DEENA BUCHANAN

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What initially inspired you to specialize in plaintiff's personal injury law, and how has that motivation evolved over the years?

That’s a tough question because a lot of things in my life pushed me in this direction.

I was in a car crash when I was sixteen. That was my first real interaction with the idea that you can do everything right and still get hurt, and there's no justice for you. It was a rude awakening as a young person. I was already in debate and Model UN, so my path was set in the sense that I wanted to speak and argue. But that experience shined a light on the problem I wanted to fight.

A few years before that, my grandfather died of black lung. The coal company he worked for wouldn't even admit he had it, so he couldn't qualify for benefits and neither could my grandmother. He passed away after countless doctor visits. That was another meeting with injustice that made me think, “This is just wrong.”

So I've always had a drive for justice. But after law school I had a ton of loans, so I went to the defense side. I was in big law and spent about twenty years in defense before I fully committed to the plaintiff's work that I'd always been passionate about but couldn't afford to do coming out of school.

In the last five or ten years of my defense career, I'd done corporate litigation, pharmaceutical litigation, employment law, all kinds of things. Then I started handling trucking cases, excess carrier representation, catastrophic injury and wrongful death cases, and some fairly big medical malpractice cases. Watching those cases play out, I realized the wins didn't feel good. Eventually I said, “This is it. I have to go to the plaintiff's side. I know it's risky, I know it's scary, but I can't do this anymore.”

A lot of people start out on the defense side and make the switch. Can you speak more specifically to what the risks looked like for you?

I'd been a single mom for a good part of my career, and it was just me. I had to support the mortgage, take care of the kids, make sure there was childcare, and think about college someday. I felt immense pressure to keep the wheels on. I didn't have financial support from my ex, and my family is out of state, across the country. We moved here, we got divorced, and there I was as a single mom.

So, it was very scary to think about leaving a well-paying job with no signs of ever changing. I was secure in my role. Going to a job with no guaranteed pay, with all my responsibilities as a parent, was terrifying. By that point I had remarried, but I still had a big financial role in the household.

Then I got an unexpected bonus one year. I'd been allowed to take a plaintiff's case, and we did very, very well with it. I'd also billed the heck out of that year, so I got bonuses from both. I stashed it away and viewed it as my ticket to freedom. It was the one time in my life where there were neon signs blaring: you've got a cushion, so either go do it, or don't do it and stop thinking about it.

So, I did it. My first year I was positive, but I think I had a net income of about thirty thousand dollars. It started off slow, and then it grew exponentially every year because I worked hard, did a lot of networking, met a lot of people, and took on a lot. I did a little business litigation at the beginning, hourly work just to keep the lights on. But within about a year and a half I was full contingency and never looked back.

A lot of members of the Society talk about how women attorneys feel like they can’t talk openly about money, so you sharing that experience is helpful for people to hear.

I lead a couple of small business groups for law firm owners for exactly that reason. Candor about money is something we need to embrace. We need to talk about lines of credit. We need to talk about the reality of running a firm and being a profitable business owner, not just being fierce warriors in court, which is the other hat we wear. We have to be able to take care of ourselves and our families. If we don't have the security of knowing the mortgage is going to get paid, it really does start to eat into our ability to be fierce advocates. If anybody needs to talk or has questions, I'm happy to refer them to a couple of the groups I'm in.

When you moved to the plaintiff's side, did you found your own firm right away? What were those first few years like?

I did. It was the end of the year, I was getting this bonus, and I went online and bought a new computer. I'm very tech forward, so I got one with enough RAM and hard drive to run everything off that single machine. I got a nice Brother printer for home, because those are the most affordable to run, and it had a scanner built in. I put an IKEA desk in the corner of my upstairs family room. That was it.

I registered my business on the New Mexico Secretary of State website, created articles of formation for an LLC, and got a tax ID number. Off I went. I had a business, and it took a couple of days. I met with an accountant almost immediately because I wanted guidance on what corporate form to select for tax purposes, and honestly, on what the heck I was doing. I went to the bank and opened an IOLTA account and an operating account. Then I looked around and thought, okay, now what?

That was my beginning. It was not fancy, and it cost very little. The barrier to entry is really just what your dream is. We can meet clients at the state bar center, which has offices and conference rooms you can rent or check out. You can borrow rooms and offices from friends, which I did a few times. You do not need tons of money invested in office space with a sign on the door right away. I did all of that within the first year, but I waited until I had a little income and then reinvested it in the business. One thing at a time.

What lessons did you learn in those first few years? Maybe a mistake you'd want to spare someone else.

