Author Archives: James Daily

Spider-Man and Likeness Rights

Today we have a question from Hurley, who writes:

In [Ultimate Spider-Man #109]  Wilson Fisk, A.K.A. the Kingpin, points out to Spider-Man that the costume he wears and his name were given to him by a now-defunct wrestling company. Kingpin bought said company [in issue #106], which he says gives him merchandising rights to all things Spider-Man related. Clothing, toys, etc. Is this legally correct?

(If you’re interested, this storyline is collected in Ultimate Spider-Man vol. 18.)

Here’s the complete history: As usual, Spider-Man tried to make some extra money on the wrestling circuit.  The company that organized the matches was Hercules Wrestling, Inc., and apparently Parker signed away the Spider-Man name and merchandising rights to Hercules.  Later, a Spider-Man movie came out, and the studio managed to prevent Hercules from putting out Spider-Man merch, resulting in Hercules going bankrupt.  Apparently a company called C and C Licensing picked up the rights from Hercules in bankruptcy. C and C is a subsidiary of GG Enterprises, which Fisk purchased.  Thus, through this chain of subsidiaries, Fisk owns the rights to the Spider-Man name as well as the licensing rights for his likeness.  As a result, Fisk actually wants Spider-Man to keep doing his thing because Fisk makes more money from the merchandise sales than he loses from Spider-Man meddling in his affairs.  Pretty villainous, eh?

There are three major questions here.  First, what rights are involved, exactly?  Second, could Fisk have purchased them that way?  Third, is Spider-Man really powerless to do anything about it?

I. Name and Likeness Rights

Name and likeness rights generally fall under the right of publicity, which is something that we (and guest author Brad Desnoyer) have talked about before.  As Brad noted, the right of publicity “protects an individual’s ability ‘to control the commercial use of his or her identity.'” (quoting 31 Causes of Action 2d 121).  In Spider-Man’s case, the rights of publicity at issue would likely cover his “stage name” and his likeness.

Since this all happens in New York, we can use the New York right of publicity statute.  The statute covers a person’s “name, portrait or picture.” N.Y. Civil Rights Law § 51.  A “name” can include a stage name, if it “has become known to the public and identifies its bearer virtually to the exclusion of his true name.”  See, e.g., DeClemente v. Columbia Pictures Indus. Inc., 860 F.Supp. 30, 53 (E.D.N.Y. 1994).  Under this standard, Spider-Man would qualify, as he is nationally known as Spider-Man and is essentially unknown as Peter Parker.  And of course his image would qualify as a “portrait or picture.”

So the rights at issue are pretty much as described in the comics (at least at the beginning; later on Spider-Man refers to Fisk owning “his copyright,” which is not accurate, unless Spider-Man was engaging in a little fourth wall-breaking.).

II. The Chain of Title and IP Holding Companies

From what I can tell from the comic, this all seems believable enough.  It’s not 100% clear to me how the movie studio drove the wrestling company into bankruptcy, but admittedly I haven’t read those earlier issues yet, so maybe that’s explained in more detail.  In any event, the maze of holding companies and subsidiaries is par for the course.  Many media companies have separate holding and licensing companies for characters, trademarks, and other IP.  For example, Marvel Entertainment, LLC (itself now a subsidiary of The Walt Disney Company) has three IP holding companies, including Marvel Characters, Inc.

You might be wondering why businesses bother creating IP holding companies.  The answer, as is so often the case with strange corporate behavior, is tax reduction:

Specifically, if a holding company is created to own the trademarks of the operating company, it can license those marks back to the operating company. In some states, tax income from royalties from license agreements owned by the holding company is exempt. Further, the state from which the income is paid, cannot tax that payment either. Finally, the operating company may deduct the royalty payments as operating expenses.

Allan J. Sternstein et al., Designing an Effective Intellectual Property Compliance Program, in Corp. Compl. Series: Intell. Prop. § 3:7 (2011).  Pretty sweet setup, huh?

