The allegations against a former engineering executive at The Pokémon Company International are horrifying. According to a newly filed class-action lawsuit, the executive allegedly hid cameras in employee restrooms at the company's Bellevue ...
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Hidden cameras, horrific conduct, and a critical Legal Distinction: Employers aren't automatically liable for every workplace bad act

The allegations against a former engineering executive at The Pokémon Company International are horrifying.

According to a newly filed class-action lawsuit, the executive allegedly hid cameras in employee restrooms at the company's Bellevue headquarters for years, secretly recording women, children, and others using the facilities. Criminal charges already pending against him allege an even broader pattern of voyeurism, including recordings made at a Starbucks, a Safeway, and his own home, along with charges involving child sexual abuse material.

If the allegations are true, the conduct is monstrous.

But here's the legal point that's easy to miss amid the outrage: an employer is not automatically responsible simply because something terrible happens at work. That's not how negligence works.

The key question isn't what happened. It's what the employer knew—or should have known.

The lawsuit doesn't merely allege that the misconduct occurred on Pokémon's premises. If that were enough, every employer would become the insurer of every criminal act committed by an employee.

Instead, the plaintiffs allege negligence. Specifically, they claim the company failed to train the employee properly, failed to supervise him, failed to control his conduct, and failed to respond to warning signs.

Those allegations matter because they're what could create liability.

Employers generally aren't liable for an employee's intentional criminal acts unless there was something that should have put the employer on notice. In legal terms, the issue is foreseeability.

Did management know about prior complaints?
Were there reports of suspicious behavior?
Did someone raise concerns that were ignored?
Were there red flags that would have prompted a reasonable employer to investigate?

If the answer to those questions is no, the employer's legal exposure becomes much more difficult to establish.

Bad facts don't automatically equal employer liability. Whenever a shocking workplace story makes headlines, there's a tendency to assume the employer must have done something wrong simply because the conduct occurred at work. That's an understandable emotional reaction. It's not necessarily the correct legal analysis.

Employers have a duty to provide a reasonably safe workplace. They do not have a duty to predict every secret criminal act committed by an employee who has given them no reason to suspect misconduct.

The law doesn't require omniscience. It requires reasonable care.

Right now, the public knows very little about what The Pokémon Company knew before law enforcement became involved.

The civil complaint suggests there were "indicators of danger." Whether those alleged indicators actually existed—and whether they were sufficient to put the company on notice—will almost certainly become one of the central issues in the litigation.

If evidence shows the company ignored complaints or failed to investigate obvious warning signs, that's one case.

If the evidence instead shows an employee who carefully concealed his crimes and gave the company no reasonable basis to suspect them, that's a very different case.

The facts—not the outrage—will determine whether the employer bears legal responsibility. That's an important distinction to remember.

Sometimes an employer truly deserves to be held accountable because it ignored warnings or failed to act. Sometimes, however, an employer is simply another victim of an employee's criminal conduct.

This case may ultimately reveal which one applies here. But simply because an awful crime allegedly occurred inside the workplace doesn't answer that question.

Negligence requires more than tragedy. It requires fault. And when an employer did nothing wrong, it shouldn't be defending a lawsuit simply because something horrific happened at work.
      

Temporary accommodations don't rewrite the job description

One of the more persistent myths in ADA litigation that if an employer temporarily accommodates an employee in a certain way, it has forever admitted that the accommodation is reasonable.

The 8th Circuit just reminded everyone that's not how the ADA works.

In Kendall v. Zoltek Corp., an employee at a carbon-fiber manufacturing facility injured her back and developed sciatica. Initially, her doctor cleared her to return to work without restrictions. Later, however, she requested an accommodation allowing her to sit periodically during her shifts. The company granted that request for several months while it evaluated her condition.

Eventually, though, the medical restrictions became permanent—and much more limiting. By the time her employment ended, she couldn't stand for more than 20 to 30 minutes, couldn't bend, stoop, kneel, crawl under machinery, or lift more than 10 pounds. Her employer's production operator position required employees to stand throughout 12-hour shifts while performing physically demanding work. After she exhausted her leave, the company terminated her employment.

She sued under the ADA, arguing that because Zoltek had successfully allowed her to sit for several months, standing couldn't really be an essential function of the job.

The 8th Circuit wasn't persuaded.

Instead, it reaffirmed several important ADA principles that employers should keep in mind.

