Updated: February 27, 2025<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes I marvel at how judges understand other courts’ opinions. OK, actually I get frustrated at it when they read them in a way that’s totally incorrect. No, actually the right word is infuriated, because once a judge has made up their mind on what a case stands for, it’s nearly impossible to change it. Typically the only recourse is a higher court. Judges hate motions for reconsideration. They don’t like being told they’re wrong by counsel; they’re only really open to that kind of feedback (if one can even call it that) if a higher court judge tells them they’re wrong. And if that higher court likewise misreads a decision, then the problem is doubly compounded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That’s what has unfortunately happened with one U.S. Supreme Court case: CRST Van Expedited, Inc. v. EEOC<\/span>, 578 U.S. 419 (2016). In my estimation, most courts don’t understand that decision. They have utterly failed to do what professors attempt to teach law students during their first year: How to read a case, find its holding, and parse that from dicta. CRST<\/span>‘s structure provides what I think is a very clear roadmap for the reader, with sections separating different aspects of the decision. If it weren’t already apparent from the decision and common sense, listening to the justices’ comments and questions during oral argument in that case make the answer clear. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The U.S. Supreme Court doesn\u2019t separate sections of its opinions without thought. Those roman numeral headings and alphanumeric subheadings actually mean something. They signal the end of one matter and the beginning of a new one. CRST<\/span> is divided into three such sections, and two subsections under the third primary section. So, that’s Section I, Section II, Section III.A. and Section III.B.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first section provides the background; the context for the analysis and decision that follows. Section I notes the history of the Civil Rights Act and the Court\u2019s cases interpreting and applying that Act\u2019s fee-shifting provision as well as citing prevailing plaintiff cases (including Buckhannon Bd. & Care Home, Inc. v. W. Virginia Dep’t of Health and Human Res.<\/span>, 532 U.S. 598 (2001)). The Court\u2019s description of those cases are prefaced by clear signals… a \u201chey, here\u2019s what we\u2019ve said before\u201d kind of thing (\u201cThe Court has said . . .\u201d and \u201cThe Court has explained . . .\u201d). Those aren’t a \u201chey, we’re introducing these cases now so that when we discuss them later you’ll understand the context.\u201d Each of those cases in Section I are prevailing plaintiff cases. What sets apart those plaintiff<\/em> decisions is the Court\u2019s acknowledgement near the end of Section I that it \u201chas not articulated a precise test for when a defendant is a prevailing party.\u201d To me, that\u2019s a clear statement of \u201cdear reader: please don\u2019t rely on these plaintiff cases that we just noted, because we\u2019re about to start establishing new law breaking from them on when a defendant prevails.\u201d The end of Section I then restates the question it will answer: \u201cwhether petitioner [as a defendant] is a prevailing party.\u201d Again, the obvious way to understand Section I is that (1) it doesn\u2019t embody any holding while (2) it sets the stage for a new line of decisions that address prevailing defendants. This is the kind of section that gets truncated when presented in a casebook because it’s background. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Section II is pretty dense and boring factual and procedural history of the case. In my opinion, it is far too verbose with unnecessary background to understand the issue. Section I is similar in that regard, but much shorter. Both are symptoms of judicial inefficiency of telling the reader only what’s necessary to understand the decision. Anyway, all that Section II really concerns is what happened in the trial court and some history on appeal. It was rather complicated. There were many plaintiff-like people involved whose interests were supposedly being represented by a federal government entity, the EEOC, as the singular plaintiff. How all the EEOC\u2019s various claims were terminated was messy and at times unclear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The only real relevant part is that the defendant spent $4 million in fees on its defense, and the lawsuit finally ended without the defendant-business having any obligation towards the women the EEOC claimed were being harassed or being forced to change its management practices. Nothing. So the district court understandably found that the company defendant was the prevailing party. Fine. All of Section II probably could have been condensed into a paragraph or two for purposes of what the case decided, but Kennedy felt 2,600+ words and more than half the opinion was necessary for the reader. I disagree. Maybe the Court could have spent time on another case (you know, like the ones it passes on likely because of time constraints?), but I digress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now here\u2019s the important part of CRST<\/span>, the actual decision (holding<\/em>) that the Court reached. Up to this point, the Court hadn\u2019t set out any of its analysis yet. Section III, and subsection A in particular, is where the Court actually arrives at its holding, which it makes unmistakably clear: we \u201cnow hold[] that a defendant need not obtain a favorable judgment on the merits in order to be a \u2018prevailing party.