III. So is Spider-Man Out of Luck?

Probably, unless his original contract with the wrestling company is invalid or unenforceable.  The New York statute allows a person to sign away (in writing) their right of publicity.  Interestingly, if the person is a minor, then their parent or guardian must give their written consent.  N.Y. Civil Rights Law § 50.  Ultimate Spider-Man is apparently a minor at the time, and I doubt Aunt May or Uncle Ben (who was still alive at the time) signed off on the wrestling contract, so that might be a way out.

Another issue might be whether the contract made the right of publicity assignable or available for sublicense.  If the contract was solely with Hercules Wrestling, then it might not have been properly assigned to C and C, leaving Fisk with nothing.  Unfortunately, Fisk’s storyline gets wrapped up before we find out whether Spider-Man had any legal way out.  Too bad, since he was already teamed up with Daredevil, and I’d think Murdock would like to not only see Fisk behind bars but also a piece of his business empire taken away from him.

IV. Conclusion

This was a nice application of what should be a significant issue in comics: within the fictional comic book world, superheroes and supervillains are real people and so have rights of publicity and privacy that would be worth a lot of money.  Shady licensing deals would likely abound, but some superheroes could become rich from merchandise sales and endorsements (or they could donate it to charity, as it is sometimes suggested that Superman does).  At the same time, a lot of the copyright issues that surround comic books in the real world wouldn’t exist.  Thus, instead of comic book authors getting raw deals, the superheroes themselves would.  Progress!

Damage Control: Leveraged Buyouts and Hostile Takeovers

A couple of weeks ago we talked about the first Damage Control series and suits against foreign governments. The second Damage Control series begins with the news that Damage Control’s joint owners (Wilson Fisk and Tony Stark) have sold the company to Carlton Co.  This leads to a somewhat complicated series of corporate financial maneuverings that deserve a closer look.

I. The Leveraged Buyout

Later, in issue 4 we learn the details of the buyout.  It turns out that Carlton Co. didn’t buy Damage Control outright.  Instead, it paid two-thirds of the price in cash and the other third via a loan from Wilson Fisk himself.  Partially debt-financing the purchase of a company is called a leveraged buyout.  Although the leveraged buyout originated in the 1950s, they became very popular among the ‘corporate raiders‘ of the 1980s, which probably inspired this storyline.

You may have noticed that it’s a little weird that Fisk would loan the money needed to buy out his own company.  And sure enough, Fisk was up to no good.  The loan was apparently at a high interest rate, and simply maintaining the payments was killing Carlton.  It’s likely that Fisk’s plan was to reap profitable interest payments until Carlton defaulted, then take the rest of Carlton’s interest in Damage Control, which was likely used as collateral on the loan.  Thus, Fisk would make a tidy sum and ends up with complete control of the company.

Luckily, the former Chief of Operations, Ms. Hoag, has hatched a plan with agents of SHIELD to save the company: a ‘hostile takeover.’

II. The ‘Hostile Takeover’

I put the term in quotes because it’s not really a hostile takeover, although that’s what the characters call it.  A hostile takeover can really only happen to a publicly traded company, which can’t directly control whom its shares are sold to.  In this case, Carlton Co. agreed to the sale of Damage Control to Hoag.  So how did that work?

Basically it was a mirror of the original acquisition.  Hoag apparently received a sum of money from the original sale, though news of the sale was a surprise to her, suggesting she may have been a non-voting shareholder.  Anyway, Hoag uses the money as collateral for a loan from SHIELD for the entire buyout price, which SHIELD will hide in its helicarrier appropriation budget.  So Hoag offered to buy Damage Control ‘at cost’ with SHIELD’s money, allowing Carlton Co. to pay off its debt to Fisk.  Admittedly, that means effectively wasting $438 million in interest payments, but it’s better than facing the wrath of the Kingpin.

