We reported the Court of Appeals decision here. Read that blog first. The Supreme Court affirms the Court of Appeals’ opinion.

The Court first tells us that Preston was the Billy Preston – apparently a musician of some note some decades ago who backed The Beatles. We’d normally point out that this is completely irrelevant to anything but the opinion isn’t bad otherwise so we’ll chalk it up to the innocent expression of some personal enthusiasm of Justice Bales. Rock on.

Next, the Court tells us that “Whether Rule 17(a) requires a plaintiff to show that a failure to name the real party in interest resulted from an understandable mistake or difficulty in identifying the party is an issue of first impression in Arizona.” Well, yes, but then so are lots of other cases arguing that a statute or rule means something other than what it says. That surely isn’t enough to merit review. Perhaps the difference here is that Preston relies on a line of federal cases, which the Court thinks it worth taking the time to say that Arizona won’t follow.

Its substantive analysis of that is as follows: “Having considered the federal cases, we decline to engraft requirements onto Rule 17 beyond those reflected in the text of the rule.” Once again our Court hearkens back to an older school of opinion writing in which courts expressed their opinions by expressing their opinions, not by labored scholastic argument. But it also points out that not all federal courts follow this interpretation anyway and that even those that do wouldn’t necessarily impose the drastic sanction of dismissal when substitution is possible.

Regarding the State Bar Committee note to Rule 17 that supports the federal interpretation, the Court points that a comment cannot change the clear text of a rule. The value of the comments, apparently, is that they “may clarify a rule’s ambiguous language.” Maybe. But we’re talking about a committee that writes rules. Wouldn’t it be better to write unambiguous ones in the first place? Or has rule-writing become one of those things characterized by compromises that one side or the other tries to “win” in a committee report? If so, why does the Court accept such rules?

The Court next addresses an argument that for some reason didn’t show up in the appellate opinion: the relationship between changing defendants under Rule 15 and changing plaintiffs under Rule 17. The Court finds this “not particularly relevant,” though, apparently because Rules 17 and 15(c) each handle separately the issue of relation-back. This doesn’t give the issue as much attention as it may deserve but we’ve not seen the briefs to know how extensively it was developed.

Finally, Kindred raised the spectre of abuse if amendments were liberally allowed under Rule 17. The Court says that the trial court can deal with this in its discretion; it may refuse amendment in cases of “undue delay, dilatory action, or undue prejudice.” The opinion then takes this back by saying basically that substituting one representative plaintiff for another with the same claim wouldn’t ever prejudice anyone.

(link to opinion)

We don’t normally blog criminal cases but this one is principally a constitutional case.

In 2006 the Legislature changed the burden of proof of self-defense. In Garcia (2007) the Supreme court held that it hadn’t made the statute retroactive. In 2009 the Legislature passed a statute making it retroactive, back to cases pending in 2006. Montes had been convicted in 2008 of a 2005 murder. Division Two affirmed his conviction by memorandum but when the new statue was passed he moved for reconsideration, arguing that he should have been tried according to the law that now existed then. The court denied the motion, ruling the second statute unconstitutional as an attempt to change a court decision. Division One had ruled otherwise. (The opinion refers simply to “a different panel” of the Court of Appeals. This is technically correct. But since someone surely had to make a conscious decision to avoid saying “Division One,” you wonder whether someone isn’t sensitive to the occasional suggestion that there is some stigma involved in identifying the divisions – namely, to put it frankly, Division Two – and is trying to efface the difference. Since Justice Pelander wrote this opinion, you have to wonder even more.)  The Supreme Court took the petition to straighten things out.

The parties agreed that the Legislature could have made the first statute retroactive to begin with. The State argued that it couldn’t do so after Garcia pointed out that it hadn’t done so. The Supreme Court disagreed. In essence, all Garcia did was to point out that in 2006 the Legislature left out retroactivity language. The 2009 statute therefore didn’t really change that. In any event, “every legislative enactment retroactively changing a court’s pronouncement on a statute is not a per se separation of powers violation.” “[T]he Legislature does not violate separation of powers when it acts to make a law retroactive without disturbing vested rights, overruling a court decision, or precluding judicial decisionmaking.”

The State tried to argue that the victim’s vested rights – to the “finality of a defendant’s conviction” – had been disturbed. The Court says that the victim has no vested right to sustaining a conviction and that it “is a valid exercise of the Legislature’s power to retroactively grant new rights to criminal defendants.”