\u2019\u201d Simple enough. That the court makes explicit its holding should immediately cause the reader to realize that nothing in Section I concerns the holding, and isn’t part of the Court’s rationale for reaching that holding. Meaning, courts shouldn’t cite what’s written there as CRST<\/span>‘s holding. (Yet they routinely do.) The Court then elaborates on why<\/em> it reached that conclusion (the rationale of the decision), which makes a lot of common sense. Heck, they even use that term to describe why it should be so obvious that the defendant won:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Common sense undermines the notion that a defendant cannot “prevail” unless the relevant disposition is on the merits. Plaintiffs and defendants come to court with different objectives. A plaintiff seeks a material alteration in the legal relationship between the parties. A defendant seeks to prevent this alteration to the extent it is in the plaintiff’s favor. The defendant, of course, might prefer a judgment vindicating its position regarding the substantive merits of the plaintiff’s allegations. The defendant has, however, fulfilled its primary objective whenever the plaintiff’s challenge is rebuffed…<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n That rationale includes what I would imagine is obvious to anyone: that a defendant just wants to get out of a lawsuit. How hard is that to understand? That is, it comes to court with different objectives than a plaintiff. No kidding. Yet circuit and district judges don\u2019t seem to understand that basic concept. They keep falling back on language from Buckhannon<\/span> as the<\/em> case on when a party prevails (to the exclusion of many others, apparently). <\/p>\n\n\n\n One would think the clear demarcation between the Court\u2019s historical prevailing party decisions (Section I), what the facts of this particular case were (Section II), and what the Court actually decided (Section III) would cause a reader to focus on the last section for what the case stands for. But no. Instead, courts have relied on Section I background as \u201cthe holding\u201d of CRST<\/span> when, in fact, that portion was the historical context prior to CRST<\/span>. Quick Aside: Is it any wonder that AI models can\u2019t properly understand case law when even judges can\u2019t? Unfortunately, most judges are so thoroughly entrenched into the Buckhannon<\/span> delirium that they routinely misread and miscite CRST<\/span>, thinking it and Buckhannon<\/span> stand for the same thing: that a defendant must show \u201cjudicial imprimatur\u201d and \u201ca material alteration of the legal relationship of the parties.\u201d Umm, no… definitely no. But sadly, that\u2019s what happened in my clients\u2019 case<\/a> and which now constitutes (obviously incorrect, in my opinion) law within the Eleventh Circuit<\/a> and elsewhere. <\/p>\n\n\n\n That might be the worst part of all of this: Defendants are now at a severe disadvantage in the Eleventh Circuit to combat frivolous litigation. As Andrew Lockton put it, \u201cIn the Eleventh Circuit, frivolous infringement claims are welcome\u201d because unless the defendant wins outright, it will never be a prevailing party. Pet. for Certiorari, WC Realty, Inc. v. Affordable Aerial Photography, Inc.<\/a>, no. 24-825. A plaintiff\u2019s abandonment of a doomed lawsuit completely immunizes it from any financial responsibility for the intentional havoc it wreaked upon both the court and the defendant. A shameful apostacy of justice. Antithetical to commonsense. Contrary to history. Yet here we are. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In fairness, the Supreme Court might have injected some uncertainty into its decision in CRST<\/span> by saying the rebuffing comes by way of “the court’s decision” and a “defendant may prevail even if the court’s final judgment rejects the plaintiff’s claim for a nonmerits reason.” But what’s missing from those statements is a citation to some authority for what would be a “final judgment” or a “court’s decision” or a clear statement that judicial action is necessary for the defendant to prevail. It doesn’t say that, and it doesn’t cite anything<\/em> for those statements. It well could have cited Buckhannon<\/span>‘s “imprimatur” requirement, but it didn’t. Nevertheless, many courts have seized on that as evidence that Buckhannon<\/span>‘s “judicial imprimatur” and “material alteration” are both necessary for a defendant. No, they aren’t. <\/p>\n\n\n\n That a court would have to do <\/em>something to end a lawsuit is not at all surprising because it’s almost always required. Whenever a plaintiff animates the judicial machinery (a lawsuit) seeking to force a defendant to provide the plaintiff with something (relief), the conductor of that machinery (the judge) almost invariably must be called upon to shut it down, even when the plaintiff decides to abandon its case (judgments of nonsuit<\/em>, retraxit<\/em>, or nolle prosequi<\/em>). Nevertheless, the Supreme Court in CRST<\/span> doesn’t call these things “imprimatur” or otherwise suggest that the defendant must secure a “material alteration” of its relationship with the plaintiff. And so Buckhannon<\/span>, not being cited anywhere in Section III, it is not a decision applicable to a defendant. A recent Supreme Court case, Lackey v. Stinnie<\/a><\/span>, now makes that more clear.<\/p>\n\n\n\nCRST<\/span>‘s structure<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Section I<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Section II<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
Section III.A.<\/h3>\n\n\n\n
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Putting those sections into context<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
A caveat <\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Oral argument in CRST<\/span> confirms my reading of the written opinion<\/h2>\n\n\n\n