(Side note: assuming the story occurred in real time, Carlton owned Damage Control for 4 months in late 1989-early 1990, at which time high yield (aka ‘junk’) bond rates were in the upper teens.  Assuming a rate of 17%, we can deduce that Fisk loaned Carlton about $7.7 billion, which would value Damage Control at $23 billion, or $37.8 billion adjusted for inflation.  That’s not necessarily utterly ridiculous given the size and frequency of their repair projects, but just for comparison, KBR, one of the largest construction companies in the United States, has a market cap of ‘just’ $3.6 billion.)

There’s a couple of mentions of the SEC during all of these plans, but I’m not sure it’s relevant, since Carlton and Damage Control seem to be private companies.  There’s no mention of shareholder meetings, stock prices, etc, throughout all of this.  Furthermore, Damage Control is taken public during Civil War.  It’s possible it was taken private in the interim, but I doubt it.

If the target company in either acquisition had been public, then the buyer would have had to file a Schedule 13D with the SEC within 10 days of a purchase of 5% or more of the target company.  In order to get enough shareholders to sell a controlling stake in the company, the buyer would probably have had to make a tender offer at a significant premium.  I’m not an expert on securities law, but I don’t think anything that went on here would have raised any eyebrows at the SEC.  The biggest issue is probably SHIELD (at the time a US government UN agency) getting into the loan business in a big way.  And just imagine how expensive the SHIELD helicarrier must be if a $23 billion loan could be hidden in the appropriations budget!

III. Conclusion

Although the writers play things a little fast and loose with the terminology, this series has a pretty good take on the leveraged buyout tactics used by private equity companies.  By the way, if you want to pick up the older Damage Control comics, you might skip the third series (the one after this one) unless you like your comics seriously goofy.

NOLHGA Annual Legal Seminar

We’re happy to announce that Ryan and I will be speaking at the National Organization of Life and Health Insurance Guaranty Associations20th Annual Legal Seminar, July 26-27 in Boston.  The program includes many fantastic speakers, and we’re excited to be among them.  We’ll be giving a talk on legal ethics using examples drawn from superhero attorneys such as Daredevil, She-Hulk, and Manhunter.  And on that note, can anyone recommend a good comic book store in the Back Bay area to check out while we’re in town?

Reaper and Deals with the Devil

We’ve talked about contracts with the devil on Law and the Multiverse before, in the context of the Ghost Rider movie.  Recently I’ve been catching up on the (sadly cancelled) TV show Reaper (available on DVD and via Netflix), which has the benefit of being considerably better than Ghost Rider was, but on the other hand it lacks Sam Elliott.

Anyway, Reaper‘s protagonist, Sam Oliver, is tasked by the Devil with capturing souls who have escaped from hell, most of whom have inexplicably gained supernatural powers related to their earthly sins.  In some cases the souls were people who had sold their souls to the Devil.  Normally this is done with a written contract, which we get glimpses of at various points in the show, but in one episode the Devil foolishly only made a verbal agreement with a mortal, Gary, and Sam is asked to get Gary’s signature on a written contract.  This leads to a couple of interesting legal issues.

(Note: We’re assuming that the Devil follows something close to common law contract law, as is typical in English and American Faustian bargain situations.)

I. Modification of Contracts

But wait, if the Devil already has a verbal agreement with Gary, why does he need a written contract?  If he wants to add new terms to the deal that weren’t covered in the verbal agreement (which seems likely given the size of the written contracts), then the Devil may also have to support that modification with additional consideration (i.e. something of value promised by the Devil).  According to the Restatement (Second) of Contracts:

A promise modifying a duty under a contract not fully performed on either side is binding
(a) if the modification is fair and equitable in view of circumstances not anticipated by the parties when the contract was made; or
(b) to the extent provided by statute; or
(c) to the extent that justice requires enforcement in view of material change of position in reliance on the promise.

Given the ‘gotcha’ nature of contracts with the Devil, we’d say subsection (a) doesn’t apply, since it’s highly unlikely that the new terms are fair and equitable.  Subsection (c) is basically a reference to promissory estoppel and wouldn’t seem to apply here, either.

