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Very few business lawsuits arrive without warning. In practice, most disputes give off clear signals long before a demand letter appears or a complaint is filed. The difficulty is not that those signs are hidden, but that they are easy to rationalize away when you are focused on running a company.

After years of working with businesses as outside general counsel, a pattern emerges. The same behaviors, the same shifts in tone, and the same breakdowns in relationships tend to precede litigation. When those signals are recognized early, many disputes can be resolved quietly. When they are ignored, the path to court is often difficult to avoid.

One of the earliest indicators is a sudden change in communication. When a customer, vendor, partner, or employee who was once responsive begins to go quiet, something is usually happening behind the scenes. Emails go unanswered. Calls are returned late, if at all. Meetings are postponed or canceled. The tone, once informal and collaborative, becomes careful or distant.

People rarely disengage when they feel satisfied or secure. Silence is often strategic. It allows time to gather information, review documents, and seek advice without alerting the other side. In many disputes, this quiet period marks the transition from frustration to preparation.

Another common warning sign is a noticeable decline in contract performance. Missed deadlines, inconsistent quality, or unexpected disputes over invoices often signal that a business relationship is under strain. In some cases, one party begins reinterpreting the scope of work or insisting on contract terms that had previously been applied loosely or not at all.

As performance drifts, trust erodes. Once trust begins to break down, parties tend to document more aggressively. Emails become longer and more formal. Minor issues are memorialized. Phrases like “that’s not what we agreed to” appear with increasing frequency. 
This shift toward documentation is rarely accidental; it often reflects a growing concern that the relationship may not end cooperatively.

Employment disputes follow a similar pattern, though they usually begin on a more personal level. Employees rarely frame concerns in legal terms at the outset. Instead, they express feelings of unfairness or being singled out. Statements such as “I don’t feel supported,” “this feels like retaliation,” or “management doesn’t treat people equally” often appear before any formal complaint is made.

Even when management disagrees with the employee’s perspective, these statements matter. They signal that the employee is beginning to view workplace issues through the lens of rights and protections. 

Without careful handling, what starts as a workplace grievance can evolve into a claim that carries legal and reputational consequences.

Another strong indicator of impending conflict is a sudden insistence on documentation. Customers who previously accepted work without question may begin demanding detailed reports, timestamped records, or strict adherence to contractual procedures. Requests for clarification about conversations that occurred months earlier may surface unexpectedly.

This change is rarely about organization alone. More often, it reflects an effort to build a record; either to justify withholding payment or to support a future claim. When this happens, it becomes especially important for a business to ensure that its own records are accurate, complete, and consistent.

Breakdowns with vendors or partners also tend to show themselves early. A party who begins ignoring payment terms, confidentiality obligations, or performance standards may be experiencing financial strain or reevaluating the relationship. In other cases, they may believe that the other side breached first. Once formed, that belief often becomes the foundation of a legal dispute.

One of the more subtle signals appears in casual conversation. When someone mentions having spoken to a family member or friend who is a lawyer, or raises concerns about whether something is “legal,” the dynamic has shifted. These comments suggest that legal options are being explored, even if no formal steps have been taken.

Finally, there is the instinctive sense that something is off. Business owners are often quick to dismiss that feeling, telling themselves that tensions will pass or that long-standing relationships will prevent escalation. In hindsight, many disputes can be traced back to a moment when a concern was noticed and then set aside.

When these warning signs appear, timing matters. Issues addressed early can often be resolved with a clarifying conversation, a written adjustment, or a modest course correction. Left unattended, the same issues tend to harden into positions that are difficult to unwind.

Litigation is rarely the product of a single event. More often, it is the end result of a series of missed opportunities to intervene. Businesses that pay attention to the early signals are better positioned to protect their operations, relationships, and resources before conflict becomes unavoidable.

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Zana Tomich is an attorney based in Detroit with over two decades of experience advising businesses and nonprofit organizations. She provides strategic legal counsel on a wide range of business matters. 

