Kevin D. Chaffin

Kevin Chaffin is a trial lawyer.

Not a category of lawyer. Not a practice area description. A trial lawyer — the kind who goes dark on the first day of trial, when his client's case is called for jury selection. Who lives and breathes a client's fight like it's his own until the verdict is read, the award is issued, the motion is granted, or the check is written.

His record across 29 years of practice: 22 trials and arbitrations, 21 wins, 1 loss. Five jury trials. No jury trial losses. Fifteen arbitrations. No arbitration losses. He knows that day may come, and if it does, he will fight even harder during the next trial — while the appeal of that first loss is pending.

He has tried cases on both sides — plaintiff and defendant, employee and employer, individual and institution. He has represented workers fired for reporting unsafe conditions on oil drilling rigs and the companies being sued by regulators for OSHA violations. He has recovered damages exceeding MICRA limits against a hospital and transplant surgeon, and he has negotiated fleet agreements with Amazon, FedEx, and the United States Postal Service. He has sued the State of California over an unconstitutionally vague ammunition law, and he is currently a plaintiff in federal court against one of the largest legal information companies in the world — because they are wrong, and he does not bend the knee for anyone.

That is not a brand positioning statement. It is a 29-year documented pattern of behavior.

Where he comes from.

Kevin Chaffin was born in Santa Paula, California — the town where the California oil industry was born — and grew up in Ventura County as the fourth generation of a family that worked the oil fields. His grandfather Gene Chaffin rose from roughneck to Superintendent of Drilling. His father Brian ran Pacific Oil and Gas Supply in Ventura, providing materials and service to onshore and offshore producers across three counties.

As a child, Kevin rode in the oil fields with his grandfather or his father during school breaks. He swept warehouse floors at ten years old on weekends, counting oil and gas supply inventory. By twelve he was detailing cars and cutting grass to earn his own money. At fourteen he was working the line at Taco Bell for $3.35 an hour as a freshman in high school. By seventeen, when his grandfather had a stroke during his retirement job at the family supply business, Kevin took over Gene's route — driving the supply truck across the oil leases, carrying pipe or his surfboard on the rack depending on the day. They let him on every lease without question because he was a Chaffin and everyone knew Gene.

He also wrestled. And wrestling taught him something that has defined everything since: when the whistle blows, it is just you and the other person. No teammates to carry the load. No one to blame. Six minutes. Win or lose. That understanding — that some things are simply yours to win or lose alone — runs through everything he has done since.

He worked through high school, worked three jobs his first year at Pepperdine, and took on-campus housing jobs during breaks to have somewhere to live. His first real time off came in law school, when he sold his 1968 Mustang to pay living expenses so he could actually focus on studying. He loved the law from the beginning.

By the end of his first year at Pepperdine School of Law he was ranked 15th out of 300 students — top five percent of his class. He graded onto the Law Review. He won the American Jurisprudence Award for Civil Procedure — the highest grade in his class. He graduated cum laude in 1997. He passed the California Bar on his first attempt.

He is the first person in his family to go to college, much less graduate school. His grandmother Jean, who had a third-grade education, attended his law school graduation and pressed $20 into his hand and whispered: Kevin — how come you graduated twice?

He has never forgotten that. Or her case. Or the contractors who ended up losing licenses and going to jail after his investigation led the state licensing board to pursue all of them.

Before any of this, Kevin had another plan. Long before Top Gun made it fashionable, his dream was to fly for the Navy. He joined the U.S. Naval Sea Cadet Corps, completed boot camp at NRTC San Diego, qualified as a marksman, stood in the gas chamber reciting his general orders, and served two weeks aboard the USS Enterprise on a training mission. He rose to Leading Petty Officer of his unit.

On board the Enterprise, he sought out the flight surgeon to ask about his arm — he had broken his right elbow skateboarding. The doctor told him he would never fly. Automatic disqualification. He stood on the walkway near the flight tower and watched the F-14s launch.

Ten years later, the night before the 1997 California Bar exam, standing on a hotel balcony near LAX, jets overhead, that same sensation hit him without warning. He understands now. The door that closed on the Enterprise had led him to a room that was entirely his own.