It’s an interesting question whether subsection (b) applies, however.  It’s a reference to the Uniform Commercial Code’s rule that additional consideration is not required to modify a contract for the sale of goods.  Is the sale of a soul a sale of goods?  According to UCC § 2-103(k), “‘Goods’ means all things that are movable at the time of identification to a contract for sale.”  Is a soul movable at the time of the contract?  Maybe not, since (in the Reaper universe) the soul is attached to the body until death, at which point the soul either goes to heaven or hell.  On the other hand, the term also includes ‘future goods,’ but it isn’t clear to me that a soul would qualify, since it already exists, it just isn’t movable.

But let’s assume the Devil (and Gary) can find some worthwhile bit of new consideration in order to justify the modification, or that the requirement doesn’t apply.  Is there really a need for a written contract in the first place?  Couldn’t they modify the contract verbally? Is the original verbal contract even valid? It depends.

II. Signed Contracts and the Statute of Frauds

In general contracts do not have to be in writing.  The only fundamental requirements are an offer, acceptance of that offer, and consideration.  However, it was long ago recognized that some contracts deal with such important rights (e.g. ownership of land), that they really need to be written down.  And so the Statute of Frauds was created in England way back in 1677, and similar laws exist in most jurisdictions.  The exact terms vary from statute to statute, but two common terms are relevant here.  The first is that contracts involving the sale of goods above a certain value must be in writing.  The second is that contracts that cannot be performed within one year must be in writing.

It’s hard to say how much a soul is worth, and of course there’s the issue of whether it’s a sale of goods in the first place.  But in Gary’s case he sold his soul for material wealth far in excess of the minimum required by the Statute of Frauds, so as long as a soul is a ‘good,’ then the Statute of Frauds might be triggered.

As for the one year exception: it depends on the term.  Someone who made a deal to live for at least one more year might trigger it, or someone who made a deal for a million dollars a year every year for twenty years.  But most deals with the Devil seem to be wrapped up pretty quickly, and Gary’s was no exception.  In fact, the Devil even contemplates having Gary killed in order to cheat him out of an opportunity to repent.

But even if the Statute of Frauds is triggered, Gary might have painted himself into a corner by accepting the Devil’s performance of his end of the bargain (i.e. the delivery of at least some of the material wealth).  Acceptance of partial performance can prevent a party from claiming the Statute of Frauds as a defense.  See, e.g., Railan v. Katyal, 766 A.2d 998, 1007-08 (D.C. Ct. App. 2001).  So in this case at least, the contract did not need to be in writing as long as the Devil was satisfied with the terms of the verbal agreement.  The Devil is correct, however, that proving the existence and terms of the verbal agreement can be difficult.

III. Aliases

At one point Gary signs the contract, but he signs an alias (‘Jim Fartington’).  Gary claims that this is not binding against him, since that’s not his name.  In fact, there is no particular requirement that a signature be one’s legal name, much less written in cursive or the like.  Instead, a signature is just a physical record of the intent to make a contract.  “The signature to a memorandum may be any symbol made or adopted with an intention, actual or apparent, to authenticate the writing as that of the signer.” Restatement (Second) of Contracts § 134 (emphasis added).  So when Gary signed the contract, he did so with the apparent intention of authenticating the signature as his own.  Thus, he may well be bound by the contract.

IV. Conclusion

Reaper is a great show, and it’s a shame it was canceled.  Despite the plot revolving around contracts with the Devil, there aren’t too many legal issues, but this episode raised some great contract law issues that we don’t get to talk about on the blog very often.  In this case, the Devil probably actually had Gary dead to rights.  I guess the Devil should have consulted an attorney, which you’d think would be easy for him to arrange.

