Related lawyers can represent adverse parties only when informed consent overrides the rule of imputation

Two lawyers, one big question: can relatives represent opposing clients? It sounds like a sentence you’d hear in a law school ethics seminar, but it’s a real-life puzzle that tests more than memory. Here’s the simple truth: the answer isn’t a flat no or yes. It depends on whether the conflict can be managed and whether the clients truly understand what’s at stake. The short, test-ready takeaway is that the rule of imputation can be overridden, but only under strict conditions.

Let me explain why this topic feels so sticky. In most firms, a conflict of interest isn’t just a personal headache. It’s a matter of professional responsibility that affects every lawyer in the room. The “rule of imputation” sits at the center of this issue. If one lawyer in a firm has a conflict, that conflict is treated as if every other lawyer in the same firm has it too. It’s a safeguard designed to prevent the slippery slope of shared confidential information and compromised judgment.

So how does this play out when the lawyers are related? Family ties raise the bar, not because family is inherently untrustworthy, but because kinship can blur judgment or create the perception that personal loyalties trump client interests. The standard approach is cautious: assume the worst—until you prove otherwise. The bright line you’ll often see is: a conflict in one lawyer is imputed to the entire firm. That’s the default.

Now, here’s the twist: there are exceptions. Yes, the rule can be overridden. But the bar for overriding it is high, and the steps are specific. The most common path is informed consent by all affected clients, joined by concrete measures to ensure the conflict won’t taint the representation. And there are jurisdictions that still demand extra caution when the conflict involves related lawyers—like siblings or a parent and child—because the personal relationship might unduly influence professional duties.

What does it take for consent to count? Informed consent isn’t a casual nod. It’s a clear, documented agreement after full disclosure of the conflict, the possible risks, and the steps the firm will take to prevent any spillover of confidential information. The clients must understand their options, including the possibility that the firm will need to withdraw or reassign parts of the matter if things get hairy. The consent should be in writing, with an explicit statement that the clients are aware of the risk of imputation and still choose to proceed.

And what about screening? Even with consent, many regimes require a robust ethical screen (an “ethical wall”). The idea is simple: separate the conflicted sibling from everyone else in the firm, seal off access to files and communications, and ensure no one on the case receives confidential information from the conflicted lawyer. The firm might assign different support staff, use separate workspaces, and maintain utterly separate document storage. No messages crossing the boundary, no casual hallway conversations about the case. If the screen is airtight, and if the conflicted lawyer’s access to confidential information is effectively severed, the rest of the team can move forward on the matter with the clients’ consent—and with the rule of imputation tamed, for now.

In some places, the imputation rule can be overridden because the parties and the court—after full disclosure—believe the personal relationship won’t affect the representation. Here’s where the nuance matters: the related lawyer must be able to demonstrate not just that they’ll act independently, but that the personal tie won’t color strategic decisions or the quality of advocacy. This isn’t a sentimental reassurance; it’s a professional standard supported by records, screening, and ongoing monitoring. The idea is to preserve client interests without letting a familial tie dictate outcomes.

A concrete way to see it is through a couple of hypothetical scenarios:

• Scenario A: A law firm has two partners who are siblings, and they’re handling a civil matter with opposing clients. The firm obtains written informed consent from both clients. They also implement a strict ethical screen around the conflicted partner, with separate files, separate staff, and no sharing of information. The court and the firm document that the screen is active and effective. In this setup, the rule of imputation can be overridden, and the siblings can continue to represent their respective clients.

• Scenario B: The same setup, but the screen isn’t perfect. Perhaps confidential information was already shared, or the two clients’ interests are so directly adverse that the risk of interference can’t be managed. In that case, the override doesn’t apply, and the conflict remains imputed to the whole firm. The firm would likely withdraw from one or both representations to avoid ethical trouble.

These examples aren’t about clever loopholes; they’re about integrity in practice. The MPRE and ethics rules insist that clients’ confidence in the system isn’t a game you win by clever drafting. It’s earned by transparent disclosures, careful management of information, and a willingness to step back when the risk is too high.

So, what should someone studying these rules keep in mind? Here are practical anchors you’ll hear echoed in ethics discussions and exam questions:

• The core concept: imputation means a conflict discovered in one attorney travels to the entire firm. That’s the default stance, and it explains why a related party’s conflict is so delicate.