First, written job descriptions matter.

The court gave significant weight to Zoltek's written job description, which required employees to stand for up to 12 hours while repeatedly lifting, bending, reaching, pulling, and walking. It also deferred to the employer's judgment that these physical demands were essential to the position.

That's another reminder that job descriptions shouldn't collect dust in an HR file cabinet. They should accurately describe what employees actually do. If they don't, they'll be far less persuasive when litigation arrives.

Second, temporary accommodations don't become permanent obligations.

This is the biggest takeaway from the decision.

The court reiterated its longstanding rule that employers should not be punished for trying to help employees. Providing a temporary accommodation while evaluating an employee's medical condition doesn't mean the employer has conceded that the accommodation is reasonable forever.

As the court explained, employers don't make a job function "non-essential" simply because they voluntarily accommodate an employee for a limited period of time.

That's an important rule. Otherwise, employers would have every incentive to refuse temporary flexibility out of fear that generosity would later be used against them in court.

Third, the ADA doesn't require eliminating essential job functions.

Reasonable accommodation means helping a qualified employee perform the essential functions of the job—not removing those functions altogether.

Because standing, bending, lifting, and similar physical activities were essential functions of this production job, permanently excusing the employee from performing them wasn't a reasonable accommodation. By the time Zoltek made its termination decision, the employee's restrictions prevented her from performing multiple essential job duties, even with accommodation.

That's why the court affirmed summary judgment for the employer.

The takeaways

Employers shouldn't hesitate to provide temporary accommodations while they gather medical information or determine whether an employee's condition will improve.

The ADA encourages flexibility. It doesn't punish it.

Just remember to do three things:
  • Maintain accurate, up-to-date job descriptions that identify the position's essential functions.
  • Clearly document when an accommodation is intended to be temporary while additional medical information is obtained.
  • Continue the interactive process as circumstances change rather than assuming yesterday's accommodation automatically remains reasonable forever.

A temporary accommodation is exactly that—temporary. As Kendall v. Zoltek demonstrates, extending grace to an employee today doesn't rewrite the essential functions of the job tomorrow.

Can you fire an employee for criticizing your DEI program on LinkedIn?

"The company has allowed outright hate to proliferate."

That's one of the statements that got John Richardson fired.

Richardson, a data engineer at Apex Fintech Solutions, published a series of LinkedIn articles criticizing what he viewed as the company's DEI culture. He accused Apex of tolerating anti-male discrimination, fostering a hostile work environment, and allowing managers to engage in discriminatory conduct without consequence.

Apex demanded he remove what it called "false, derogatory, disparaging, and/or defamatory" statements. When Richardson asked the company to identify what, specifically, was false, it didn't. Instead, it fired him—and then sued him for defamation.

Last week, an NLRB administrative law judge concluded Apex violated the National Labor Relations Act.

Whether you agree with Richardson's views is beside the point. The issue wasn't whether he was right. It was whether federal labor law protected his speech.

According to the ALJ, it did.

The judge found Richardson's LinkedIn posts were protected concerted activity because they addressed employees' working conditions and encouraged coworkers to take collective action, including filing EEOC charges. The NLRA doesn't limit protected discussions to the workplace. Employees can exercise their Section 7 rights on social media just as they can in a break room.

Apex argued Richardson's posts lost the Act's protection because they were false and defamatory.

The ALJ disagreed.

The NLRA does not protect statements that are knowingly or maliciously false. But employers don't get to strip employees of statutory protection simply because management believes the criticism is unfair, exaggerated, or damaging to the company's reputation.

According to the ALJ, Apex failed to prove Richardson knowingly made false statements. In fact, when Richardson asked the company to identify what was supposedly false, it never did.

That's an important distinction. Employees can criticize management, express opinions, and use strong rhetoric without automatically losing the Act's protection.

The termination wasn't the only problem. The ALJ also concluded Apex unlawfully ordered Richardson to stop discussing workplace issues publicly, maintained overly broad confidentiality and non-disparagement policies that could chill protected employee speech, and retaliated by filing a defamation lawsuit based on Richardson's protected activity.

That last point is particularly noteworthy.

Employers certainly can sue employees for genuine defamation. But when the underlying speech is protected by the NLRA, a lawsuit itself can become an unfair labor practice if it's intended to punish or silence protected activity.