Damage Control: Suits Against Foreign Governments

This is the first post in a series on Damage Control, a limited-run series of comics  from Marvel about the eponymous construction company.  The series answers the question “who cleans up after the heroes and villains have finished fighting?” As you might imagine, it’s rife with legal issues.  Unfortunately, the first three volumes have not been collected as trade paperbacks, but you can start with the first issue here.  Today’s post actually comes from the second issue, which has a hilarious cover.

I. The Setup

The plot of the issue is pretty straightforward.  Damage Control handles reconstruction and repairs for villains as well as heroes, and Dr. Doom is a client. Unfortunately, his account is seriously in arrears, and so Albert Clearly, Damage Control’s comptroller, goes to the Latverian embassy in New York to collect. Once he arrives he is greeted by Count Gunter Flounder, who indicates that not only will Doom discontinue the use of Damage Control’s services but that they do not intend to pay the outstanding bill.  As such, “your only option would seem to be trying to sue a foreign government.”

As it happens, Flounder was apparently embezzling from Doom, not to mention hiding the fact that one of his buildings had been damaged. Doom fires Flounder (“I am nothing if not merciful”) and settles the account with a personal check.  But what if he hadn’t?  Could Damage Control have sued Latveria, assuming that their contract was with the country rather than Doom personally?

II. Suits Against Foreign Governments

Suing a foreign government in a United States court is possible, but it is difficult. The Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act establishes that foreign governments are immune from suit in US state and federal courts unless the claim falls within one of the exceptions in the Act.  The FSIA provides the sole basis for suing a foreign government in a US court.  See, e.g., Garb v. Republic of Poland, 440 F.3d 579, 581 (2d Cir. 2006).  So unless an FSIA exception applies, Damage Control is out of luck.  So what are those exceptions?

In general, the FSIA provides immunity for the public acts of foreign states but not for their private acts. The exceptions are listed in 28 U.S.C. §§ 1605, 1605A, but we are most interested in the commercial activity exception, since this is ultimately about a contract for services.

The first step is to determine whether the commercial activity was done with the  authority of the foreign state.  Some circuit courts have held that actual authority (as opposed to apparent authority) is required. See, e.g., Phaneuf v. Republic of Indonesia, 106 F.3d 302, 307 (9th Cir. 1997).  The Second Circuit, which includes  New York, has held that apparent authority may be sufficient. First Fidelity Bank, N.A. v. Government of Antigua & Barbuda–-Permanent Mission, 877 F.2d 189 (2d Cir. 1989).  Since Dr. Doom himself, the absolute monarch of Latveria, was apparently involved, actual authority seems a given, so the point is kind of moot.

The next step is to determine whether the case deals with commercial activity. In the words of the statute, whether “the action is based upon a commercial activity carried on in the United States by the foreign state.” 28 U.S.C. § 1605(a)(2).  The act further defines commercial activity as “[E]ither a regular course of commercial conduct or a particular commercial transaction or act. The commercial character of an activity shall be determined by reference to the nature of the course of conduct or particular transaction or act, rather than by reference to its purpose.”  28 U.S.C. § 1603(d).

The general rule is that an activity is commercial “when a foreign government acts, not as regulator of a market, but in the manner of a private player within it.” Republic of Argentina v. Weltover, Inc., 504 U.S. 607, 614 (1992).  With regard to contracts specifically,  “[T]he United States will be found to have had a substantial contact with that activity if substantial contractual negotiations occurred here or if substantial aspects of the contract were to be performed here.” Gibbons v. Udaras na Gaeltachta, 549 F. Supp. 1094, 1113 (S.D. N.Y. 1982); see also Transcor Astra Group S.A. v. Petroleo Brasileiro S.A.-Petrobras, 409 Fed. Appx. 787 (5th Cir. 2011).

In this case, Latveria contracted with a US company for commercial services to be provided within the United States, and I suspect that the contract was formed in the United States as well, or at least at the Latverian embassy in the United States. On that basis, the commercial activity exception would seem to apply, and Damage Control could have sued Latveria for breach of contract.

