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The decision in Burton v. AbbVie, Inc., 2024 WL 3207008 (C.D. Cal. Feb. 21, 2024), presented an interesting, if somewhat arcane, discovery question:  whether a plaintiff’s treating physician, listed as only an “un-retained” percipient witness for which no expert report is required under Fed. R. Civ. P. 26(a)(2)(C), can be deposed during the period of time that a court’s scheduling order provides solely for “expert” discovery.  Burton held that was proper under the rules:

Plaintiff’s disclosure of [several treaters] as non-retained experts . . . cuts against her argument that these doctors are only percipient witnesses.  Furthermore, while Plaintiff asserts that the treating physicians will only testify to treatment given in the past and what may be needed in the future, the Court notes that this testimony will inherently require the physicians to rely on their medical training to opine on what future treatment may be needed.  Accordingly, this Court joins the other district courts in this circuit to find that a treating physician, by virtue of their training and skill, is also properly considered an expert witness.  Therefore, Defendants are free to depose [the treaters] during expert discovery.

2024 WL 3207008, at *3 (no citations omitted) (emphasis added).  Plaintiff offered “no authority” for her contrary argument, and the “handful of unpublished cases” the defendant cited are not mentioned in the Burton opinion.  So we decided to take a look.

Continue Reading Treating Physicians May Be Deposed as Experts
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We warned everyone, but there is no sense beating a dead horse (or bear, or whale).  So we’re getting right to the unpleasant business of discussing the bottom ten worst prescription medical product liability litigation decisions of 2024.  And we stress both “product liability” and “litigation.”  Otherwise, we’d have to include Harrington v. Purdue Pharma L.P., 144 S. Ct. 2071 (2024), concerning the scope of bankruptcy releases in a pharmaceutical mass-tort driven Chapter 11 proceeding.  While we discussed Harrington here, as defense lawyers we find something abhorrent about considering a defendant’s bankruptcy as part and parcel of prescription medical product liability litigation.  Other non-prescription medical product cases that we consider both important and adverse include Davidson v. Sprout Foods, Inc., 106 F.4th 842 (9th Cir. 2024), perpetuating the fiction that a state’s in toto mass adoption of FDCA standards makes their enforcement “state law” for preemption purposes (here); Carson v. Monsanto Co., 92 F.4th 980 (11th Cir. 2024), another adverse preemption decision that we discussed here; and In re Natera Prenatal Testing Litigation, 664 F. Supp.3d 995, 1007-08 (N.D. Cal. 2023), predicting (contrary to Erie principles) a consumer protection exception to the learned intermediary rule (here).

Even without obnoxious decisions like those, there’s more than enough judicial road kill and brain worms out there to complete our disagreeable task of compiling the ten worst prescription medical product liability decisions of the year.  We’ve been shoveling the Augean Stables of prescription medical product liability litigation since 2007, assembling this annual list, because who else would do it if we didn’t?  Bad decisions, like good ones, should be recognized as such.  While it’s always possible that an eleventh-hour holiday horror could arise, as happened here and here, late-breaking adverse precedent has so far been thankfully uncommon.

That’s enough prologue.  On to the agony.  Coming up are ten decisions that make us say “ow, ow, ow” rather than “ho, ho, ho.”  If you were on the receiving end of any of these bad boys, believe us, we sympathize since our own cases have made this list before (see, e.g., 2013-2 and 2021-10).  Just keep up the good fight.  Lawyers that never lose aren’t trusted with difficult cases.  Keep in mind that the pain will go away, since next week we’ll be heralding the top ten best decisions of 2024.

