Solo and small-firm attorneys have five real ways to use AI for client work. Each trades off privilege, convenience, and cost differently.
The five options
Option
Privilege-safe?
Effort
Cost (typical)
Consumer chat (ChatGPT free/Pro, Claude.ai Pro)
No — Consumer Terms include training opt-out and weaker retention
Lowest
$0–$20/month
Commercial API + your own wrapper
Yes — Commercial Terms, no training, includes DPA
Highest (you build it)
~$100–500/month depending on volume
Managed legal-AI SaaS
Yes
Lowest
~$500/month and up
AI-in-a-box appliance
Yes — data never leaves the device
Medium (setup + hardware)
~$500–700/month equivalent
On-prem frontier model on your own hardware
Yes
Highest
$10K+ hardware, ongoing setup
Top-spec Mac Studio running local LLMs
Yes — data never leaves the device
High (RAG setup, model selection, ongoing tuning
~$10K up front, plus your time
Consumer plans are cheap because they’re subsidized. The subsidy comes with terms of service that make those tiers inappropriate for privileged content.
Every option that’s honest about privilege costs real money, because frontier intelligence at attorney-workload volume costs real money to deliver. The legitimate options cluster in roughly the same price band.
One caveat worth naming about the local-hardware options: they run open-weights models — GPT-OSS, Gemma, Llama, Qwen, DeepSeek — rather than proprietary frontier models. As of 2026, that’s much less of a capability gap than it used to be; OpenAI’s GPT-OSS-120B and others are genuinely strong on reasoning benchmarks and run on a maxed Mac Studio. But for legal work specifically, the gap is unknown in any rigorous sense — there’s no public benchmark for “which model spots the most issues in a SaaS MSA” — and proprietary models still hold edges on coding, long-context, and agentic tasks. The right way to evaluate this for your practice is to actually try the same contract through both and see.
So that leaves two practical paths for solos:
(1) pay for a managed platform;
(2) Build a thin wrapper around the commercial API.
KJedi is the second option.
What KJedi is
KJedi is a small open-source Next.js web app that runs only on your laptop. Upload a contract (PDF or DOCX), chat with Claude (Opus 4.7 as of this writing) about the terms, generate a red/yellow/green review memo.
Localhost only. No hosted service. Outbound traffic goes to the Anthropic API only.
Your API key, server-side. Lives in .env.local. Never touches the browser.
Nothing persists. No database, no logs, no analytics. Document and chat history live in memory only and clear on tab close.
System prompt is yours. Plain TypeScript file at lib/system-prompt.ts. Read, edit, fork.
What it’s tuned for
California AI/SaaS tech-transactions:
AI-specific clauses (training data rights, output ownership, IP indemnity for AI outputs, model substitution, accuracy disclaimers, prompt/output confidentiality, upstream-model-provider disclosure)
Vendor agreements with AI components (OpenAI, Anthropic, AWS Bedrock, Google Vertex)
Privacy: CCPA/CPRA, GDPR, DPAs
IP assignments, contractor and employee IP/confidentiality, NDAs
Open-source compliance and AI training-data provenance
Not tuned for other practice areas or litigation. KJedi flags when a contract is outside its lane. Fork the system prompt for your own practice areas.
What it costs to run
A typical contract review session (upload, several follow-up questions, generate memo) should run just a few dollars in API costs. Steady client volume could therefore cost a few hundred dollars per month. Comparable to the managed platforms, with the wrapper logic and system prompt in your control.
Before using it on client work
Verify your Anthropic account is on Commercial Terms, not Consumer Terms. API access via the console defaults to Commercial Terms once you add a payment method. Claude.ai Pro/Max is governed by Consumer Terms. Confirm in your Anthropic console.
This is open-source experimental software, not a vetted vendor product. Read the code, audit the dependencies, verify the system prompt is adequate for your needs, and verify your own machine’s configuration.
Verify every citation before relying on it. Treat the output as a junior associate’s first pass, never the final word, including in the system prompt.
Founder Spotlight articles are editorial profiles drafted with AI assistance and reviewed by Marc Hoag. They are based on publicly available information about the featured company and its founders. Spotted an error or want a correction? Email me.
Enterprise sensor networks generate more data than they can move. A single satellite pass produces gigabytes. A fleet of autonomous vehicles streams terabytes per day. Medical imaging systems, industrial robotics, drone networks, all drowning in their own output. Traditional compression algorithms were built for static files. They can’t learn what matters in a stream of multispectral video or LiDAR point clouds. The result: massive infrastructure costs, latency bottlenecks, and analytics pipelines that operate on stale or downsampled data because the raw feed is simply too large to process in real time.
The problem they’re solving
The Compression Company addresses a specific infrastructure problem that grows worse as sensor hardware improves. Better cameras and faster sampling rates don’t help if the data can’t leave the device or cross the network in time to be useful. Enterprises are caught between throwing away data (and losing signal) or building expensive pipelines to handle it. Standard compression — whether JPEG, H.264, or lossless algorithms — treats all pixels equally. They can’t distinguish signal from noise in domain-specific sensor streams. A neural codec trained on satellite imagery or medical scans, by contrast, learns what downstream tasks actually need. It discards noise intelligently and preserves what matters, achieving 50x compression in some benchmarks while keeping reconstructed data visually indistinguishable from the original.
The company’s approach runs at the edge, on the device itself, before data ever leaves the sensor. No hardware changes required. Just a software layer that learns from your specific data and adapts as sensor conditions shift.
Why these founders
Michael Stanway and Joe Griffith come from deep backgrounds in signal processing and systems engineering, the kind of foundation that makes neural compression possible without magical thinking. Stanway has spent years working in data infrastructure and sensor systems; Griffith brings expertise in building production AI systems that run on constrained hardware. Neither is new to the problem space. They’ve both worked on the operational side of large-scale data pipelines, which meant they saw the compression problem not as an academic exercise but as a recurring cost center that killed margins. That operational context shows in the product.
Why we’re watching
The legal surface area expands quietly as sensor networks grow. From satellite imagery to drone footage and medical scans, compression directly affects privacy and compliance. Compress poorly, and you’re transmitting unnecessary detail that should never leave the device. Compress carelessly, and you risk downstream liability: if a reconstructed image contains artifacts that bias an AI diagnostic or autonomous decision, who bears responsibility? There’s also IP strategy to consider. Custom-trained models become proprietary assets, but they’re also tied to specific hardware and data regimes. As adoption spreads, data processing agreements (DPAs) with cloud providers, edge infrastructure vendors, and customers all hinge on where compression happens and what gets retained.
The company’s February funding round — $3.4M lead by Long Journey, an early investor in SpaceX and Uber — signals confidence in the model. As they scale into regulated verticals like medical imaging, autonomous vehicles, financial surveillance, the governance layer around AI-native compression becomes material.
Hoag Law.ai provides flat-rate fractional general counsel services for AI-native startups, covering SaaS contracts, privacy compliance, AI governance, and startup IP strategy. Learn more →
This is educational material and does not constitute legal advice nor is any attorney/client relationship created with this article, hence you should contact and engage an attorney if you have any legal questions.
Unfortunately, all your apps still list your full name as the “Developer” instead of YourCompany, LLC.
The Apple Developer Program has two flavors
The Apple Developer Program comes in two account types. Individual accounts are for people building apps as themselves — your legal name appears as the developer on every app you publish. Organization accounts are for businesses, with the company name appearing as the developer.
If you started solo (as most indie devs do), you have an Individual account. Which means every app you’ve ever shipped is publicly attributed to you, the human, regardless of what entity legally owns it.
This is a mismatch problem. Legally, your LLC owns the app’s IP (if you properly assigned the IP), the contracts with users, and the revenue stream. But Apple’s public-facing listing says you, personally, are the publisher.
Why this mismatch matters
For most indie devs, this isn’t catastrophic. Your apps still work. Customers still pay. The world keeps spinning. But the mismatch creates real friction in three places:
Customer trust. A user looking at your app and seeing your personal name as the developer might wonder why the privacy policy and TOS reference a different entity. It’s a small inconsistency, but inconsistencies erode trust.
