People v. Taft (Cal. Ct. App. - March 20, 2026)

Is this entire appeal about whether or not the appellant is entitled to two additional days of presentence custody credit (and thus two fewer days in prison) on his four-year sentence -- basically, as a result of a rounding error?

Yes, it is.

P.S. - He is indeed entitled to the two days. As the Attorney General concedes and Justice Stone explains in a dozen pages.

Sheerer v. Panas (Cal. Ct. App. - March 19, 2026)

Are you kidding me?!

Thomas Panas is in San Mateo county, working (presumably) for a tech company making nearly $20,000/month in salary, another $26,000/month in commissions/bonuses, and getting additional stock grants worth over $120,000 in the first three months of the year. In short, he's rich.

But he's also engaged in contentious divorce proceedings with his ex-wife over child support obligations for his two children (over whom they share custody 50/50). There's a lot of money at stake, mostly over how much the child support payments should be increased over the baseline given his expansive bonus and stock payments.

Notwithstanding what's at stake, Mr. Panas (1) represents himself pro per on appeal (despite Covington & Burling on the other side), (2) write his pro per brief with a.i., and (3) doesn't bother to check the citations or factual record cites hallucinated by the computer, or even write a table of contents, follow the rules with respect to formatting, etc.

Seriously?

Because the Court of Appeal is incredibly nice, Mr. Panas avoids getting sanctioned. But geeze.

Get a lawyer, my friend.

P.S. - He also loses the appeal.

People v. Perez (Cal. Ct. App. - March 19, 2026)

Would you retry this one?

Eric Perez gets pulled over in a traffic stop. It turns out he's been driving on a suspended license since 1993. (!) Mr. Perez could be arrested, but the officer doesn't feel like it, and cites him instead. But the officer doesn't want him driving, so has the car towed. They conduct an inventory search, find some drugs and a firearm (which, as a felon, he's not allowed to have), and charge him accordingly.

Mr. Perez says the search was illegal and moves to suppress, the trial court denies the motion, but the Court of Appeal reverses. Since the vehicle was parked legally, and the driver not arrested, there's no reasonable basis to tow. So Mr. Perez wins, and he gets to withdraw his conditional no contest plea on remand if he wants.

Here's the thing, though.

Mr. Perez was sentenced to two years probation. That was roughly a year ago -- and his offense was nearly four years ago. So he's pretty much done already, even under the original deal.

So, on the one hand, why would Mr. Perez withdraw the plea? He's pretty much done with the sentence already. Just a little more probation left. Why withdraw the plea, which was pursuant to a deal, and risk getting convicted at trial and potentially subjected to a much more serious sentence?

On the other hand, assuming that Mr. Perez withdraws his plea, why even retry the guy in the first place? Presumably he's done a fine job during his previous year of probation, and doesn't have any additional offenses in the last four years. The government thought that two years of probation was a reasonable sentence previously. Why spend the time and money on a retrial just to keep the guy on probation for another year?

This opinion is important from a policy perspective. It matters a lot whether the police are allowed to tow your car.

But practically, for Mr. Perez? Tough to really justify doing much more on remand in this particular case.

Dion v. Weber (Cal. Ct. App. - March 18, 2026)

Are you sure about this?

When you get a fraud judgment against a California corporation that doesn't pay it, you can get up to $50,000 of it from the Victims of Corporate Fraud Compensation Fund.

Plaintiffs here get a default judgment for fraud and file an application for compensation from the Fund, but their application is denied on the grounds that their claim was outside the statute of limitations. The Court of Appeal holds that's not okay; that since the plaintiffs prevailed in court (where the defendant defaulted and hence didn't raise the limitations defense), that's the end of things. Pay 'em.

The opinion says numerous times that "[a]llowing the Secretary to relitigate the merits of the underlying causes of action" would be permissible; e.g., that it "undermines the judicial goals of fostering finality and would create a significant possibility of inconsistent judgments." But the underlying statute clearly allows precisely such relitigation. Section 2288(b)(1) says: "The Secretary of State may defend any action on behalf of the fund and shall have recourse to all appropriate means of defense and review, including examination of witnesses and the right to relitigate any issues that are material and relevant in the proceeding against the fund." The underlying judgment only creates a presumption, according to the statute: "The claimant’s judgment shall create a rebuttable presumption of the fraud, misrepresentation, or deceit by the corporation, which presumption shall affect the burden of producing evidence."

The Court of Appeal responds that (b)(1) only applies to contested judgments, and that the statute purportedly creates a "dual track" such that for default judgments (like here), only subsection (b)(2) applies. (That subsection reads: "If the civil judgment, arbitration award, or criminal restitution order in the underlying action on which the final judgment in favor of the petitioner was by default, stipulation, consent, or pursuant to Section 594 of the Code of Civil Procedure, or if the action against the corporation or its agent was defended by a trustee in bankruptcy, the petitioner shall have the burden of proving that the cause of action against the corporation or its agent was for fraud, misrepresentation, or deceit.")

That's not the way I read those sections. Paragraph (b)(1) says nothing about being applicable only to "contested" actions. The word's not even in there. I read (b)(1) as saying that the Fund can relitigate anything. Period. With the proviso that there's a rebuttable presumption that the underlying judgment is correct. Paragraph (b)(2) cuts back on that, in my view, only by saying that in default cases, there's no such presumption, and the burden of proof in those cases is instead on the plaintiff (unlike in non-default cases, where it's on the Fund).

Wholly beyond the words of the statute, it seems strange to be that there'd effectively be NO statute of limitations on claims against the Fund. Can I really get a default judgment against a 1870s corporation today (because they don't show up) and get $50,000 from the Fund? That would just seem weird. Not the way things usually work.

I get the desire to compensate victims of fraud. But we've got that desire in regular lawsuits as well, yet still have limitations periods. I'm just not sure the statute here operates in the way the Court of Appeal thinks it does.

But, hey, for victims of fraud: a good opinion for ya.

People v. Jones (Cal. Ct. App. - March 17, 2026)

Justice Yegan begins this opinion by essentially summarizing it, saying:

"A defendant confined in jail in county one, cannot willfully fail to appear, as ordered, in county two. Such a defendant does not “fail” to appear. He cannot appear. He should not suffer a penalty for not appearing."

That's not really accurate, I think. For example, if county one was about to transport the defendant to county two for sentencing, and the defendant successfully resisted and refused to come out of his cell, I would think that's more than sufficient to establish a willful failure to appear. And it happens.

Perhaps a better summary of this very short opinion would be: "If a court orders someone to not commit any crimes in the interim and to appear for sentencing, it's not enough for the prosecutor to try to introduce uncertified court records to establish that he committed a crime in the interim and was incarcerated as a result. You've got to have admissible evidence."

That seems fairly self-evidently true.

People v. Riggs (Cal. Ct. App. - March 16, 2026)

Criminal cases are often depressing. You often see people at their worst. And, obviously, there are often horrific acts at issue.

This opinion involves a serious crime: assault with a semiautomatic firearm. But what struck me as most depressing was the reaction of the victim, "Jane Doe".

Jane was dating "John" (another pseudonym) but had previously dated the defendant, Riggs. Jane and John were riding together on a quad when Riggs came to the house looking for Jane. Stuff then happens:

"Father and Jane’s two brothers were at home. Riggs was angry and “talking shit” about Jane to her brother. Riggs left the house toward the street.

Riggs then saw John and Jane riding the motor bike together. Father, still in his home, heard gunshots outside. At some point, John fled on foot.

Father next heard Riggs and Jane screaming as they approached the house. Both came inside, and Father saw Jane had blood on her face. Riggs grabbed Jane’s hair and hit her multiple times. Riggs pointed the gun at Father and Brother and threatened to shoot them.

Brother ran out of the room to hide and called Mother to ask her to call the police. Mother called 911, and the 911 operator called Brother. During the call, Brother sounded scared. Brother reported Riggs was in the house with a gun, breaking things and hitting his sister. Earlier, he heard shots fired outside the house toward the street.

Riggs called the family “snitches” for calling the police. He then grabbed Jane and pulled her outside the house into the backyard.

When Jane and Riggs were outside, a Riverside County Sheriff’s Department helicopter arrived in response to a 911 call reporting a man with a gun. The helicopter’s video camera captured Riggs hitting Jane in the abdomen with his hand and then with the handle of a shovel. Sheriff’s deputies soon arrived. When they did, Riggs appeared to be lifting the shovel to hit Jane again, but he dropped the shovel on the deputies’ orders. Deputies took Riggs into custody. He had a bag of methamphetamine in his shoe.

After the incident, Jane’s face was covered in blood and swollen, and she had bruising on her face, scalp, neck, and arm. She was bleeding from her nose and mouth, and she was upset and crying. At the scene, Jane told police her ex-boyfriend, Riggs, hit her with his fist multiple times. She accepted some medical treatment but refused to go to the hospital.

Sheriff’s deputies examined the scene. Inside Jane’s residence, there was blood on the floor and the furniture. In the backyard, investigators found a semiautomatic firearm in a metal shed near where they contacted Riggs. The firearm was wrapped in a towel that had blood on it. The magazine was empty, and the slide of the gun was locked to the rear of the empty chamber, which indicated all bullets had been fired from the firearm. The firearm was capable of firing only 9-millimeter bullets.