  1. Gilead Tenofovir Cases, 317 Cal. Rptr.3d 133 (Cal. App. 2024).  Our worst case of the year recognized a pernicious “negligence” theory that created liability for the makers of non-defective drugs for not inventing and obtaining FDA approval of different, allegedly “safer” drugs for the same indication.  Moreover, it did so in the context of drugs that reduced a diagnosis of AIDS from a death sentence to merely a chronic condition.  For those with short memories, before the drug at suit, people were dying of AIDS by the thousands.  Tenofovir now holds that its manufacturer can be liable for getting that drug through FDA approval, instead of one not approved until a decade or so later.  We can’t imagine how many more people would have died in misery had that been the law at the time.  And no state suffered more from the AIDS epidemic than California – talk about biting the hand the feeds (saves) you.  Strict liability was a California invention that made proof of a “defective” product easier than negligence.  An intermediate appellate panel has stood the law on its head, holding that negligence can impose liability “beyond the duty not to market a defective product.”  Tenofovir relied chiefly on a case involving chicken bones in food, rather than California’s extensive precedent involving prescription medical products. We see no way that Tenofovir can possibly be squared with solicitude that the California Supreme Court showed for prescription products in the 1988 Brown case that abolished strict design defect liability for such products.  Now no defect is required at all, only “foreseeability” that a later, safer drug would have been approved by the FDA.  On a clear day, in California, courts (at least this one) can foresee forever.  The decision’s public policy analysis is exemplified by this quotation:  “[m]oral blame is typically found when the defendant benefits financially from its conduct.”  Making a profit is thus declared immoral in California.  This novel “duty to innovate” will do just the opposite – affirmatively impede innovation on both ends of the product cycle.  Liability is a form of deterrence, and the liability recognized in Tenofovir will deter product innovation on both ends.  At the front end, it deters manufacturers fearful of liability from bringing any “first in its class” product to market, since some later related product might, in hindsight (in Tenovofir, two decades after the fact), turn out possibly to be “safer” for some patients in some respect.  On the back end, the same liability will deter manufacturers from releasing improvements that make their products “safer,” because doing so could create hindsight liability for all sales of the original product for whatever injuries the “safer” innovation arguably could have provided.  As of now, any defendant who “knows” of an allegedly safer and equally effective design for a product it currently makes will be compelled to replace its existing, non-defective product with the alternative design, or else face a risk of broad liability.  Thankfully, the California Supreme Court will review.  We trashed Tenovofir here, and tore into it again here.
  2. In re Fosamax (Alendronate Sodium) Products Liability Litigation, 118 F.4th 322 (3d Cir. 2024).  This is the second time that a Third Circuit reversal of a preemption summary judgment holding in the Fosamax MDL has earned the dubious distinction of landing high on our annual worst of the worst list (2017-1).  The first Fosamax decision, among other things, found that preemption was a jury question.  That decision was unanimously reversed by the Supreme Court in Albrecht (2019+1) and remanded for the trial court to rule on preemption as a matter of law.  The trial court did, reviewing a long and detailed FDA administrative record, including the FDA’s view of that record as briefed in the Supreme Court, and once again found preemption (2022+5).  Once again, however, the Third Circuit reversed, and its new opinion is equally bizarre.  We’ve always thought of the adversary litigation process as an effective way to uncover the truth.  This Fosamax opinion utilizes a presumption against preemption – increasingly endangered everywhere else – as a means of avoiding the truth.  Fosamax effectively thumbed its judicial nose at the Supreme Court’s Albrecht holding, this time putting said thumb on the scale through that presumption rather than, as in the first time around, through a heightened burden of proof.  The Supreme Court held that subsidiary facts relating to the legal question of preemption are determined by the court.  That meant a “clearly erroneous” appellate standard of review, which the Third Circuit first recognized, and then disregarded, using the same presumption as grounds for reversal.  Further mischaracterizing the Supreme Court’s decision, the Third Circuit panel described it as “emphatically” applying the presumption against preemption, when in fact the opposite was true.  No such presumption is mentioned anywhere in Albrecht. Rather, the Supreme Court spent several pages reformulating its earlier Levine decision, pointedly removing all references to that presumption, which had been so prominent in Levine.  Having utterly misconstrued Albrecht, the Third Circuit then wielded the presumption against preemption as a sword to cut off, and thus reverse, the district court’s detailed analysis of the FDA’s administrative record.  Using the presumption to evade the “clearly erroneous” standard of review, Fosamax held that reliance on the administrative record was simply unnecessary.  If the FDA’s formal determinations were “ambiguous” so as to warrant review of this record, the presumption required an anti-preemption result, notwithstanding anything that the FDA had actually done, and even contrary to what the agency had told the Supreme Court it had done in its amicus brief in Albrecht.  Thus, instead of using a presumption to simplify the fact-finding process, or to fill in blanks (why presumptions exist in the first place), Fosamax used the presumption to avoid looking at the FDA’s administrative record at all.  The presumption controls and actual facts be damned.  Fosamax even disinterred an old Supreme Court chestnut from a non-FDCA field preemption case, the courts “have a duty to accept the reading that disfavors pre-emption.”  Fosamax concluded by telling FDA-regulated defendants’ tough luck, since the FDA can “take its time” but defendants must “at all times” be held responsible for their labeling, whether the FDA would let them change it or not.  That, of course is completely at odds with the Mensing (2011+1) independence principle, but Fosamax also gave Mensing the back of its hand, because generic cases are “different.”  They are not, of course, when implied preemption is at issue, but since Fosamax had already disregarded Albrecht, why stop there?  We flogged the blatantly result-oriented opinion in Fosamax here and here.
