The Supreme Court’s interest in personal jurisdiction has waxed and waned since the iconic International Shoe Co. v. Washington, cycling between thirteen-year spurts of jurisdictional pronouncements followed by two decades of silence. From International Shoe in 1945 to Hanson v. Denckla in 1958, the Supreme Court issued six personal jurisdiction decisions that developed the minimum contacts analysis under the Due Process Clause. The Court then took an almost twenty-year break before returning to the adjudicative jurisdictional fray in another thirteen-year stint from 1977 to 1990, this time resolving ten personal jurisdiction cases. After failing to coalesce around a majority opinion in its last two attempts, the Supreme Court withdrew again from the field, leaving the lower federal and state courts to their own devices for slightly more than twenty years, until the Roberts Court re-engaged with personal jurisdiction a decade ago.

The March 2021 decision of Ford Motor Co. v. Montana Eighth Judicial District1 completes the triangulation of specific personal jurisdiction under the U.S. Constitution.2 Combined with the Court’s recent narrowing of general jurisdiction and longstanding adherence to tag and consent-based jurisdiction, personal jurisdiction in the United States is beginning to exhibit contours that are more defined and concrete.3 What does this state of personal jurisdiction mean for future developments? And how does it compare to the way other countries have structured personal jurisdiction? This Article offers answers to those questions.

In this Article, I aim to sketch out the claim that the Roberts Court quietly—and perhaps not entirely intentionally—is pushing 28 U.S.C. § 1331 federal question subject matter jurisdiction doctrine toward a more rights-inclusive approach that fosters a greater doctrinal focus upon congressional intent. I have noted this movement toward more focus upon congressional intent in prior work in the context of one Roberts Court case, Mims v. Arrow Financial Services, LLC. In this Article, I point to a similar shift in five other cases: Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela v. Helmerich & Payne Int’l Drilling Co., Merrill Lynch, Pierce, Fenner & Smith Inc. v. Manning, Gunn v. Minton, Arbaugh v. Y&H Corp., and Empire Healthchoice Assurance, Inc. v. McVeigh. I consider this move, even if modest, a positive outcome and one that, perhaps, points to legal process school underpinnings for the Roberts Court’s procedural rulings.

Visitors of the Neue Galerie in New York have been able to view the famous, gold portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer by Gustav Klimt since 2006. However, the portrait was not always housed there. Nazis stole the painting following the Anschluss and showcased it in the Vienna Austrian Gallery. Nearly a century would pass before the painting was returned to its rightful owner. Unfortunately, the Klimt painting represents a minority of returned artworks, with a majority of pieces remaining separated from their original owners or their heirs. Such pieces are often subject to considerable controversy and numerous lawsuits. Notable examples of controversial art pieces include the jewels of the Russian Imperial collection showcased in the National Gallery, Madame Cezanne in the Conservatory showcased in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (“the Met”), and The Night Café showcased at Yale University (“Yale”). Like Adele Bloch-Bauer, these art pieces were taken during a time of conflict and political turmoil. In 1917, the Bolshevik regime confiscated much of the Russian Empire’s private art collections, including the jewels of the Russian Imperial collection, Madame Cezanne in the Conservatory, and The Night Café. While the United States has returned multiple Nazi-looted artworks, like the Adele Bloch-Bauer portrait, the United States has yet to return any Bolshevik-looted art to its rightful heirs.

In 2016, Florida became home to the first publicly reported fatality in the U.S. from a Tesla vehicle operating in autopilot mode. In 2018, 2019, and 2021 three other fatal crashes were reported involving Tesla’s autopilot features. Families of the victims in the 2018 California incident and the 2019 Florida incident filed suit against Tesla. Although the U.S. legal system often holds wrongdoers responsible for such damages, contract law allows consenting parties to limit the liability of otherwise responsible parties. Tesla, the number one manufacturer of semi-autonomous vehicles, does exactly that by conditioning the purchase of a Tesla vehicle on a contractual clause that limits its liability for damages associated with the vehicle. Because Tesla’s limitation of liability clause likely contravenes Florida’s public policy, this Article shows that semi-autonomous vehicle manufacturers may struggle to enforce limitation of liability contracts in relation to their vehicles, even though such contracts may be upheld in other jurisdictions.