Tax and accounting. Apple issues 1099s and processes payouts based on the developer account. If your account is in your personal name but your business is in your LLC’s name, your bookkeeping has to constantly reconcile the two. Easier to just have everything flow through the LLC.
Due diligence and acquisitions. If you ever sell the app, an acquirer’s lawyer will notice immediately that the App Store listing doesn’t match the entity that owns the IP. Now you’re explaining a paper trail and producing migration documents at the worst possible moment.
Brand consistency. “Made by Acme, LLC” looks more legitimate than “Made by John Q. Founder” — especially as your business grows.
The fix: migrate from individual to organization
Apple actually has a dedicated process for this. It’s called migrating from an individual to an organization membership, and it preserves everything that matters: your apps stay live, your reviews stay attached, your ratings carry over, your in-app purchases keep working. The only thing that changes is the developer name on every listing.
What you’ll need:
A D-U-N-S number for your business. D-U-N-S is a unique identifier issued by Dun & Bradstreet that Apple uses to verify organizations. If your LLC doesn’t already have one, you can request it for free through Apple’s lookup tool at developer.apple.com/enroll/duns-lookup. Apple has a partnership with D&B that gets new D-U-N-S numbers issued in 5 business days or less — even just minutes or hours — versus weeks if you go directly through D&B.
A business website. Apple wants to verify your organization is real. A simple holding company landing page is enough — it doesn’t need to be elaborate. Just something at yourcompany.com that confirms your entity exists.
A business email address.[email protected] works much better for verification than [email protected]. Cloudflare Email Routing handles this for free if you don’t want to pay for a separate Workspace seat. Or, just set up a domain alias in your Google Workspace account for free.
Your EIN and basic business info. Legal entity name, principal address, phone number, contact details.
The actual process
Once you have those four things:
Go to developer.apple.com → Account → Membership → Update your information
Select “Switch to organization membership”
Provide your D-U-N-S number, EIN, business address, and authorized contact
Submit and wait
Apple’s stated turnaround is one business day. In practice, it can take longer — especially if your D-U-N-S record is brand new and they want to verify it independently. Some submissions get lost in the queue and need a follow-up. Don’t panic if you don’t hear back immediately, but do follow up after 3-5 business days if there’s silence.
What changes (and what doesn’t) after migration
Changes:
Developer name on every App Store listing updates to your LLC
Your previous individual account becomes deprecated
New paid agreement and tax forms (W-9) need to be executed under the LLC
Banking information needs to be updated to your business account
All future payouts go to the LLC
Does NOT change:
Your apps stay live throughout the migration
Reviews and ratings carry over
In-app purchases continue to work
Customers don’t need to do anything
Your Apple ID (the login) stays personal — you log in as you, typically via your iCloud account, but you manage the LLC’s account
That last point trips people up. Your Apple ID is your personal authentication. The team/organization you manage with that login is the LLC. Same way you might log into a corporate bank account with your personal credentials but manage the company’s funds.
A note on timing
Don’t migrate the day you form the LLC. Wait until:
Your LLC is fully approved by your state
You have your EIN
You’ve signed the IP assignment transferring your apps to the LLC
You’ve set up business email, a basic company website, and your bank account (probably just use Mercury for speed, simplicity, and startup-friendliness)
These prerequisites take maybe a week if you’re focused. Trying to migrate before they’re in place will get your application bounced.
The bottom line
If you’re an indie iOS developer who started as an Individual on the Apple Developer Program and later formed an LLC, your App Store listings are out of sync with reality. The fix is a free D-U-N-S number and a one-time migration that takes about an hour of your time and a week of waiting on Apple. Pair this with a properly executed IP assignment and your indie app business actually matches the legal structure you formed.
Hoag Law.ai provides flat-rate fractional general counsel services for AI-native startups, SaaS companies, and founders. If you need help with entity formation, IP assignment, or developer account migrations, get in touch.
This is educational material and does not constitute legal advice nor is any attorney/client relationship created with this article, hence you should contact and engage an attorney if you have any legal questions.
You’ve just vibe coded your first (or second, or third, …, or nth) app, and you did what every responsible founder does: you formed an LLC.
You breathe a sigh of relief. You feel protected. You’re confident that if your Stripe API key is hacked for your new SaaS, you’ll be just fine.
And you’d be completely, catastrophically wrong.
Your LLC is an empty safe
The thing that nobody seems to tell you is that forming an LLC does not transfer your intellectual property into it.
Your app, your source code, your domains, your brand, your content, it all still belongs to you, the individual human who created it. Not your LLC. Your LLC is a legal entity that currently owns nothing. It’s a basically an empty safe with nothing inside it.
Think of it like buying a house. You can create a trust to hold real estate, but until you actually deed the property to the trust, the trust owns nothing and the house is still in your personal name. The same principle applies to intellectual property and LLCs.
Why this matters
If you’re thinking “okay, but it’s my LLC, I’m the only member, what’s the difference?” The difference is the entire point of having an LLC in the first place.
Liability protection only works for assets the LLC actually owns.
If someone sues your LLC, only the LLC’s assets are at risk. Your personal assets are protected. That’s the whole point. But if your app’s IP isn’t in the LLC, then it’s not an LLC asset; it’s still just a personal asset. And that means it’s still exposed to personal liability. You created the LLC to build a wall between your personal life and your business, but then left your most valuable assets on the wrong side of the wall.
Also, due diligence will catch this.
If you ever raise funding, bring on a co-founder, or sell your company, the very first thing a lawyer will check is the chain of title to your IP. “Does the company actually own what it claims to own?” If the answer is “well, the founder formed an LLC and updated the copyright notice on the website,” that’s a failed diligence check. Deals die over this. Purchase prices get cratered over this.
You can’t assert rights you don’t have.
Even worse, if someone infringes your app’s IP, your LLC can’t enforce those rights because it doesn’t own them. You’d have to sue personally, which defeats the entire purpose of the entity structure in the first place.
Fortunately, the fix is (relatively) simple
What you need is an Intellectual Property Assignment Agreement, a document where you, the individual, formally assign (transfer) all right, title, and interest in your pre-existing IP to your LLC.
This isn’t a 50-page contract. It’s a straightforward document that says, in essence: “I, [Your Name], hereby assign to [Your LLC] all intellectual property associated with [Your App], including source code, domains, trademarks, content, and associated accounts.”
The key elements of this Agreement include things like:
Present-tense operative language.
The document must say you “hereby assign” — not “agree to assign.” This distinction actually matters in court. “Hereby assign” creates an immediate transfer. “Agree to assign” creates only a promise to transfer later, which can fail if you never follow through. A federal circuit court has ruled on exactly this distinction.
A specific list of what’s being assigned.
Domains, repositories, app store listings, social media accounts, content, subscriber lists — everything. Use schedules and be thorough.
Representations that you own what you’re assigning.
You warrant that you’re the sole owner, that there are no liens or encumbrances, and that you’re not bound by any prior agreement (like an employer’s invention assignment clause) that would conflict.
A catch-all provision.
“And all other intellectual property related to the foregoing not specifically listed herein.” This sweeps in anything you forgot.
Signatures. Twice.
Yes, you sign the document twice. Once as yourself (the assignor) and once as the sole member of your LLC (the assignee). It looks absurd. It is what it is.
If you’ve worked at a startup, you’ve already done this
If you’ve ever been employed at a startup — or any tech company, really — you almost certainly signed something called a PIIA (Proprietary Information and Inventions Agreement) or CIIAA (Confidential Information and Invention Assignment Agreement) on your first day.
That PIIA contained, among other things, an IP assignment clause. It said that any inventions you create during your employment belong to the company. That clause is doing the exact same thing as the standalone IP assignment I’m describing here — transferring IP from an individual to an entity.
The difference is that a PIIA bundles five things into one document: the IP assignment, a confidentiality agreement, a non-solicitation clause, a non-compete, and a return-of-property obligation. All of those extra sections exist because the PIIA governs a relationship between an employee and a company the employee doesn’t own. The company needs to protect itself from the employee.
