Character.AI was once valued at more than $1 billion. In bankruptcy, the opening bid is $20 million, and it doesn't even buy the IP outright. Here's what the sale teaches business owners about chain of title, departing talent, privacy policies, and the commitments buyers have to honor.

Ask most people what force majeure means and they'll say "acts of God." Oracle just cited a stalled pipeline permit. Here's what Pennsylvania courts actually ask, and the six things to fix in your own contracts.

Most legal problems are fixable. Expensive and annoying, but fixable. You can paper an assignment you forgot. You can clean up a cap table. You can renegotiate a bad contract at renewal.

Authorship isn't fixable. You cannot retroactively author something. Either a person made a creative contribution and there's a record of it, or there isn't. No amount of money in year four can buy back a decision nobody documented in year one.

That asymmetry is the argument. Keeping the record costs almost nothing: attribution you're already generating, logs you're already producing, one afternoon testing what your pipeline strips. Not keeping these records costs you the ability to answer the only question that matters, at the exact moment who wrote your code is worth money.

At 4:01 UTC on July 9, 2026, an autonomous agent running on OpenAI models had root access to a code-execution sandbox that did not belong to OpenAI. It didn't belong to Hugging Face either. It belonged to a customer of Modal Labs — some company that had published an unauthenticated endpoint, one that let anyone on the internet run code in its sandboxes. The agent had just escaped an OpenAI evaluation environment through a zero-day in a package proxy, reached the open internet, and gone looking for a base of operations. It found one standing wide open.

The question everyone running workloads on someone else's infrastructure should now be asking: if that had been my account, who pays?

I'm representing myself pro se. Opposing counsel is an in-house legal department plus a white-shoe Philadelphia firm. They have headcount, budget, and institutional infrastructure.

When I filed for partial summary judgment, I wasn't guessing. I opened a dashboard, looked at two counts sitting at full element coverage, and could see every fact supporting every element, where it came from and how strong it was. I felt comfortable that nothing was missing.

That's an aggressive posture for one attorney against a company that size. I took it because I could see the whole board.

This post is about the tool that let me see it, what it does, what it emphatically does not do, and why I'm looking for other litigators to break it.