In the 1980s, when a wave of complicated, expensive, and hard to prove lawsuits against the vaccine industry threatened to drive many manufacturers out of the market and subsequently cause a public health crisis, Congress stepped in and enacted the Vaccine Act which created the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program. It is designed to strike a balance. It keeps vaccines available by shielding manufacturers from constant litigation and provides an accessible, less adversarial way for injured individuals to be compensated. Claimants don’t have to prove fault like in regular tort cases, and even if they lose, they can sometimes get their attorneys’ fees paid as long as their claim was brought in good faith and on a reasonable basis.
But here’s the catch: “reasonable basis” has to actually mean something. If you’re going to bring a claim in the Vaccine Court, you need some evidence to back it up—medical records, a doctor’s note, a little something beyond “I just feel like it was the vaccine.” That was the issue the court had to deal with in Stratton v. Secretary of Health and Human Services, 2025 WL 2955287 (Fed. Cl. Ct. Aug. 22, 2025).
Plaintiff filed her Vaccine Act petition alleging that her HPV vaccine caused her to develop POTS and autonomic dysfunction. The petition “acknowledged outright” that she only filed the petition because she was statutorily compelled to do so before she could pursue litigation against the manufacturer. Id. at *4. Not surprisingly then, plaintiff did a minimal amount of work and then immediately withdrew her claim at the 240-day mark—the deadline by which if a claim is not resolved, the claimant can withdraw it and move forward in federal court. However, even when a claim is withdrawn, plaintiff can file a motion for attorney’s fees and costs for work performed up to the time of withdraw. Here the claim was for almost $11,000. Notably, this is just one of over 300 HPV vaccine claims initiated and then withdrawn by the same counsel, so Stratton has broader implications.
Attorney’s fees should not be handed out like participation trophies. Even though “[r]easonable basis is an extremely lenient standard,” it is not non-existent. It requires objective evidence. Id. at *6. Here, the plaintiff’s medical records detail multiple symptoms of POTS experienced by plaintiff long before receiving the vaccine and “no contemporaneous evidence that she experienced a close-in-time reaction or worsening of her pre-vaccination symptoms.” Id. at *8. Moreover, the Vaccine Program has a long history of rejecting contentions that the HPV vaccine is capable of causing POTS. The opinion cites to a series of rulings issued before plaintiff’s claim was filed that should have put her counsel on notice of the weakness of the claim. Id. at *9. Allowing attorneys to get paid in cases like these would send the wrong message: that the Vaccine Court is an ATM for anyone willing to type “vaccine injury” into a form.
There is also a fundamental problem with plaintiffs using the Vaccine Act program as nothing more than a waiting room; a place to kill time until they can march off to federal court and start the “real” lawsuit. That’s missing the whole point. The Vaccine Act wasn’t designed as a bureaucratic obstacle course before you can sue the government. It was meant to resolve disputes efficiently—give claimants compensation when it’s deserved and protect vaccine manufacturers (and the vaccination system itself) from endless litigation. If you just sit back and let the 240 days tick by without engaging, you’re not participating in that process—you’re gaming it (as we discussed here).
And worse, if people keep doing this, it turns the Vaccine Court into a rubber stamp. The system depends on claimants actually trying to resolve their cases there. When people skip that step, it wastes time, money, and judicial resources. So yes, if a claimant does nothing during those 240 days—or flat-out says, “I’m only here because I have to be”—they shouldn’t get to turn around and say, “Okay, my time’s up, let’s go to federal court!” The Vaccine Act isn’t a formality; it’s a process with a purpose. If you want to use the Vaccine Act, use it. If not, don’t pretend you did.