When you’re a solo founder assigning IP to your own LLC, you don’t need any of that. You can’t steal trade secrets from yourself. You can’t poach your own employees. You can’t compete with yourself. Strip away the employment protections and what’s left is the IP assignment, exactly the document you need.
Same legal mechanism. The PIIA just has a bigger wrapper around it because it’s governing a more complex relationship. Your situation is simpler, so your document is simpler. But the core engine — “I hereby assign all right, title, and interest” — is identical.
What you do NOT need
You do not need to register in all 50 states because your app is available on the internet nationwide. This is a common panic. “Doing business in” a state has a specific legal meaning that does not include “has customers who access a website.” If you’re a solo operator in California selling software on the internet, you register in California. That’s it.
You do not need a registered agent if you’re comfortable using your home address for your LLC filing. A registered agent is a privacy convenience, not a legal necessity (you can serve as your own).
You do not need to file the IP assignment agreement with any government agency. It’s an internal corporate document. Sign it, date it, file it in a folder. It only needs to see the light of day if someone asks — and if they ask, you’ll be very glad you have it.
What about IP you create AFTER forming the LLC?
This is the question most people don’t think to ask: once your LLC exists, who owns the things you build going forward?
The answer is: it depends on your operating agreement. If your operating agreement includes a clause stating that all IP created by members in connection with the company’s business belongs to the company, you’re covered prospectively. If it doesn’t — or if you don’t have an operating agreement at all (which is its own problem) — there’s still a gap.
The IP assignment covers the past. The operating agreement covers the future. You need both.
And the moment you bring on anyone — a contractor, an employee, a co-founder, even a freelance designer who makes you a logo — you’ll need a Proprietary Information and Inventions Agreement (PIIA) or Confidential Information and Invention Assignment Agreement (CIIAA) to ensure their work product belongs to the company. But that’s a topic for another post.
The bottom line
If you vibe coded an app, formed an LLC, and updated your website footer, you’re roughly one-third of the way to actually being protected. The LLC is the container. The IP assignment is what puts your stuff inside it. Without both, you have a business entity that owns nothing and personal assets that aren’t shielded.
The good news: Hoag Law.ai can help you do this, so come say hi.
Founder Spotlight articles are editorial profiles drafted with AI assistance and reviewed by Marc Hoag. They are based on publicly available information about the featured company and its founders. Spotted an error or want a correction? Email me.
Most AI voice platforms are elegant veneers over someone else’s infrastructure. Companies string together third-party APIs for telephony, speech recognition, and AI processing, then hope the seams don’t show when customers need to scale. The result is predictable: dropped calls, inconsistent performance, and finger-pointing when something breaks.
The problem they’re solving
Enterprise voice automation has been trapped in a cycle of compromise. Companies either settle for rigid, legacy call center software that can’t adapt to modern AI capabilities, or they build fragile systems by duct-taping multiple vendors together. Neither approach delivers the reliability enterprises need for mission-critical voice interactions at scale.
Fluents.ai takes a different approach: they own the entire stack. From telephony infrastructure to AI orchestration, they’ve built a unified platform that handles both inbound support and outbound campaigns without the integration headaches. Their system can deploy AI agents in under an hour through no-code tools, while still offering full API control for developers who need programmable voice capabilities.
The platform serves healthcare, finance, law, and SaaS verticals with AI agents that handle everything from qualifying leads and booking meetings to routing conversations and managing reception duties. One healthcare team reports saving $300,000 annually, while agencies are automating 90,000 daily calls through the system.
Why these founders
Florent de Goriainoff, a former Head of Customer Engineering at Google Cloud, and Peter Nga, his CTO with MIT engineering roots, bring complementary technical backgrounds to a problem that requires both deep infrastructure expertise and product intuition. The decision to build rather than integrate the core stack suggests founders who understand the technical complexity of voice AI and aren’t satisfied with surface-level solutions.
Their approach to verticalization across healthcare, finance, and legal sectors indicates an understanding of regulated industries where reliability and compliance aren’t optional features.
Why we’re watching
Voice AI platforms operating at enterprise scale face a maze of regulatory considerations that many founders underestimate. Healthcare deployments must navigate HIPAA compliance for voice data processing and storage. Financial services applications trigger additional scrutiny around data handling and customer communications. Legal sector integrations raise attorney-client privilege questions when AI systems process sensitive conversations.
The EU AI Act adds another layer of complexity for any platform processing voice data at scale, particularly around transparency requirements and risk categorization. Companies that own their full stack have more control over compliance implementations, but they also bear full responsibility for every component’s regulatory adherence.
As voice AI becomes standard infrastructure rather than experimental technology, the legal frameworks will likely evolve toward stricter data localization requirements and audit trails. Platforms built with compliance as an afterthought will find themselves retrofitting fundamental architecture decisions. Those that anticipate these requirements in their core design have a significant advantage.
I built a custom AI app that researches startups and drafts these profiles. Every word is then reviewed and edited by me, a California-licensed attorney who builds with AI, not just advises on it. Hoag Law.ai provides flat-rate fractional general counsel services for AI-native startups, covering SaaS contracts, privacy compliance, AI governance, and startup IP strategy. Learn more→
This is educational material and does not constitute legal advice nor is any attorney/client relationship created with this article, hence you should contact and engage an attorney if you have any legal questions.
California’s SB 37 took effect January 1, 2026, and if you’re a California attorney with an AI chatbot on your website, you’re already in the highest-risk category under the new law.
SB 37 is about attorney responsibility in outsourced influence. It doesn’t matter whether your marketing vendor wrote it, your intake platform generated it, or your chatbot spit it out.
If it markets your firm, you own it.
The chatbot problem most attorneys haven’t thought through
AI chatbots on law firm websites sit at the intersection of two distinct compliance obligations, and most attorneys are only thinking about one of them.
The first is SB 37: your chatbot’s responses are advertising. They need to comply with California’s attorney advertising rules, so no misleading claims, no implied guarantees, proper identification of a responsible California-licensed attorney.
The second is privilege. This one is urgent right now, because of a case that just dropped two weeks ago.
In United States v. Heppner (SDNY, Feb. 17, 2026), Judge Rakoff held that a criminal defendant’s conversations with the consumer version of Claude — used independently, without attorney direction — were not protected by attorney-client privilege or the work product doctrine. The reasoning: Claude isn’t a lawyer, and Anthropic’s consumer ToS expressly permits review and disclosure of user inputs. No confidentiality, no privilege. (Beyond the ruling’s text, I should clarify that this is almost certainly true even if training is toggled off, and even on paid consumer plans. Only enterprise plans, and even then, optimally, with ZDR policies in place, are sufficiently safe not to waive privilege.)
While this is obviously a NY-only ruling for the moment, it stands to reason that other states will follow suit. So that ruling has a direct implication for your intake chatbot. If a prospective client starts describing their legal situation to your AI chatbot before they’ve engaged you, that conversation may be discoverable. Likewise, if your client — or potential client — use an AI chat bot powered by a consumer-tier AI with permissive data handling terms, you’ve compounded the problem.
How I implemented live chat on my site
I recently set up a live chat tool (Crisp.chat if you’re curious; one nice thing, they’re EU-based in France so it makes GDPR compliance a breeze) for my own law practice website — not an AI bot, just a standard live chat widget — and I set it to auto-open on the first page load with this:
“Please do NOT share any private or otherwise confidential information here as there is no attorney/client privilege between us unless and until we sign an Engagement Letter. In the meantime, please do NOT discuss any legal issues with a public AI tool like ChatGPT, Claude, Grok, Gemini, etc., as this may waive any attorney/client privilege that might otherwise exist between us.”
That’s not legalese for its own sake. It’s a direct response to Heppner and to the data handling realities that SB 37 now forces you to confront.
For the record, I have mixed feelings on the direction the law is trending:
First, although I agree with the technical reality that an AI chat both is entirely different to a cloud storage provider, I question the practical reality, and thus, whether it should be considered a third party disclosure.
