I’m a fixer. Give me a problem, and I’ll offer you a solution. If you don’t believe me, just ask my wife. She will tell you that I am all too eager to bestow upon her my great wisdom to solve any problem that she might encounter. Whether it’s an argument she had with a friend or a customer service representative who didn’t give her what she wanted, I have a 5-part plan for her to resolve the situation. I might even offer her contingency solutions at no charge. 

If you have a spouse or partner who is a fixer like me, you are probably screaming, “She doesn’t want you to fix it! She just wants you to listen.”  I know this because my wife frequently asks me to stop talking and just listen. Let’s just say that I’m in recovery on this—progress, not perfection. And I should note that there are times when my wife really does want my fixer mind to offer her solutions. But there are also times when I don’t really have a good solution or simple fix.

I was reminded of this latter situation recently when a bird (let’s call him Sammy) flew into our window. My wife and I were sitting on our couch enjoying a relaxing episode of Northern Exposure. If you haven’t seen the series, I highly recommend it. The show is set in the fictional town of Cicely, Alaska and is centered around a New York City doctor (Joel Fleischman), who navigates the culture shock of moving from the hectic lifestyle of Queens to the laid-back eclectic life in Cicely. In this episode, Dr. Fleischman’s mom was in town and had just been told by Joel’s assistant Marilyn Whirlwind that her spirit animal was an eagle. Suddenly, there was a thud against our front window. I turned quickly and saw a small bird bounce off the glass. I stepped outside half expecting to find Mrs. Fleischman on the ground. Instead, I saw a sparrow lying on its back. It was clearly in distress. 

I thought that Sammy might have just been stunned, so I turned him over onto his front side. He seemed to get his wits about him but then fell over onto his back again. I retrieved a small box from our garage and fashioned a protective nook made from branches and mulch. I left him to recover. When I returned an hour later, Sammy was on his back again. This routine was repeated numerous times over the next several hours. I finally decided that the only humane thing to do was to put him out of his misery. Before I was able to give him a compassionate death, nature took its course. It appears that, while I was collecting my executioner’s tools, some predator had done my dirty work. All that was left for me to do was bury Sammy in a little box in the side yard. 

People who knew me when I was younger might be surprised to hear this story. I grew up in Indiana hunting birds. We sat in fields and shot doves. We walked fence lines in cornfields and shot quail and pheasants. I never have thought of myself as a bird lover. I do like to eat birds but don’t have any other avian affinities. And yet, I really wanted to save that bird. At some point, though, I had to admit that there was no good solution for this sparrow.

I don’t know why Sammy met his maker in such a premature way. Maybe you’re an existential nihilist and believe that there is no meaning behind his life or death. Or you might be some sort of theist or pantheist who believes that his death was part of some divine plan or universal intelligence. I’ll leave it to the philosophers and theologians to find the deeper meaning. What I do know is that this random event surprisingly offers some valuable lessons for lawyers. Maybe, at the end of the day, Sammy’s death was not in vain. 

First, Sammy’s death reminds us as lawyers that there are sometimes problems we cannot fix for our clients. And there are those times when there is no way to achieve the result the client had hoped for. We can’t resuscitate Sammy. We can’t achieve the client’s original goal. It is in these moments that a lawyer must shift gears from being a fixer to being a counselor. The time to fight or find a solution is over. Acceptance is all that is left. The client needs our help to come to that place of surrender or to shift gears to think differently about what the client wants and can now have. In our counselor role, we must be that calm and centered presence that can have empathy for the client while remaining stable and objective. 

We are trained in law school and on the job to be fixers and advocates. We know how to analyze facts, develop and implement legal theories and strategies, and fight for our clients. But most of us have received little training or mentorship when it comes to the role we must play when things don’t go well for our clients. When our criminal defendant client gets convicted of the crime or our personal injury client gets a goose egg from a jury, we still represent those clients. How we deliver that news and how we counsel those clients to move forward matters. I am not suggesting that we cross the line to mental health therapist. But we can be the calming presence that our clients need in these situations. We can discuss objectively with the client what alternatives are now available to move forward. How we do that matters.

Second, Sammy’s death is a good reminder that our clients often don’t see the obstacles that are right in front of them. They are either too emotionally invested in the matter or simply don’t understand the legal issues and ramifications. It is our job to make sure that they don’t fly into the window. That might mean helping the client avoid an adverse inference instruction by telling them not to destroy relevant evidence or social media posts. Or it might include advising the client not to reveal any confidential or privileged communications to anyone outside the law firm. It would also include instructing the client not to have any conversations about the case with the opposing party or their counsel. Do not assume that your clients know these things.

Finally, the story of Sammy offers a lesson in doing hard things. I probably waited too long to put Sammy out of his misery. I didn’t want to admit that I had lost the battle. I tried to avoid being the compassionate executioner. And so, nature took its course in somewhat brutal fashion. This could have been avoided if I had faced the reality of the situation sooner. 

As lawyers, we sometimes face these dilemmas. I have seen this numerous times where a lawyer has made a fatal mistake on a client’s matter and now must disclose the error to the client. Lawyers often procrastinate in telling their clients the bad news. This usually just makes the situation worse, because the client now thinks that the lawyer has been hiding his mistake. Delays might also lead to an ethics complaint for a breach of the lawyer’s duty under Rule 1.4 to keep the client reasonably informed. If you are uncertain about how to advise a client about a mistake, you should review 2015 FEO 4. 

 Even when the lawyer hasn’t made a mistake but must deliver bad news, it can be difficult to face this responsibility. Will the client blame me? Will they bad-mouth me on-line? Will the client unload their anger on me? These are real fears that can lead to delays in delivering the bad news. As with mistakes, procrastination can make the situation worse. 

What can you do to more effectively face your fears and deliver bad news? Wisconsin law professor Gretchen Viney suggests a three-step approach to conveying bad news:

1. Forecast the bad news before actually giving them the specific news. Let them know that you have something to tell them that is not favorable. This prepares the client to receive what is coming.
2. Now go straight to the bad news. Do not talk around the issue or stall. Tell them directly what happened. 
3. Continue with a more in-depth explanation of what happened and what it means for their case or matter.  

I would add a couple suggestions to Professor Viney’s advice. When you have these difficult conversations, it is best to have the conversation in person or by video conference or telephone. Emails and letters can feel impersonal to the client. After you deliver the bad news, take the time to listen to the client. Let the client vent their frustration, disappointment, or anger. To the best of your ability, remain calm and centered. Numerous studies have shown that emotional states are contagious. By remaining calm, you make it easier for the client to regulate their emotional state.  

Ultimately, the shift from fixer to counselor is one of the most important—and often overlooked—transitions a lawyer must learn to make. When there is no solution or when the outcome is out of our hands, our value lies not in our ability to fix, but in our ability to guide and support our clients through uncertainty and loss. This requires emotional presence, clear communication, and the willingness to sit with discomfort—both our clients’ and our own. It means listening more than speaking, and accepting that sometimes, what a client needs most is not a plan, but a person.