Just north of the front of Jane’s home, law enforcement found four spent 9-millimeter cartridge cases. Further north, 75 to 100 yards from the home, they found the motor bike and three additional spent 9-millimeter cartridge cases nearby. The motor bike’s engine had been hit by two bullets, leaving one bullet hole and one strike mark.

Riggs had gunshot residue on both hands. His DNA was on the trigger, trigger guard, and slide of the gun found in the metal shed."

That's a serious offense, right? And poor Jane. She's the victim of a serious crime. You rightly feel incredibly bad for her. She has to deal with all this stuff, and God knows what she's had to deal with in the past.

What is perhaps most depressing, however, is how she elects to live her live after this whole ordeal:

"Two days later, Jane went to the hospital for her injuries. She was with John. She reported that she was injured falling off a bicycle. Medical professionals found the injuries inconsistent with her story and called law enforcement. When a Sheriff’s investigator came to the hospital, Jane was defensive and did not want to talk to him. She refused to let him take pictures of her injuries.

At the time of trial, Riggs was Jane’s boyfriend again. Although Jane testified at trial, she was an uncooperative witness for the prosecution and denied her earlier statements to the deputies. She testified that John “tried to . . . hit [Riggs] off the road” with the motor bike and she “flew off the bike” as it “wrecked”. She stated the scrapes and bruises on her face came from falling off the motor bike face-first onto dirt and pavement."

Jeeze.

Fortunately, the jury understands what's going on here, and convicts Riggs, who's sentenced to over 25 years in prison. So his personal relationship with Jane has, for all practical purposes, essentially ended. Thankfully.

Still. After all this, going back to Riggs and testifying on his behalf. A classic reaction, I know. But nonetheless profoundly distressing.

I'm a tiny reminded of the classic film noir ending: "Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown."

Here, it's Riverside.

Olympus Spa v. Armstrong (9th Cir. - March 12, 2026)

Oh my God.

Combs v. Broomfield (9th Cir. - March 12, 2026)

You've got to slog through nearly a hundred single-spaced pages of this opinion to get a complete sense of what's going on. That, I recognize, is a difficult sell. If only because it involves a habeas appeal in a death penalty case in California. Which means you'd be spending an hour or two of your busy life reading about a sentence that, as a practical matter, will never actually occur.

I'll nonetheless attempt to direct your potential attention to pages 82 through 87 of the opinion.

The opinion's author is Judge Bade. She's joined by Judges Callahan and Bumatay. I think that we can all agree that's not the panel you want if you're the person sentenced to death.

Defendant claims that a juror lied during voir dire to get on the panel, and that but for this lie, the biased juror would have been validly challenged for cause. Under Supreme Court precedent, that's a valid Sixth Amendment claim. You're constitutionally entitled to relief if you can establish such a claim.

Defendant submits some evidence to support this claim, based upon statements that the juror at issue made to a defense investigator during two interviews in May 2006. He says that, at a minimum, this establishes a prima facie case.

The Ninth Circuit disagrees. It says that the court could validly disregard this evidence because it's inadmissible hearsay. Since it's not the declaration of a party opponent, it can be entirely ignored. No investigation, no discovery, nothing.

So let's make the resulting rule clear. Imagine that all twelve jurors go out to a restaurant to celebrate after sentencing someone to death. At the restaurant are a hundred people -- other patrons and staff -- alongside fifteen priests and the Pope. Each of the jurors were asked during voir dire if they were current members of the Klu Klux Klan, and each answered "No." During the jurors' celebration, everyone in the restaurant clearly hears each of these twelve jurors repeatedly and loudly declare that they sentenced the defendant to death not because they thought he was guilty, but on the basis of his race, and that they all lied during voir dire about not being members of the KKK because they hoped to be on the jury so they'd have a chance to kill the defendant. All of the hundred-plus people at the restaurant who overhead these statements, including the Pope, submit declarations to that effect.

According to today's opinion, the defendant gets no relief. It's all entirely hearsay. No prima facie case. Not even entitled to discovery to depose the jurors and see if they admit (again) to being members of the Klan and lying during voir dire.

Surely that wasn't the law before today. Right?

The Sixth Amendment right to an unbiased jury when the state seeks to sentence you to death seems fairly hollow if we categorically exclude the only practical way of proving that bias in the first place.

B.B. v. Capistrano USD (9th Cir. - March 10, 2026)

Sometimes, kids are great, and adults suck.

After an elementary school class about Martin Luther King Jr., a first-grade kid named B.B. -- I'm going to call her "Becky" -- "'felt bad' because 'black people were put in a worse position." So little Becky drew a handwritten picture showing "all her friends holding hands" and gives it to her classroom friend, M.C. (I'll call her "Mary"), for comfort. Here's Becky's picture:

Becky didn't know what "Black Lies Mater" [sic] meant, "but included the phrase because it was at the end of the book her teacher read to the class." Becky also didn't know what "any life" might potentially be interpreted to mean, but included that phrase because this first grader thought that “all lives matter.”

Mary looks at the drawing and thanks Becky for it. In a better world, that'd be the end of the matter. A simple and undeniably well-intended interaction between two small children.

But no. Here's where the "adults" come in.

Mary's mother sees the picture when Mary comes home and writes a sharply-worded email to the school's principal saying, in part, "[m]y husband and I will not tolerate any more messages given to our daughter because of her skin color" and that "[a]s the administrator we trust you know the actions that need to be taken to address this issue."

The next day, the principal takes Becky aside, tells her that the drawing is "not appropriate" and makes Becky apologize to Mary (and, although first-grade Becky's memory is unclear on this point, maybe calls the drawing, and by implication Becky, "racist"). Becky also says that she's then prohibited from going to recess for two weeks as a result.

Then, nearly a year later, Becky's mother learns about the principal's interaction with her child, and she escalates the matter in turn, ultimately filing a federal lawsuit against the principal, the school district, and a counselor at Becky's school. There's a plethora of discovery, little Becky gets deposed, etc. 

The district court ultimately dismisses the federal (First Amendment) claim and accordingly declines to resolve the supplemental state law claims, and there's an appeal. At which point yet more adults become involved.

On appeal, plaintiff/appellant is represented by the Pacific Legal Foundation. Amici include many of the usual conservative lawyers seeking to advance their particular agenda: Ilya Shapiro from the Manhattan Institute, Alan Gura from the Institute for Free Speech, Madison Hahn from the YAF, Harmeet Dhillon, etc.

Does any of this actually advance Becky's welfare? I strongly doubt it. She's a first grader: a six or seven year old child. Does it really make sense to drag a six year old through a deposition, years of litigation, and the associated trauma merely to make a point about a heartfelt but overblown picture that this first grader drew to ease the perceived pain of her classmate? Again: I strongly doubt it. That's maybe in the interest of other people, including but not limited to the lawyers. But not the kid. No one should pretend that they're doing her any favors here. Not in the slightest.

But the "adults" in the room. They definitely know better.

And, today, the Ninth Circuit reverses the dismissal, in a per curiam opinion that cogently discusses the underlying legal principles but does not once mention what's best for the child, the result of which is that the underlying litigation continues apace.

Sorry about all this, Becky. Sincerely.

All of it.

U.S. v. Tekola (9th Cir. - March 9, 2026)

With respect for Judge Owens, I would have dissented in this one.

Issac Tekola is a drug dealer in Santa Barbara. Not a huge one, but not a super tiny one either. He doesn't live in a mansion, or have "associates," or even a stash house. He instead lives in an apartment, and since he lives there, that's where he sometimes deals from. Sometimes he goes out and meets people for a sale. Sometimes they come to his apartment where the drugs are stashed in a shoe outside his apartment's back door. (That the drugs fit in an old shoe may give you a sense of the scale of Tekola's operation.) In short, he's your basic neighborhood drug dealer.

Similarly, the goods he sells are located where he lives. He doesn't have an "outside base" of operations, or a stash house, like big-time dealers. That's where he stores the cash he gets from dealing. (He has $13,000 at the time he's arrested.) That's where the drugs are: a pound of cocaine, 867 pills containing fentanyl, and some fake Adderall pills containing methamphetamine. That's also where all the other stuff associated with drug dealing is located: a safe, pay/owe sheets, scales, etc.

So Tekola gets charged with possession with intent to distribute, and he's facing real prison time as a result. Caught, he pleads guilty to everything, even without a plea deal. He throws himself on the mercy of the district court.

Which is not particularly merciful. At all. Judge Garnett sentences Mr. Tekola to an above-guidelines term of almost nine years in prison. And in doing so, bumps up his sentence pursuant to a provision that enhances the penalty for defendants who "maintain[] a premises for the purpose of manufacturing or distributing a controlled substance."

Mr. Tekola appeals, claiming that he didn't do that. Yes, he lived in his apartment, so that's where he stored his stuff. But that wasn't the "purpose" of living there, he says, so his sentence shouldn't have been enhanced.

Judge Owens, joined by Judges VanDyke and Thomas, disagrees, and affirms.