And second, I find it exceedingly hard to reconcile the recognition that more than 1 billion people world wide now use ChatGPT for discussing their most private, personal, and confidential matters, while we steadfastly maintain that there is no expectation of privacy in such discussions. These two conclusions seem absolutely, undeniably, mutually exclusive to me.
A practical checklist
Before your next client intake conversation happens through your website chatbot — whether it’s an AI bot or simple “dumb chat box,” ask yourself:
Does my chatbot identify a responsible California-licensed attorney?
Are its responses reviewed by an attorney before going live?
Do I know where those conversations are being sent and stored?
Am I warning visitors not to share privileged information?
If it’s AI-powered, what are the underlying platform’s data retention and disclosure terms?
If you can’t answer all five confidently, you have work to do.
This is educational material and does not constitute legal advice nor is any attorney/client relationship created with this article, hence you should contact and engage an attorney if you have any legal questions.
What happens when we accept that we can’t actually prevent deepfakes?
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and I’ve come to a conclusion that I suspect will be controversial, though I think it’s nevertheless logical, if not fair.
The patchwork problem
As of early 2026, the legal landscape around deepfakes is a sprawling patchwork. Nearly every state has enacted some form of deepfake legislation. Federal laws like the TAKE IT DOWN Act and the DEFIANCE Act target nonconsensual intimate deepfakes. California has enacted a suite of laws protecting performers’ digital likenesses and mandating AI provenance disclosures.
These are all important steps. But notice what they have in common: they’re almost entirely focused on specific use cases— nonconsensual pornography, election manipulation, commercial exploitation of performers. They’re reactive, categorical, and narrow. They address particular symptoms of a much broader underlying problem.
The broader problem is this: somebody can fabricate a video of you doing or saying something you never did or said, present it as real, and destroy your reputation. And no existing legal framework cleanly addresses that fundamental harm across all contexts.
Why defamation is the right framework
Consider what a malicious deepfake actually is. It’s not presented as opinion. It’s not presented as satire. It’s presented as a statement of fact. Here’s this person. That’s her face. Here’s what she’s doing. Here’s what she’s saying. The entire premise depends on the viewer believing it’s real.
That’s a false statement of fact presented to the world as truth. That’s defamation.
The elements map remarkably well. Defamation requires (a) a false statement of fact, (b) published to a third party, (c) with the requisite degree of fault, and (d) causing harm. And defamation per se doesn’t even require any demonstration of harm at all if the defamation targets certain classes of statements, e.g., one’s health history, confidential relationship information, or career reputation.
One objection worth addressing: defamation traditionally requires a human publisher making a statement. But the creator of a deepfake is the publisher — they fabricated the depiction and distributed it. That’s the statement. Whether it constitutes slander or libel is a secondary question, but the core defamation analysis holds. A malicious deepfake satisfies every element. The creator necessarily knows the content is false — fault is built in. And harm — reputational, emotional, financial — is often catastrophic and irreversible.
There’s a feature of deepfakes that actually strengthens the defamation argument, particularly for public figures. Under New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, public figures must prove “actual malice” — that the publisher knew the statement was false or acted with reckless disregard for its truth. With deepfakes, this hurdle essentially vanishes. The creator necessarily knows the content is false, because they fabricated it. Actual malice is baked into the act of creation.
Prevention is a fantasy
Like it or not, we’re now living in an AI world. The tools to create convincing deepfakes are essentially free, widely available, and improving at a rate that outpaces every detection technology we’ve developed, to speak nothing of the law’s molasses pace in keeping up.
Legislation requiring watermarking, provenance disclosures, and platform takedowns are all valuable — but they’re speed bumps, not walls. You cannot prevent someone from creating a deepfake of you any more than you can prevent someone from lying about you.
Celebrities face a particular version of this reality. Public figures have, by definition, put themselves in the public eye. If your image and likeness are already pervasive — across the internet, across social media, across every camera and screen — the practical reality is that your digital likeness will be misappropriated by AI tools. That’s not a moral judgment. It’s a recognition of the threat landscape. Just as the ubiquity of smartphones fundamentally changed our expectations around being photographed in public, the ubiquity of generative AI is fundamentally changing our expectations around the integrity of digital media.
To be absolutely clear: I am not saying deepfakes are acceptable. I am not saying celebrities deserve what they get. I am saying that the law’s energy is better spent building a robust system of accountability after the fact than chasing in vain the impossible goal of prevention before the fact. Stop trying to build a wall. Build a better courthouse.
Where existing frameworks fall short
This is why the defamation framing matters so much.
Right of publicity protects against commercial misappropriation of likeness. It’s powerful in the entertainment context. But it’s fundamentally a commercial doctrine. If someone creates a deepfake of you to destroy your reputation rather than to make money, right of publicity doesn’t cleanly apply.
Criminal statutes address specific categories of harm — nonconsensual intimate imagery, election interference, fraud. They’re essential but fall into limited, discrete categories. A deepfake that puts fabricated political statements in your mouth, or depicts you in a compromising but non-sexual scenario, may fall through the cracks.
Copyright protects the creator of content, not the person depicted. If someone deepfakes you, you don’t own that video — and your own image isn’t copyrightable. That’s a gap worth closing, but it’s a legislative fix, not a remedy available today.
Defamation fills the gap. It addresses the core dignitary harm — the injury to reputation caused by the presentation of fabricated content as fact — regardless of whether the motive is commercial, sexual, political, or purely malicious. And it’s available to everyone, not just celebrities or performers.
The road ahead
Defamation isn’t a silver bullet. Identifying anonymous deepfake creators is extraordinarily difficult. Damages may be modest. And defamation’s speech-protective doctrines will require careful application in the deepfake context, even if the actual malice hurdle is lower than usual.
But here’s what defamation offers that no other framework does: a universal, flexible, well-established cause of action that addresses the fundamental harm of deepfakes — the presentation of fabricated content as fact — and crucially, not opinion — causing reputational injury. It doesn’t require new legislation. It doesn’t require categorical definitions of prohibited conduct. It asks a simple question: Did someone present a fabrication as fact, and did it cause harm?
The law doesn’t need to reinvent itself every time technology evolves. Sometimes, the frameworks we already have are the right ones — they just need to be applied to new facts. Defamation has been doing this work for centuries. It’s time to let it do this work too.
These are exactly the kinds of issues I think about every day at Hoag Law.ai and as Chair of the Beverly Hills Bar Association’s AI and the Law Section, alongside Vice-Chair Amanda Harris. If you’re navigating AI compliance, deepfake risk, or the broader intersection of technology and law, let’s talk.
This is educational material and does not constitute legal advice nor is any attorney/client relationship created with this article, hence you should contact and engage an attorney if you have any legal questions.
The Core Premise
Every AI company needs a contract architecture. Not a pile of templates, but an architecture. A system where each document exists for a specific reason, sits in a specific relationship to the others, and covers a specific set of risks.
This guide teaches that architecture from the ground up. By the end, you should be able to explain to anyone what the components are, why they exist, who signs what with whom, in what order, and where things typically go wrong.
We’ll use a simple running example throughout: Startup, Inc., a company that built an AI-powered SaaS product on top of foundation models like ChatGPT or Claude. They have business customers. Those customers have end users. And Startup, Inc. relies on various vendors to deliver its service.
That’s the setup. Let’s build.
Part 1: The Roles
Before contracts make sense, roles have to make sense. Data protection law (GDPR, CCPA/CPRA, and the growing number of state privacy laws) creates categories of actors, each with different obligations. If you misidentify who’s who, your entire contract stack is built wrong.
The Data Subject is the human whose data is being processed. When someone uses an AI product, types a query, uploads a document, or receives a response, they’re the Data Subject. They’re not a party to your commercial contracts, but they’re the person these protections exist to serve.
The Controller is the entity that decides why data is processed (the purpose) and how in broad terms (the means). The Controller answers the question: what are we trying to accomplish, and what’s the general approach? In most B2B scenarios, your customer is the Controller. They decided to use AI for some business purpose. They chose to engage Startup, Inc. to help them do it.