  3. Himes v. Somatics, LLC, 549 P.3d 916 (Cal. 2024).  In Himes, the highest court of the largest state in the country upset decades of settled precedent concerning learned intermediary causation, and embraced the very dubious factual proposition that, despite their physicians’ recommendations, some mythical “objective” patient would refuse to follow medical advice had a prescription medical product’s labeling said more about whatever risk that became reality to any particular plaintiff.  One of the primary bases for having the learned intermediary rule in the first place is to protect and preserve the physician-patient relationship, so historically plaintiffs failed to establish warning causation as a matter of law where the prescriber would still have prescribed the medication/device notwithstanding whatever aspect of the warning was at issue.  To allow causation theories premised on patient rejection of physician recommended prescriptions is inherently destructive of the physician-patient relationship.  At least the court did not accept the extreme plaintiff position that a plaintiff with dollar signs in his/her eyes could establish a jury submissible causation case with nothing more than their own self-interested testimony that, in hindsight, s/he would have rejected the product “had I only known.”  But the standard that Himes adopted, that “a plaintiff may establish causation by showing that the physician would have communicated the stronger warning to the patient and an objectively prudent person in the patient’s position would have thereafter declined the treatment,” is novel, relies on multiple hypotheticals, and invites speculation on numerous levels.  Consequently, the proposition will be quite difficult definitively to rule in or out, meaning a lot of denied summary judgment motions.  The Himes test is one of those propositions that sounds nice as an academic matter, until one considers issues of proof.  How does one establish how a theoretical “objectively prudent” patient would have behaved?  Does this become yet another field for paid experts to offer predictable paid opinions?  Conversely, with the door open for plaintiffs to argue that their physicians’ advice should have been ignored, it would appear that discovery into how the plaintiff reacted to other warnings concerning other products is now relevant, since defendants are entitled to challenge the credibility of “if I had only known” testimony.  Claims based on refusing prescriptions also tend to devolve into preempted “stop selling” claims, since holding that an extra couple of percent of a serious risk satisfies the Himes standard amounts to a determination that all (or the great bulk of plaintiff-patients) should never have had the treatment at issue.  However these proof issues play out, the purpose and intent of the change is to reduce the availability of summary judgment in warning causation cases.  Himes offered a long list of relevant, but not dispositive “factors” to consider.  The only thing that is certain after Himes is that prescription medical product liability litigation in California will be still more expensive and time-consuming.  We harped on how horrible Himes was here.
  4. Providence Health System-Oregon v. Brown, 548 P.3d 817 (Or. 2024).  The vast majority of precedent, which we discussed in this somewhat dated 50-state survey, rejects holding hospitals strictly liable as “sellers” of products.  Indeed, as that post indicates, the trend had been against hospital strict liability, with several states that had initially allowed it changing their minds.  Not so in Oregon.  Ignoring – literally − a decades-long trend, Providence Health held that nothing after 1979 (before Illinois and Missouri switched sides) could even be considered.  Why?  Because Oregon adopted Restatement §402A by statute in 1979.  Thus, in construing the legislature’s intent in adopting the relevant sections of §402A, which are vague and capable of multiple meanings, nothing after 1979 was relevant.  Having made 45 years of interpretive precedent vanish by legal fiat, Providence Health was free to expand liability because that was what §402A in general was intended (when drafted in 1965) to do.  Thus, hospitals in Oregon are now strictly liable as “sellers” of prescription medical products administered in the course of medical treatment.  The decision even ignores subsequent hospital-specific legislation for the same reason.  That is a very disturbing proposition on a number of levels, since much has happened in the product liability field since the year before Bexis started law school.  As the Oregon product liability statute covers a lot of areas, including adoption of most the §402A’s comments, this holding could well put Oregon law in a similar time warp, unable to consider the last 45 years of precedent, on any number of product liability issues.  Indeed, we’ve already commented on a similar problem with the learned intermediary rule in Oregon, arising from the same vague statutory section and the same refusal to consider product liability as it is, and not as it was 45 years ago.  For artificially creating a legal vacuum, and then filling it with expansive strict liability, Providence Health ranks high on our worst decision list.  We pummeled Providence Health here.
  5. This entry is from neither the Reed Smith nor the Dechert sides of the Blog.  In re Zantac (Ranitidine) Litigation, 2024 WL 2812168 (Del. Super. June 3, 2024) (“Ranitidine”).  Delaware claims itself to be the legal home of more than a million business entities, including more than two thirds of Fortune 500 companies.  This is in no small part because Delaware has become known as a place where corporations can receive reasonable, fair-minded treatment in court.  This Ranitidine decision, allowing junk science into evidence in a coordinated proceeding of nearly 75,000 cases, threatens the First State’s good reputation.  Over the course of over 300 pages, the trial court adopted virtually every pro-plaintiff position that the federal Zantac MDL (2022+4) rejected when it refused to admit the same theories under the nearly identical federal Rule 702. It’s hard to know where to begin on all the ways that Ranitidine got it wrong, which is why it qualifies as the worst trial court decision (state or federal) of 2024.  The decision permitted unscientific testing, cherry-picked data, litigation-driven reasoning, and plain sloppy science − all based on the outdated and incorrect premise that these challenges merely speak to “weight not admissibility.”  But we have to say that most troubling were the rulings that cut across all experts.  First, Ranitidine permitted general causation opinions based on studies relating to whether NDMA − as opposed to ranitidine, the active ingredient in the defendants’ drugs − causes cancer.  That assumes what the plaintiffs’ experts opine, since NDMA is known to be carcinogenic.  However, no reliable scientific evidence exists to establish that ranitidine has that property.  Second, Zantac failed to require that the plaintiffs’ experts identify any sort of “threshold dose,” that is, the minimum dose where any harm can occur. This is fundamental scientific fallacy, and threshold dose is absolutely critical in a litigation like this, where the substance NDMA is found in air, water, and all manner of foods without causing cancer.  The trial court’s reasoning is exactly the sort that the federal Rule 702 amendments were designed to prevent.  The silver lining is that this opinion was so bad that, since our prior post on this case, the Delaware Supreme Court has done something it rarely does, and has accepted the defendants’ interlocutory appeal.  We hope that court will right this wrong and we’ll see it on next year’s 10 best list.  Some of us rebuked Ranitidine here.
