Frequently Asked Questions

You’re right to ask — everyone wants to know this. And here’s the honest answer:

No lawyer knows the value of a case on day one. Not me. Not the billboard lawyer. Not the adjuster. Not even a judge. The only people who can truly decide the value of a case are the twelve jurors in the box.

My job is to prepare your case so well that the insurance company knows exactly what those jurors would likely do — and pay you fairly without forcing you into a courtroom. Most of my cases settle because the other side sees the risk of facing a jury and decides to pay the right number.

And if they don’t?

Then we go ask the jury.

Trial doesn’t scare me. I enjoy it. I know how to stand up, tell your story, and ask for what your case deserves — whether that’s $25,000 or millions.

So I won’t guess a number today.

I won’t insult you with a sales pitch.

What I will promise is this:

I will take your case as far as it needs to go.

I will ask for every dollar the law allows.

And I will not back down because an insurance company announces “the most they’ll pay.”

You’re not hiring me for a quick estimate.

You’re hiring me for the outcome — and the courage to pursue it.

When people ask this question, they’re usually not asking about math. They’re asking about survival. They’re asking, “How am I supposed to keep my life together if I can’t work? Who’s going to make this right?”

Lost wages aren’t just numbers on a pay stub. They’re the missed shifts, the projects you couldn’t finish, the clients you couldn’t see, the career momentum that slipped through your fingers while you were trying to heal. They’re the fear you carry when you lie awake at night staring at the ceiling wondering how long your savings will last.

Insurance companies treat lost wages like an accounting issue.

I treat them like part of your story.

Here’s how it really works: if the crash took away your ability to work — for a week, a month, a year — the law requires the at-fault party to pay for that loss. Not just the hours you missed, but the opportunities, the promotions, the shift differentials, the commission checks, the professional reputation you’ve spent years building.

And if they refuse?

If they pretend your lost time doesn’t matter?

Then we take it to the place where ordinary people — jurors — understand exactly what missing a paycheck means in a real human life.

My job is to show them the truth of what happened to you. To connect the dots between your injuries and the work you couldn’t do. And when jurors see that truth, they don’t think in spreadsheets. They think in fairness.

So how do lost wages work?

They work the same way every part of your case works:

we tell the truth, clearly and humanly, and we make sure the people who matter understand the full cost of what you’ve lived through.

There’s a reason this question is so common: it feels like there should be a formula. A chart. A multiplier. Something clean and predictable.

But human beings don’t live in formulas.

“Pain and suffering” is insurance-company language. It’s a narrow doorway for something that’s much larger: the way a collision rearranges a life. Your sleep, your patience, your joy, your routines, the way your body moves, the way you feel in traffic, the way you wake up in the morning — the thousand tiny moments that make you you.

Those aren’t numbers.

They’re human details.

And human details don’t get calculated — they get felt.

A jury doesn’t assign value by doing math.

A jury assigns value by seeing someone. By recognizing harm that could just as easily have happened to them or someone they love. By hearing a story that rings true in their bones.

My job isn’t to say “this injury is worth X.”

My job is to learn who you were before and who you are now, to gather the moments that matter, and to weave those moments into a story that jurors can step inside. A story where they recognize what was lost — and what justice requires.

And here’s the part the insurance companies don’t talk about:

When jurors see a whole human story, the number they choose is almost always bigger than anything an adjuster would ever plug into a formula. Because people don’t think in spreadsheets. They think in fairness. They think in multiples of whatever the insurance company imagined.

So “How is pain and suffering calculated?”

It isn’t.

It’s understood.

It’s felt.

It’s answered by people who still believe in justice — and my job is to help them see you clearly enough to do it right.

“Minor collision” is an insurance industry propaganda tool. It’s designed to make you feel like you’re overreacting, like you’re the problem for taking your own pain seriously. Here’s the truth: if you’re hurt, it’s not minor. Your body doesn’t care what the adjuster calls it. Soft-tissue injuries, headaches, back pain, driving anxiety, disrupted sleep — these are real, they’re common, and they can change your life for months or years.