The opinion explains at length how Tekola used his apartment for drug dealing. Stored his cash there. Stored the drugs there. Got messages there. Sometimes put drugs in a shoe there. All that's undoubtedly true. And Judge Owens talks at length about the commentary to the relevant provision, which expressly says that "[m]anufacturing or distributing a controlled substance need not be the sole purpose for which the premises was maintained, but must be one of the defendant’s primary or principal uses for the premises." (The opinion even italicizes that last part.) The Ninth Circuit concludes that the district judge got it right; that one of Tekola's "primary or principal uses" of the apartment was to distribute drugs there. In the words of Judge Owens:

"Tekola’s apartment was the hub of his distribution network. It was where he stored his drugs and other tools of the drug-dealing trade, where he processed and recorded the drugs he sold, and a default location where trusted customers picked up drugs. Of course, Tekola also conducted drug deals elsewhere, but that additional trafficking does not change the fact that his apartment was the equivalent of a home office for the illicit drug business he ran."

But here's why I would have dissented.

The opinion repeatedly mentions the part of the guidelines commentary that says that the enhancement is appropriate when one of the "primary or principal purposes" of the residence was to sell drugs. But it only one mentions -- and then, even only in passing -- the last clause of that very same commentary, which notes that the enhancement does not apply if the use of the property for drugs was merely "one of the defendant’s incidental or collateral uses for the premises." In other words, if the reason you're using the property in your drug operation is merely because you live there, the enhancement doesn't apply. A conclusion that's also backed up by Ninth Circuit precedent about a related statutory provision.

In my view, here, the evidence shows that that's exactly what transpired here. Of course Tekola had his drugs, cash, scales, and other drug-related materials in his apartment. That's where he lived. Where else was he going to keep them?! On the street? On the moon? The only other place to keep this stuff one might even contemplate was in a stash house. But that's exactly what the enhancement was designed to punish.

Tekola is the classic example of a garden variety neighborhood drug dealer. Bigger than some, perhaps, and definitely smaller than others. If the enhancement is intended to punish Tekola more severely, then it equally applies to pretty much every single drug dealer, every one of which -- or at least every one of them I've known (or of whom I've personally heard) -- keeps their stuff in their home or apartment.

The goal of this enhancement was to pick out certain drug dealers for increased punishment. The ones with stash houses. The ones with special houses where you deal through iron doors. The dealers who own separate manufacturing facilities where they create or package the drugs. Those are the ones -- the "big" ones -- where we want additional punishment. Not simply every low-level drug dealer who lives in a dingy apartment unit and sells from there. The Ninth Circuit's view of the enhancement simply goes too far, in my view, and is contrary to both its text and purpose.

Avon and Stringer in The Wire are subject to the enhancement. Saul Silver in Pineapple Express is not.

Tekola is Saul, not Avon. By a mile.

(And I say this despite not being sympathetic to fentanyl dealers like Tekola in the slightest.)

People v. Nelson (Cal. Ct. App. - March 5, 2026)

This is a relatively unremarkable opinion. Except for one thing.

Defendant moved for mental health diversion, claiming that his illness was a substantial cause of his criminal acts (which were longstanding and extensive). The trial court found, as a factual matter, that the psychologist's opinion was not credible, and that the defendant's mental health issues did not play a factor in his decision to commit the crimes at issue.

Not surprisingly, the Court of Appeal affirms. The trial court made a factual finding. That's super hard to reverse. There's substantial evidence to support the trial court's decision, so that's that. As a result, the Court of Appeal resolved the appeal in five pages. It's that easy.

The thing that's remarkable, though, is Justice Yegan's four-paragraph concurrence. To his own opinion, no less.

The concurrence cites a recent case from the 4/3 -- People v. Cabalar. That opinion isn't cited anywhere in today's opinion by the 2/6. It doesn't need to be, since the present appeal simply involves a case-specific factual inquiry, not a dispute about the law.

Justice Yegan's concurrence nonetheless reaches out to let the 4/3 know that he thinks that Cabalar was wrongly decided. He's not shy about it, either:

"Cabalar [] is wrong. I disagree with its result and rationale. It does not seem to follow traditional and time-honored rules on appeal. In fact, it seems to retry the facts, and seems to ignore the doctrine of implied findings. (People v. Francis (2002) 98 Cal.App.4th 873, 878.) It also seems to draw inferences away from the order under review. It then substitutes its discretion for that of the trial court and eviscerates the concept of “residual discretion.” . . . .

Cabalar is a convicted felon. His possession of a firearm and ammunition makes it difficult to imagine that he does not pose a risk of danger to public safety. And his participation in an uncharged conspiracy to commit grand theft of $175,000 worth of jewelry from a department store jewelry case in a “smash and grab,” hardly inspires a finding that he is not a risk to the public’s safety. These two observations support the trial court’s exercise of “residual discretion.”"

It's not every day you see a justice reach out to let everyone know that a recent opinion from a different district involving different facts is (allegedly) spot on wrong.

As my kids would say: Shots fired, Justice Delaney.

Pacito v. Trump (9th Cir. - March 5, 2026)

Hours after taking office in 2025, President Trump signed an executive order barring the entry of all refugees, even those who were already approved for admission and in transit to the United States. Plaintiffs sued, and the district court issued a preliminary injunction, holding that this order violated the Immigration and Nationality Act passed by Congress.

Today, the Ninth Circuit reverses almost the entirety of the district court's order. No more refugees, unless and until President Trump feels like it. (Which you know full well ain't gonna be anytime soon.)

I found it interesting that the opinion both begins and ends by empathizing that policy concerns are not relevant to the appeal. At the outset: "Our task is to determine whether the President’s actions were within the statutory authority granted him under the INA. Whether we agree with those actions is beside the point: “The wisdom of the policy choices made by [the President] is not a matter for our consideration.” Sale v. Haitian Centers Council, Inc., 509 U.S. 155, 165 (1993)." In the conclusion: "We recognize the enormous practical implications of this decision. There are over one hundred thousand vetted and conditionally approved refugees, many of whom may have spent years completing the USRAP process in a third country only to be turned away on the tarmac. . . . Whether that consequence reflects prudent policy is not a question for this court. To hold otherwise would be to substitute our judgment for Congress’s."

You see this point made in various opinions. It's most powerful, in my view, when the judges who join the opinion are in obvious disagreement with the policy at issue, and yet are compelled by their limited role in our constitutional system to uphold the act at issue.

By contrast, here, the opinion is authored by Judge Bybee, and joined by Judges Clifton and Lee. Two Bush appointees and one appointed by President Trump himself. (Judge Lee even authors a separate opinion to both go further than the majority in reversing the district court's preliminary injunction as well as to decry alleged judicial activism. ("We [] must not be seduced by the temptation of judicial resistance: District courts cannot stand athwart, yelling “stop” just because they genuinely believe they are the last refuge against policies that they deem to be deeply unwise. Otherwise, we risk inching towards an imperial judiciary that lords over the President and Congress.")

The "We're just doing our jobs, even if we don't like it" is a lot less compelling when the underlying policy is one that generally comports with your political position. If Judge McKeown, for example, were to write this particular opinion and make that proclamation, well, that'd mean a lot to me. Or if Judge Bybee were to write an opinion reaffirming Hawaii's right to restrict the open carry of firearms -- which he in fact did -- again, that appeal to ignore a judge's own political preferences would similarly carry a lot of weight.

Today's opinion, written by three conservative Republican appointees on an immigration issue? Not so much.

U.S. v. Boylan (9th Cir. - March 3, 2026)

It's a high-profile case, so Judge Owens knew it would get some attention. It's about the overnight fire on the Conception off the Channel Islands during a scuba diving expedition -- a fire that killed 34 people in horrific circumstances. There was a ton of press about it, and today's appeal concerns the conviction of the ship's captain for "seaman's manslaughter" under federal law.

The Ninth Circuit affirms, and when reciting the fact that thirty four people died, Judge Owens doesn't just delineate the body count. He also mentions their names. In a published opinion. Preserved forever.

A fitting tribute. So I'll do here as well:

"Carol Diana Adamic, Juha-Pekka Ahopelto, Neal Gustav Baltz, Patricia Ann Beitzinger, Vaidehi Devi Campbell Williams, Kendra Moore Chan, Raymond Scott Chan, Adrian Danielle Dahood-Fritz, Sanjeeri Satish Deopujari, Justin Carroll Dignam, Berenice Felipe, Lisa Ann Fiedler, Kristina Oline Finstad, Andrew Aaron Fritz, Daniel Garcia, Marybeth Guiney, Yuko Hatano, Yulia Krashennaya, Alexandra Haley Kurtz, Xiang Lin, Charles Spencer McIlvain, Caroline Annette McLaughlin, Kaustubh Nirmal, Angela Rose Solano Quitasol, EvanMichel Solano Quitasol, Michael Storm Quitasol, Nicole Storm Solano Quitasol, Steven John Salika, Tia Nicole Adamic Salika, Sunil Singh Sandhu, Fernisa June Sison, Ted Stephen Strom, Kristian Marc Takvam, and Wei Tan."

Fix The City, Inc. v. City of Los Angeles (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 27, 2026)

It's Fix The City versus the City of Los Angeles. And . . . the City wins. Both below and on appeal.

So no fixing the city.

It's only a caption, of course. And you can name your organization anything you want. So it's not like, in reality, the Bad Guys necessarily won.

The caption, and result, nonetheless reminded me of this scene from Blazing Saddles. (Kinda NSFW, albeit from a movie.) 

The relevant quote:

"When the land goes through Rock Ridge, it will be worth millions. And I want it. I want it so bad I can taste it. There must be a way.

Of course! There might be a legal precedent. . . . Ah! Haley versus United States: Haley seven - United States nothing. You see, it can be done!"