  6. Huertas v. Bayer US LLC, ___ F.4th ___, 2024 WL 4703136 (3d Cir. Nov. 7, 2024).  In 2018, the Third Circuit, in a non-prescription medical product decision, rejected standing for product liability plaintiffs seeking money for nothing – alleging only that they didn’t know that the product, which they had used successfully and without any injury or risk of injury, had a concealed carcinogenic contaminant.  That decision held that “buyer’s remorse, without more, is not a cognizable injury,” and denied standing.  Fast forward six years, and Huertas, reversed dismissal of a factually indistinguishable (also involving carcinogen allegations) no-injury class action against a recalled OTC drug on one of the flimsiest attempts at distinguishing otherwise controlling precedent that we’ve ever seen.  The basis of Huertas’ distinction was that, while the prior plaintiffs had not pleaded that the product was “defective,” while the Huertas plaintiff did.  The contaminant in the prior, controlling case was asbestos, however, which under New Jersey law, which Huertas purported to apply, has been held in scores of decisions to be a product defect.  Moreover, easily correctable pleading deficiencies played no part in the reasoning of the prior controlling case.  What mattered in that case, as in Huertas, was the plaintiff class pleaded no purported damages beyond buyer’s remorse.  The Huertas class’ purported damages amounted to, at most, not using a single partial tube of an OTC fungicide.  Huertas thus thumbed its nose at both controlling precedent and the fundamental precept that de minimis non curat lex.  But for some silver linings, Huertas could have ranked higher (lower?) on today’s list.  We heckled Huertas here.
  7. Herzog v. Superior Court, 321 Cal. Rptr.3d 93 (Cal. App. 2024), review denied (Cal. Aug. 28, 2024).  A decision we cannot discuss.
  8. In re Valsartan, Losartan, & Irbesartan Products Liability Litigation, 2024 WL 776757 (D.N.J. Feb. 26, 2024).  If it’s Valsartan, you know it has to be bad.  This benighted MDL has previously generated decisions that “graced” our worst of lists for three of the last four years (2023-1, 2021-4, 2020-10) so why should 2024 be any different?  Unfortunately, it’s not, and thus Valsartan breaks a tie and holds the record for most negative appearances on our year-end lists.  Certified product liability class actions have been rarer than hen’s teeth in recent years, but last year’s worst case of all certified no fewer than four of them in one fell swoop with the express intent of forcing the defendants to settle.  Not surprisingly the defendants sought an interlocutory appeal, but unfortunately the Third Circuit denied the petition without explanation.  Subsequent activity uncovered additional grounds (questionable damages experts and unsavory would-be class representatives) why these unprecedented classes should never have been certified, so the defendants moved to decertify.  In denying that motion, Valsartan did something else unprecedented – it asserted that the Third Circuit’s summary order was an “affirmation” of the aforesaid class certifications.  But law of the case doesn’t work that way.  A previous appeal must actually be decided on the merits to be law of the case.  Such a ruling was doubly inappropriate in the class certification context, given that Fed. R. Civ. P. 23(c)(1)(C) expressly provides that “[a]n order that grants or denies class certification may be altered or amended before final judgment.”  The class certification order itself was our worst decision of last year, and for giving a facially invalid reason for refusing to reconsider that order, this year’s Valsartan decision makes this year’s list.  We vented about Valsartan here.
  9. Dressen v. AstraZeneca AB, 2024 WL 4666577 (D. Utah Nov. 4, 2024).  The Public Readiness & Emergency Preparedness (“PREP”) Act was written by Congress to facilitate the emergency production of so-called “covered countermeasures” – including vaccines − during public emergencies.  Among other things, the PREP Act was designed to overcome fears of product liability by those asked to manufacture experimental anti-pandemic products at breakneck speed.  Thus, the PREP Act has the most extensive language precluding state (or federal) liability that we have seen in any statute anywhere, including both preemptive and immunity language.  As our PREP Act scorecard demonstrates, until Dressen, no PREP Act-protected vaccine manufacturer had ever lost a dismissal motion in a personal injury case.  Plaintiff claimed that the defendant had violated “contractual” language in the informed consent agreement that she signed when she received the defendant’s vaccine.  However, the language allegedly concerned reimbursement for medical expenses and personal injuries.  So it was really a tort claim poorly disguised as a contract claim.  Even that shouldn’t have mattered, because the broad statutory preemption and immunity language made no distinction between tort and contract claims.  Rather, preclusion of liability turned on whether the “countermeasure” had been “prescribed,” “dispensed,” or “administered,” all of which indisputably occurred in Dressen.  Thus, the claims in Dressen were all within the express terms of the PREP Act’s preemption and immunity language.  So Dressen simply ignored what the statute stated and relied on cases involving would-be “countermeasures” that, due to one defect or another, were never actually administered to anyone.  Then Dressen asserted that the plaintiff’s damages – all personal injury related – were “caused” by the claimed breach of contact rather than the vaccine.  But the but for cause had to be the vaccine’s administration, since without that, the plaintiff’s alleged damages would not have happened.  As a backup, Dressen claimed the statute’s broad preemption language was “absurd,” because without the allegedly breached contract, people would be deterred from getting experimental vaccines, which was supposedly contrary to the basic purpose of the PREP Act.  The only thing “absurd” about Dressen was that rationale.  Nearly 270 million Americans received experimental COVID-19 vaccines authorized under the PREP Act.  Almost none of them had any contract of the sort alleged in Dressen.  They received these vaccines because it was their best available medication for avoiding COVID-19, which killed well over a million Americans.  Finally, the PREP Act did not render any contractual provision “illusory,” as Dressen repeatedly stated.  That plaintiff had the same ultimate recourse that every other vaccinated American had, which was the Countermeasures Injury Compensation Program that the PREP Act also created.  Dressen is an example of spherical error; it is wrong anyway one views it.  We deconstructed Dressen here.
  10. Ahmed v. Johnson & Johnson Healthcare Systems, Inc., 2024 WL 693078 (S.D. Ala. Feb. 20, 2024), reconsideration & certification denied, 2024 WL 947447 (S.D. Ala. March 5, 2024).  Ahmed takes the last spot on our bottom ten list because it bizarrely allowed a plaintiff claiming injury from an implanted medical device to get away with having no medical expert, yet still avoid summary judgment on causation.  Ahmed was contrary to Alabama law as stated by both the Alabama Supreme Court, generally, and the Eleventh Circuit (and a half dozen district court decisions), in the specific context of prescription medical product liability litigation.  It was not that the plaintiff in Ahmed did not think about getting medical testimony.  Plaintiff simply failed to call the medical expert she had lined up, who was listed only as a “rebuttal witness.”  So plaintiff avoided summary judgment, despite bearing the burden of proof, without any medical testimony at all – in a case involving the alleged cause of the breakage of a metal weight-bearing implant.  Ahmed let plaintiff skate on basic medical causation point by holding that a broken device case wasn’t  “complex.”  But Ahmed cited nothing for that remarkable conclusion, only distinguishing the defendant’s authority.  The jury, unguided by any affirmative medical testimony could conclude “that the damages over which Plaintiff sues resulted from the [implant’s] failure and not some alternate cause.”  Why?  Pure “temporal relationship.”  That’s just wrong under controlling Eleventh Circuit precedent, and even under the cases that Ahmed cited.  And it’s loud wrong, too, as the defendant’s motions for reconsideration and certification were both denied.  We abhorred Ahmed here.