Fault-finding is woven into the fabric of legal practice. As lawyers, we spend our days tracing responsibility lines, clarifying causal connections, and determining who must answer for the harm. 

Fault-finding is woven into the fabric of legal practice. As lawyers, we spend our days tracing responsibility lines, clarifying causal connections, and determining who must answer for the harm. 

In a personal injury case, we identify the person who caused the accident. In a criminal case, we focus on who is culpable for the crime. In a commercial dispute, we analyze who breached the agreement. And in family law, we identify who contributed to the breakdown, an inquiry far more complicated than any police report or contract.

While blame is necessary in the courtroom, it becomes corrosive when carried into our personal or professional lives outside of litigation. The skills that help us advocate for others can, if left unchecked, hinder our personal growth. That is where the shift from blame to accountability becomes transformative.

Blame Keeps Us Stuck

Brené Brown explains that blame is a tool we use to discharge discomfort and pain. It is a fast, reflexive way to avoid vulnerability. When we feel exposed, ashamed, or afraid, blame is a quick, defensive shield that gives us something to point at, offering the illusion of relief without the substance of resolution. But rather than moving us toward healing or clarity, blame keeps us circling the very emotions we are trying to escape.

Blame feels deceptively productive. It hands us a ready-made storyline: Here is the problem, and here is the person who caused it. This storyline creates a false sense of clarity and control. Blame rarely brings relief. Instead, it traps us in a victim mindset, replaying narratives about how others should have acted and how life should have been. In that space, we are not just looking for someone to hold responsible but for evidence that we are not to blame.

Morgan Wallen captures this impulse perfectly in his song “I’m the Problem.” His lyrics “If I’m the problem … you might be the reason” reflect the human reflex to quickly turn toward shared fault or justification to divert discomfort away from us. Wallen goes on to ask, “And if it’s the whiskey / Then why you keep pullin’ it off the shelf?” Blame becomes the smoke screen for the patterns we don’t want to confront. It’s easier to fault the whiskey or the one “pullin’ it off the shelf” than shine light on our own actions. Blame provides an external target and protects us from the pain of owning our part.

Accountability Moves Us Forward

Accountability, on the other hand, is not concerned with who or what is to blame. Rather, it invites us to reflect on what part of the situation we can genuinely control. It moves us from victim to agent by forcing us to notice our participation in the cycle. 

Accountability shifts the focus from backward-looking rumination to forward- looking intention. It requires us to examine our choices; take responsibility for our thoughts, behaviors, and emotions; and ask ourselves how we want to show up. 
Accountability encourages us to look beneath our reactions and ask why something hit such a nerve, what fear was poked, or what boundary felt crossed. Curiosity becomes the foundation for deeper understanding. More importantly, it transfers power away from the person we’re blaming and back to us. That pivot is often the difference between staying stuck and moving toward meaningful change.

Reclaiming Our Power 

When we place blame, we give someone else the power. While other people’s behavior can affect us, allowing their actions to dictate our inner state leaves us powerless. 

Accountability counters this dynamic by inviting us to notice the story we are telling ourselves, to reflect on how we are interpreting events, and to choose responses that reflect our values rather than our reflexes.

Blame often fuels emotional dysregulation, anger, frustration, helplessness, and resentment.  These reactions are human, but they drain clarity and peace when they become habitual. Accountability turns “Why is this happening to me?” into “How do I want to meet this moment?” 

That shift reclaims our power. Even when we cannot control the circumstance, we can control how we respond. Accountability requires us to pause and choose a response that aligns with who we want to be.

Wallen taps into this tension between pointing outward and turning inward. In “I Had Some Help,” he sings with Post Malone, “It ain’t like I can make this kind of mess all by myself,” a familiar move toward shared fault that allows us to keep the spotlight off ourselves. But in his song “Superman,” the tone shifts. He admits, “Don’t always know my wrong from right / And sometimes I’m my own worst enemy,” a humble recognition that the struggle isn’t just outside of him; it lives within. 