As an interesting side note, there would not be a jury trial.  Cases under the FSIA are virtually always bench trials.  The courts have held that a suit under the FSIA is not a suit at common law for Seventh Amendment purposes, and so there is no right to a jury trial. See, e.g. Kraikeman v. Sabena Belgian World Airlines, 674 F. Supp. 136 (S.D. N.Y. 1987).  This is because suits against foreign states were not available at common law at the time of the Seventh Amendment’s ratification in 1791.

I said FSIA cases are ‘virtually’ always bench trials because there appears to have been at least one exception, Martinelli v. Djakarta Lloyd P. N., 106 Misc. 2d 429 (N.Y. City Civ. Ct. 1980).  As in that case a foreign state can be sued in state court, though the FSIA gives foreign states the power to demand removal to federal court, where the case would be tried before a judge.  If a foreign state voluntarily stays in state court, it could be subject to a jury trial.

III. Conclusion

So although it might have been a difficult case (and an even more difficult collection process even if they won), Damage Control could probably have sued Latveria for breach of contract.  Damage Control, Inc. v. Kingdom of Latveria has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

Any Military Lawyers in the House?

We recently got a great question from a reader about The Avengers that involves the law of war, the UCMJ, and illegal orders.  That’s pretty far afield for us, and we don’t have a ton of research sources in that area.  Are there any military lawyers out there who might like to give us a hand with a post on it?  If so, send me an email!

Law and the Multiverse Holiday Special: Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day in the United States, which originated as a day of remembrance for Union soldiers who died in the American Civil War.  (It’s also a federal holiday, so please excuse the late post!)  Not too many comic book characters go back to the Civil War, but there is at least one character who participated in it, namely Wolverine.  While the mainstream continuity version of Wolverine was born in the late 1880s, the film version—as shown in X-Men Origins: Wolverine—was born in 1845 and fought in the Civil War on the side of the Union.

Naturally, Wolverine didn’t die in the Civil War, so he doesn’t quite fit the bill for Memorial Day.  But his Civil War veteran status raises an interesting question: could he qualify for a pension?

The Civil War marked a major expansion in military pensions with the passage of a new military pension act on July 14, 1862.  However, pensions were initially only available to soldiers who had been injured or disabled in the line of duty.  17 Stat. 566-69 (1863).  Given his healing factor, Wolverine wouldn’t qualify.  The Dependent and Disability Pension Act of 1890 removed the battlefield injury requirement but still limited pensions to veterans who had become unable to perform manual labor.  Once again, Wolverine is out of luck.

Finally, in 1907, the McCumber bill expanded pensions to include all Civil War veterans who served at least 90 days and were at least 62 years old.  34 Stat. 879 (1907).  Born in 1845, Wolverine would qualify beginning the same year the bill was passed.  Under the new law, he would collect $12/month at 62, $15/month at 70, and $20/month at 75.  That $20 would be $462 in today’s money, or $5500/year.  Later laws increased the pension amounts somewhat but they were never indexed to inflation.

So could Wolverine have collected that pension in perpetuity?  He probably could have.  The government continued to pay pensions to Civil War veterans and their families long after the war ended.  Gertrude Janeway, a widow of a Civil War veteran, collected a widow’s pension until she died in 2003.  As of 2009 there were still two children of Civil War veterans drawing veterans’ benefits.

On the other hand, a few hundred dollars a year hardly seems worth exposing his immortal status over, not to mention that attracting the attention of the military is probably pretty low on his list of priorities.  Still, it’s nice to know that, as a veteran, Wolverine would continue to be supported for his service to the US government.

Ororo T’Challa, Career Criminal?

(Note from May 8, 2020: Subculture for the Cultured is no longer online, so the links in this post have been changed to use the Internet Archive Wayback Machine.)

Our latest monthly column at Subculture for the Cultured has just been published.  It’s about the law of weather modification, and it contains some interesting surprises!  Check it out!