Finally, we’re done, and not a moment too soon.  Now that we’ve finished with this judicial roadkill, and recovered from excessive exposure to jurisprudential brain worms, we’ll move on to something much more pleasant – our discussion, next week, of the top ten best drug/device decisions of 2024.

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It’s the holiday season, and we’re getting in the festive spirit. We like old-school jingle in our jangle (even though that’s not necessarily holiday themed), more recent, unquestionably holiday-focused jingle jangle, and even first-gift of Christmas jingle,  But there may be nothing more festive than a rock-solid preemption win—particularly one from California. We think this one will put a spring in your step and a sparkle in your smile.  

Continue Reading Jingle Jangle, California OTC Preemption
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This is from the Holland & Knight side of the Blog only.

If you have followed the Blog, then you will know that we have long touted the importance of Erie deference by federal courts sitting in diversity.  We have also questioned the expansion of tort law to allow governmental entities to use public nuisance to shift the costs of governmental services to private entities without calling it a tax.  We have even discussed the issue of abrogation of common law claims, which can be seen as a lingering source of unchecked liability, when a state enacts a product liability act.  For various reasons, however, we have largely declined to comment on the use of public nuisance as the primary theory for governmental entities as plaintiffs in opioid litigation.  Today’s post is an exception, and it deals with a pretty significant decision, which we think is overdue.

Continue Reading Ohio Does Not Recognize Public Nuisance Claims For Products
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It might seem that we talk about preemption incessantly on this blog, but a pretty good opinion from a pretty important jurisdiction went unremarked by us last September. We’ll rectify that right now. Call it an end of year clean up session.

The decision in Howard v. Alchemee, LLC, 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 169359 (C.D. Cal. Sept. 20, 20240, actually addresses three California no-injury class actions alleging that certain over the counter (OTC) acne medicines were contaminated with carcinogenic benzene.  The plaintiffs claimed that the manufacturers failed to warn that the active ingredient (BPO) in their acne products degrades into benzene under normal use, handling, and storage conditions.  The plaintiffs did not allege any specific adverse events from benzene.  They simply wanted their money back.  

By the way, guess who says they found the benzene in the products?  It was that good, old “independent” lab, Valisure — which proceeded to file a citizen’s petition with the FDA seeking action against BPO products.  Sound familiar?

The defendants filed a motion to dismiss, based on lack of standing and on preemption.  The former argument got rid of the request for an injunction, but not the request for money. 

The latter argument was more successful.  The court dismissed the actions with prejudice because they were expressly preempted by federal law.  The “broad” OTC preemption clause precludes any claims that would have state law establish any requirement “that is different from or in addition to, or that is otherwise not identical with, a requirement under” the Food, Drug, and Cosmetics Act (FDCA).  OTC acne drugs are governed by a Food and Drug Administration (FDA) monograph.  The monograph expressly permits BPO in specified amounts.  Compliance with the monograph means the product is “generally recognized as safe” (GRAS) and not misbranded. Thus, the plaintiffs’ claims are “fundamentally at odds” with the monograph for these products. 

Further, the plaintiffs in these actions did not allege anything about the particular products they used. They cited no testing of their products.  (This seems to be a theme in cases involving Valisure.) Essentially, the plaintiffs suggested that all BPO products contain benzene.  The court interpreted the plaintiffs’ position as not  “genuinely seeking a warning that the product unsafe – which would be stark enough – but rather are pursuing a ban on selling what they believe is an ‘adulterated,’ illegal product.” The plaintiffs’ claims were an attack on the FDA’s GRAS findings and constituted an attempt to make state law ban the defendants’ products.   

The plaintiffs attempted to disclaim any beef with the FDA by suggesting that the FDA was ignorant of BPO’s dangers.  But the plaintiffs’ complaint was replete with allegations “that the scientific community has known of BPO’s degradation into benzene for almost 90 years.”  Sometimes plaintiff story-telling comes back to hurt them.  The Howard court also cites Ninth Circuit authority noting the “scientific expertise of the FDA.”

In addition, there was a fatal flaw in the plaintiffs’ demand that benzene be disclosed on the product labels.  Benzene does not fit the definition of an active or inactive ingredient.  It is not a “purposefully added component of the drug.”  Put simply, breakdown products are not disclosable under the FDCA.

The plaintiffs attempted to borrow the parallel claim exception from medical device law, even though such borrowing is generally questionable and the plaintiffs could not specifically find a parallel to a FDA requirement. First, there was no true parallel to the FDCA’s general misbranding provision because the monograph deals with ingredients specifically, and the plaintiffs did not claim any violation of the monograph. In any event, omitting a warning not required by the FDA cannot equal misbranding.  Without a specific, affirmative violation of misbranding provisions, the misbranding notion as a generality cannot support a parallel claim.  Second, the plaintiffs’ claim cannot add up to a parallel violation of “adulteration.”  State laws prohibiting misleading advertisements on which the plaintiffs relied on these cases are not parallel or identical to the FDCA’s prohibition against selling adulterated drugs. 

In sum, the plaintiffs endeavored to force the acne medicine manufacturers to make disclosures that would conflict with the FDA’s determination that BPO was safe and effective.  Because the plaintiffs’ claims “would impose requirements that differ from and are in addition to those on the FDCA, they are preempted.”

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Is the question we are asking ourselves after reading Butler v. 3M Company, 2024 WL 5054884 (S.D. Ohio Dec. 9, 2024).  Because if plaintiffs get to amend their complaints post-remand to add whole new claims and allegations, then the MDL process of litigating based on a master complaint doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense, or create the efficiencies attributed to it.