This movement from “I had some help” to acknowledging our “kryptonite” — whether it’s substance use, emotional dysregulation, avoidance, or simply not having the right skills — marks the beginning of accountability. It asks us to pause and consider what part is ours, what part is not, and how we want to lead ourselves forward. Personal agency and power emerge in that reflection.

Rewriting the Narrative

Perhaps the greatest gift of accountability is that it frees us from old stories. Blame keeps us stuck in familiar roles and patterns. These narratives often come from real hurt, but they can become cages when we revisit them again and again. Accountability opens the door. It says, “this happened, but what happens next is up to me.” It reclaims authorship.

The shift from reenacting the past to authoring the present is where meaningful growth lies. It marks the moment when a new story can begin. As self-awareness expands, so does our capacity for connection. While blame narrows the lens to what someone else did wrong, accountability widens it to explore the dynamics unfolding between us. It invites dialogue instead of defensiveness. It transforms “you versus me” into “What is happening here, and how can we move forward?” In families, friendships, partnerships, and workplaces, this shift creates relational safety and strengthens trust.

Presence Over Perfection

Accountability is not an exercise in self-blame or perfectionism. Rather, it is an invitation to humble reflection, to look honestly at our patterns without collapsing into shame. Accountability is not about taking all the responsibility but rather about taking our responsibility. It does not minimize the impact of others’ behavior. Instead, it directs our focus back to the one place where growth happens, the choices we make, the insights we cultivate, and the values we decide to uphold.
In a profession built on identifying who is at fault, it is tempting to treat every interaction as if it requires a verdict. But our inner landscape works differently from a courtroom. Blame may help us advocate for clients, but accountability helps us advocate for ourselves. Ultimately, shifting from blame to accountability is a shift toward presence, toward living with clarity, intention, and resilience. It is the courage to ask what part is ours, what we can learn, and who we want to be moving forward. 

Accountability allows us to return to our center, where clarity meets compassion and meaningful change becomes possible.

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Sarah E. Kuchon, of Hohauser Kuchon, is the 93rd president of the Oakland County Bar Association.

There is a moment in the legal profession that receives surprisingly little attention. It is not the first day of law school. Not graduation. Not even bar passage itself.

There is a moment in the legal profession that receives surprisingly little attention. It is not the first day of law school. Not graduation. Not even bar passage itself.

It is the space between passing the bar exam and becoming licensed—the quiet, psychological crossing from Juris Doctor to Esquire. And for many professionals, that moment carries more weight than they ever expected.

For years, many of us have lived in an in-between identity. We have an education. We speak the language. We analyze, advise, and operate with legal rigor. Yet we hesitate sometimes reflexively to claim the title we trained for.

If any of the following sound familiar, you are not alone:

Are you tired of correcting colleagues and family members who call you an attorney?

Are you tired of prefacing comments with, “but I’m not a licensed attorney…”?

Have you ever felt slighted when someone made it clear you weren’t an attorney or hadn’t passed the bar—as if questioning the legitimacy of your legal knowledge or your skill set?

This is the psychological middle ground many JDs occupy: credentialed in education, capable in practice, yet professionally unfinished.

You earned the JD. But you never took that final step to becoming “Esq.”

The Identity Shift No One Prepares You For

Passing the bar is not merely an academic achievement, it is an identity transformation.

For professionals who built full careers before law, this shift can feel disorienting. You may already carry titles like executive, consultant, engineer, manager, or entrepreneur. Becoming “Attorney” does not replace those identities; it reframes them. It sharpens your authority, clarifies your role, and fundamentally changes how others perceive your voice in the room.

Yet many JDs delay or abandon the bar not because of inability, but because of timing, bandwidth, and structure. Life expands. Careers deepen. Responsibilities multiply. The window never seems to open.

