On the night of Friday, July 4, the Guadalupe River in Texas rose more than 26 feet in just 45 minutes, triggering catastrophic flash floods throughout the Hill Country. Communities near Kerrville were overwhelmed. Camp Mystic, a beloved girls’ camp, was among the hardest hit. As of this writing, more than 100 lives have been lost, and over 160 people remain missing. In the days that followed, news outlets scrambled to make sense of the disaster. The tragedy was enormous—but a few pieces of coverage managed to go beyond explanation and create something more: empathy. One that stood out was

A couple of decades ago, I was consulting on a multi-week federal trial—big case, tight courtroom, full of moving parts. The lead litigator had rehearsed every line of the opening, the graphics were locked, and the witnesses were prepped. But then, two minutes before opening statements, a projector bulb blew. No panic. No scrambling. The trial technician—who had quietly loaded, tested, and redundantly backed up everything the night before—walked calmly to the cart, replaced the bulb, and got the system online again before court was gaveled in. No one noticed. Except the team. And me. And that’s when I was reminded

Over a decade ago, I wrote an article for this blog titled, Could Surprise Be One of Your Best Visual Persuasion Tools? In it, I made the case that well-executed surprise — not ambush, but carefully designed moments of cognitive disruption — can be one of the most powerful tools a litigator brings into the courtroom. Since then, I've seen that insight validated over and over again in real-world trials. And as the research around cognitive science and juror decision-making has advanced, my belief has only strengthened: surprise remains one of the most underutilized jury persuasion techniques available today. If

Last week I wrote about a master storyteller at Boeing who taught me a lesson about juror attention. But there was something else on that tour that stuck with me—a single image tucked into a hallway near the visitor center. It was a chart comparing the size of Boeing’s Everett Factory to some of the world’s most iconic landmarks. Versailles. The Pentagon. The Taj Mahal. Places that live large in the public imagination. And there it was—this red outline showing the Everett plant, dwarfing them all. It reminded me of something trial presentation companies like ours face all the time:

This past weekend. I went to the Boeing factory in Seattle to see planes. I didn’t expect to come away with a lesson in persuasion. The place is staggering—airplane sections the size of office buildings, precision assembly lines that look like they were choreographed by NASA, and enough rivets to hold together a continent. But what struck me most wasn’t the machines. It was a man named Christopher Summit. Christopher Summit was our tour guide, and he is not easy to forget. He has a thick Irish accent, long white mutton chops, and a storyteller’s glint in his eye that

Most trial lawyers think they know what a voir dire consultant does. You bring one in to read jurors—maybe to catch the one person who crosses their arms, won’t make eye contact, or wears an ACAB pin to court. If that’s your understanding, let me be the first to tell you: you’re barely scratching the surface. A good voir dire consultant doesn’t just help you read jurors. A great one changes the way you see your case. In our firm’s earliest days here in Washington, DC thirty years ago, I saw it happen in a high-profile business litigation case. The

I've written extensively about what you should do when using storytelling techniques in the courtroom to persuade. I've even released a free book and free webinar on the topic. But I don't think I've ever really talked about the mistakes one can make—most of which I've seen (from opponents). Legal storytelling is both an art and a technique that can be incredibly effective. However, it's easy to make mistakes that can undermine your narrative. This blog will walk you through twelve common legal storytelling pitfalls and how to avoid them. 1. Neglecting a Clear Structure A strong structure is the backbone

In an ideal courtroom, decisions are rendered based solely on facts and evidence. However, real-world trials often reveal a different narrative—one where emotion, bias, and human psychology significantly influence outcomes. This divergence highlights the crucial role of jury consultants in navigating the intricate interplay between fact and emotion. The Emotional Underpinnings of Jury Decisions Research consistently demonstrates that jurors’ decisions are not purely fact-based. Psychologist Jonathan Haidt likens moral judgments to aesthetic ones, suggesting that people often make instant, emotion-driven decisions and subsequently rationalize them. This phenomenon is evident in various courtroom scenarios. See The Paradox of Persuasion: Why Logic

Introduction: The Illusion of Rational Minds Ask most people—especially smart professionals—how they form opinions, and you’ll get some version of the same story: "I look at the facts. I weigh the evidence. I follow the logic." But here’s the problem: neuroscience, psychology, and real-world experience say otherwise. In litigation, marketing, politics—even interpersonal relationships—this misunderstanding about human reasoning creates a fatal flaw in how we attempt persuasion. And until we reckon with it, we’ll keep losing arguments we should win. The Elephant and the Rider Jonathan Haidt, a social psychologist, offers one of the most compelling metaphors for how persuasion really

At Persuadius, we specialize in transforming complexity into clarity—especially using litigation graphics. Whether it’s a demonstrative exhibit that makes a technical expert accessible or a timeline that crystallizes causation, the right visual can make all the difference. Economic issues like tariffs and trade deficits frequently show up in high-stakes commercial litigation. But jurors aren’t economists. That’s where compelling storytelling—and litigation graphics—come in. What Is a Tariff? A tariff is a tax placed on imported goods. When a country imports products from abroad—say, steel, cars, or electronics—the government can charge a fee at the border. That fee is the tariff. Why