Butler is a case from the Bair Hugger MDL in which plaintiffs alleged that defendants’ patient warming devices purportedly caused joint infections during surgery.  The Master Long Form and Short Form complaints in that MDL have been on file since 2016.  Plaintiffs filing suit after that date, like Ms. Butler, could file a short form complaint providing certain case-specific information, but essentially adopting the allegations of the long form complaint.  Such plaintiffs were also given the right to file amended complaints, “upon the showing required by the relevant Federal Rules of Civil Procedure.”  Id. at *1.  Which became a key issue in Butler—what rule applied to plaintiff seeking to amend her complaint post-remand.

Where a plaintiff moves to amend her complaint before the deadline to do so, Federal Rule of Civil Procedure 15(a)(2) provides that “[t]he court should freely give leave when justice so requires.”  But, if the deadline has lapsed, Rule 15’s liberal policy yields to the higher threshold for modifying a scheduling order found in Rule 16.  In this case, the plaintiff must “show good cause” for not seeking leave before the deadline before the court will consider whether the amendment is proper under Rule 15.  Id. at *2. 

Butler was one of 28 cases remanded or transferred from the MDL to their home districts for trial.  The remand court entered a scheduling order setting a deadline for filing motions to amend pleadings.  Plaintiff moved to amend before expiration of that deadline, but long after the pleadings deadline in the MDL—creating a Rule 15 versus Rule 16 conundrum.   Now, if Butler was the only case addressing this issue it may not be a big deal. But the Butler court acknowledged that “several” remand courts were being asked to allow plaintiffs to amend their complaints.  Id. at *3.  Including the MDL court itself in an individual case:

 the MDL court concluded … that “any present motion to amend a complaint in this MDL is governed by Rule 16” and that “[p]laintiffs in the MDL seeking to amend a complaint after July 29, 2016 must proceed under Rule 16 and its good cause standard.”

Id.  Seems hardly open to debate.    

But the Butler court chose to “asum[e] without deciding” that Rule 16 applied and concluded that plaintiff demonstrate good cause based on some suspect reasoning.  Such as, that plaintiff filed her motion to amend before the deadline set by the remand court.  But that’s like saying she met Rule 16’s threshold because Rule 16 doesn’t really apply.  More importantly, the court was persuaded to find good cause because “bellwether trials are designed to, among other things, test different claims and litigation strategies.”  Id. at *4. And plaintiff is “entitled to select which to assert in her own case.”  Id.  No doubt she is.  The same can be said of every plaintiff.  That is the whole point of the short form, case-specific, complaint.  That is the vehicle in which a plaintiff identifies which specific claims she is pursuing.  That plaintiff is entitled to select her claims has nothing to do with whether plaintiff acted diligently in making that selection.  This type of reasoning is an open invitation to any remanded plaintiff to cast off the centralized pleadings of the MDL.  As defendants in Butler argued, amended pleadings at this stage are also likely to re-open discovery, further diminishing the efficiency MDLs are meant to create. That this plaintiff was a late filer in the MDL should have cut against allowing an amendment rather than in favor.  Her counsel had the benefit of all of the proceedings and the discovery in the MDL at the time her complaint was filed and could have added whatever allegations she wanted at the time of filing, or certainly shortly thereafter and in any case, before remand.  She did not. 

Substantively, while the amendment is being allowed, the court ruled it was futile to add claims under Minnesota law where plaintiff is an Ohio resident who was allegedly injured in Ohio.  Id. at *5.  But, other claims, such as Ohio common law claims which are subsumed under the Ohio Products Liability Act, were allowed to be pleaded in the alternative.  Id. at *6.             

Regardless of which amendments were or were not allowed, Butler stands for the proposition that the pleading framework under which an MDL is conducted (and any results of Rule 12 motion practice) can be jettisoned after remand.  So, what’s the point?

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Some of your bloggers recently attended the American Conference Institute’s annual Drug and Medical Device Litigation Conference in New York.  One of the conference panels addressed a recent unsettling ruling in a non-drug-device case that held communications training provided by defense counsel for their client’s employees was not only discoverable but admissible at trial.  In re Google Play Store Antitrust Litigation, 664 F. Supp.3d 981, 983 (N.D. Cal. 2023).  Moreover, some of the “practices” that found their way into the opinions seemed to us not only privileged but entirely unobjectionable:

Plaintiffs also point out that, for years, [defendant] has directed its employees to avoid using certain [legal] buzzwords in their communications. . . .  Eight years later, [defendant] still was telling employees . . . “[a]ssume every document you generate … will be seen by regulators.”

United States v. Google LLC, ___ F. Supp.3d ___, 2024 WL 3647498, at *113 (D.D.C. Aug. 5, 2024) (citation omitted).  That’s only good sense, and no different than the other side (at least if they have good lawyers) tells its own individual plaintiffs before they have to testify. 

Continue Reading Privilege and Lawyer-Provided Employee Training
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A case we reviewed a couple of months ago came to mind recently, not only because of its result, but also because how long it has been kicking around in our federal court system, trapped in an MDL.  What refreshed our recollection?  As regular blog consumers have read this week, the annual ACI Drug and Medical Device Litigation conference was last week in New York, where we heard from an outstanding panel of attorneys on the Rule 16.1, the new Federal Rule that addresses multidistrict litigation.  We recently presented a CLE on that topic too, along with our colleague Christina Olivos.  One of our major beefs with MDLs is the tremendous overuse (abuse?) of MDLs by plaintiffs without tenable claims, sometimes by the thousands.  The result is clogged dockets, inattention to actual merits, inevitable delay, and unfair pressure to enter into mass settlements.  The new Rule 16.1 might help with this situation, but then again, it might not. 