The Processor is the entity that processes data on behalf of the Controller, following the Controller’s instructions. The Processor answers a different question: how do we execute what the Controller has asked for? In most B2B scenarios, Startup, Inc. is the Processor. They handle data according to the customer’s purposes and instructions.
The Sub-Processor is a Processor’s processor. When Startup, Inc. engages another company to help deliver its service (cloud hosting, an LLM provider, analytics tools), that downstream company is a Sub-Processor.
The critical insight is that wherever personal data flows, a contract must exist between those parties governing that data. The Controller needs a data protection agreement with the Processor. The Processor needs data protection agreements with each Sub-Processor. Miss a link, and you have a compliance gap.
Part 2: The Contracts
Now the pieces. For an AI company serving business customers, the contract stack has four layers.
Layer 1: Master Service Agreement (MSA)
The MSA is the foundational commercial contract between Startup, Inc. and its customer. It governs the overall relationship: scope of services, payment terms, warranties and disclaimers, liability caps, indemnification, termination rights, intellectual property, and confidentiality.
For AI companies specifically, the MSA is where you allocate AI-specific risk. Traditional software warranties assume deterministic behavior, where the same inputs produce the same outputs. AI doesn’t work that way, and the MSA must reflect that reality. We’ll dig into this in Part 5.
Layer 2: Data Processing Addendum (DPA)
The DPA is a contract governing how Startup, Inc. handles Personal Data on behalf of the customer. It’s usually attached as a schedule to the MSA.
A DPA is required when processing Personal Data of individuals protected by GDPR, CCPA/CPRA, and the growing number of state privacy laws (Virginia, Colorado, Connecticut, Utah, Texas, Oregon, Montana, Iowa, Delaware, Nebraska, New Jersey, Tennessee, Maryland, Minnesota, and others). As a practical matter, assume you need one for every US business customer.
The DPA covers the categories of data processed, purposes of processing, security measures, sub-processor obligations, data subject rights procedures, breach notification requirements, and data deletion or return on termination.
Here’s the key principle: DPA obligations cascade downstream. Your customer’s DPA with you creates obligations that you must flow down to your Sub-Processors. You need DPAs with every vendor that touches Personal Data.
Layer 3: Business Associate Agreement (BAA)
The BAA is a contract required under HIPAA when processing Protected Health Information (PHI). You need one only when processing PHI on behalf of a Covered Entity (healthcare provider, health plan, clearinghouse) or another Business Associate. If your customer isn’t in healthcare and you’re not processing health data, you don’t need one.
The BAA covers permitted uses and disclosures of PHI, safeguard requirements, breach reporting obligations, subcontractor requirements, and PHI return or destruction on termination.
Here’s a critical distinction that trips people up: DPA and BAA are not interchangeable. A DPA is required for any Personal Data under GDPR, CCPA/CPRA, and other state privacy laws. A BAA is required only for PHI under HIPAA. If you serve a healthcare customer and process PHI, you need both. A BAA doesn’t satisfy GDPR obligations. A DPA doesn’t satisfy HIPAA obligations.
Layer 4: Acceptable Use Policy (AUP)
The AUP is a policy defining prohibited uses of the platform, usually attached as a schedule to the MSA. It covers prohibited activities, content restrictions, compliance requirements, and consequences of violation like suspension or termination.
For AI companies, the AUP matters because AI platforms can be misused in ways traditional software cannot. Users might try to generate harmful content, extract training data, or use outputs for fraud. The AUP is your contractual basis to say no and, if necessary, cut them off.
The Complete Stack
For a white-label or enterprise customer, the full stack looks like this:
MSA: Commercial terms, AI warranties, liability allocation
Schedule A: Service Description
Schedule B: DPA (required for GDPR/state privacy compliance)
Schedule C: AUP (prohibited uses)
Schedule D: BAA (required ONLY if processing PHI/healthcare customers)
For B2C or website customers, the structure simplifies: Terms of Service and Privacy Policy with GDPR and state privacy law provisions baked in, plus BAA provisions incorporated into the Terms if you’re processing PHI.
Part 3: When Each Agreement Is Required
This is where people get confused. Let’s be precise about what triggers each requirement.
The DPA Trigger
A DPA is required when you process Personal Data of individuals protected by GDPR, CCPA/CPRA, or the growing number of state privacy laws.
Personal Data is defined broadly. It includes names, emails, phone numbers, IP addresses, user queries and inputs, AI responses (if they contain or reference personal information), usage patterns and behavior data, and device identifiers.
Processing is defined even more broadly. It means any operation on data: collection, storage, retrieval, use, transmission, deletion, anything. Under GDPR, even transient routing counts. If data touches your servers in any way, you’re processing it.
The practical rule is this: if you can see it, log it, route it, or handle it, even momentarily, you need a DPA.
The BAA Trigger
A BAA is required when you create, receive, maintain, or transmit Protected Health Information on behalf of a Covered Entity or Business Associate.
Note that word “transmit.” The trigger isn’t storage. If PHI passes through your servers, transiently, encrypted, never persisted, you’re a Business Associate and you need a BAA.
The difference between DPA and BAA isn’t the trigger threshold. Both are triggered by transient handling. The difference is the obligations that attach once triggered. HIPAA requires specific technical safeguards, audit controls, workforce training, breach notification timelines, and the “minimum necessary” standard. Signing a BAA means you can actually deliver on those requirements. You don’t sign one casually.
Decision Table
Customer Scenario
DPA?
BAA?
US-only, no CA/VA/CO/CT/other covered state residents, non-healthcare
Likely No, but verify against all applicable state laws
No
Has California users, non-healthcare
Yes
No
Has EU users, non-healthcare
Yes
No
Healthcare, processing PHI
Yes
Yes
Healthcare, but no PHI involved
Maybe*
No
*Still likely yes if processing any Personal Data of CA, EU, or other covered state individuals.
Part 4: The Flow of Agreements
Understanding who signs what with whom is essential. Here’s how the contracts flow.
Customer to Startup, Inc.
The customer (as Controller) needs a data processing agreement with Startup, Inc. (as Processor). This is your DPA. Either you provide one for customers to sign, or they provide one that you negotiate and execute.
The MSA, DPA, AUP, and (if applicable) BAA all live in this relationship.
Startup, Inc. to Sub-Processors
Startup, Inc. (as Processor) needs data protection agreements with every Sub-Processor that handles Personal Data. This is a GDPR and state privacy law requirement: you must ensure your Sub-Processors are bound by data protection terms at least as protective as your DPA with the customer.
Typical Sub-Processors for an AI company include cloud infrastructure providers like AWS, GCP, or Azure; LLM providers like OpenAI or Anthropic; analytics tools like Mixpanel, Amplitude, or Segment; email and communications services like SendGrid or Twilio; payment processors like Stripe; monitoring and logging tools like Datadog or Sentry; and authentication providers like Auth0 or Okta.
Most major vendors have standard DPAs available, usually self-service through their Trust Center or legal page. The hard part isn’t execution. The hard part is knowing you need them in the first place.
If you also have healthcare customers and process PHI, you need BAAs with every Sub-Processor that touches PHI.
The Cascade
Every arrow where Personal Data flows requires a corresponding agreement.
Part 5: The AI Liability Problem
Here’s what makes AI companies different from traditional SaaS: you cannot warrant AI outputs.
Why Traditional Warranties Fail
Traditional software warranties work because software is deterministic. Given the same inputs, you get the same outputs. You can test every code path. You can guarantee behavior.
AI systems are probabilistic. They produce different outputs for similar inputs. They hallucinate. They generate unexpected results even when working exactly as designed. Unexpected behavior isn’t a bug. It’s inherent to how these systems work.
If your MSA warrants that your AI will produce accurate, compliant, or expected outputs, you’ve made a promise you cannot keep.
What You Can Warrant
You can warrant things you actually control.
System architecture and security: your infrastructure is built to documented specifications, with appropriate security controls. Data handling: you process data according to the DPA, with proper encryption, access controls, and retention policies. Platform availability: the service meets defined uptime SLAs. Compliance posture: you maintain SOC 2 (a security audit standard), ISO 27001 (an information security management certification), or other relevant certifications. No malware: your code doesn’t contain malicious components.