Here: City of Los Angeles, 3; Fix the City, 0.

Fisher v. Fisher (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 26, 2026)

Nothing published (yet, at least) from the Ninth Circuit or California Court of Appeal today, so I thought I would briefly mention this published opinion yesterday, which arises out of an intrafamily dispute that just so happened to be in my neighborhood (down here in San Diego).

Not my family, thankfully.

Even if your siblings and/or family aren't all that tight, I hope that it's at least better than this.

A brief summary by Justice Buchanan:

"This wrongful death case has its origin in a feud between four adult brothers over the division of their parents’ estate. Decedent Wade Fisher and plaintiff Todd Fisher were on one side. Defendants Brittin Fisher and Kent Fisher were on the other. Wade, the youngest, was a recovering alcoholic who had been sober for 15 years. After their father died, Wade cared for their mother before she went into assisted living, then he moved to Hawaii to escape the family dysfunction.

Todd’s wrongful death claims stem from a phone call Brittin and Kent made to the San Diego Police Department (SDPD) five months after their mother died. Todd alleged that Brittin and Kent falsely reported their mother missing, even though they knew she had died of natural causes, with the intent to cast suspicion on Todd and Wade. As a result, SDPD contacted Wade by telephone to inquire about their mother but quickly dropped the matter after learning she was dead. The phone call greatly upset Wade. A week later, he relapsed and drove his motorcycle drunk with marijuana in his system and without a helmet. He crashed and died. A psychologist testified that the phone call caused Wade’s relapse.

Todd sued Brittin and Kent for wrongful death on behalf of himself and Wade’s estate. A jury found Brittin and Kent liable for negligence and intentional infliction of emotional distress (IIED). The jury also found Brittin and Kent conspired to make false statements to SDPD requiring law enforcement intervention, and acted with malice, oppression, or fraud. On causation, the jury found their conduct was a substantial factor in causing severe emotional distress and harm to Wade. The jury awarded about $5.1 million to Wade’s estate and $4.3 million to Todd, including $80,000 in punitive damages against each defendant."

The Court of Appeal affirms.

So as long as you haven't sued your sibling for multiple millions of dollars lately, you're probably better off relationship-wise than this one.

J.S. v. D.A. (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 25, 2026)

I really, really like everything about this opinion. It's equitable. It's reasonable. It's fair. It shows compassion. It's exactly what you'd like to see.

I would strongly predict that J.S. will ultimately get the TRO extended to a permanent domestic violence protective order. But there's no reason why the respondent, D.A., shouldn't at least be allowed to show up (either personally or remotely) to contest those proceedings. Even though he's in prison right now. He's got a legitimate interest in the matter. Let him appear. That's the essential core of due process, after all.

I also like that the Court of Appeal doesn't immediately vacate the DVRO, but instead lets it continue for 30 days while the trial court gets it together on remand. Totally reasonable.

And all of this without even a brief or any other submission by respondent.

Really well done.

P.S. - The caption says: "APPEAL from a judgment of the Superior Court of San Diego County, Brigid Campo, Judge." But I think that she's actually a commissioner, right?

U.S. v. Motley (9th Cir. - Feb. 24, 2026)

Fifteen years in prison seems about right to me for this years-long, ten-figure Medicare fraud. Even without the additional two years that the Ninth Circuit reverses.

I would not have been sympathetic to the defendants, either as a judge or juror.

Not sympathetic at all.

Wells v. BNSF Railway (9th Cir. - Feb. 24, 2026)

The Ninth Circuit delivers some bad news today to a segment of the plaintiff's bar. Particularly that segment located in Montana.

It's an asbestos case. Those lawsuits were classically filed against W.R. Grace & Co., which was the company that mined vermiculite out of the world's largest source of that mineral in Montana. That ore, however, contained substantial amounts of asbestos. So, as one might expect, W.R. Grace & Co. got sued. A lot.

But W.R. Grace & Co. went bankrupt in 2001. So the plaintiff asbestos bar needed to find someone else to sue.

BNSF Railway fit the bill. That railroad shipped pretty much all of the vermiculite from the Montana mine, and in its wake, allegedly threw off asbestos to the surrounding area. So a ton of lawsuits were filed against it.

The one at issue here was the first one to go to trial. And the jury found BNSF strictly liable, and awarded the two plaintiffs $4 million each in damages.

The Ninth Circuit reverses.

The majority opinion, written by Judge Christen, holds that the railroad is not liable under Montana law for strict liability. The concurring opinion, authored by Judge Callahan, not only agrees with the majority, but also believes that federal law -- specifically, the Interstate Commerce Commission Termination Act -- also preempts plaintiffs’ strict liability claims.

In short, at least in Montana, and likely elsewhere in the Ninth Circuit, these types of cases are not going anywhere. At least not against the railroads.

In re Lynex (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 19, 2026)

Strange language in this opinion.

Defendant, who was convicted of murder and sentenced to 50 years in prison, files a petition under the Racial Justice Act and requests appointment of counsel to press his petition. The trial court denies his request for counsel, but the Court of Appeal issues a writ. On the merits, everything the Court of Appeal does makes sense and is easily understood.

But footnotes 2 and 5, and the text accompanying them, are weird.

Defendant's underlying claim is that black defendants are illegally and disproportionately charged with murder and firearm enhancements. He's got some data that allegedly backs that up, so his basic RJA claim is that he was treated differently than similarly-situated white defendants. Classic stuff.

Here's the sentence in the opinion that corresponds to footnote two, alongside the footnote itself:

"In 2025, Lynex, who claims to be an African American man,[2] filed a petition for writ of habeas corpus under the Racial Justice Act. [Footnote 2]: (See fn. 5, post)."

The opinion then goes on to reproduce the chart that shows the number of defendants of each race charged with murder with a firearm allegation for 1998, 1999 and 2000, and drops footnote five, which reads:

"In a declaration Lynex filed in support of the petition, he identified himself as an African American man."

What's super strange to me is that, as far as I can tell, no one disputes that Lynex is African American. He's not claiming to be Black. That seemingly indisputably is his race. So why the multiple footnotes that say that Lynex "claims" to be (or "identfie[s]" himself as) part of that race? Is there really a fight about this?

I understand that, at some level, someone's race may be indeterminate. I tried but failed to locate a picture of Mr. Lynex to see what I could see. What I did find, however, was a description of Lynex put out by the LAPD at the time of the underlying murder, which reads: "Witnesses described seeing a heavyset male Black, approximately 25 years-old, involved in a dispute with the victim. The confrontation escalated and the lone suspect fired several rounds, striking the victim. The suspect fled from the location and remains outstanding." So if Mr. Lynex is not, in fact, Black, I bet that was somewhat surprising to the LAPD when it arrested him, and ultimately obtained a conviction.

Now, maybe there's an underlying dispute somewhere about the race to which Mr. Lynex actually belongs, but if there is, I can see absolutely no evidence of it. I thought that, perhaps, Justice Bendix was simply being super careful never to classify someone on account of their race, but later in the opinion, when discussing someone else, Justice Bendix writes: "In McIntosh, a Black criminal defendant filed a habeas petition raising claims under the Racial Justice Act, and sought appointment of counsel to help him prosecute his petition." No caveat there about Mr. McIntosh "claiming" to be Black or anything like that. Unlike here.

I get it that race is a hot-button issue. I also fully understand that one's race is somewhat indeterminate, as well as the historical backdrop regarding this particular issue; e.g., the whole "one drop" thing.

But unless there's an actual dispute, most Racial Justice Act opinions -- or just opinions in general -- don't use qualifying language like "claim" or "identify" when referring to someone's race. So this one struck me as unusual, if only as a descriptive matter.

U.S. v. Romero (9th Cir. - Feb. 18, 2026)

Judge Bennett has a point in his dissent.

Unlike the majority, he thinks that the district court's legal error at sentencing was harmless. And, as a practical matter, at least, I think he's right. On remand, I have extraordinarily little doubt -- indeed, pretty much none -- that the district judge will impose the exact same sentence that he did initially.

It's a case where the defendant attempted to smuggle over 25 pounds of methamphetamine over the border in San Diego in the trunk of his car. That's a lot of meth. Not only is that a serious crime, but after he was caught and out on bond, the defendant made two phone calls to witnesses before his grand jury that might well be deemed to constitute witness tampering. That, plus the prior domestic violence restraining order that one of those witnesses had obtained against him for prior abuse, all adds up to a very elevated risk of exposure at sentencing.

The presentence report recommended a two-level upward adjustment for obstruction of justice, and the district court agreed. As a result, the guidelines sentencing range was 135 to 168 months -- over ten years. But even the government thought that was too much. It recommended 96 months; the defense asked for 30. Judge Sabraw ultimately imposed a sentence roughly in the middle: 60 months, with five years of supervised release thereafter.

Defendant appeals, claiming that he shouldn't have received the two-level upward adjustment. But by the time the case gets decided by the Ninth Circuit -- the indictment was in 2021, and the appeal in 2023 -- it's 2026, and the defendant has already served his full sentence in prison. So there's no getting that time back.

Nevertheless, the case isn't technically moot. Because he's still got the five years of supervised release, which can be changed on remand if appropriate. And, on the merits, all of the judges on the panel agree that the district judge applied the wrong legal standard in deciding whether the two-level adjustment for obstruction was appropriate. The majority says that requires a remand, whereas the dissent says the error is harmless.