Too often, employers respond to public criticism by trying to make it disappear. They send a cease-and-desist letter, demand the post come down, threaten litigation, or terminate the employee.

That's a risky strategy. Indeed, before taking any action, ask these questions:
  • Is the employee discussing wages, discrimination, safety, scheduling, management practices, or other working conditions?
  • Are they speaking only for themselves, or attempting to involve coworkers?
  • Does the post invite collective action?
  • Are the challenged statements factual assertions that can actually be proven false, or are they opinions and rhetoric?
  • If you believe factual statements are false, can you specifically identify them and prove they were knowingly or maliciously made?

How you and your labor counsel answer these questions will inform and advise whether you are dealing with protected concerted activity.

Social media has become today's break room or water cooler. Employees don't lose their Section 7 rights because the conversation happens on LinkedIn instead of over coffee.

Often times the smartest response isn't trying to silence the criticism.

It's recognizing that employees have broad rights to criticize their workplace—even publicly—and ensuring your response doesn't become the much bigger story.

     

Related Stories

 

WIRTW #805 (the 'travel' edition)

"You and mom need to take a trip."

That's what our kids told us in mid-June. Our son was headed to London for a three-week summer program. Our daughter was off to New York City to get her visa for an upcoming semester abroad in France. And my wife and I realized that we hadn't taken a just-the-two-of-us vacation in eight years.

So, we fixed that.

Within 48 hours, I'd booked flights, Airbnbs, ferries between our three stops, winery tours, restaurant reservations, and just enough activities to keep us busy without feeling overplanned. Two weeks later, we were on a plane to Croatia.

If you've never been, go.

Seriously. Ten out of ten. Five stars. No notes.

We loved Croatia so much that we're already planning to go back next summer—this time with the kids.

And as for the "no notes" part? I actually have plenty. If you're planning a trip, I'm more than happy to share them.



Here's what I read this week that you should read, too.

The First Rule of Litigation PR Is Silence. Here’s Why JPMorgan Just Broke It — via Improve Your HR by Suzanne Lucas, the Evil HR Lady

Your Employees Can Now Fabricate a Receipt in 30 Seconds. Ugh. — via Dan Schwartz's Connecticut Employment Law Blog





GLP-1s and the High Cost of Providing Health Care — via Harvard Business Review


The 7th nominee for the Worst Employer of 2026 is … The Fatal Failure

Some stories don't need a legal analysis. They need an indictment of management.

This indictment places the City of Las Vegas as a nominee on my list of the Worst Employers of 2026.

Not because a workplace homicide occurred. Employers can't stop every act of violence.

But because, according to public records obtained by FOX5, maintenance worker Joey McLean repeatedly begged management for help, warned that he feared for his life, and was allegedly murdered by the very co-worker he warned about.

First came an urgent transfer request: "I need the city to be flexible and help."

Then came an HR complaint that should stop every manager in their tracks. McLean alleged his co-worker was stalking him outside of work, had access to a firearm, claimed gang affiliation, and had become increasingly threatening. He ended with six chilling words: "I am afraid for my life."

Those words don't prove every allegation. They don't require an employer to accept one employee's account without question.

But they absolutely require action.

Instead, according to the records, one manager worried that granting an "emergency transfer" would encourage similar requests from other employees. The employees, the manager wrote, "need to learn to work together and have an amicable relationship."

That's breathtakingly tone-deaf.

When an employee says he fears another employee might kill him, the employer's first concern cannot be whether accommodating the request creates an administrative headache.

Employers aren't expected to guarantee perfect safety. But they are expected to take credible threats seriously, investigate promptly, separate employees when appropriate, and take reasonable steps to reduce foreseeable risks.

Whether the City of Las Vegas met its legal obligations is for others to decide.

What troubles me is something more fundamental.

Management wasn't blindsided. McLean didn't stay silent. He asked for help. He requested a transfer. He documented escalating conduct. He said he was afraid for his life.

Then, according to prosecutors, the very co-worker he warned management about shot and killed him.

Most workplace conflicts never become violent. But the ones that do often leave a trail of warnings.

The real test of workplace violence prevention isn't whether you have a policy in your handbook. It's whether you recognize those warnings before tragedy strikes.

When an employee tells you they're afraid for their life, don't worry about the precedent you'll set by acting. Worry about the consequences if you don't. And also worry about making my list of the year's worst employers.
      

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