These are statements about your system. Things you design, build, and control.
What You Cannot Warrant
You cannot warrant things the AI determines.
You cannot warrant specific outputs or responses. You cannot warrant accuracy of AI-generated content. You cannot warrant that AI won’t hallucinate. You cannot warrant that outputs will be legally compliant in all contexts. You cannot warrant that behavior will never be unexpected.
For a deep dive on how AI breaks traditional indemnification — including the defend/indemnify/hold harmless distinction, AI-specific carve-outs, and how to handle enterprise redlines on liability caps — see Why AI Breaks Traditional Indemnification.
Part 6: BYOK and the Controller/Processor Question
Bring Your Own Key (BYOK) arrangements, where the customer uses their own API key for the underlying LLM, create ambiguity in the controller/processor chain. Working through this ambiguity is a good test of whether you actually understand the framework.
Why BYOK Matters
In a standard setup, Startup, Inc. uses its own API key with the LLM provider. Data flows from Customer to Startup, Inc. to LLM Provider. The LLM Provider is Startup, Inc.’s Sub-Processor. Simple.
With BYOK, the customer provides their own API key. Now who has the relationship with the LLM Provider?
Scenario A: True BYOK
The customer has their own independent account with the LLM provider. They control that relationship. They signed their own terms, they manage their own settings, they get billed directly. Startup, Inc. is just passing traffic through.
In this scenario, the Customer is the Controller, Startup, Inc. is the Processor (for orchestration and routing), and the LLM Provider is a Processor directly to the Customer, not Startup, Inc.’s Sub-Processor.
The contract implications: Customer needs a DPA from Startup, Inc. Customer needs a separate DPA from the LLM Provider. Startup, Inc. does not need a DPA with the LLM Provider for this customer’s data.
Scenario B: Platform-Managed Key
The customer provides an API key, but Startup, Inc. controls the actual integration. Startup, Inc. decides what prompts get sent, what settings are used, how responses are processed. The customer’s key is really just for billing or cost allocation.
In this scenario, the Customer is the Controller, Startup, Inc. is the Processor, and the LLM Provider is Startup, Inc.’s Sub-Processor.
The contract implications: Customer needs a DPA from Startup, Inc. Startup, Inc. needs a DPA with the LLM Provider. Customer does not need a separate DPA with the LLM Provider.
Scenario C: No External LLM
Startup, Inc. runs its own models or uses fully self-hosted infrastructure. No external LLM provider involved.
In this scenario, the Customer is the Controller, Startup, Inc. is the Processor, and there’s no LLM Provider in the chain.
The contract implications: Customer needs a DPA from Startup, Inc. No LLM provider agreements needed.
The Test
How do you know which scenario applies? Ask this question: who can give the LLM provider binding processing instructions?
If the customer can independently instruct the LLM provider on how to handle data, it’s Scenario A. If only Startup, Inc. can configure and instruct the LLM provider, it’s Scenario B.
One Thing That Doesn’t Change
Regardless of BYOK configuration, if data passes through Startup, Inc.’s servers, even transiently, Startup, Inc. is a Processor and needs a DPA with the customer.
BYOK doesn’t change the Startup, Inc. to Customer relationship. It only affects whether the LLM Provider is Startup, Inc.’s Sub-Processor or the Customer’s direct Processor.
Part 7: The Sub-Processor Audit
Every DPA you sign includes language like this: “Processor shall ensure each Sub-Processor is bound by data protection obligations no less protective than this DPA.”
That’s not boilerplate. That’s an obligation. You need to actually do it.
The Obvious Sub-Processors
The obvious ones are easy to spot: cloud hosting (AWS, GCP, Azure), LLM providers (OpenAI, Anthropic), and primary databases (MongoDB Atlas, Supabase, PlanetScale).
The Less Obvious Ones
The less obvious ones often get missed. Analytics platforms like Mixpanel, Amplitude, Segment, or Google Analytics. Monitoring and logging tools like Datadog, Sentry, or LogRocket. Email services like SendGrid, Mailchimp, or Postmark. Authentication providers like Auth0, Okta, or Clerk. Payment processors like Stripe or Braintree. Support platforms like Intercom or Zendesk. CDNs like Cloudflare or Fastly, which may log user data. CI/CD tools like GitHub Actions or CircleCI, if they touch customer data in builds.
If it processes Personal Data, even just logging an IP address, it’s a Sub-Processor.
The Audit Process
The process is straightforward. List every third-party service you use. Identify which ones process Personal Data. Execute DPAs with those that do (most have self-service DPAs available). Document everything in a Sub-Processor list. Update the list whenever you add new vendors.
If you have healthcare customers, repeat for BAAs with any Sub-Processor that touches PHI.
Maintaining the List
Most DPAs require you to maintain a list of Sub-Processors and notify customers of changes. Keep this list current. When you add a new vendor that processes Personal Data, execute the DPA with that vendor, add them to your Sub-Processor list, and notify customers per your DPA’s requirements (often 30 days advance notice).
Part 8: AI-Specific DPA Provisions
A generic SaaS DPA template won’t fully address AI-specific concerns. Here’s what to add or ensure is covered.
Training Prohibition
Customers will want assurance that their data isn’t used to train models, whether yours or your LLM provider’s.
Include explicit language: “Processor shall not use Customer Data to train, improve, or develop machine learning models, and shall ensure Sub-Processors are contractually prohibited from the same.”
Then verify your LLM provider’s terms actually support this. Most enterprise LLM agreements include training opt-outs, but you need to confirm and document it.
Prompt Isolation
For multi-tenant AI platforms, customers may want assurance that their prompts, data, and configurations don’t leak to other tenants.
Address this in your security measures section. Describe how you maintain tenant isolation in prompt construction, response handling, and any fine-tuning or customization.
Configurable Logging
AI interactions often generate logs: prompts, responses, metadata. Different customers have different logging requirements. Some want full audit trails. Some want minimal logging for privacy. Some have specific retention requirements.
Build flexibility into your architecture and document the options in your DPA.
Architecture Transparency
Sophisticated customers will want to understand data flows. Be prepared to explain and document what data passes to LLM providers, what data is stored versus transient, what preprocessing or postprocessing occurs, and where data is geographically processed.
Retention Specificity
Generic DPAs often say data will be retained as necessary for the service. For AI, be more specific. Spell out retention periods for conversation or session data, logs, derived analytics, and model fine-tuning data if any.
Part 9: MSA Red Flags
When customers redline your MSA, watch for these patterns.
AI Output Liability Creep
The red flag: “Vendor shall be responsible for compliance issues arising from AI-generated outputs when used per documentation.”
Why it’s dangerous: AI outputs are inherently unpredictable. This makes you liable for something you cannot control, with no limiting principle.
The counter: limit responsibility to system defects. “Vendor is responsible for defects in documented system design. Vendor is not responsible for variations in AI output absent such defects.”
Gutted Suspension Rights
The red flag: Customer revises your suspension rights from “AUP breach or security risk” to “material, demonstrable violation of law posing imminent harm, with 30-day cure period.”
Why it’s dangerous: You can’t act quickly on AUP violations, non-payment, or security threats. By the time you navigate that language, the damage is done.
The counter: Restore reasonable suspension triggers for AUP breach, non-payment, and security risk. Cure periods are fine for some issues but not all.
One-Sided Termination Plus Extended Wind-Down
The red flag: Customer adds termination for convenience (theirs, not yours) plus a 6-month wind-down period with “migration assistance.”
Why it’s dangerous: Customer can decide to leave and get six months of essentially free service while transitioning to a competitor.
The counter: If they want convenience termination, fine, but no extended free wind-down. Or make termination for convenience mutual.
Deleted Use Case Vetting
The red flag: Customer strikes language requiring them to screen downstream use cases or prohibit high-risk applications.
Why it’s dangerous: For platforms where the customer is reselling or white-labeling your service, you need a contractual hook to hold them accountable for how their customers use it.