This is not only a defense issue, as plaintiffs and their lawyers likewise find themselves stuck in MDLs with little control over their individual cases and even less attention.  The district court’s order in Mercier v. DePuy Orthopaedics, Inc., No. CV 23-0040, 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 194642 (C.D. Cal. Oct. 25, 2024), illustrates the point.  In Mercier, the plaintiff’s decedent had hip replacement surgery, although we are not told when.  Regardless, he sued the hip implant’s manufacturer in 2015 alleging complications, and he filed directly into the Pinnacle Hip MDL in the Northern District of Texas. 

Then he waited.  And then he waited more.  And then some more.  As is common in multidistrict litigation, this patient’s case languished in the MDL for seven years, until being transferred to the Central District of California for pretrial and trial proceedings.  During that time, life and death intervened.  The patient moved from California to Nevada, and he sadly passed away in 2024 as the result of an opioid overdose. 

The administrator of the patient’s estate filed an amended complaint alleging survival claims, but also adding claims for wrongful death—claiming that the patient’s alleged hip-related injuries caused his death, too.  The issue was whether California law or Nevada law applied, since those states treat wrongful death and survival claims differently.  California’s wrongful death claim requires the joinder of all indispensable parties, and at the time the action was filed, California followed the rule that a plaintiff’s pain and suffering damages dies with him.  (California has since altered that rule.) 

The district court ruled that California law governed.  First, the court applied California’s choice-of-law rules, stating that choice-of-law rules “are substantive issues for Erie purposes, meaning federal courts in California will apply California choice of law rules.”  Id. at *6.  That’s fine, except that this case was filed in Texas, and we were taught back in the day that when a case is transferred, the substantive law transfers with it, including choice-of-law rules.  We would have applied Texas’ choice of law, but we digress. 

Second, the district court determined that California’s interest would be more impaired if its law were not applied to the case.  The court noted that California’s choice-of-law cases “continue to recognize that a jurisdiction ordinarily has the predominant interest in regulating conduct that occurs within its borders”  Id. at *14.  Here, the patient’s hip replacement surgery was in California at a time when he resided in California, and the device was allegedly manufactured and sold in California.  Moreover, because the plaintiff could cure any deficiency in the complaint with an amendment, applying California law would not impair Nevada law in the least.  One wonders why the plaintiff did not amend the complaint to begin with, instead of engaging in this motion practice, but again, we digress. 

So California law applies, and the plaintiff had to file an amended complaint joining all indispensable parties.  But that is not the story.  Instead we ask, What took so long?  This patient filed his complaint nine years ago, and the exceptional passage of time since then saw him move from one state to another and eventually pass away.  Imagine his frustration and that of the defendants, who have faced this claim for going on a decade and now face a wrongful death claim allegedly stemming from a surgery that occurred at least ten years ago, and maybe longer.  Maybe a rule like Rule 16.1 would have help move things along, and maybe not. 

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Although Mark Herrmann co-founded the Drug and Device Law Blog (with Bexis) way back in the day, he now writes for Above the Law. Unlike Above the Law, the Drug and Device Law Blog generally does not feature benchslaps—judicial opinions that take a swipe at counsel for their professional misdeeds.  Though we may secretly enjoy a public comeuppance in spite of our better selves, your bloggers’ overarching purpose is to spread information, authorities, and practical strategies that will help our clients defend medical device and pharmaceutical product liability cases.  So while we try to write interesting, sometimes (hopefully) amusing posts, our usual subject matter is a bit more law-focused.

But today, we get to write about a benchslap (which, of course, Above the Law also has covered), and we also tie it to our more usual blogging purpose.

First, the benchslap:  This comes to us by way of the Northern District of Alabama in an order from McCullers v. Koch Foods of Alabama, LLC, 2024 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 218902, 2024 WL 4907226 (N.D. Ala. Nov. 26, 2024) regarding an opposed motion to extend a responsive pleading deadline.

The dispute arose when defense counsel requested a routine extension of time to respond to the complaint, and the plaintiff’s counsel would not agree to the extension unless the defendant agreed to only file an answer and forgo any motion to dismiss.  The Court was having none of it:

Plaintiff’s counsel’s conditioning of any agreement to an extension was wholly inappropriate, particularly in light of the looming Thanksgiving holiday. Such nonsense wastes time, damages professional relationships, and makes the lawyer withholding consent (or conditioning it) appear petty and uncooperative. Judges rightly expect lawyers to handle minor procedural issues like extensions without unnecessary conflict, and refusing to do so is unprincipled.

Conditioning or denying consent to an extension in this way is fiddle-faddle for an additional reason: it rarely provides any legitimate strategic advantage. Everyone encounters unexpected delays, and extending professional courtesy really costs nothing. But, fostering goodwill by agreeing to short extensions could benefit counsel later in this case—or in future dealings with opposing counsel. The court’s job is to address the merits of the case, not to navigate a world of technicalities. Refusing such a reasonable extension request stinks of petty gamesmanship. Professionalism demands that lawyers pick their battles wisely, and minor extension requests simply are not the place for unnecessary posturing.

The Court also imposed a creative punishment, if you will, designed to dissuade the parties’ counsel from further acts of professional discourtesy:  Lunch.

[T]he court ORDERS that, on or before December 31, 2024, counsel for both Plaintiff and Defendants are to go to lunch together. Plaintiff’s counsel will pay the bill; Defendants’ counsel will leave the tip. The parties will discuss how they can act professionally throughout the rest of this case. Within ten (10) days of the lunch, the parties SHALL file a joint report describing the conversation that occurred at lunch and the amount of the tip. (Emphasis original)

As benchslaps go, this one was creative and funny, and not too harsh while most certainly getting the point across.