Law and the Multiverse CLE Reminder

We have two new live CLE courses coming up, courtesy of Thomson West: What Superheroes and Comic Books Can Teach Us About Constitutional Law today, May 23rd at 1PM Eastern and Real-Life Superheroes in the World of Criminal Law on May 30th, also at 1PM Eastern.  CLE accreditation is available in most states.  Last year’s CLE courses were a big hit, so we hope you’ll join us again this year!  Remember to use promo code MULTIVERSE30 for 30% off!

Death and Taxes and Zombies

Today we are excited to bring you a guest post from Professor Adam Chodorow of the Arizona State University’s Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law.  This post is excerpted from Professor Chodorow’s forthcoming article in the Iowa Law Review entitled Death and Taxes and Zombies.  You can view the full version of the article free online.  Thanks to Chris for tipping us off to the law review article and thanks to Professor Chodorow for preparing this excerpt.

The U.S. stands on the brink of financial disaster, and Congress has done nothing but bicker.  Of course, I refer to the coming day when the undead walk the earth, feasting on the living.  A zombie apocalypse will create an urgent need for significant government revenues to protect the living, while at the same time rendering a large portion of the taxpaying public dead or undead.  The government’s failure to anticipate or plan for this eventuality could cripple its ability to respond effectively.  The time to prepare is now, before panic sets in, and it is too late.  This post begins this critical task by considering whether someone who becomes a zombie should be considered dead for estate tax purposes.

I. A Zombie Taxonomy

Because the tax consequences of a zombie apocalypse may depend on the type of zombie encountered, I begin with a brief taxonomy of zombies.  While the word “zombie” originates in Haitian voodoo, the term has been applied to a variety of creatures over the years, such that there is now no generally accepted definition.  Congress has not seen fit to include a definition in the tax code, and, indeed, has not deigned to use the term.  Thus, developing a tight definition is not strictly necessary.

What follows are some of the key distinctions that may—or may not—have legal significance.  Some zombies are controlled by others (traditional Haitian zombies and the armies of Inferi raised by Lord Voldemort), while others are self-motivating (the zombies from George Romero’s ground-breaking documentary, Night of the Living Dead; the hit reality television program, The Walking Dead; and the classic work of putative fiction, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies).

Within the category of self-motivated zombies, distinctions may be made based on volition, abilities, and personality.  Some zombies slowly stumble along in search of brains upon which to feed, exhibiting little personality or ability to think (Night of the Living Dead).  Others move quickly, organize, and learn (Dawn of the Dead).  Still others retain some of the memories or personalities of the original person (American Zombie and Pet Sematary).

Another way to distinguish among zombies is the method by which people become zombies.  Controlled zombies are typically created through some form of dark magic.  Zombies can also be created by viruses (either naturally occurring (Zombieland and Zone One) or man-made (28 Days Later and I am Legend)), radiation (Night of the Living Dead), biochemical agents (Planet Terror), and even a mysterious meteor (The Zombies of Lake Woebegotton).  In some cases, one must be infected by a zombie to become a zombie (World War Z); in others, no prior zombie contact is necessary (Lake Woebegotton).  In some cases it is unclear how zombies are created.  Take, for example, Michael Jackson’s classic thriller, Thriller.  We simply don’t know what caused the first person to go zombie, and unless Michael comes back, we likely never will.

Finally, some people must die before becoming zombies, while others appear to make a seamless transition from living to undead.  There is often a connection between cause and the type of zombie created.  For instance, zombies arising from viruses often retain some vestige of their former personalities.  Controlled zombies are typically dead and retain none of the original person’s personality or memories.  Zombies of those who don’t die first are typically fast, while those whose progenitors died are typically slow.  However, it is possible to find zombies in each category that do not fit the typical pattern.  The Venn diagram is so confusing that I have opted to omit it in the interests of clarity.  This chart from Yahoo! Movies gives some sense of the complexity involved.

