Ashlea Schwarz

Sponsored by RebuttalPR

What initially inspired you to become a plaintiff attorney, and how has that motivation evolved over the years?
I didn't start as a plaintiff's attorney. I'm the first lawyer in my family, and in law school, I would have said I'd do anything but plaintiff work because I had the stereotypical view of ambulance chasers.

After graduating, I joined a defense firm practicing construction law, but that firm imploded within three weeks. A boutique plaintiff’s firm in Kansas City gave me a chance, though they'd previously only hired laterals from big defense firms. They told me: "You have one year to become a fourth-year associate. We don't hire new attorneys—you're on probation."

That challenge was incredibly motivating and the work was very rewarding. While there I did wage and hour cases—representing people who went to work and weren't getting paid. I saw a different side of plaintiff work and gravitated toward contingency cases where we share the risk with our clients.

I vividly remember representing call center employees who weren't paid from setup until their first customer call. We won in arbitration on behalf of thousands of workers. One woman called me in tears—her $3,000 settlement check saved her home five days before foreclosure. That moment was life changing. I realized even smaller recoveries profoundly help people.

Now I focus on toxic tort exposure cases, primarily representing farm workers and farmers and community members against large companies. These are populations society doesn't see—the people picking our fruits and vegetables and our neighbors who are just going their lives completely unaware they are being exposed to invisible toxins. Making sure these underrepresented populations are seen and cared for drives everything I do.

Can you share a specific case that had a significant impact on you professionally or personally?

Absolutely. I was reading an article about a pesticide linked to harm in children. I started researching and discovered this pesticide was originally invented by the Nazis in World War II and a chemical company later bought the rights and turned it into a pesticide.

We created a heat map showing where this chemical was applied in California and overlaid it with data on children with neurodevelopmental disabilities. The results were bullseyes—communities where the product was applied had upwards of 90% of the children eligible for IEPs for neurodevelopmental delays.

Our clients were pregnant migrant farm workers exposed to this chemical while picking produce. Their babies were born with severe neurodevelopmental delays and reduced cognitive function due to how the chemical damages developing brains.

We didn't just advertise—we held town halls and attended special education seminars to provide education on protecting children. Our goal was compensation and getting the product off the market.

We recovered a nine-figure settlement and established special needs trusts for each family, allowing parents to return to work while ensuring their children's care and education. During the litigation, the chemical company pulled the product from the market entirely.

That case was the catalyst for our firm's motto: making industry-wide change. It transformed how I view plaintiff litigation and its potential for systemic impact.

How do you establish trust with clients from underserved communities who may be hesitant to engage with the legal system?

We take a personal approach through what we call "the ground game"—town hall meetings where we show up, meet people, and listen to their stories.

I show up as myself, not in a suit but in what I'd wear every day. Clients want to see I'm a person with kids, struggles, and a real life, as well as an advocate for them.

We're intentional about language. Many of our clients don't speak English, but Spanish isn't always the answer. We ensure we have translators speaking their specific dialect.

We also work with people already embedded in the community, which is essential outreach for building trust and helpful to educate us about the unique needs of the community.

As a female trial lawyer in a male-dominated space, what challenges have you faced, and how have you navigated them?

I've been the only woman in the room many times. Early in my career, I thought I needed to prove I should be there because I was a woman. It took time to change that narrative.

The shift came when I realized: I deserve to be in the room not because I'm female, but because I'm really good at what I do. That attitude change transformed my career trajectory.

My advice for young attorneys: do the foundational work to put in your dues before asking for a seat at the table. In one of my first major litigations, I did an inordinate amount of document review. At the first leadership meeting, there were 15 attorneys: 14 men and me.

I'd pulled hot documents and created the PowerPoint presentation. My partner presented it the first time and credited me. The second meeting, he started presenting and said, "This is dumb—I'm just reading Ashlea's notes. Ashlea, come up here and do it."

He put me on the spot. I presented, then sat down, listened, and watched. I didn't try to do too much at once. Earning your co-counsel's trust by being a team player is crucial. You're already the only female in the room—everyone knows it. Focus on being the best at what you do, not on what form you showed up in.

Did you have a mentor or role model who helped guide you?

My partner, who was my boss before becoming my partner, has been incredibly encouraging. He saw what I was good at—not what I thought I was good at—and threw me into situations accordingly.

During my first trial, I was supposed to second chair, watch and learn. When he was about to start a cross-examination, he looked at me and said, "You should do it." He knew I was better on my feet without time to build anxiety.

That experience shaped how I manage attorneys now. I focus on: How does this person learn best? How can I help them become the best attorney they can be? It's not the same for everyone. Putting people in the best position to be their best selves is a critical skill.

How do you balance your demanding career with motherhood?

This is probably unpopular, but I don't think there is work-life balance—at least not as a perfect scale. There are seasons when work takes priority and seasons when home life does. Acknowledging that relieves pressure.

I'm a single mom with two daughters. When they were little, I started talking to them about what I do—not the legal mechanics, but the people I'm helping and why. I wanted them to understand I wasn't choosing work over them; I was providing for us and helping others.

Now they're teenagers who could tell you about my five cases, who the defendants are, and what I do. Making them part of the process meant they didn't feel I was choosing work over them.

What aspects of your work excite you most right now?

I'm most passionate about cases helping underserved populations. I love meeting clients, seeing where they live, and helping people who will use their recovery to help others.

I'm passionate about making systemic change. We had a case where an airplane crashed due to misfueling, killing multiple people. Beyond recovering for the families, we required the private airport to provide FAA training for all employees and mandate it for new hires for five years.

It's about ensuring tragedies don't happen again—that truly motivates me.

What advice do you have for women or younger attorneys entering this field?

Be yourself. Earn respect by proving you deserve to be in the room, not by shouting for your place.

Learn when it's best not to talk. When young associates show me emails from opposing counsel asking what to respond, I ask: Did they ask a question? If not, you may not need to respond.

My go-to question is: Are you advancing the ball? If you're not, maybe let it go. This job creates so much angst. Learning when not to say something helps keep you happier and healthier.

Why are groups like the Society of Women Trial Lawyers important to you?

Learning from others makes you a better attorney. Groups where women share different approaches to problems are invaluable.

I do cases nationwide and constantly need local counsel. I love having a network of proactive women putting themselves out there. I recently sent a case to a brand-new lawyer I met through these networks—someone who's been practicing just a year. Being able to give opportunities and spread work to others brings me tremendous joy.

How did you decide to become a lawyer without any lawyers in your family?

My mother, a high school counselor, planted the seed. She'll tell anyone I've enjoyed debate since I was little. She suggested I might be good at law, so I went to college and took classes to prepare for law school.

Honestly, I didn't know much about it—I just knew Mom said I might be good at it. Thankfully, she was right.

What's your connection to farming communities, and how did you become so passionate about representing agricultural workers?

I grew up in south-central Kansas with farmland around, though I didn't drive a tractor to school. During a litigation representing corn farmers, my partner and I drove down south and started farm hopping—going from one farm to the next, talking to farmers about their experiences.

We signed up thousands of farmers through that ground game. I personally spoke to every one of them. Farmers are the most delightful clients—you can't do that work and not want to help them.

What accomplishments are you most proud of, and what are your future goals?

I'm most proud of doing good under the radar. The cases I take usually don't make the news, but they help families and individuals wronged by big companies. That's my passion, and I want to continue that work.

I also love watching my junior attorneys become full-fledged lawyers—that moment when they realize, "I'm really good at this. I belong here." Mentoring them and watching them thrive is incredibly rewarding.