
Georgia gave the insurance lobby its model. Missouri is showing how the model gets installed.
At least eight tort reform bills are moving through the Missouri legislature right now. The session ends May 15. The provisions read like someone printed out Georgia's SB 68, cut it into pieces, and filed each section under a different bill number. Collateral source gutted. Anchoring banned. Statute of limitations slashed from five years to two. Expert witness standards tightened. Recovery barred for entire categories of plaintiffs.
If you read what happened in Georgia and thought that's their problem, Missouri is the reason it isn't.
Georgia passed a single omnibus bill. One vote, one signature, one news cycle. Missouri's version is harder to see because it doesn't look like one bill. It looks like eight.
Spread across those eight bills are the same provisions that rewrote Georgia plaintiff practice overnight. A collateral source overhaul that limits juries to seeing what was actually paid, not what was billed. A ban on attorneys referencing any specific dollar amount for noneconomic damages.
Then Missouri added its own. A cut to the statute of limitations from five years to two, turning one of the longest filing windows in the country into one of the shortest. A push to adopt the Daubert standard for expert testimony, which would raise the cost and narrow the availability of every expert you retain. And a bill heard in committee last month that bars entire categories of plaintiffs from recovering at all.
The heaviest provisions aren't even in the bills that carry them. Collateral source and damages reforms are expected to be amended onto narrower bills as they move to the floor. File something that can survive committee. Bolt the real payload on later. By the time the full package is visible, it's already moving.
Every tort reform push needs a villain. In Missouri, it's St. Louis.
The $462 million Wabash National verdict from September 2024 is the defense lobby's exhibit A: a trucking crash case where the jury was not permitted to hear that neither occupant was wearing a seatbelt. ATRA calls St. Louis a magnet for out-of-state plaintiffs and forum-shopping trial lawyers. It has been on the Judicial Hellholes list for years.
What the Hellholes report does not mention: ATRA has acknowledged it is not an empirical study. The rankings reflect the priorities of ATRA's members: insurers and corporate defendants. They are not an independent assessment of judicial fairness. St. Louis delivers large verdicts because the injuries are real, the negligence is provable, and juries in the city take the cases seriously.
But the framing works. And the bills it justifies don't just apply in St. Louis. They apply statewide.
The coalition behind these bills is documented in Missouri Bar legislative records. The Missouri Chamber of Commerce named tort reform one of its four "critical needs" this session. ATRA, the U.S. Chamber, and the American Property Casualty Insurance Association are all on the record in support. On the other side of every hearing: the Missouri Association of Trial Attorneys. A handful of individual attorneys. That's it.
ATRA's latest Hellholes report claims Missouri residents pay $1,216 per year in what it calls a "tort tax." That number appears in every proponent's talking points and in local media coverage without attribution or scrutiny. The same organizations that drafted Georgia's SB 68 are on the record supporting every one of these bills. They are not adapting the playbook. They are running it.
Plaintiff bars have historically stopped tort reform the same way everywhere: build Senate relationships, kill the bill in committee, wait out the session clock. Missouri's plaintiff bar did exactly that last year. The statute of limitations bill cleared the House and went nowhere.
But the swarm strategy changes the math. When reform arrives as eight bills instead of one, there is no single bill to kill. When the heaviest provisions get amended onto unrelated legislation in the final weeks, there is no committee hearing to organize against. The traditional defense assumes a frontal assault. This is not that.
Missouri's session ends May 15. The governor signed class action tort reform a year ago. Days, not weeks. It is enough.
One provision still missing from Missouri's package: mandatory bifurcation. Georgia's SB 68 gave defendants the right to split liability and damages into separate trials. Missouri hasn't filed that bill yet. If it shows up as an amendment in the final weeks, the Georgia template will be nearly complete.
The lesson from Georgia was that the bill existed. The lesson from Missouri is how it travels. Not as a single package with a single name that the plaintiff bar can organize against. As a dozen bills with a dozen sponsors, each one narrow enough to seem reasonable on its own, each one carrying a provision that changes how you try a case.
Louisiana passed its version. South Carolina passed its version. Missouri is days, not weeks, from passing its version. The question for every plaintiff attorney reading this is whether you're going to learn the playbook from the states that already lost. Or from your own.