Our firm has grown to about ten people now, which is so exciting, and we have a wonderful newer female associate. She's tremendous, and I can't wait to watch her flourish. We had a mentor talk yesterday about something that happened, and it's probably the same lesson I learned the hard way.

We took on a new case. We were all excited about it. We believed the client. We always lead with empathy, which is the number one core value in my firm. We were hook, line, and sinker, ready to go to war in a very short time frame for this client. It turned out it wasn't real, and it was devastating. We withdrew from representation within about a week.

My associate was feeling like, my gosh, did I do something wrong? I told her no. This is one of the biggest mistakes plaintiff's lawyers make, especially in the first years of practice, when things are a little shaky financially.

If you do not feel one hundred percent at the beginning of a case that your client is telling you the absolute truth, and that they have a legitimate claim, you need to get out. Not the cases with massive damages but no liability. Not the cases that look amazing and might get headlines, but where you have to ask how you're going to prove it and what the legal theory is. They have to be solid. If your gut tells you any part of that equation isn't solid during what's supposed to be the honeymoon phase of the case, get out.

Getting out saves you money and time. Setting money aside, it also creates space for the next person who really needs us to be able to hire us and be served well.

It's very hard when you're in a scarcity mentality, thinking you have to take every case and sign anything that walks in. I caution people to be careful going down that path, because case selection can make or break you, especially early on. It did that to me. I took on cases, got deep into them, and thought, why did I take this? I took it because I was afraid that I had no cases to work on and figured I'd get something out of it. That was not a smart move. It says a lot about you when you can stick with your gut and protect yourself, your time, and your worth, and stay available for the people who need you most. That's one of the best pieces of advice I can give.

Building trust is crucial in this work. How do you approach building and maintaining it with clients, especially in emotionally charged cases?

We specialize in the cases that are the worst for people. They come to us during the worst experience of their lives. A family member has just died horribly, or they've been sexually assaulted at work. We handle a lot of those cases alongside our trucking practice, so we're dealing with catastrophic injuries, pain, and long recoveries. It's very difficult.

Our core value is that we lead with empathy. When we meet a client, it's important to meet them where they are and withhold a little judgment. Like the case I mentioned, we were a thousand percent in on something where the facts kept evolving and we weren't getting the same story twice. But at the beginning, you go in, you listen actively, and you normalize the bad parts of the case.

That's another thing I was talking about yesterday. Your client might feel, rightly or wrongly, a little responsible for the situation they're in. They may be hesitant to give you facts you need from the start, facts that legally aren't going to hurt them, but that they're afraid of. So we talk about our experience with other cases or situations. I'll say that the last time I had a case like this, my client was really worried about X, Y, and Z. Or, I've seen people come to us with concerns about this. Is anything like that going on with you?

That conversation makes it safe and normal for their fears and the things they're inclined to hold back to come out. It lets them say, this is safe. Whatever you tell me, I'm your lawyer. There's no judgment here, and the more I know, the better I can advocate for you and navigate this for you. That brings down a lot of barriers.

Then there's meeting them in person, going to their homes, doing the things that take more effort and time. That builds trust in a way that's invaluable.

The other piece is being responsive. Call them back. Give them your cell phone number. I have to be careful, and I don't give it to every client, but I give it to most. I do hold some boundaries. Sometimes it's, “Hey, it's the weekend and I'm with my kids, can I call you Monday?” And sometimes it's urgent for them and I need to talk to them today. Those things are how I build trust.

What are some of the most significant challenges you've faced as a woman in this field, and how did you overcome them?

This is my old-lawyer-in-a-rocking-chair answer. When I started practicing, I was required to wear skirt suits with pantyhose and heels, or I wasn't allowed to go to court.

Crazy, right? There were judges back then who, if a woman showed up in a pantsuit, would tell her she was dressed unprofessionally and inappropriately for court. I've heard the stories. It didn't happen to me, but I came from an era when things were just transitioning to women being allowed to wear pants to court.

Beyond that, I've been a woman in a very male-dominated field my entire career. I've always been a trial lawyer and a litigator. My first firm tried to put me in the corporate department or in trusts and estates, because they thought that would be better if I ever wanted to have children someday. I fought back. I said no, I went to law school to be a trial lawyer, and I need to be in court.

I had a few male mentors and partners who took me under their wing, stood up for me, and pushed back. They said, “she's talented at this, give her a shot.” One of them passed away a couple of years ago. I remember him going to the partners and saying, I'll supervise Deena on litigation files, but I think she has a knack for this and she deserves a chance. That's how I got to do what I do, and I owe him a debt of gratitude.