But here is a truth worth stating plainly: no one who worked for a JD would willingly refuse the chance to become Esq. The desire is there. The path exists. What is often missing is permission—to re-engage seriously, intentionally, and without apology.

I Know This Middle Space Personally

I sat for the bar in 2021 at age 47 while working full-time. I believed my professional discipline would carry me. It did not.

I missed the exam by eight points not because I lacked capability, but because I underestimated the immersion and structure required. I tried to “fit” bar prep around life instead of temporarily reorganizing life around bar prep.

Four years later, at age 51, still working full-time, I returned with intention, discipline, and a clear plan. This time, I crossed the finish line.

The difference was not intelligence. It was execution.

Why Finishing Matters—Professionally and Economically

A JD is powerful. A JD with a law license is transformative.

Licensed attorneys earn, on average, significantly more over the course of their careers than bachelor’s-degree holders and often substantially more than JDs in non-licensed roles. Median attorney compensation now exceeds $150,000 nationally, and the long-term earnings delta compounds into hundreds of thousands of dollars over a career.

Beyond compensation, licensure unlocks mobility. The Uniform Bar Exam allows portability across jurisdictions, creating geographic and professional flexibility non-licensed JDs simply do not have.

Then there is access: bar associations, leadership pipelines, mentoring circles, CLE communities, and professional networks that amplify credibility and opportunity. “Esq.” is not merely a suffix—it is an entry credential to an ecosystem.

The Commitment Is Smaller Than You Think

The hardest part is already behind you. You earned the degree.

What remains is not another program or years of schooling, but a defined season of focus:

• A committed exam date

• A disciplined study structure

• Protected time

• Accountability

• A mindset shift

The bridge from JD to Esq. is not miles wide. It is a short, concentrated push—if approached honestly and deliberately.

Why Many JDs Stall—and How to Move Forward

Delay has a cost. Each year unlicensed widens the opportunity gap.

Restarting does not get easier. Life does not slow down on its own.

And “Esq.” carries identity weight. It validates your training and positions you with authority.

But here is the reframe that matters most: you are not behind. You are unfinished.

An Action Plan for Completion

1. Commit to an exam date.

2. Restructure your schedule for a defined study window.

3. Choose a preparation model that enforces accountability 

4. Build a repeatable daily routine.

5. Simulate exam conditions regularly.

6. Engage your bar community early.

7. Adopt the identity: Esq. in progress.

This is not guesswork. It is execution.

Finish What You Started

Your JD is an investment. Your Esq. is the return.

No one earns a Juris Doctor intending to stop short. That final credential is within reach. It requires structure, commitment, and a temporary season of sacrifice.

If it was possible at 52, with a full-time executive role and real responsibilities, it is possible for you.

Your journey is not over. It is waiting for completion.

Finish it. Step into it. Become who you trained to be.

______________________

(Dan Ringo, Esq. is the Vice President of Operations and Compliance for SEEL, LLC, a Detroit based Energy Efficiency Program Implementer. He is also author of “JD to Esq: Passing the Bar Past 50.”)

Many policyholders who have disputes with their insurers, and decide to sue them, often find themselves asking the same pressing question: “How long will this lawsuit take and what can I expect?” 

Many policyholders who have disputes with their insurers, and decide to sue them, often find themselves asking the same pressing question: “How long will this lawsuit take and what can I expect?” 

It’s a natural concern, as insurance claims—especially those involving significant property damage, fire losses, or denied insurance coverage—can have a major impact on an insured-plaintiff's finances, daily life, and peace of mind.

While every lawsuit is unique and timelines can vary depending on the complexity of the case, insurance lawsuits typically take at least one to two years, not including appeals. 

This is due to the multiple stages involved in litigation, including filing the complaint, exchanging evidence, engaging in discovery, participating in mediation or other alternative dispute resolution, and potentially going to trial. 

