practical primer for litigators and am reasonably pleased with the result. Download it here. For some it will be too advanced and for others too basic; but I’m hopeful it hits the sweet spot for many non-technical trial lawyers who don’t want to be left behind.

Despite high-profile instances of lawyers getting into trouble by failing to use LLMs responsibly, there’s a compelling case for using AI in your trial practice now, even if only as a timesaver in document generation and summarization—tasks where AI’s abilities are uncanny and undeniable. But HOW to get started?

The Litigation Section of the State Bar of Texas devoted the Winter 2024 issue of The Advocate magazine to Artificial Intelligence.  Every article was well-written and well-informed—several penned by close friends—but no article, not one, was practical in the sense of helping lawyers use AI in their work. That struck me as an unmet need.

As I looked around, I found no articles geared to guiding trial lawyers who want to use LLMs safely and strategically. I wanted to call the article “The Leery Lawyer’s Guide to AI,” but I knew it would be insufficiently comprehensive. Instead, I’ve sought to help readers get started by highlighting important considerations and illustrating a few applications that they can try now with minimal skill, anxiety or expense. LLMs won’t replace professional judgment, but they can frame issues, suggest language, and break down complex doctrines into plain English explanations. In truth, they can do just about anything that a mastery of facts and language can achieve.

But Know This…

LLMs are unlike any tech tool you’ve used before. Most of the digital technology in our lives is characterized by consistency: you put the same things in, and other things come out in a rigid and replicable fashion. Not so with LLMs. Ask ChatGPT the same question multiple times, and you’ll get a somewhat different answer each time. That takes getting used to. 

Additionally, there’s no single “right” way to interrogate ChatGPT to be assured of an optimal result. That is, there is no strict programming language or set of keywords calculated to achieve a goal. There are a myriad number of ways to successfully elicit information from ChatGPT, and in stark contrast to the inflexible and unforgiving tech tools of the past, the easiest way to get the results you want is to interact with ChatGPT in a natural, conversational fashion.

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Safety First: A Fun Day at the “Office”

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As a forensic examiner, I’ve gathered data in locales ranging from vast, freezing data centers to the world’s largest classic car collection. Yet, wherever work has taken me, I’ve not needed special equipment or certifications beyond my forensic skills and tools.  That is, until I was engaged to inspect and acquire a Voyage Data Recorder aboard a drilling vessel operating in the Gulf of Mexico.

A Voyage Data Recorder (VDR) is the marine counterpart of the Black Box event recorder in an airliner.  It’s a computer like any other, but hardened and specialized.  Components are designed to survive a catastrophic event and tell the story of what transpired.

Going offshore by helicopter to a rig or vessel demands more than a willingness to go.  The vessel operator required that I have a BOSIET with CAEBS certification to come aboard.  That stands for Basic Offshore Safety Induction Emergency Training with Compressed Air Emergency Breathing System.  It’s sixteen hours of training, half online and half onsite and hands on.  I suppose I was expected to balk, but I completed the course in Houston on Thursday.  Now, I’m the only BOSIET with CAEBS-certified lawyer forensic examiner I know (for all the good that’s likely to do me beyond this one engagement).  Still, it was a blast to train in a different discipline.

A BOSIET with CAEBS certification encompasses four units:

  1. Safety Induction
  2. Helicopter Safety and Escape Training (with CA-EBS) using a Modular Egress Training Simulator (METS)
  3. Sea Survival including Evacuation, TEMSPC, and Emergency First Aid
  4. Firefighting and Self Rescue Techniques
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