And let’s be honest: if you truly believed the crash was insignificant, you wouldn’t be on this website right now. Something about this collision mattered enough for you to seek help. If you think it’s important, so do I.

Insurance companies love to label crashes as “minor” so they can justify paying less — or nothing. A lawyer levels the playing field. A lawyer protects your medical care, your time, your recovery, and your dignity.

You don’t need to decide today whether this collision is “big enough” or “serious enough.” What you need is someone who listens, takes you seriously, and helps you understand your rights. If you’re hurting, unsure, overwhelmed, or feeling dismissed, then yes — it’s time for a lawyer.

And you’re in the right place.

Diminished value (“DV”) is market value your car loses after a crash despite repairs. Even when a car is fixed perfectly, the accident history follows it — the repair bill sits in the glove box, and you have an ethical obligation to disclose it. In Washington, the at-fault party owes you full compensation for that loss. Insurers know this, but they often pretend DV is imaginary or try to shrink it with canned formulas.

This is one of my core areas of expertise: I wrote the Washington Trial Lawyer’s deskbook chapter on DV, and I represented the owner in Grothe v. Kushnivich — the most recent and most important diminished value case in Washington.

Here’s the truth the insurance companies avoid: DV is not calculated by software. It’s measured by what real buyers do. Before the collision, your car lived in the crash-free marketplace. After the collision, it doesn’t — even after excellent repairs. Buyers discount for risk, unknowns, and non-transferable warranties. That gap is the diminished value. Insurers often deny it, delay it, or lowball it, but real DV is proven with independent appraisal and specific market research, and common sense.

Many DV cases arise alongside injury cases, and here’s something important: one lawyer needs to handle the whole case. Your injury lawsuit and your property damage lawsuit are connected. If another lawyer is handling your injury claim and wants to ignore the DV, I can’t jump in to fix one piece of a fractured case. But if you want a lawyer who understands both injury and DV — and knows how the two interact — I’m the best one-stop shop in Washington for that fight.

DV isn’t a formula.

It’s market truth.

And when it’s presented clearly, it wins.

When your car is taken off the road after a crash, the law recognizes something simple and deeply human: you’ve been deprived of your property. Even temporarily, even if the car is sitting at a body shop, even if you borrow a spare — someone else’s actions have taken away your right to use what’s yours. That right is older than the United States. Property can’t be taken or disabled without compensation. Period.

For some people, loss of use is a crisis. “How do I get to work?” “How do we juggle kids with one car?” These aren’t small inconveniences — they’re daily-life ruptures. Your own insurer may help with rental reimbursement if you bought that coverage, but the limits are usually low and the rentals basic.

But Washington law requires something different from the at-fault driver:

They owe you the rental value of your vehicle — like-kind whenever reasonably available.

Not the cheapest econobox they can find. Not whatever is “good enough.” That rule was confirmed in Grothe v. Kushnivich, the appellate decision I litigated and won.

And here’s the part many people never hear: loss of use isn’t just for daily drivers. If you own a high-end or specialty vehicle and it’s sidelined — even if it’s not your commuter, even if you didn’t rent anything at all — the at-fault driver still owes the daily rental value of that specific vehicle. Sometimes that number is hundreds of dollars per day. In many cases, the loss-of-use claim is larger than the diminished-value claim. Most people don’t know they have that right until I tell them.

If an insurer paid for a cheaper rental, they get credit for what they paid — but they don’t get to say the downgrade was “close enough.” And if they paid nothing, they still owe everything the law allows.

Loss of use is not a favor from an insurance company.

It’s a property right. One of the oldest we have.

If an adjuster won’t honor it, I will.

Hearing your car is a “total loss” lands hard. Cars aren’t just cars — they’re how you get to work, get your kids where they need to go, keep your life moving. A stranger calling yours “worthless on paper” doesn’t feel fair. And many of my injured clients tell me the same things at the start:

•“I don’t want them to total the car.”