It's not like that anymore, or at least not as openly. But it's important to build male allies as much as female allies, and to understand that your mentor may not be who you imagined. I assumed a woman would take me under her wing. Instead, the women partners were trying to help me by guiding me into practice areas I had no interest in. I probably wouldn't even be a lawyer anymore if I'd taken that path, because it just isn't me. I throw that out there as a piece of wisdom.

We've heard the skirt suit story before. Do you know what changed it? Judges retiring? A push from within?

I have my theories. There's a woman here in Albuquerque, Wendy York, who was a judge at the time. She was fairly young. My very first hearing as a lawyer was a probate litigation matter in front of her, and there were whispers that Judge York was wearing pants under her robes.

Wendy is still a mediator I work with all the time, and I adore her. We laugh about it now. But I think it was women becoming judges, and women judges starting to wear pants.

Some judges may have retired, but I think it was really that some of us became brave enough to try it, it didn't go badly, and so we kept doing it. I was doing it more once I came back to New Mexico. I thought, no, I'm wearing pants to court, this is ridiculous. By that point I was about ten years into my career and felt like I had a little more credibility.

I'll never forget my female colleagues whispering, “I think Judge York is wearing pants under her robes!” At least in New Mexico, that's how it became a thing. In Philadelphia, where I practiced afterward, we had all these rules and I think it took a little longer, but it was the same dynamic. It was credible women willing to break the barrier and normalize it.

Work-life balance looks different for everyone. What advice would you give, and what works for you?

I highly recommend the book Atomic Habits. If you don't read it, at least read the summary. Start with small changes. Carve out a little time for yourself and then honor your commitment to make it a pattern.

For example, if you can get to the gym once a week, and you need to hire a trainer so there's an appointment on your calendar you'll have to pay for if you skip it, do that. Just do it once a week. Then if it's working, try adding another day. I have a thing where I go outside and sit on my porch swing in the afternoon and get some sunshine. I'll take a call out there, but I want to be outside. I take intentional breaks.

My baby just went to college, so I've been an empty nester for a week. But when my kids were home, we had dinner together every day, no matter what was going on or how much work I had. When they got into high school and had sports, they didn't always make it to dinner on time. So when they got home, I'd sit with them at the table, take a break, and say, let's talk about your day. Little intentional things.

Also, give yourself grace, because there's some fallacy in this work-life balance idea. As a trial lawyer, one of my best friends is in a six-week trial right now. She has no balance, and she won't have any for six weeks. It's on us as her friends to say, okay, you're done, take a break. Find balance when you can and give yourself grace when there isn't any. If there's no balance today, there's no balance today. That's okay. Let me see if I can carve out a little time tomorrow.

Even in trial I try to do things for myself. Getting outside helps. When I'm in trial, I stay in a hotel I can walk to court from. That's a big thing for me. I walk in the morning and walk back in the afternoon, so I know I got a little movement and a little outdoor time. That's my meditation time, my breathing time, my chance to check in on how things are going.

I don't have a lot of formal advice, because what I've found is that I tried and failed, tried and failed, and felt like a failure. Working part-time didn't work for me, so I'm a failure at that. That language and that approach is toxic. It's much better to do little things and build small, healthy habits.

Then when you do have time, don't just fill it up because the space is gaping. Take a trip with your kids or have a staycation. I like scuba diving and skiing with my family because there's no phone access and they're quiet. They're very meditative for me. Everybody can find their thing. Build those little things into your life, and it's okay if it doesn't work one day.

Why are organizations like the Society of Women Trial Lawyers important?

They're so critical. I wish I'd been able to make more of the annual conferences the last few years, but I keep hitting conflicts. This year looks clear, so I'm putting it on my calendar and making sure I go.

Being a plaintiff's lawyer and a business owner is incredibly lonely sometimes, especially before you have a lot of colleagues in your own firm, when it's just you or one or two other people. Groups like this give you your people. They give you people who understand exactly what you're going through at any point in your career or your day, without you having to explain a lot of background.

I met Sara Williams through the Society, and we've become friends. Sometimes we see each other for five minutes on an escalator at a conference, but she's one of my people. She gets what I'm dealing with, and I get what she's going through. It's wonderful to be seen and to have that care and support network.

Professionally, there are referrals and support too. Women need to send each other cases, because sometimes our male colleagues don't think of us for them. I wouldn't say that's true across the board. I get plenty of referrals from male friends and colleagues. But there's something special about women sending women cases and building each other up in their careers and businesses. These organizations, especially the Society, are amazing at that.

So, if anyone is worried about the dues or the time commitment, I'd say you're investing in yourself, and you're investing in your career by being active.