Here's where I think Judge Bennett's dissent has a point. There is no way Judge Sabraw is going to reduce the defendant's five years of supervised release on remand. No. Way. Defendant has already received a huge break by getting a WAY below-guidelines sentence: five years as opposed to the dozen or so years the guidelines suggest even without the two-level enhancement. Moreover, on remand, when applying the right legal standard, Judge Sabraw might well still properly conclude that the two-level enhancement was indeed appropriate.

Regardless, the guy's out of prison. We're not talking about his actual custody time any more. We're only talking about whether Judge Sabraw is going to reduce the five years of supervised release at this point.

That ain't gonna happen. Of that I'm virtually certain.

For that reason, in my view, Judge Bennett's dissent has a point. Why remand the case for legal error when we all know full well that the result's going to be no different? What a needless exercise of appellate power, right?

Yes. In a way.

But here's why the majority's contrary position nonetheless seems right to me.

We've got a legal standard here. The relevant law. In the present case, that standard is abuse of discretion. Yes, we know -- or at least I do -- that Judge Sabraw will virtually certainly come out the same way on remand. So why go through the exercise?

To me, it's because we allow him to make the call, not us. The appellate judges aren't there. They don't see the defendant. They're just reading a cold paper record. Yes, I'm fairly confident that Judge Sabraw will continue to find that five years of supervised release remains entirely appropriate, even without a two-level enhancement, particularly given the massive break that the defendant has already received. It behooves everyone to keep an eye on the guy for the next five years to make sure he stays straight. I'm confident that Judge Sabraw will continue to see it that way.

But maybe -- just maybe -- he won't. Maybe he'll come to a contrary conclusion.

Again: He's the one most intimately familiar with the defendant, not the judges on the Court of Appeals. He's seen him. He's heard him speak. We can all read a paper record, but sentencing is not mechanical -- or at least shouldn't be. That's the whole reason why the guidelines are now discretionary, after all. We don't -- and shouldn't -- have artificial intelligence sentence people. We have humans do it. Humans who have actually seen the defendant and who can take his humanity into account.

So even if we, reviewing a paper record, and with full regard to how we know human emotions (and/or the characteristics of a particular judge) generally play out, are convinced that the sentence will remain the same, we still remand. For a sentence imposed consistent with the actual, correct law.

Now, Judge Bennett says in his dissent that a remand isn't required because, on these facts, it would be an "abuse of discretion" to find that the defendant wasn't actually trying to obstruct justice when he contacted the relevant witnesses, even when applying the correct legal standard. And, again, he has a point. Viewing the paper record, I too believe that the defendant was almost certainly trying to in fact threaten the witnesses, which counts (under the correct legal standard) as obstructing justice. He wasn't, in my view, merely trying to "find out" what they said to the grand jury to prepare a legal defense or something like that. His subjective intent -- his mens rea -- was indeed to obstruct justice. And Judge Sabraw, I strongly predict, will so find.

So harmless error, right?

Nope.

Because maybe -- indeed, most likely -- Judge Sabraw will agree with my view of the facts on remand. But maybe he won't. Again: He has the boots on the ground. He's seen the defendant. Sure, looking at the transcript, I think that the words that the defendant used in the two relevant sentences of the phone calls -- that he was “going to go over there” and that “[i]f [I] have a problem, [you] have a problem" -- were subjectively intended at threats. That's my strong take too, particularly given the prior domestic violence of the defendant.

But Judge Sabraw might potentially disagree. I don't think he will, mind you. But he might.

And if he did, that wouldn't necessarily be an abuse of discretion. Yes, I'm confident that I'm right in how I interpret those words. But if someone much more familiar with this particular defendant thought otherwise, I cannot say that he would necessarily and obviously be wrong.

Because what people mean, or intend, is often idiosyncratic. Some people are weird. Some people are unusual. Some people mean certain things in context that aren't readily apparent on a paper record. And if Judge Sabraw were to say: "Look, I know how it sounds, but trust me, I've seen the guy, and know a lot more about this case (and this defendant) than you do, and I don't think that's actually what the guy meant," I would not call Judge Sabraw crazy. He might perhaps be wrong, and I might even think him wrong. But it wouldn't be such an absurd view of the facts that, sitting here reading a paper record, I would call that a total abuse of discretion.

Sometimes what you think is right from the outside is not, in fact, what's right. Imagine, for example, that a defendant goes up to a bank teller, hands her a note that says "Put all the money in the bag or someone will get hurt," leaves with $5,000 in cash in the bag, and subsequently gets convicted of bank robbery. Now, in my mind, on those facts, the guy's pretty much obviously guilty. And that's true even if he gets up on the stand and says: "Oh, no, I was just trying to get my own money that I had in my bank account out of there as rapidly as possible. I wasn't trying to rob anyone. And I know I only had $50 in my account there, so really didn't need a bag, or to threaten to hurt anyone, but I really needed my $50 for crack. Sorry about the words I used, but it's not robbery, just a threat (or assault)." It would very much be my take that, nope, shut up, the guy's guilty.

Imagine that a trial judge (or jury) were nonetheless to find: "You know what? I actually think the guy's right. He wasn't, in fact, trying to rob the bank. He's just an idiot." But even on THESE super clear facts, that would not, in my view, be a total abuse of discretion. Because, yes, on a paper record, I disagree, and think that the words he said -- and the context in which he said them -- are fairly clear.

But I wasn't there. The trial judge was. That means a ton. It wouldn't be an abuse of discretion.

So too here.

And, yes, I know that, in the present case, parts of the transcript are apparently under seal. But I can't imagine anything in the paper record that would change my basic take. This is an area where we rightly defer to the trial judge. And even though, as here, we're darn confident that the trial judge will reach the same conclusion -- the same one that we've come to on a paper record -- we still remand. Because we want to apply the correct law, we want to make sure we got it right, and we want to make sure that the person with boots on the ground will in fact come to the same conclusion that we strongly suspect is the right one on the facts presented.

Which is why, in the end, even though I think Justice Bennett has a good point, Judge Berzon's majority opinion does the right thing.

Hatlevig v. General Motors (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 17, 2026)

I don't understand the plaintiff's strategy here. Regardless, whether I understand it or not, it didn't work.

Plaintiff files a lemon law case and prevails, with General Motors agreeing to take back the vehicle and pay $100,000. So at the case management conference on June 2, 2023, the parties tell the court the case has settled, the court orders a dismissal to be filed within 45 days, and it's time for the plaintiff (as the prevailing party) to file a motion for attorney's fees, which the settlement agreement permits.

The Clerk subsequently sends out a notice saying that the case will be dismissed on August 15, 2023 if no one shows good cause otherwise, which no one does. Then, two weeks later, on August 31, 2023, plaintiff files his motion for attorney's fees. That motion gets set to be heard on April 26, 2024.

Okay. That's all straightforward. (Now, why it takes eight months to get a hearing date is beyond me, but whatever. San Diego is . . . busy?)

Here's what I don't understand:

Plaintiff files his attorney fee motion on August 31, 2023, but doesn't serve it until April 4, 2024.

Why?!

You filed it already. Just put it in the mail. Yes, it'll give the other side more time to respond. Who cares?! They could already pull the motion off the court's website if they wanted to (and probably did). Why not serve it simultaneously with filing it?

Whatever the theory, plaintiff decided to wait those extra months to serve.

A fatal flaw.

The trial court holds that the motion was untimely because it wasn't "filed and served" within 180 days of the noticed dismissal, and the Court of Appeal affirms.

That's tens of thousands of dollars (at least) of attorney's fees lost as a result of a seemingly inexplicable decision not to serve a motion alongside filing it.

Live and learn, I guess.

U.S. v. Brandenberg (9th Cir. - Feb. 17, 2026)

In affirming a five-year sentence for threatening to bomb a state courthouse, Judge McKeown's opinion today correctly notes that:

"Brandenburg’s threats arose in a climate of serious threats nationwide against courthouses and judges. In 2008, the San Diego federal courthouse—one of the targets of Brandenburg’s threats—was bombed. See United States v. Love, No. 10-cr-2418-MMM, 2013 WL 1660415, at *1 (S.D. Cal. Apr. 17, 2013). In 2020, District of New Jersey Judge Esther Salas’s son was murdered by a plaintiff who had appeared before her, grimly echoing the killing fifteen years earlier of Northern District of Illinois Judge Joan Lefkow’s mother and husband by a disgruntled litigant. Esther Salas, Federal Judges Are at Risk, N.Y. Times, Dec. 9, 2020, at A25."

To that grim list I might add the bombing murder of Judge Robert Vance, the perpetrator of which was executed in 2018.

People v. Alston (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 13, 2026)

Yes, the trial judge wrongly (and inexplicably) failed to state on the record, or anywhere, why it denied defense counsel's objection to one of the peremptory challenges made by the prosecutor, notwithstanding that such judicial findings are expressly required by the statute. Yes, that means that we've got to reverse, thereby wasting the whole initial trial.

But, honestly, the guy's almost certainly getting convicted again on remand. The defendant fairly clearly solicited the cop pretending to be an online 14-year old, so I'd bet big money on another conviction for meeting a minor for lewd purposes and showing pornography to a minor. After all, the guy sent the would-be 14 year old a picture of himself masturbating, and fairly clearly (and expressly) was looking to "link up" with the thought-she-was-a-minor. You're getting convicted in that setting 99 times out of 100. Maybe even 100 out of 100.