It also is a useful authority to file away for some rainy day in the future.  Because of important threshold issues like federal preemption, we usually respond to complaints with a motion to dismiss, not an answer.  That means that when we need extra time to respond to a complaint, we always ask for extensions of time to file our “responsive pleading”, not to file our “answer.”  Almost every such extension request we have made has been granted with professionalism and courtesy.  But maybe twice in our career we have encountered a plaintiff’s attorney who has refused a responsive pleading extension request outright, or–like in McCullers–has tried to make their agreement conditional on our client’s waiver of its right to move to dismiss the complaint.  

We always have found a work-around in the past, but should it ever happen again, we will pull this order out of its file, send it to the opposing counsel, and trust we will get our point across.  Worst case scenario, we end up filing a motion for an extension of time and then ourselves enduring an awkward shared meal with one of our less-reasonable colleagues from across the aisle.

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December is both a festive and frantic month.  Along with all the caroling, wassailing, and gift-buying, the last month of the year invariably sees us squeezing in continuing legal education (CLE) credits, reconnecting with old friends at the ACI drug and device conference in New York City, and wrapping up the Fall/Winter semester class we teach at Penn Law. This year, all three of those projects forced us to confront the increasingly busy intersection of artificial intelligence and the law.

First, there was a CLE webinar put on by Reed Smith’s vaunted e-discovery team. Like most lawyers planted in a large firm, we think of our own practice group (Life Sciences and Health Industry Litigation) as the crown jewel of the place.  But as the breadth and complexity of our cases forces us to collide with adjacent practice groups, we learn that there are plenty of other top-drawer specialists lurking in our offices.  We recently worked with False Claims Act lawyers who mastered a difficult area replete with traps for the unwary.  We long ago found out that our Insurance Recovery Group sits comfortably at the top of the league tables.  And our near-constant discovery battles have sent us again and again to seek guidance and assistance from our e-discovery folks, who are simply the best at what they do.  They know all the latest e-discovery developments and are quick to come up with practical advice.  They shake solutions out of their cuffs.  They even put on CLE programs better than anyone else does.  In the most recent class, they staged a series of debates between lawyers on hot discovery topics of the moment.  Two of those topics involved AI. If these were issue-spotting exams, we would have flunked.  One debate was whether employment of AI in sifting through the other side’s materials produced in response to discovery implicated ethics and confidentiality concerns. Our initial reaction was that it surely was none of the other side’s business how we were reviewing discovery materials.  But if the AI tool was a large language model (LLM) that would learn from the information and then render that information available to the model’s owners and other users, you might have a very real confidentiality issue.  You would certainly want to know if the other side was using an AI tool that would place your client’s materials in the public sphere.  The answer might be to make sure the AI tool was a closed/enterprise model.  Another debate topic was whether the client’s use of AI in business activities such as product development would end up being discoverable. You can easily imagine how a corporate defendant’s AI queries might look like admissions, or might look like evidence of who knew what when.  Whether such AI queries and answers would be discoverable would likely turn on whether they could be characterized as “ephemeral.”  The answer to these questions were by no means obvious, but before the CLE we would not even have been aware of the questions.      

Second, there was a really excellent ACI panel on how AI is being used to analyze and brief legal issues.  A group of in-house and outside lawyers, along with some AI consultants, brought us up to speed on AI capabilities.  The panel showed examples of case analyses generated by law firm associates and AI tools.  Which was which?  In truth, it seemed reasonably clear that the longer, more comprehensive write-ups were the products of the AI tool, while the pithier summaries, which evinced a keener sense of  prioritization, were the handiwork of human lawyers. That is not to say that either the software or the people were the better performers.  Our takeaway was that a combination of the two would end up producing the best work product. Lawyer experience cannot be fully replaced by AI (not yet, anyway), but can certainly be enhanced.

Third, we shuttled back to Philly to oversee the final session of the litigation strategy class we have taught at Penn for the past 14 years.  The students keep getting younger.  And they keep getting smarter and more techno-savvy.  We always end the semester with exercises we call “120 Seconds.”  Each student (there are typically 15-16 in the class) selects one of the cases we’ve used throughout the semester and then delivers a two minute ‘clopening’ for both the plaintiff and defense sides.  After all the analyses, case assessments, and deployment of discovery devices, the culmination is whether the students could synthesize compelling stories and persuasive themes.  After each student declaims both the plaintiff and defense clopenings, the question for the other class members is which side did the speaker appear to favor.  Then the speaker would confess their preference.  Most of the students managed to do such good jobs for both sides that it was tough to identify their preferences.  One of the LLM students (that’s LLM as in Master of Laws, not large language model) told us that he had run his presentations through a ChatGPT program to test whether they had mounted the strongest possible cases for each side.  Now the use of AI in schools is hardly free from controversy.  There is worry that students will ‘cheat’ by using AI to do their work for them.  Some teachers utilize AI programs to detect the use of AI by students.  But in this situation, we did not see anything wrong with the use of AI to stress-test the 120 seconds presentations.  Indeed, as with our sense at the end of the ACI panel, we saw AI as a collaborative tool. It could be used either at the outset of an assignment, to generate a preliminary outline, or it could be used at the end, as a kind of second set of eyes.  Or it could be used somewhere in between. Let’s face it – we’re not in the best position to dream up all the ways in which AI can add value to legal services.  Our students will be – and are already – much better than we are at taking AI and its advantages on board.  AI is coming whether we like it or not.  We do not view its arrival with dread.  We are not quite ready to kneel down and welcome our software overlords.  It’s a tool, just as Shepardizing was, and Westlaw, Lexis, and spell-check is.  We’re not worried about AI replacing lawyers.  But lawyers who know how to use AI might very well end up replacing lawyers who don’t.