FITSNews: "Toxic Justice" Series
- SCCLR Newsletter
- Oct 21
- 7 min read
By: Jenn Wood
Toxic Justice, Part 1: The South Carolina Asbestos Machine
How a dying elderly woman’s lawsuit opened a window into a court system where dead companies are resurrected — and political power shields the players pulling the strings.
On June 9, 2021, at 5:16 p.m. EDT, Isabella Park — a 90-year-old widow — died in a Spartanburg, South Carolina nursing facility. Her official cause of death: Stage IV metastatic mesothelioma of the pleura in her left lung, complicated by malignant pleural effusion.
Park’s passing might have been the quiet end to a long life, but just days earlier, she filed a sweeping asbestos lawsuit (.pdf) in Richland County against dozens of companies – alleging that decades-old exposure to asbestos-containing products had caused her terminal illness.
Her suit — filed on June 4, 2021 — contained a sprawling list of defendants, from corporate giants like Honeywell and 3M to obscure, long-defunct manufacturers that would be legally resurrected for the sole purpose of facing claims. After Park’s death, her estate was formally closed in 2021 — only to be reopened in July 2025 to keep the litigation against those defunct manufacturers alive.
Park’s legal action would become a troubling case study in how South Carolina’s asbestos docket – a system unlike any other in the nation – operates to the benefit of a wealthy clique of connected plaintiffs’ attorneys. It would also peel back the layers of alleged manipulation by powerful trial lawyers, unaccountable judges, and politicians overseeing (and profiting from) the racket.
THE RULES ARE DIFFERENT IN THIS COURT
Every asbestos case in South Carolina is funneled to the same judge — retired chief justice Jean Hoefer Toal — who presides over the state’s “coordinated docket” under a 2019 administrative order issued by then-chief justice Donald Beatty (.pdf). Beatty’s order gave Toal the title of “Chief Judge for Administrative Purposes” over all asbestos litigation statewide.
Toal’s authority extends far beyond presiding over trials. She is empowered to monitor the progress of the docket, conduct hearings, issue scheduling orders, assign cases to circuit judges, and direct clerks of court on filings. The result is a highly centralized system where one retired justice effectively controls each and every procedural step in asbestos litigation — from the first filing to the trial calendar — making South Carolina’s asbestos docket one of the most tightly managed civil caseloads in the nation.
In each of these cases, Toal decides when hearings are set, when motions are heard, and how judgments are entered – giving her total control over every facet of the docket.
The impact of Toal’s appointment was almost immediate. According to consulting firm KCIC, “before Judge Toal’s appointment, the state was not a very active asbestos jurisdiction.” Beginning in 2019, though, asbestos filings surged. On a percentage basis, the increase in new cases filed in South Carolina has been “one of the largest in the nation.”
KCIC also noted its data “only captures filings against traditional asbestos defendants and does not include talc-based cases that are also being filed in Richland County, which are likewise on the rise.”
One hallmark of this docket is the revival of “zombie” corporations — companies that dissolved decades ago but have been brought back to life via receiverships. These court-appointed receivers are tasked with identifying and liquidating insurance assets to pay asbestos claims related to the defunct entities.
In numerous cases, well-heeled Columbia, S.C. attorney Peter Protopapas has been appointed as receiver for these zombie companies. Protopapas has in turn repeatedly hired the politically connected law firm of S.C. House Speaker Murrell Smith – arguably the most powerful member of the state’s legislative branch of government. This has created what critics see as a closed loop of judicial discretion, political influence, and financial benefit.
Adding to that influence, Protopapas himself sits on the S.C. Judicial Merit Selection Commission (JMSC) — the powerful body that screens and nominates judges for election by the legislature. His role on the commission not only places him at the center of asbestos receiverships, but also gives him a voice in shaping the very judiciary that oversees them – especially judges on the appellate court.
The most telling glimpse into the scale of these receiverships came in 2020. That year, the Covil Corporation receivership disclosed a $44.5 million asbestos settlement (.pdf) — the only such figure ever revealed publicly. Every settlement since then has been sealed – hidden from public view and immune from scrutiny. Insurers funnel tens of millions into confidential agreements, while claimants, the courts, and the broader public are kept in the dark as to how much money truly changes hands.