Two things, though.

First, the guy only gets sentenced to three years of probation (albeit has to register as a sex offender)? Geeze. For that, just plead guilty. Get the thing over with.

Second, the opinion mentions that, at one point, the defendant sent a text to the would-be-minor that asked if she knew "how to suck D." The opinion immediately follows this revelation by stating that, at trial, the officer "recognized from his training that D was 'short for dick.'”

Really?! That's part of your "training?" They seriously have to tell you at the police academy that the "D" in "suck D" stands for dick?

Even if you didn't know from common experience what that phrase meant, what else could the D even possibly stand for? Diaper? Dreadnought? Dictionary?

Cox v. Gritman Medical Center (9th Cir. - Feb. 11, 2026)

This is a personal jurisdiction case, which somewhat interests me on the merits, but what caught my eye was actually the caption. The principal parties are "Mary Cox v. Gritman Medical Center" alongside "'Others TBD'" as unnamed defendants.

I understand that different states do it differently. Here in California, of course, we typically call the unnamed defendants "John [or Jane] Doe" or simply "Does." This case is from Washington state. Is it really standard practice to simply call them "Others TBD?"

Nothing rides on it, of course. You could call them "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt" for all it matters. (And I desperately hope that someone does, in fact, use that name at some point; it'd be classic.)

Still. TBD. Different for sure.

People v. Flores (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 11, 2026)

You advertise on Craigslist to illegally sell one thousand fentanyl pills and get busted by an undercover cop on your way to sell them to him and your sentence is . . . two years probation?!

Wow. Seems like a pretty good business model, honestly.

(Except for the whole "occasionally killing people" part.)

People v. Zapata (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 10, 2026)

I'm not sure that the California Supreme Court would agree with today's opinion by the Court of Appeal, which reverses a conviction for failure to suppress a jailhouse confession made to undercover officers posing as inmates after the suspect had invoked his right to counsel and remain silent. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. TBD.

But I fairly strongly believe that the United States Supreme Court would disagree. And might well, notwithstanding the ordinarily low chance of a grant of certiorari.

TBD as well.

In re Marriage of Allen (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 6, 2026)

Justice Baltodano writes a very concise and punchy opinion that coherently explains why the Court of Appeal comes out the way it does here. Which is eminently understandable, particularly given the facts underlying the appeal.

But I wonder if the real-world consequences will be counterproductive.

The first paragraph of the opinion cogently explains the holding (which, as always, readers appreciate):

"In In re Marriage of Sabine & Toshio M. (2007) 153 Cal.App.4th 1203 (Sabine & Toshio), our colleagues in Division One held that parents are precluded from contractually waiving child support arrearages. (Id. at p. 1213.) In Sabine & Toshio, the child in question was a minor; no case since has extended this prohibition to children who are now the age of majority. Here, we hold that parents are precluded from contractually waiving or forgiving past due child support arrearages even after the child has reached the age of majority and there is no longer a current support order in place."

Makes sense. Especially here. Husband and Wife get divorced, and have four kids: "ages 5, 9, 10, and 12 years old." Husband is ordered to pay child support, and Husband "made some payments, but failed to fully comply with the trial court’s orders. He was declared a contemptuous litigant because he “made no reasonable efforts to support his children.” Lewis “terminated his job in September 2000 and moved to Utah to avoid payment of support.” In 2002, a bench warrant was issued for Lewis’s arrest. Lewis later moved out of the United States. He made infrequent payments thereafter."

Okay. We obviously want to spank that guy.

Two decades later, Husband wants to strike a deal with Wife (maybe so he can come back to the U.S. and get a job?) about the overdue child support. After lots of negotiating, they agree to split what's owed, and Husband pays $272,500, with the final payment in 2021.

All done, right?

No. As one might expect from the opening paragraph of today's opinion.

The Court of Appeal holds that he still owes the additional quarter-million plus. We're not going to enforce the settlement.

Which is fine, right? Husband's got to pay the whole thing. Like he should have in the beginning.

The only downside, in my view, is that this radically reduces the incentive for spouses like this to come back in the first place. Sure, if they do, in fact, return, you can potentially get one hundred cents on the dollar.

But if that's the law, the number of former spouses willing to say "Screw it, I'll just continue with my existing life and pay nothing at all" necessarily increases. Meaning less, rather than more, money for their children (and former spouse).

It's like if you prohibited all settlement agreements in civil lawsuits. Sure, you'd get more "justice" since everyone now gets fully compensated if they prevail at trial, rather than having to accept pennies on the dollar.

It's just that some of them would now get absolutely nothing. Which, amongst other reasons, is why we don't have that rule.

Esparza v. Superior Court (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 5, 2026)

I understand the facial appeal, I guess, but I still can't believe that the trial court got this one wrong.

Defendant is accused of kidnapping his adult fiancée and taking her to Mexico. At his preliminary hearing, he subpoenas to testify in his defense. Presumably to say, inter alia, that she went with him voluntarily and of her own accord, which strikes me as typically a pretty good defense in these types of cases.

The trial court, however, quashes the subpoena and refuses to allow her to testify. Holding that because she's been temporarily institutionalized under the Lanterman-Petris-Short (LPS) Act since she's unable to provide for herself, that finding categorically means she's incompetent to testify.

Unlike most of the cases I discuss, I don't really have anything to say other than what Justice Fields writes in his opinion. But I just wanted to emphasize it, because its truth seems so obviously clear to me.

Just because someone is "unable to provide for [their] basic personal needs of food, clothing, and/or shelter" -- or even if they're not able to make their own rational medical decisions -- and thus properly appointed a guardian under the LPS Act in no way, shape or form necessarily mean that they are also "incapable of understanding the duty to tell the truth" such that they are incompetent to testify under the California Evidence Code.

Far from it. Many people who can't care for themselves, or make critical medical decisions, due to a particular mental disability are nonetheless quite capable of understanding the difference between a truth and a lie. The former is not coextensive with the latter.

It may well be that, at the preliminary hearing, the content or manner of expression of the fiancée's testimony will be found to be uncredible, or disorganized, or subject to impeachment. Indeed, were the trial court to examine the witness and, upon examination, discover that, yes, this particular witness was so mentally challenged that she did not, in fact, know what it means to tell (what she believed to be) the truth, then perhaps that particular disability is so strong that this particular witness is incompetent to testify.

But as a categorical rule? No way.

And, as a general matter, geeze. It's an incredibly serious charge -- kidnapping. I can't fathom that it's not affirmatively critical that the judge (and, ultimately, jury) hear what the alleged victim has to say. Maybe they'll believe her when she says (if she does) that it was consensual. Maybe they won't. Or, maybe, if the disability is super serious, they'll conclude in a particular case that she was so disabled that she wasn't capable of effective consent anyway.

But let her testify.

Before reading today's opinion, I would have thought that would have been clear to everyone.

Given the trial court's contrary ruling, however: Apparently not.

People v. Gomez (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 4, 2026)

The Court of Appeal publishes this opinion to confirm, amongst other things, that comparing the criminal defendant to a dog at trial is apparently sometimes a compliment.

Harris v. Muhammad (9th Cir. - Feb. 4, 2026)

Wait. What is this?! The Ninth Circuit expressly holds today -- albeit in dicta -- that I'm not permitted to join the "Church of Surf ‘n’ Turf" and thereby obtain "luxury lobster and steak dinners" in prison?! (Page 14)

You bastards.

Parsonage v. Wal-Mart Associates, Inc. (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 4, 2026)

This seems a pretty successful business model, actually.

Find companies who commit technical violations of California's background check law (which the Court of Appeal correctly notes may perhaps "be 'technical violations,' [but] they are violations nonetheless"), find 141 clients and file individual lawsuits on behalf of each, and obtain the $10,000 minimum statutory damages for each of them. As well as, pursuant to that same statute, attorney's fees and costs.

That's a fair chunk of change.

The Court of Appeal says that the strategy works. At least here, and at least with respect to standing. In California, at least (unlike federal courts), there's no "case and controversy" requirement, so pure statutory standing works.

Nice work if you can get it.

Higginson v. Kia Motors, Inc. (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 3, 2026)

Check out this Song-Beverly (i.e., automobile "lemon law") opinion from the 4/1, which the Court of Appeal decides today to publish. At least if you have the wherewithal to peruse all 67 pages, which includes the dissent by Justice O'Rourke.

Talk about a "poop show," eh? (I'm deliberately using family-friendly words.) Both on appeal and, in particular, in both the discovery as well as trial phases of the lawsuit.

What a mess.

One that now gets to be relitigated on remand.

Nevellier v. Putnam (Cal. Ct. App. - Feb. 2, 2026)

Hat tip: If you're representing someone on appeal, know the appellate rules. Otherwise this might happen.

Justice Chou explains the situation fairly clearly at the outset of his opinion:

"Our local rules require that all parties promptly notify us about a bankruptcy that could affect our ability to decide an appeal. Despite this requirement, the parties in this case waited over four months after the filing of a bankruptcy petition by plaintiff Navellier and Associates, Inc. (NAI) and just two days before oral argument to tell us about that petition. Exacerbating the potential consequences of this delay, plaintiffs Louis Navellier and NAI now contend that the automatic bankruptcy stay precludes us from deciding this appeal. (11 U.S.C. § 362(a)(1).) If plaintiffs are correct, then the parties’ failure to provide timely notice of the bankruptcy would have caused this court to squander its valuable time and resources. Fortunately, plaintiffs are not correct because Navellier did not file for bankruptcy and because NAI, the debtor, brought this action. Although the harm to this court caused by the parties’ violation of our local rules is therefore minimized, this does not excuse their misconduct. Although we do not sanction the parties, we do admonish them and advise them to learn and follow our local rules in the future."

