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