•“I can’t buy another car for what they’re offering.”

•“I’ve sent them comps and they won’t listen.”

•“I’ve been without a car for weeks — what am I supposed to do?”

All of those reactions make complete sense.

Here’s the truth: when an insurer calls a car a total loss, all they mean is that their math says it costs more to fix the car than the car is worth on paper. That’s not the same thing as saying the car is useless or worthless to you. An older, reliable car is always worth more running than it is in cash.

If your car is safe and still drives, you can keep it. You’ll get a smaller check and you’ll need to re-title it, but you can keep driving it. If the damage can’t be made safe for what the car is worth, then letting it go is usually the right move — and none of this is a hardship you asked for.

If the offer feels too low, you’re not imagining it. Many clients tell me, “I can’t replace my car for that amount,” and I agree — I’ve been through total loss claims myself, and even with deep experience, I can’t always make the process perfect. But there are ways to push back. If you have coverage under your own policy, you have a right to appraisal, which can often raise the value. And if you buy a comparable replacement for more than the settlement, you can ask your adjuster to reopen the claim. Most people don’t know that.

If you’re working with the other driver’s insurance, the process is tougher — you have almost no leverage, and I’m actively working with the legislature to fix that. But if you’re working with your own insurer, they aren’t allowed to stonewall. With an appraiser involved, they must consider the data they ignored when you sent it yourself.

And if you’ve been without a car for weeks because you and the insurer “can’t agree on value,” here’s the inside move:

Your own insurance company must pay the undisputed portion of the loss while you negotiate.

They don’t offer this unless you ask. You should ask.

Here’s my promise: if you’re an injured client, I will help you with your total loss, repair, and rental car claims, pro bono. It’s part of how I practice. Property damage support isn’t a side task — it’s a key part of helping injured people get their lives moving again, and I take pride in being one of the few lawyers in Washington who actually knows how to do this well.

You didn’t ask for this mess.

You shouldn’t have to navigate it alone.

Being blamed for a crash you didn’t cause is one of the most destabilizing moments in the entire process. For some people, it triggers shame: “Did I mess up?” “Am I not allowed to get help now?” “Does this mean I’m stuck with everything?”

For others, it triggers something very different: anger — a sense of betrayal. They tell me, “This is complete BS.” And they’re right to feel that. Insurance companies spend billions telling you they’re ethical, humble, salt-of-the-earth protectors who will be there in your hardest moments. Then the moment you need them most, they turn the tables and treat you like the problem. That whiplash is not an accident. It’s a tactic.

So let me say this clearly:
An adjuster’s opinion is not the truth, and it’s not the law.
It’s a position — one they often take early because they know many people will give up when they hear, “We think you’re at fault.” It’s not personal. It’s structural.

Here’s what actually matters:
You’re not the judge of your own case, and the insurance company definitely isn’t. Fault is decided by the twelve jurors in the box — not by someone on a headset reading a script.

My job is to gather the facts, analyze the scene, look at vehicle movement, track down witnesses when needed, and understand what really happened. Most of the time, the full story tells a very different truth than the adjuster’s early accusation. And the moment they realize you have a lawyer who is willing — and able — to take this question to a jury, the conversation changes.

So what should you do if an adjuster blames you?

You don’t argue.
You don’t panic.
You don’t give up.

You bring me the facts, and I’ll take it from there.

If you felt ashamed: you didn’t mess up.
If you felt betrayed: you’re not wrong.

Either way, being blamed doesn’t end your case.
It starts mine.

Never give a recorded statement to the other driver’s insurance company. Not once. Not ever. Recorded statements exist for one reason: to save the insurance company money — money they owe you — at your expense.

The adjuster is not on your side. Their goal is to get you talking so they can twist your words, take innocent comments out of context, and later use them to blame you for your own injuries or even accuse you of faking or exaggerating your pain. They do not want to do what’s right unless they benefit, too. Nothing you say will ever help your claim. It will only help them protect their company’s wallet.