Not exactly something you want said about you in a published opinion, eh?

Want more details? Could you see it potentially happening to you? Here's a more robust explication of what went down, alongside the relevant rules -- with the italicized portions (all of 'em!) in the original:

"Under rule 21 of our local rules, “[a]ny party to a matter pending before this court who is aware of a bankruptcy that could cause or impose a stay of proceedings in this court must promptly give notice of such bankruptcy.” (Ct. App., First Dist., Local Rules of Ct., rule 21(a), italics added.) That notice “shall include (1) a copy of the most recent order of the bankruptcy court and of any stay order issued by that court and (2) an explanation of whether a stay order or an automatic stay is in effect and why the stay applies to the pending appeal or writ proceeding.” (Rule 21(b), italics added.) Despite these requirements, no party in this case complied with rule 21. Fortunately, however, the automatic bankruptcy stay (11 U.S.C. § 362(a)(1)) does not preclude us from disposing of this appeal; thereby, mitigating much of the harm that could have resulted from the parties’ dereliction of their professional duties.

NAI filed its bankruptcy petition on September 5, 2025. Plaintiffs’ counsel admitted at oral argument that he knew about the petition soon after NAI filed it and well before he filed the reply brief on October 27, 2025. Despite this, he waited until January 20, 2026, two days before oral argument, to notify us about NAI’s bankruptcy. And when he did so, he did not comply with rule 21(b). Instead, he only provided us with the information required by that rule after we ordered him to do so. At oral argument, Plaintiffs’ counsel pled ignorance of rule 21 and his initial belief, based on the purportedly faulty advice of bankruptcy counsel, that NAI’s bankruptcy did not stay this appeal. But neither excuse absolves him.

First, “[a]s an officer of the court,” he “bore professional responsibility to be aware of and knowledgeable about local court rules.” (Massie v. AAR Western Skyways, Inc. (1992) 4 Cal.App.4th 405, 408.) 

Second, rule 21(a) required the parties to provide notice of any bankruptcy that “could cause or impose a stay of” this appeal. (Italics added.) Thus, the parties had to provide this court with notice of NAI’s bankruptcy if there was any possibility, however remote, that it stayed this appeal. (See Dictionary.com (2026) [as of February 2, 2026] [“could” is “used to express possibility”].) As evidenced by plaintiffs’ claim at oral argument that NAI’s bankruptcy did stay this appeal due to defendants’ claim for prevailing party attorney fees, that possibility undoubtedly existed here. . . .

Defendants’ counsel also acquitted themselves poorly. After some prodding at oral argument, Grail’s counsel eventually admitted that he learned about NAI’s bankruptcy a couple of months before oral argument. In an apparent attempt to justify his failure to comply with rule 21, he also proffered one of the inadequate excuses proffered by plaintiffs’ counsel: that he believed, after consulting with a bankruptcy attorney, that the automatic bankruptcy stay did not affect this appeal."

Yikes.

That said, Justice Chou's opinion also makes clear what one should do when one has made a mistake like this:

Fess up. Which the lawyers did here, and which is the only thing that saved them from sanction (or even stronger vitriol):

"To their credit, all counsel did, for the most part, accept responsibility for the parties’ failure to comply with rule 21. For this reason, we decline to impose any sanctions at this time. (But see Keitel v. Heubel (2002) 103 Cal.App.4th 324, 340 (Keitel) [imposing sanctions due in part to the parties’ failure to notify the court about a bankruptcy in violation of a local rule].) Instead, we admonish counsel to comply with our local rules in the future and to “promptly” notify us if a bankruptcy petition has been filed by one of the parties so we do not waste our limited time and resources. (Rule 21(a).) Indeed, even though we, as explained below, may resolve this appeal notwithstanding NAI’s bankruptcy, the parties’ failure to promptly notify us about that bankruptcy still forced us to issue orders that should not have been necessary and to waste time and resources discussing their failure to comply with rule 21 at oral argument and in this opinion."

If didn't know it already: The Court of Appeal does not like surprises right before oral argument, nor is it at all interested in having its time wasted writing a draft opinion that's potentially mooted by events that everyone other than the justices knew about long ago.

Tavares v. ZipCar (Cal. Ct. App. - Jan. 30, 2026)

The Court of Appeal holds that ZipCar -- which rents cars remotely with no in-person contact -- has no duty to make sure that the person renting the vehicle isn't intoxicated (e.g., by installing breathalyzers in the vehicle). Summary judgment to ZipCar affirmed.

I wanted to comment not on the substance of the opinion, but instead merely about a strange footnote whose presence I didn't understand.

The opening "Factual and Procedural Background" section of Justice Krause's opinion cogently explains both the facts of the case as well as the trial court's grant of summary judgment to defendant. It concludes by saying the following:

"As to any claim of vicarious liability, the trial court found that the Graves Amendment preempted claims based solely on Zipcar’s ownership of the vehicle. Judgment was entered in favor of Zipcar on January 5, 2024.[Footnote 1: "The trial court judge has since retired from the bench."] Tavares filed a timely notice of appeal on February 21, 2024."

Doesn't that footnote seem weird? Does it matter at all that the trial judge subsequently retired from the bench? Why include that fact? Reading the opinion, it just made no sense to me.

I wondered whether there was some controversy or investigation into the trial judge, which the opinion lists as David W. Rosenberg of Yolo. Nope. Judge Rosenberg -- like many judges -- simply retired after he served 20 years and was entitled to his full pension. Nothing unusual at all there.

But the various stories about Judge Rosenberg's retirement said that he announced his retirement in October of 2023 and that it was to be effective at the end of the year. If that's right, though, and if judgment was indeed entered on January 5, 2024, then the trial judge did not "subsequently" retire. He retired before entry of judgment, and someone else must have taken over.

So maybe in an earlier draft of the opinion there was a sentence about the new judge entering judgment based on the previous grant of summary judgment, with a supporting footnote, but that footnote remained even after the underlying sentence was deleted? That's all I can figure. Total speculation, of course.

Anyway: Weird footnote. But, yes, the trial judge did at one point leave the bench.

As, ultimately, they all will.

Brown v. DMV (Cal. Ct. App. - Jan. 30, 2026)

I'm glad that the Court of Appeal came out this way.

If you feel that someone's an unsafe driver -- perhaps due to their age, medical condition, or the like -- you're allowed to report that fact to the DMV. After contacting you and ascertaining the basis for your fears, the DMV may (or may not) ask the driver to provide a doctor's note certifying their medical ability to drive safely. And if the DMV's not happy with the doctor's note, they might ask the driver to retake a driver's test.

The DMV says that you're allowed to make these reports anonymously and that they'll try to keep these reports confidential "to the degree possible." Plaintiff here was one of those drivers, and sues to find out who initially ratted him out.

The Court of Appeal holds that there's no per se right to obtain the identity of the person who reported you to the DMV, and refuses to disclose that information here. That seems to me the correct approach to the various balancing factors.

I might highlight even more than Justice Robie does the need for anonymity here. Perhaps there's some risk of anonymous reporting out of spite or error or the like. But my sense is that a very large number of these anonymous reports come from family members; in particular, adult children who have ample reason to be seriously concerned about the risk of driving by one or more of their elderly parents -- to themselves as well as to the public. You're very rarely going to report your parent, even if it's entirely well founded, if you think it might come back to you.

I've personally seen several examples of children who were seriously, and for good reason, concerned about their parent's driving. Sometimes you can solve these things through persuasion, but a lot of times, you cannot. There's a fair degree of personal pride and freedom involved, after all. My grandmother, for example, lived in Alexandria (Virginia) and one night ended up randomly driving four hours in D.C., entirely lose, before ending up at a Denny's at 2:30 a.m. when a concerned waitress finally contacted my parents. Everyone knew she shouldn't drive, but she was insistent. Their solution was to pull the battery cables from her car and tell her that the car was "broken" and needed to be "fixed" -- a statement that was technically true, and served as a solution for the next year or two (as my grandmother's conception of time at that point was a fair piece off). But if the only solution had been to report her to the DMV, I'm confident that'd have been done. As long as it could be done anonymously.

Lots of families have stories like these. (My wife's aunt, for example, became an absolute terror on the roads during her final years.) The balancing test, in my view, comes out strongly in favor of anonymity.

(And, to be clear, I say this as a declaration of interest. I'm getting up there in age. If anyone in my family ever tries to stop me from driving, I'll be extraordinarily miffed. And out to get them.)

Sellers v. Superior Court (Cal. Supreme Ct. - Jan. 29, 2026)

Every single word of Justice Liu's (unanimous) opinion here makes total sense. Which is not surprising, since you'd reach exactly this result simply by applying -- as he does -- traditional common sense.