• The big exception: informed consent from all affected clients, paired with effective screening, can let the representation continue in some circumstances. The consent must be real, informed, and documented.

• The special wrinkle with relatives: many jurisdictions scrutinize relationships like siblings or spouses extra closely. The question isn’t just “do the clients agree?” It’s “can the relationship be managed so the representation remains unhindered by personal ties?”

• Ground rules for consent: it’s not a casual checkbox. Clients deserve a clear explanation of the conflict, the risks of simultaneous adverse representation, and the steps the firm will take to keep information separate.

• The screening standard: screening isn’t a cosmetic measure. It’s a real, enforceable barrier that protects confidences. The firm must prove the screen is active and that no confidential information has passed the barrier.

• When this matters in practice: think about how these rules affect strategies, communications, and decision-making. If a client might discover a conflict, it’s better to address it early and document the process than to ride it out and hope for the best.

A few extra thoughts to connect the theory with everyday professional life:

Ethics is more than a rulebook. It’s about trust. Clients hire lawyers because they expect loyalty, candor, and rigorous protection of secrets. When a family connection appears in a case, trust can feel like it’s on the line even before a single argument is made in court. The structure of the rules—imputation, consent, screening—exists exactly to preserve that trust while allowing skilled lawyers to do their jobs when potential conflicts can be responsibly managed.

If you’re sorting through MPRE-style questions or thinking through real-life scenarios, here’s a practical way to approach the topic:

• Identify the conflict: Is it a direct conflict between current clients or a hypothetical that arises because of a relative’s involvement?

• Check imputation: Would this conflict be imputed to the whole firm?

• Look for exceptions: Is there informed consent from all affected clients, in writing? Is there a workable screening plan in place?

• Verify independence: Can the related lawyer demonstrate independent professional judgment?

• Assess feasibility: If consent is given and screening is effective, does the matter stay manageable? If there’s even a hint of potential interference, step back.

Let me circle back to the core question you asked earlier, because it’s a good microcosm of how ethics questions are structured. In the public ethics framework many jurisdictions use, the correct interpretive conclusion for the scenario “When can lawyers who are related represent adverse parties?” is that the rule of imputation can be overridden. Not automatically, not casually, but under careful conditions: informed consent from all affected clients, combined with a robust screening process and a demonstrated ability to maintain professional independence despite the familial tie.

A little metaphor might help. Think of the rule of imputation as a firewall in a data center. It stops a breach from spreading. But firewalls can be adjusted or bypassed if you can show everyone agrees to certain security measures, and the network is segmented so there’s no cross-traffic that could leak information. The same logic applies here: if all parties understand the risk, agree to the safeguards, and the firm can keep the information compartments sealed, the representation can proceed. If not, the firewall stays up.

For anyone who wants to keep this topic fresh in memory without getting lost in the weeds, a few crisp takeaways work well:

• Remember: imputation is the default rule; conflicts in one lawyer bleed into the firm unless you prove otherwise.

• Consent must be informed and in writing, with a full disclosure of risks and protections.

• Screening must be real, verifiable, and maintained throughout the matter.

• When relatives are involved, show you can separate personal ties from professional duties, or be prepared to withdraw from one side.

• Real-world applications matter: the ethics framework isn’t theoretical—it guides how lawyers communicate with clients, how teams are organized, and how cases are assigned.

If you’re navigating these ideas in your own reading or discussion, keep the questions alive in your mind: What would a judge think about the screening here? Do both clients truly understand the conflict? Is there a practical barrier that makes maintaining independence impossible? The moment you anchor your thoughts to those questions, you’ll remember the core principle: the rule of imputation can be overridden, but only when there’s genuine, carefully documented protection of each client’s interests.

In the end, ethics isn’t a checklist; it’s a framework for trustworthy practice. The related-lawyer scenario is a perfect case study of how rules bend—without breaking—when transparency, consent, and safeguards line up. And that alignment is what keeps the legal system not just functional, but fair. If you carry that mindset into your reading and discussions, you’ll find these questions feel less like traps and more like navigable terrain—where the destination is a principled, professional standard you can defend with clarity and calm reasoning.