The 2009 statue not only made the 2006 law retroactive, it said that that had been the Legislature’s intention in 2006. That comes closer to “changing” Garcia. But the Court indicated that that wasn’t germane to the analysis since the other part of the statute – the actual retroactivity portion – didn’t.  “However” this problematic section of the statute “is characterized” – i.e., whether it’s constitutional or not – the Legislature had the power to make the statute retroactive after-the-fact.

(link to opinion)

This is an important personal-jurisdiction case, not because it says anything new but because it restates – at the risk of belaboring – established principles and because it removes an analytical barnacle that the Court of Appeals’ opinion had added. (We blogged the Court of Appeals opinion here.)

TPG sells insurance and makes investments. One of its Arizona insurance clients found out about its investment activities and told his sister, a California attorney who represented a California tin mine that needed investors. It sent TPG a report about its activities and followed that up with emails, faxes, and phone calls. They entered into a preliminary agreement – by which TPG invested money – but hadn’t come to a final agreement when TPG found out that the defendants weren’t really tin miners at all, they just wanted to threaten a nearby water district into condemning their property.

TPG sued corporate and individual defendants in Maricopa County. It alleged breach of contract and securities fraud and also sought declaratory judgment and an accounting. The California defendants moved to dismiss for lack of personal jurisdiction; the trial court granted the motion; the Court of Appeals affirmed. The Supreme Court accepted TPG’s petition “because the jurisdiction of Arizona courts over non-resident defendants is a recurring issue of statewide importance.” (So every personal-jurisdiction case is a Supreme Court case, right?)

The standard-of-review section – that Division One often thinks, judging by the number of words in it, to be the most important thing in an opinion – is a footnote. And not an unimportant one. The trial court ruled on affidavits, so the Supreme Court reviews de novo, “viewing the facts in the light most favorable to the plaintiffs but accepting as true the uncontradicted facts put forward by the defendants.”

Perhaps to atone for that brevity, we next get a definition of jurisdiction and then all the classic cases, starting from the beginning – Pennoyer v. Neff and International Shoe. The Court seems determined to cite all the jurisdiction cases you ever read in law school or have heard of since then. Four pages of them.

But then come the important parts. The Court of Appeals had relied on Ninth Circuit precedent to decide that the thing to do was to figure out whether the Complaint sounded primarily in tort or contract and to apply either the “purposeful availment” (for contracts) or “purposeful direction” (for torts) test. It concluded that the Complaint was in contract, that the defendants had not “purposefully availed themselves of the privilege of conducting business in Arizona,” and that Arizona therefore had no personal jurisdiction over them.

The Supreme Court calls this approach “problematic” and points out that we’re not bound by the Ninth Circuit. The U.S. Supreme Court uses “purposeful availment” and “purposeful direction” interchangeably (though, the Court says, they are often most useful in contract and tort settings, respectively). And a court needn’t try to shoehorn an entire Complaint into the “contract” or “tort” category. The approach should be “holistic”: “Considering all of the contacts . . . did those defendants engage in purposeful conduct for which they could reasonably expect to be haled into that state’s courts with respect to that conduct?”

The Court then notes a couple more general principles that the Court of Appeals tripped over: a defendant can have minimum contacts with more than one state – the question is not where the primary or predominant contacts are; and “jurisdictional contacts are to be analyzed not in isolation, but rather in totality.”

The report and communications sent into Arizona – which TPG alleged violated the securities laws – were purposeful and established minimum contacts. That being enough for one allegation, it is enough for the others – which arose out of the same facts – as well.

(The Court then says that it would come to the same result on the contract count even if analyzing it separately under, apparently, a Ninth-Circuit style “purposeful availment” standard – and for some reason spends time explaining why. Was somebody afraid that if the case went further up then that Ninth Circuit law might come back to bite them after all?)

Under Asahi, after finding minimum contacts the court must analyze the burden-on-the-defendant- and interest-of-the-forum-type factors. The Court does so and decides that they support jurisdiction.

The Court therefore reverses and remands as to some of the defendants; it found, in a short section near the end, that a couple of others didn’t act purposefully toward Arizona, so it affirms as to them.

When we blogged the Court of Appeals decision we said that “Judging by the facts in the opinion, it wasn’t actually a very hard case.” Judging the facts as they are presented in this one, it wasn’t actually a very hard case – the other way around. Shows what the presentation of facts – and knowledge of the result – can do even to the most discerning minds (consider smiley-face inserted here; not everybody’s browser can handle those well, even today). Our gently sarcastic comments there about the newfangled availment/direction distinction are now, we’re glad to say, of historical interest only: The Supreme Court’s is, in the main, a very traditional analysis. This opinion will presumably be the new starting point of personal-jurisdiction discussion in Arizona.

(link to opinion)