By understanding these stages and what to expect at each step, plaintiffs can set realistic expectations, plan accordingly, and remain proactive throughout the legal process.

Preparing for a Successful Insurance Lawsuit

Success in an insurance lawsuit doesn’t start in the courtroom—it starts long before you file. It starts when you report a claim for the very first time. Preparation is everything. This means that as a start, you must carefully review your policy, organize all correspondence with your insurer, gather photos and videos, repair estimates, invoices, and any expert reports that support your claim.

Understanding the strengths and weaknesses of your case allows you to anticipate challenges and respond effectively. Being thorough at this stage not only strengthens your position but also sets the tone for the entire litigation process, giving you confidence and control as you move forward. 

The more prepared you are, the more likely your case will proceed smoothly and increase your chances of a favorable outcome.

Filing the Lawsuit 

The process begins when your attorney formally files a complaint with the court. In an insurance lawsuit, this usually involves claims for property damage, fire loss, or denied insurance coverage. Once filed, the insurance company is then officially notified and served, and it is required to respond, by answering the complaint.

The Answer and Preliminary Motions

After serving your complaint on you insurer, it typically has a set period of time to file an answer. When it answers, the insurer admits or denies your claims and may raise defenses. At this stage, either party may also file preliminary motions, such as motions to dismiss, which can slightly extend the timeline.

Discovery Phase

The discovery phase is one of the most time-intensive parts of litigation. During discovery, both sides exchange evidence, documents, and witness information. Depositions, interrogatories, and requests for production help build each party’s case. In insurance disputes, this phase can take several months or even over a year, especially if experts are involved, such as engineers or fire investigators.

Pre-Trial Mediation and Motions

Even before a trial, there are often opportunities to resolve the case. Settlement negotiations or mediation can sometimes resolve disputes faster. But if negotiations fail, parties may file pre-trial motions to clarify issues, exclude evidence, or request summary disposition or judgment. Each motion can add weeks or months to the process.

Trial

If the case proceeds to trial, the court schedules hearings and trial dates, which can be influenced by the court’s docket. A typical trial may last several days to weeks, depending on the complexity of the case.

Post-Trial and Appeals

After the trial, either party may file appeals, which can extend the resolution timeline by additional months or even years. But even without appeals, most insurance disputes take at least two years from filing to resolution, and sometimes more.

Key Takeaways 

Insurance lawsuits are often complex and involve detailed evidence and expert testimony.

The process typically lasts one to two years, or more.

Understanding each stage—filing, discovery, pre-trial motions, trial, and possible appeals—helps policyholders stay prepared and avoid surprises.

If you are dealing with a denied insurance claim or ongoing insurance dispute, working with an experienced insurance attorney can streamline the process, ensure your rights are protected, and help you pursue the compensation you deserve.
  
———————

 Attorney & Counselor Rabih Hamawi has extensive expertise in insurance coverage, business negotiations, and commercial litigation. He focuses his practice on representing businessowners, homeowners, property owners, and other insurance policyholders in fire, property damage, and insurance-coverage disputes with insurance companies and in errors-and-omissions cases against insurance agents. The Law Office of Rabih Hamawi can be reached at (248) 905-1133. 

The bar exam has a way of flattening everyone into the same anxious silhouette: outlines, practice sets, timed essays, and that ever-present feeling that you should be doing more. 

The bar exam has a way of flattening everyone into the same anxious silhouette: outlines, practice sets, timed essays, and that ever-present feeling that you should be doing more. 

In that environment, it’s easy for older candidates; second-career lawyers, parents, veterans, professionals who came to law after building a life—to wonder whether time is working against them.

But age is not the liability many assume it to be. In fact, experience is an edge—if you know how to use it.

This is not motivational fluff. It’s a practical argument: maturity brings discipline, perspective, and motivation that younger candidates often need years to develop. And those traits don’t just help you pass. They shape the kind of lawyer you become after you do.