II. The Dead, the Undead, and the Death Tax

The most pressing tax issue raised by a zombie apocalypse is the application of the so-called “death tax,” which imposes a tax on the transfer of the estate of a “decedent.”  Zombies have been described variously as the “walking dead,” the “undead,” and the “living dead,” raising the question whether the estate tax should apply when a taxpayer becomes a zombie or, in the alternative, after a person’s zombie has been dispatched.

The definition of death, and therefore of a decedent, has generally been left to the states, each of which has its own definition.  That said, there has been a recent trend away from a definition that focuses on heart function to one that focuses on brain function.  Whether people who become zombies would be considered dead for state law purposes depends both on the definition used and the type of zombie involved.

It seems a stretch to conclude that those who transform seamlessly into zombies should be considered dead.  They never lose heart or brain function, though they now function quite differently from before.  While it might be tempting to declare them dead, significant line-drawing problems would arise as one tried to distinguish between zombies and those who have suffered some mental or physical breakdown.  Declaring such zombies dead would open the door to declaring dead a wide range of people currently considered to be alive.

The more interesting question is whether someone who has clearly died under state law and then been reanimated as a zombie should be considered dead.  For those whose dead bodies are simply under the control of a sorcerer, it would seem that the answer is yes.  A corpse magically manipulated by another is nothing more than a puppet with no heart or brain function and should qualify as dead under state law.

In contrast, most self-motivated zombies likely would be considered alive under most state law definitions.  They must have a biological mechanism by which they think and move, which typically requires brain function and some means of keeping the body nourished.  Indeed, in The Walking Dead, tests reveal that the brain function ceases and then restarts sometime later, though at a far lower level than before.  The normal way to dispatch a zombie is by destroying the brain, strongly suggesting that they would pass most brain-function definitions of death.

However, the question isn’t whether zombies can be considered alive, but rather whether, if someone’s zombie is alive, the original person can still be considered dead.  This hints at the far larger questions of how the law should treat resurrection generally and whether different types of resurrection should be treated differently.  For instance, some, like Lazarus, return intact.  Others may return as flesh-eating monsters.  Shockingly, the tax code is silent on this issue, a silence that is even more surprising when one considers that most of our legislators purport to be devout Christians, for whom resurrection is a core belief.

Those who come back fully intact would seem to be still alive, much as people legally presumed dead are still alive when they turn up years later (See, e.g., Castaway).  Those who return in altered state present a more difficult question.  A flesh-eating automaton is just not the same person the Nobel laureate he used to be.  In some real sense, the laureate has died, even if his body and some part of his brain live on.  Thus, it seems possible that the law could deem the zombie alive, without necessarily affecting the status of the original as dead.

Of course, the question we are trying to answer is not whether a person who becomes a zombie should be considered dead under state law.  Our goal is to determine whether such a person should be considered a decedent for federal estate tax purposes.  Tax law typically piggybacks on top of state law, meaning that someone considered dead for state law purposes would normally be considered dead for federal tax purposes as well.  However, federal tax law deviates from state law in a number of situations, including the question of what constitutes a devise, bequest or inheritance.  Thus, it is not unreasonable to think that a person could be dead under state law, but not a decedent for federal tax purposes.  Conversely, someone alive under state law definitions could be deemed dead for federal tax purposes.

The key justification for allowing federal tax law to deviate from state law is uniformity.  It would be unseemly if tax law deviated from state to state because of differences in state law.  Administrability is also a chief concern.  Imagine trying to determine whether people are dead under 50 different state laws while in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.  These concerns strongly suggest the need for a uniform federal standard, detached from the myriad state laws.  However, they do not suggest what the standard should be.  As with the state laws defining death, federal tax laws are surprisingly silent on the legal consequences of becoming a zombie, creating a dire need for clear guidance.

III. Conclusion

The application of the death tax to zombies only scratches the surface of the legal issues the undead present.  For instance, it is necessary to determine whether one remains married under state law to someone who becomes a zombie, and, if so, whether the Defense of Marriage Act, bars Federal recognition of said marriage.  And, then there are vampires.  But such issues must await another day, assuming it is not already too late.