And when an adjuster tries to pressure you — hinting you must “cooperate,” implying you’re hiding something, or threatening to delay repairs or your rental car unless you give a statement — that’s bullying, plain and simple. It’s also against the rules. Insurance companies are legally required to investigate and settle valid claims. There is no “only if you give a recorded statement” loophole.

You deserve protection, not interrogation. My clients don’t give recorded statements to third-party adjusters. I do the talking, and I don’t give the insurance company anything to use against you.

People delay medical care for all kinds of human reasons. Maybe you hoped the pain would fade. Maybe you didn’t want to miss work. Maybe someone told you the ER would be “out of pocket.” Maybe you were just overwhelmed.

None of that means you’re not hurt.

None of that means you did anything wrong.

And none of that disqualifies you from justice.

What matters now is simple: your body is asking for help, and you’re listening.

Insurance companies try to twist treatment delays into a story that your pain “must not be real.” But jurors understand real life. Most people try to push through pain before finally admitting, “This isn’t getting better.” That’s a story we can tell honestly and powerfully.

Here’s the part nobody says out loud:

No good medical decision will ever hurt your case.

If you’re hurt, going to the doctor is the right move — for your health and your case. The longer you wait, the harder it becomes for anyone to understand what’s going on in your body.

So if you’re hurting and not sure what to do next:

stop reading, go get checked out, and come back later.

Your health comes first. Always.

There are no perfect crash victims.

There are only real people doing their best — and we can work with that.

A lot of people hesitate to call their own insurance company after a crash. It feels backwards — “Why should I use my insurance when I didn’t do anything wrong?” Or they worry, “Will my rates go up?” These are real concerns, and here’s the truth:

Using your own insurance — collision, PIP, rental reimbursement — is often the smartest, fastest, least painful way to get your life moving again.
And when you’re not at fault, Washington law protects you.

Under RCW 46.52.130(3)(iii), your insurance company cannot raise your rates, cancel you, deny you, or refuse to renew you just because an accident appears on your driving record unless you were at fault. So if someone else caused the crash, using your own insurance is not a penalty. It’s using coverage you already paid for.

Here’s why it matters: the at-fault driver’s insurer has no obligation to help you quickly. They can drag their feet, dispute fault, claim they’re “still investigating,” or leave you without a drivable car or medical care while they take their sweet time. Your own carrier doesn’t get to do that. They owe you prompt payment under your policy, and they can recover the money later from the at-fault insurer.

Using your own insurance is not “letting the other driver off the hook.”
It’s not surrender.
It’s strategy.

If you’re overwhelmed, injured, dealing with car repairs, worried about bills, or stuck without transportation, running everything through your own coverage can take enormous pressure off you. Later, the companies can sort out who reimburses whom. That’s not your battle.

If you want help deciding which coverage to use — or whether to involve both companies — I can walk you through it. You don’t have to navigate this part alone.

Right after a crash, most people are overwhelmed. You’re hurting, you’re scared, and suddenly you’re expected to learn an entire system of rules you never wanted to know. Medical decisions, repair decisions, insurance calls, paperwork, deadlines — it all hits at once. And you’re trying to manage it while your body and brain are still in shock.

So here’s the honest answer:
You should call a lawyer when you realize you don’t want to handle this alone.

Not because a clock is ticking.
Not because you “have to.”
Not because someone told you to “lawyer up.”
But because the moment you involve an attorney you trust, the experience changes.

Imagine that after a crash, an expert stepped in — someone whose entire job is to see you, validate you, guide you, and make everything as steady as possible. Someone who knows what to say to the insurance companies so you don’t have to. Someone who removes the pressure, clears the fog, and shows you the path forward. And imagine all of that without pulling out your credit card or worrying about hourly bills.

That’s what calling a lawyer early feels like.
It’s not a legal deadline. It’s a shift from chaos to clarity.

If you’re reading this FAQ because you’re hurting, overwhelmed, confused, or just tired of being alone in it — it’s probably time. Not because you owe me anything, but because you deserve support.