The numbers: what pass rates really tell us—and what they don’t

At a national level, bar passage rates fluctuate year to year and vary dramatically by jurisdiction, administration (February vs. July), and candidate profile (first-time vs. repeat). Recent national reporting based on ABA data has put first-time pass rates for graduates of ABA-accredited schools around the low-80 percent range (with “ultimate” pass rates within two years above 90 percent). (Reuters)

That’s the reassuring headline—until you drill down. February administrations tend to be tougher, often driven by a higher percentage of repeat takers and a different testing population, with many jurisdictions reporting notably lower overall pass rates in February compared to July. (Reuters)

And age? Here’s where the conversation gets messy. Most widely cited public dashboards focus on jurisdiction totals, law school outcomes, and first-time/repeat distinctions—not age bands. (NCBE)

There is research suggesting performance can decline across certain age categories in some datasets. For example, a New York bar exam study examining domestic-educated first-time takers reported that average total scores decreased systematically across younger-to-older age categories through midlife before increasing again in the oldest category. (New York State Bar Examination)

That’s real—and it matters. But it’s not destiny, and it’s not a full story. Age correlates with other variables that have nothing to do with intellect: time poverty, caretaking obligations, full-time work, gaps since school, and sometimes a less forgiving margin for error because failure carries heavier consequences.

In other words, what looks like an “age problem” is often a bandwidth problem.

That’s precisely where older candidates’ advantage shows up: when experience is leveraged into structure, priorities, and execution.

The hidden advantage: discipline beats talent when stakes are high

Older candidates have lived through enough deadlines to know a basic truth: motivation is unreliable, but systems work.

Many younger candidates approach bar prep like school—long study days fueled by anxiety, last-minute cramming, and a vague hope that “covering everything” equals readiness. Older candidates are more likely to approach bar prep like a mission:

• They calendar their week the way they’d calendar a project.

• They measure progress by outputs (MBEs completed, essays timed, rule statements memorized), not by hours “spent studying.”

• They triage ruthlessly, because they’ve had to do it in real life.

This discipline directly addresses the biggest silent killer in bar prep: drifting. The bar punishes “sort of” studying. Mature candidates, when they commit, are less likely to treat prep as optional.

Perspective: the bar is not law practice—and that clarity is power

Experience also provides a stabilizing perspective: you can respect the exam without mythologizing it.

Older candidates tend to understand:

• The bar exam is a standardized test, not a measure of your worth.

• It rewards pattern recognition and repetition, not brilliance.

• The path to passing is rarely “knowing everything,” and more often “missing less.”

That perspective is not just comforting; it’s tactical. It keeps you from wasting time on low-yield perfectionism.

Mindset strategies that work better with maturity

Older candidates often win by playing a different mental game—one built on ownership, realism, and resilience.

1) Replace “confidence” with competence.

Confidence comes and goes. Competence is built. Your mood is irrelevant; your reps are not.

2) Study like an operator, not a student.

Ask daily: What will move my score? The answer is almost always: timed practice, targeted review, and re-testing weak areas.

3) Make peace with discomfort.

Older candidates have already learned that growth often feels like embarrassment: being slow, forgetting rules, bombing a practice set, starting again. That tolerance for discomfort is a competitive advantage.

4) Don’t compare schedules—compare results.

A 25-year-old studying ten hours a day isn’t “ahead” of a 45-year-old studying four hours a day if the older candidate is doing higher-quality, timed work and tracking accuracy.

Motivation: older candidates tend to have stronger “why” and fewer illusions

Bar prep is a long, grinding season. The candidates who finish strong usually have a reason that survives fatigue.

Older candidates often come with:

• a family depending on them,

• a career pivot that required sacrifice,

• a clear professional goal (public service, advocacy, entrepreneurship),

• and an acute awareness that time is precious.

That awareness doesn’t create panic—it creates focus.