It's not a violation of the "open container" law to have tiny, unusable crumbs of marijuana that was spilled onto the back seat of a vehicle. There's no "container" at all. And even though, sometimes, it might violate the law even if there isn't a container -- Justice Liu is exactly right that it'd be silly for "an open bag of marijuana gummies in the center console" to violate the statute but not "the same gummies dumped into the console" -- here, the .36 grams (!) of  “weed crumbs scattered on the rear floorboard behind and under the passenger seat" totally doesn't qualify as something illegal.

It's just common sense. Exactly right. Every word.

Though there's actually one thing I'm not sure is entirely accurate these days.

Justice Liu quotes the Voter Information Packet for Prop. 64 to note that "marijuana is 'most common[ly]' smoked and that users '[t]ypically' smoke only 'dried flowers'." (The opinion mentions this to highlight that the presence or absence of paraphernalia for smoking may be a significant factor in whether the weed is actually usable.) 

Maybe that was true back in 2016, but I suspect that, in the modern era, edibles and other alternatives have taken the lead. Even in 2018, available statistics indicate that only 58% of marijuana use was smoked flower, with edibles, dabs, drinks and other alternatives comprising the remaining 42%. As of 2023, it looks like flower was basically tied with edibles (only 6% higher), and I'd wager a fair piece that the pro-edible trend has only increased since then.

Now, I'm not blaming Justice Liu. He and other other Justices may perhaps not have deep personal knowledge of contemporary marijuana consumption patterns. (Though, who knows: I could be wrong.)

But my own limited interaction with the Modern Youth of California may suggest that dried flower is increasingly old school. It still exists, for sure, as the pungent aroma emanating from the beach parking lot across the street from my house attests pretty much every single sunset. But edibles, FWIW, are the new Thing.

In re Conservatorship of B.K. (Cal. Ct. App. - Jan. 28, 2026)

There are a couple of tangentially interesting things about this opinion. But there's also one thing that is, in my view, demonstrably (and meaningfully) wrong.

It's a conservatorship case where the appellant (B.K.) is an institutionalized schizophrenic and, at the most recent annual hearing, is found at a bench trial to still be gravely disabled. Appellant contends on appeal that she didn't properly waive her right to a jury trial, but the Court of Appeal affirms.

The two tangential things first.

First, the Court of Appeal drops a footnote that refers expressly to appellant's appointed appellate lawyer (though not by name). The Court of Appeal concludes that the proper resolution of this appeal is largely controlled by a prior case, Conservatorship of C.O. (2021) 71 Cal.App.5th 894, 904 (C.O.). Here's what the Court of Appeal says in footnote 5:

"B.K.’s appellate briefing cites C.O. only in a “but see” parenthetical about harmless error. We remind B.K.’s counsel, that “[a]ttorneys are officers of the court and have an ethical obligation to advise the court of legal authority that is directly contrary to a claim being pressed.” (In re Reno (2012) 55 Cal.4th 428, 510, superseded by statute on other grounds as stated in In re Friend (2021) 11 Cal.5th 720, 728.) We trust that counsel will meet this ethical obligation in all future briefing."

A subtle (or perhaps not-so-subtle) reminder.

Second, I just thought it was interesting how the whole waiver thing works out. As a reminder: B.K. is schizophrenic. So her reasoning process is less than perfect. The Court of Appeal is ultimately right that, on the day of trial, B.K. personally waived her right to a jury trial. Here's what she said at that point:

“Ms. Altes: So we had a conversation about court versus jury trial and that we would have the court trial today, and I believe [B.K.] would like to have her trial today which would mean it would be a court trial.

[B.K.]: Yeah. 

The court: Okay. So that means you are waiving and giving up your right to have a jury trial to have a court trial today with me; is that right? 

[B.K.]: Right. 

The court: Counsel joins? 

Ms. Altes: Yes.”

Yep. That's a waiver.

But contrast that brief waiver to B.K.'s prior, quite expansive and deliberate, previous demands for a jury trial in the underlying case, just four months previously:

“The court: [B.K.], we are here to see whether or not you want to stay on conservatorship for another year and have [M.G.] remain your conservator. What do you think? 

[B.K.]: No. I want a jury trial. 

The court: okay. So that means you want to get off conservatorship, you don’t want [M.G.] to remain as your conservator, and we have a trial, right? 

[B.K.]: I want a jury trial. [¶] . . . [¶] 

The court: Why would you like to have a jury trial instead of a court trial? It is your choice. I just want to know the reason.

“[B.K.]: I want a jury trial because I want to get off conservatorship. 

The court: Okay. 

[B.K.]: I want a jury trial. 

The court: Okay.”

That's pretty darn clear, no? I just thought it interesting that we're happy with a two-word waiver from a schizophrenic who's admittedly hearing voices when she's previously expressed clearly and at length why she most definitely wants a jury trial.

Oh, and maybe this is "Third," but just as a general matter, I thought that the opinion gave an interesting insight into the internal thought process of B.K. when it recounted some of B.K.'s trial testimony. Here's a part:

"B.K. also testified on her own behalf. She stated that her medications had no effect other than causing unpleasant side effects. She also testified, “I like the voices” and “I want to keep the voices.'"

Classic line. "I like the voices."

Okay, now to the doctrinal part. The part I sincerely hope that Justice Collins removes from the opinion.

Here's the very last paragraph:

"Even if we were to assume for the sake of argument that an additional advisement was required before the court accepted B.K.’s waiver, any error was harmless. (C.O., supra, 71 Cal.App.5th at p. 919 [applying a harmless error analysis]; People v. Sivongxxay, supra, 3 Cal.5th at p. 187 [same].) Under the harmless error standard, B.K. must show that it is reasonably probable that a result more favorable to her would have been reached in the absence of the error. (C.O., supra, 71 Cal.App.5th at p. 917.) B.K. has not made such a showing. B.K. does not challenge the court’s finding that she was gravely disabled, which was supported by the testimony of Dr. Arom and B.K. herself. There is no suggestion that a jury trial, had B.K. chosen one, would have resulted in a different outcome. B.K. therefore has failed to demonstrate reversible error."

With utmost respect to Justice Collins and her chambers, that's 100% wrong.

When you're deprived of a jury trial, that's categorically structural error, and is not subject to harmless error review. That's because, among other things, we can never tell for sure what a jury would have done as opposed to a judge. That's blackletter law. By contrast, the two cases that Justice Collins cites both hold that inadequate advisement of the right to a jury trial is subject to harmless error review if the evidence is clear that the defendant would have waived their jury trial right anyway. That's crystal clear from Sivongxxay and C.O. themselves. (Sivongxxay: "This assessment entails a review of the record to ascertain whether it reveals a reasonable probability that the defendant would have opted for a jury trial . . . [W]e consider what the defendant would have done, not what we believe he should have done. . . . In conclusion, because the record before this court on appeal provides no basis for concluding that defendant would have chosen a jury trial . . . we find the error harmless under the Watson standard." C.O.: " We also see nothing in the record suggesting that C.O. would have elected a jury trial over a court trial if the trial court had advised him personally at the court proceeding of his right to the former. The omission of the jury trial advisement was harmless on this record.").

Today's opinion finds harmless error because it thinks that there's no evidence that a jury would have decided differently than the judge. But that's always the case: the whole point of structural error is that we don't want judges -- appellate or otherwise -- deciding whether a jury would have found the same way as a judge, and also don't think that doing so is even possible. The whole point is that juries and judges are different. It may be harmless error, as in Sivongxxay and C.O., if the defendant was going to waive a jury trial right anyway, regardless of the error. But that's radically different than how the Court of Appeal finds harmless error here.

Now, I think I understand why the last paragraph goes astray on this point. For one thing, harmless error is a complex and multifaceted issue, and it's easy to get confused on precisely which of the various trial components constitute structural error or not. For another, there's a loose sentence in C.O. -- before the critical harmless error analysis I quote above -- that does indeed say that there's no reason to believe that a jury trial would have come out very different. To be honest, that sentence shouldn't have been in C.O. either, but regardless, it's not the holding, nor would reliance upon it be an accurate statement of the law. Still, I could see how someone might potentially get confused, and think that harmless error analysis in this context meant X (what would happen on the merits at a jury trial) when it actually means Y (what would happen vis-a-vis the defendant's choice of judge versus jury if there was no error).

But to reiterate: It definitely means Y. 

If you are deprived of your right to a jury, we don't say "Oh well, the result would have probably been the same anyway; it's not like the Sixth Amendment is a big deal or anything." And were the law to the contrary, pretty much every deprivation of the right to a jury trial would be harmless, since defendants can rarely (if ever) demonstrate that the result would have been different. We instead find harmless error only if you would have waived your jury trial right anyway. If so, it's harmless.

So I hope that the Court of Appeal deletes the last paragraph. Yes, it's technically dicta. But it's also doctrinally wrong, and I would hate for future opinions to rely on that paragraph -- or make the same mistake.

Matthews v. Ryan (Cal. Ct. App. - Jan. 28, 2026)

I agree with Justice Bendix that the appellant forfeited any objection to the way prospective jurors were seated in this matter. But particularly since what happened below appears to be the typical way the trial judge here seats jurors, it might have been worth adding something like the following line in the opinion:

"We emphasize, however, that it is not proper for the trial court to ask for 'volunteers' to sit on the jury rather than calling the prospective jurors by number. We reiterate that random selection of jurors is a firm and sound policy mandated by the Legislature. The clerk must randomly select the names of prospective jurors for voir dire. Trial courts should not utilize -- and parties should promptly object to -- any variation from this procedure."