The counter: Restore the vetting requirement. This is especially important for AI platforms with potential for misuse.
Expanded Warranty Language
The red flag: Customer adds AI-specific warranties like “AI outputs will be accurate” or “AI will comply with applicable law” or “AI will not produce unexpected results.”
Why it’s dangerous: You’re now warranting things that are definitionally impossible to guarantee.
The counter: Strike or heavily qualify. Reference the limitations in your documentation. Make clear what you warrant (system operation) versus what you don’t (AI outputs).
Part 10: Order of Operations
If you’re building this from scratch, here’s the sequence.
Phase 1: Core Documents (Weeks 1-2)
Draft your MSA with AI-specific provisions covering warranty limitations and liability allocation. Draft your DPA with AI-specific provisions covering training prohibition, prompt isolation, and architecture transparency. Draft your AUP defining prohibited uses. If you plan to serve healthcare customers, draft a BAA template.
Phase 2: Primary Sub-Processors (Weeks 3-4)
Execute DPAs with your highest-priority Sub-Processors: cloud infrastructure, LLM providers, primary database, and core analytics. Document everything in your Sub-Processor list.
Phase 3: Secondary Sub-Processors (Weeks 5-6)
Execute DPAs with remaining Sub-Processors: monitoring and logging, email and communications, authentication, payments, and support tools. Update your Sub-Processor list.
Ongoing
Review customer redlines against the red flags above. Update your Sub-Processor list when adding vendors. Conduct annual reviews of DPA and BAA status with all Sub-Processors. Monitor regulatory changes, particularly the EU AI Act and new state privacy laws.
Checklist
For B2C/Website Customers
Terms of Service with GDPR and state privacy law provisions
Privacy Policy with GDPR and state privacy law provisions
BAA provisions incorporated if processing PHI
Cookie consent mechanism if applicable
For Enterprise/White-Label Customers
Master Service Agreement
DPA as schedule, for all customers
AUP as schedule, for all customers
BAA as schedule, only if processing PHI
Sub-Processor Compliance
Complete vendor inventory
DPAs executed with all vendors that process Personal Data
BAAs executed with all vendors that process PHI if applicable
Sub-Processor list documented and maintained
Update process defined for new vendors
AI-Specific Provisions
Training prohibition language in DPA
Prompt isolation documentation
Configurable logging options
Architecture transparency documentation
Specific retention timelines
Warranty limitations in MSA
Liability caps appropriate for AI risk
A Note on the EU AI Act
This guide focuses on the foundational contract architecture that every AI company needs. However, readers serving EU customers or using EU-based models should be aware that the EU AI Act is now partially in force, with key provisions having taken effect in 2025 and more coming in 2026.
The EU AI Act creates additional obligations for AI providers and deployers, including risk classification requirements, transparency obligations, and specific rules for general-purpose AI (GPAI) models. These requirements layer on top of the contract stack described here and may require additional contractual provisions depending on your AI system’s risk classification and your role in the AI value chain.
If you serve EU customers or your AI systems are deployed in the EU, work with qualified counsel to ensure your contracts address EU AI Act requirements in addition to the data protection framework covered in this guide.
Read here for a deep dive analysis of the EU AI Act.
Key Takeaways
DPAs and BAAs are not interchangeable. DPAs cover Personal Data under GDPR, CCPA/CPRA, and other state privacy laws. BAAs cover PHI under HIPAA. If you serve a healthcare customer processing PHI, you need both.
You’re always a Processor. Data passes through your servers even with BYOK. You need DPAs with customers and with your Sub-Processors.
You cannot warrant AI outputs. You can warrant system design, security, and data handling. You cannot promise that AI won’t produce unexpected results.
The Sub-Processor obligation is broader than you think. Every SaaS tool that touches Personal Data needs a DPA. Every tool that touches PHI needs a BAA.
Watch for MSA red flags. AI output liability, gutted suspension rights, one-sided termination, and deleted use case vetting are patterns that can hurt you.
The hard part is knowing what you need. Most major vendors have standard DPAs available. The challenge is recognizing that you need them and actually executing them.
This guide is for informational purposes and does not constitute legal advice. Every company’s situation is different. Work with qualified counsel to implement these frameworks for your specific circumstances.
This is educational material and does not constitute legal advice nor is any attorney/client relationship created with this article, hence you should contact and engage an attorney if you have any legal questions.
If you’re a California attorney using generative AI — and at this point, who isn’t — you need to know about SB 574. Also, it’s inevitable that it will soon be ethical malpractice not to use AI in the practice of law, so what follows is essential knowledge.
Introduced by Senate Judiciary Chair Tom Umberg (D-Santa Ana), SB 574 would create the first U.S. statute specifically governing how lawyers and arbitrators use generative AI.
What SB 574 requires
The bill creates three distinct regulatory tracks: one for attorneys, one for court filings, and one for arbitrators.
Attorneys’ duties when using AI
SB 574 would impose four statutory duties on any attorney using generative AI to practice law:
Protect confidential data. Don’t feed confidential, personally identifying, or other nonpublic information into a public generative AI system. Note the qualifier — “public.” This is the bill drawing a line between consumer-facing tools (think free-tier ChatGPT) and enterprise-grade deployments with contractual data protections. The distinction matters; see below.
Prevent discrimination. Ensure your use of AI doesn’t unlawfully discriminate against individuals or protected groups. This goes beyond what most attorneys probably think about when using AI for drafting or research, but consider: if you’re using AI to screen documents, evaluate claims, or prioritize case intake, bias in the model becomes your bias.
Verify and correct. Take reasonable steps to verify the accuracy of any AI-generated material, correct hallucinated or misleading content, and remove biased or harmful output. “Reasonable steps” will inevitably be the subject of future litigation, but the intent is clear — you can’t blindly copy-paste.
Consider disclosure. Consider whether your use of AI should be disclosed when producing content provided to the public. Note: this is a “consider” requirement, not a mandate. The bill leaves disclosure to professional judgment rather than imposing a blanket rule.
Court filings and citation verification
The bill would amend CCP § 128.7 — the sanctions statute — to make it explicitly unlawful for any court filing to contain a citation the attorney hasn’t personally read and verified, including citations provided by generative AI. This is therefore a direct response to the hallucination problem; SB 574 converts the formerly implicit “don’t do this” into a statutory prohibition with teeth: sanctions under the existing § 128.7 framework.
For practitioners, this means building verification checkpoints into your workflow. If you’re using AI for legal research — and again, you probably are — the days of trusting the output without reading every cited case yourself are formally numbered.
Arbitrator limits on AI
This is the most forward-looking piece of the bill, and it arrives at an interesting moment.
SB 574 would impose three constraints on arbitrators:
No AI delegation. An arbitrator cannot delegate any part of their decision-making process to any generative AI tool.
Record-only reliance. Arbitrators can’t rely on AI-generated information from outside the record without disclosing that use to all parties.
Human responsibility. The arbitrator must assume full responsibility for the award regardless of any AI assistance.
As a practical matter, if SB 574 passes in its current form, California-based arbitrations would effectively be unable to use the AAA-ICDR’s AI arbitrator product, at least without significant structural changes to ensure the human arbitrator retains genuine decision-making authority rather than rubber-stamping AI output.
What SB 574 does NOT do
A few important negatives worth flagging:
It does not ban attorneys from using AI. This is regulation, not prohibition.
It does not prescribe specific tools or require AI registration, audits, or approved-vendor lists.
It does not create new criminal penalties. Enforcement is through existing mechanisms: court sanctions under § 128.7 and State Bar disciplinary proceedings. The bill doesn’t currently specify any enforcement mechanism for arbitrators, which is a gap worth watching.
The bigger picture
California has been on a regulatory tear: SB 53 (the Transparency in Frontier Artificial Intelligence Act, signed September 2025) established the first U.S. safety framework for frontier AI models. SB 243 regulates AI companion chatbots. AB 853 expands AI content disclosure requirements.
SB 574 is the profession-specific layer on top of that broader regulatory stack. And if California’s pattern holds — see: CCPA becoming the de facto national privacy standard, vehicle emission rules setting the industry baseline — expect other states to follow with similar attorney AI regulations.