And focus is underrated. It’s the ability to say: “This is hard, and I’m doing it anyway.”

What maturity contributes to ethics and judgment—beyond the test

Passing the bar is a gate. The profession you enter afterward demands something different: judgment.

The legal system doesn’t just need lawyers who can issue-spot. It needs lawyers who can:

• recognize conflicts before they become crises,

• manage client expectations without deception,

• keep promises under pressure,

• tell the truth when it costs,

• and choose long-term credibility over short-term wins.

Maturity helps here—not because older lawyers are automatically more ethical, but because experience tends to sharpen three traits that support ethical practice:

1. Impulse control.

You’ve seen what happens when people react instead of respond—at work, in relationships, in business, and in court.

2. Consequences thinking.

You’re more likely to ask: If I do this, what happens next month? Next year? In discovery? At a grievance hearing?

3. Humility about what you don’t know.

The most dangerous lawyer is the one who believes they can “figure it out” without asking. Experience teaches you when to slow down, consult, verify, and document.

Those are not soft skills. They are malpractice prevention.

The bottom line: age isn’t the obstacle—lack of strategy is

If you’re an older bar candidate, you don’t need permission to belong in this profession. You need a strategy that matches your life and the confidence to treat your experience as a strength.

Yes, the statistics and studies remind us that certain candidate groups face headwinds, and bar outcomes vary widely by jurisdiction and exam administration. (NCBE) But the same public data also shows that, nationally, large majorities of first-time takers do pass—and many who don’t pass initially still succeed within the “ultimate” time horizon. (Reuters)

For older candidates, the winning formula is rarely “more hustle.” It’s more precision:

• more timed practice,

• more honest diagnostics,

• more disciplined scheduling,

• more recovery and consistency,

• and less ego.


Experience is your edge—because you already know how to keep going when it’s not fun, not fair, and not fast.
And that is exactly what the bar exam—and the profession—requires.

———————

Dan Ringo, Esq. is the Vice President of Operations and Compliance for SEEL, LLC, a Detroit based Energy Efficiency Program Implementer. He is also author of “JD to Esq: Passing the Bar Past 50.”

The Supreme Court’s unanimous decision in Ames v. Ohio Department of Youth Services, 605 U.S. 303 (2025) not only resolved a longstanding circuit split over the evidentiary burden for majority-group plaintiffs under Title VII, but also signaled a broader shift in how courts may approach employment discrimination claims going forward.

The Supreme Court’s unanimous decision in Ames v. Ohio Department of Youth Services, 605 U.S. 303 (2025) not only resolved a longstanding circuit split over the evidentiary burden for majority-group plaintiffs under Title VII, but also signaled a broader shift in how courts may approach employment discrimination claims going forward.

The Court held that members of a “majority group”— i.e., those belonging to groups that have not historically faced discrimination — no longer have a heightened evidentiary burden compared to minority groups: they need not prove “background circumstances” to support that the employer unusually discriminated against the majority.

The plaintiff (who is heterosexual) alleged that her employer violated Title VII when it denied her a promotion in favor of a homosexual female, then demoted her and replaced her in her prior position with a homosexual male. She claimed that her employer denied her the promotion and demoted her because of her heterosexual sexual orientation. While these facts would ordinarily satisfy her burden under the first step of the McDonnell Douglas framework,  under Sixth Circuit precedent, as a member of a majority group, she was required to provide additional evidence, such as statistical proof or information about the relevant decisionmaker’s protected traits. She failed to produce such evidence, leading to dismissal of the case on summary judgment.

Justice Jackson’s opinion emphasized that Title VII protects “any individual” from discrimination based on protected characteristics, regardless of whether the person belongs to a majority or minority group. The Court rejected the Sixth Circuit’s “background circumstances” rule, which had required majority-group plaintiffs to provide additional proof—such as statistical evidence or information about the protected traits the decisionmaker may have—to establish a prima facie case. The Court found this rule to be inconsistent with both the text of Title VII and its own precedent, which discourages rigid applications of the McDonnell Douglas framework.

This ruling effectively levels the playing field for all plaintiffs, removing a procedural barrier that affected only majority-group litigants. As a result, courts must now evaluate claims of discrimination based solely on whether the plaintiff can show that they suffered an adverse employment action because of a protected characteristic—without regard to group membership. This change may lead to an increase in majority-group litigants bringing claims previously characterized as reverse discrimination. It is now much easier for these litigants to meet their prima facie burden, which will likely allow numerous plaintiffs to proceed to trial who would previously have had their cases dismissed on summary judgment.

Justice Thomas, joined by Justice Gorsuch, went further. In his concurrence, he argued that the McDonnell Douglas burden-shifting framework itself lacks textual support in Title VII and should be reconsidered in a future case. He criticized the framework form creating unnecessary complexity and for fostering inconsistent standards between cases involving direct and circumstantial evidence.

Justice Thomas’s critique is not new—he has long expressed skepticism about judge-made doctrines that stray from statutory text. But in Ames, his argument gained new traction. He noted that Title VII’s plain language requires courts to determine whether there is evidence of intentional discrimination, and that the burden-shifting approach may obscure that inquiry rather than clarify it.

If the Court were to adopt Justice Thomas’s view and eliminate the McDonnell Douglas framework, the implications would be profound:

• Simplified litigation: Plaintiffs would no longer need to navigate the three-step burden-shifting process. Instead, courts would focus directly on whether the evidence supports a finding of intentional discrimination.

• Increased judicial discretion: Without a structured framework, judges may have more latitude in evaluating the sufficiency of evidence, leading to less predictable outcomes.

• Impact on DEI programs: Justice Thomas’s concurrence may invite increased scrutiny of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives. Programs that appear to favor minority groups could be challenged under the now-equal evidentiary standard for majority-group plaintiffs.

• Shift in summary judgment practice: The McDonnell Douglas framework has long served as a gatekeeping tool at the summary judgment stage. Its removal could result in more cases proceeding to trial, increasing litigation costs and risks for employers.

 Courts analyze employment discrimination claims under the Supreme Court’s framework outlined in McDonnell Douglas Corp. v. Green, 411 U.S. 792 (1973), in which the plaintiff is required to make an initial showing of discriminatory intent, after which the burden shifts to the defendant to provide a legitimate, nondiscriminatory reason for its employment action. If the defendant makes such a showing, the burden shifts back to the plaintiff to present evidence that the defendant’s proffered reason is a “pretext,” or cover, for discrimination.

Erica L. Quigley is an Associate at Miller Johnson in the Employment and Labor practice group, focusing on management-side labor and employment counseling and litigation, as well as governmental legal matters. She advises clients on employment contracts, workplace policies, compliance with wage and hour laws, health and safety regulations, and employee discipline.
Quigley has successfully represented clients in state and federal courts on issues including discrimination, harassment, retaliation, FMLA, and constitutional violations. She counsels on traditional labor and election law matters. A graduate of Wayne State University Law School, Quigley has received multiple honors and serves as Co-Chair of the Labor and Employment Section of the Washtenaw County Bar Association. Quigley can be reached at 313-435-2323 or at quigleye@millerjohnson.com.
Adam M. Taub is a founding partner at Croson, Taub, & Michaels, PLLC where he is an advocate for workers. He specializes in all forms of workplace disputes, including wrongful termination, discrimination, harassment, whistleblower, non-compete, and wage and hour issues. Taub has also successfully represented public and private sector unions. He has represented numerous individuals and labor unions against employers in federal and state courts, as well as administrative agencies, including EEOC, OSHA, NLRB, and MERC. Taub can be reached at 734-519-0874 or at ataub@ctmlawyers.com.

Reprinted with permission from the Washtenaw County Bar Association newsletter Res Ipsa Loquitur.