These are exactly the kinds of issues I work on every day at Hoag Law.ai and as Chair of the Beverly Hills Bar Association’s AI and the Law Section, alongside Vice-Chair Amanda Harris. If you’re building AI products, navigating AI compliance, or just trying to figure out how to use these tools responsibly in your practice, let’s talk.
This is educational material and does not constitute legal advice nor is any attorney/client relationship created with this article, hence you should contact and engage an attorney if you have any legal questions.
The entire legal architecture of indemnification was built for a world where you could control your product’s outputs. But AI breaks this assumption.When a traditional SaaS company indemnifies a customer against, say, patent infringement claims, that SaaS company can actually prevent infringement by controlling exactly what their software does. The code is deterministic. If version 2.3.1 doesn’t infringe, it won’t suddenly start infringing tomorrow.
But an AI system? It might generate infringing content on Monday that it didn’t generate on Sunday, using the exact same model weights. You can’t “fix” this with a patch. The non-deterministic nature of generative AI means you’re being asked to indemnify against outcomes you cannot fully control or predict. This is a fundamentally different risk profile, and most MSAs haven’t caught up.
The Three Pillars: Defend, Indemnify, Hold Harmless
Before diving deeper into AI-specific issues, let’s clarify what these terms actually mean, because even sophisticated founders conflate them:
Defend means you’re paying for the lawyers and managing the litigation. This is an active, immediate obligation. The moment a claim lands, you’re on the hook for legal fees, win or lose. This is often the most expensive component.
Indemnify means you reimburse for losses and damages after the fact. This kicks in once a judgment is rendered or a settlement is reached. You’re covering the bill, but you weren’t necessarily driving the defense.
Hold Harmless is the broadest obligation, and means you’re preventing the indemnified party from suffering any loss whatsoever. This can include things like reputational harm, business disruption, and other consequential damages that might not be covered under pure indemnification.
The distinction matters because many contracts use these terms together (“shall defend, indemnify, and hold harmless…”) when the parties haven’t actually thought through what each entails. When something goes wrong, that ambiguity becomes very expensive very quickly.
Why Symmetry Is Usually Right (But Not Always)
In a typical SaaS MSA, indemnification should generally be mutual and symmetrical. You indemnify the customer for claims arising from your product; they indemnify you for claims arising from their data or misuse of your service. This makes intuitive sense because each party is best positioned to control and insure against their own risks.
But here’s where it gets nuanced: certain asymmetries are not only acceptable but necessary.
Carve-outs that make sense:
Material unlawful acts: You shouldn’t indemnify someone for their own illegal conduct. If your customer uploads stolen data to your AI tool and gets sued, that’s on them.
Gross negligence or willful misconduct: Standard carve-out. If one party acts recklessly or intentionally causes harm, they shouldn’t be shielded by the other party’s indemnification.
Modifications or combinations: If the customer modifies your software or combines it with something that creates the infringement, that’s outside your control and shouldn’t be your liability.
Continued use after notice: If you notify the customer of a potential infringement issue and they keep using the product anyway, the indemnification should cease.
Asymmetries to watch for:
Enterprise customers often hand startups contracts with wildly one-sided indemnification. Red flags include:
Indemnification obligations carved out of your liability cap (meaning your exposure is unlimited)
“Arising from” or “relating to” language that’s so broad it captures things you can’t control
No reciprocal indemnification from them for their data or misuse
Defense obligations triggered by mere allegations rather than actual claims
The AI-Specific Problem: What Exactly Are You Warranting?
This is where it gets genuinely difficult for companies leveraging generative AI services.
Traditional IP indemnification works because the human is fully in the loop: You can warrant that your software doesn’t infringe third-party IP. You wrote the code. You know what’s in it. You can control it.
With generative AI, the calculus changes because the human is, by definition, no longer in the loop end-to-end. Consider:
Output IP risk: Your AI might generate text that infringes a third party’s copyright. Not because your model was trained on that text (though that’s a separate issue), but because the model probabilistically produced something substantially similar to protected work. You didn’t intend this. You couldn’t predict it. But under a broad indemnification clause, you might be on the hook.
Hallucinated defamation: Your AI generates false statements about a real person or company. The customer’s end-user sees this output, relies on it, shares it. Someone sues for defamation. Who’s liable? The answer depends heavily on how your indemnification clause is drafted.
Data privacy exposure: Your AI processes customer data in ways that arguably violate GDPR or other privacy laws—perhaps through unexpected data retention in model weights, or outputs that reveal PII from training data. The customer gets hit with a regulatory fine. Are you indemnifying that?
The honest answer is that nobody knows how courts will ultimately allocate these risks (not to mention insurance providers). The case law is embryonic. Which means your MSA is doing heavy lifting that it probably wasn’t designed to bear.
But here’s the uncomfortable part: none of these risks are actually unknown anymore, three years into this post-ChatGPT world.
Output IP risk, hallucinations, data privacy leakage aren’t speculative edge cases. They’re thoroughly documented, widely discussed, and entirely foreseeable. Every AI company knows this. Every sophisticated customer knows this. The courts will certainly know this.
Which changes the legal calculus considerably. You can’t later argue you didn’t appreciate the risk you were assuming. Foreseeability cuts against you. If you signed a broad indemnification clause covering AI outputs, you did so with eyes open. That’s assumption of risk, not surprise.
What is genuinely unsettled is how courts will ultimately allocate liability, whether Section 230 protections apply to AI outputs, how copyright’s substantial similarity analysis works for probabilistic generation, whether GDPR fines can be contractually shifted. The minefield is clearly mapped. We just don’t know which mines are live.
This is why precise contract drafting matters so much right now. You’re not protecting yourself against the unforeseeable. You’re negotiating the allocation of known risks before the case law catches up.
Practical Implications for Founders
If you’re an AI startup founder, here’s what this means for your contract negotiations:
1. Read the indemnification clause. Actually read it. I know this sounds obvious, but most founders skim contracts looking for the price and payment terms. The indemnification section is often where the real risk lives. If you’re signing enterprise paper (their contract, not yours), this is where they’ve hidden the landmines.
2. Push back on “arising from” or “relating to” language. These phrases are dangerously broad. “Arising from” can capture claims that have only a tangential connection to your product. “Relating to” is even worse. Negotiate for “directly resulting from” or “caused by” language that creates a tighter causal nexus.
3. Insist on liability caps that apply to indemnification. Many enterprise contracts carve indemnification out of the overall liability cap. This means your maximum exposure isn’t 12 months of fees — it’s potentially unlimited. For an AI company facing unpredictable output liability, this is existential risk.
4. Add AI-specific carve-outs. Consider language that limits your indemnification obligation for claims arising from: (a) outputs generated by the AI that you couldn’t reasonably prevent or predict, (b) customer’s failure to implement recommended guardrails or content filters, or (c) customer’s use of outputs without human review in contexts where review was warranted.
5. Understand your insurance coverage. Most E&O and cyber policies weren’t written with AI output liability in mind. Before you sign a broad indemnification clause, confirm with your broker that you actually have coverage for the risks you’re assuming. You might be surprised.
6. Consider warranty disclaimers carefully. Traditional SaaS companies warrant that their software will perform as documented. Can you warrant that about AI outputs? Probably not. Consider express disclaimers that AI outputs are probabilistic, may contain errors, and should be verified by humans before reliance.
Don’t Indemnify Against the Unknown
When you sign a broad indemnification clause for AI outputs, you’re agreeing to cover risks that neither party fully understands. The legal landscape is evolving. Courts haven’t weighed in on most of the novel issues AI presents. Regulatory frameworks like the EU AI Act are still being implemented.
So you need to be clear-eyed about what you’re agreeing to, negotiate where you can, and price the risk appropriately where you can’t.
The founders who get this right will be the ones who treat indemnification not as boilerplate to skim past, but as a core business risk that deserves the same attention as product-market fit or unit economics.
For further questions on AI contract negotiation, MSAs, or indemnification structuring, feel free to reach out.