What makes this secrecy especially consequential is the vast amount of power vested in the receiver. Court orders (.pdf) have designated Protopapas as manager of multiple Qualified Settlement Funds (QSFs) – authorizing him to invest, disburse, and even advance legal fees from these accounts. Yet those accounts are sealed, never filed publicly, and inaccessible to anyone outside the litigation.
With no statutory reporting requirements, no independent audits, and no meaningful oversight, critics have argued that this lack of transparency has turned South Carolina’s asbestos docket into a “receivership racket.” Insurers cut secret deals, receivers with political connections manage the proceeds, and the same plaintiffs’ lawyers who secure the appointments ultimately share in the payouts.
And the whole racket is insulated by a powerful political class that’s in on the profiteering…
This closed-loop system helped earn the Palmetto State the No. 3 spot on the Americans for Tort Reform Foundation’s (ATRF) 2024–2025 “Judicial Hellholes” list – which singled out South Carolina’s asbestos docket as Exhibit A. With cases averaging more than 100 defendants, the resurrection of “zombie” corporations through receiverships, and rulings that critics say lower evidentiary thresholds while enabling outsized verdicts, detractors see not justice, but a litigation machine uniquely structured to favor plaintiffs — and few know how to work that system better than the lawyers leading South Carolina’s asbestos bar.
THE PLAINTIFF POWERHOUSES
At the center of this plaintiff-friendly ecosystem are the trial lawyers who have built their careers on asbestos cases. These firms don’t just navigate the coordinated docket — they dominate it. They know which motions will stick, which judges will hear them, and how to marshal the docket’s procedural quirks to their strategic and tactical advantage.
Supporters frame the asbestos docket as a way to right wrongs and ensure victims get their day in court. Detractors see something else entirely — a litigation machine uniquely structured to favor plaintiffs and the attorneys who know how to manipulate it.
At the center of that machine? The Columbia, S.C.-based firm Kassel McVey.
Theile McVey, the firm’s managing partner, leads the docket with a presence honed through decades of asbestos and mesothelioma litigation. Since 2006, she has served as lead counsel in nearly every major mesothelioma case in South Carolina, mastering the mechanics of the coordinated docket and maximizing its procedural advantages.
Beyond the courtroom, McVey has held leadership roles in both the South Carolina Association for Justice (SCAJ) and the American Board of Trial Advocates. Notably, SCAJ’s membership once included infamous convicted killer and confessed fraudster Alex Murdaugh (another former president of the association) – highlighting how the organization has long served as a nexus for trial lawyers deeply embedded in the state’s legal ecosystem.
Alongside McVey, other heavy-hitters have cemented their place in South Carolina’s asbestos bar. Motley Rice, headquartered in Mount Pleasant, S.C., has long leveraged its national reach and deep bench to take on industrial giants in mass tort litigation. The firm’s asbestos team regularly appears on Toal’s docket, bringing in a steady stream of multi-plaintiff filings with dozens — sometimes hundreds — of defendants.
Richardson, Patrick, Westbrook & Brickman (RPWB) also plays a leading role in the docket. Known for pioneering asbestos cases in South Carolina decades ago, RPWB continues to cultivate a national referral network that feeds into the coordinated docket. Their attorneys have honed the art of linking local exposure sites to national corporate defendants, ensuring deep-pocketed targets remain in the crosshairs.
Together, these firms form a powerhouse plaintiff coalition. They share experts, coordinate strategies, and often appear side-by-side in the same trial groupings. It’s an ecosystem where experience is currency — and the veterans know every procedural twist and substantive argument that can tip a case in their favor.
They are not just courtroom advocates, they are architects of the apparatus itself.
FROM ONE CASE TO A LARGER PATTERN
Isabella Park’s lawsuit — and the machinery that sprang to life around it — isn’t an outlier. It’s a window into a litigation environment with its own rules, players, and rhythms. Inside this system, procedural decisions are shaped by a small circle of judges, political connections thread through the appointments, and the same names appear again and again on both the pleadings and the paychecks.
The coordinated docket’s efficiency is undeniable — cases move quickly, defendants are marshaled in from across the country, and verdicts can reach staggering heights. But speed and structure come with a cost. Critics say this model blurs the line between justice and industry, creating a self-sustaining ecosystem where the process itself becomes the product.
In Toxic Justice, we’ll follow this thread beyond Park’s case — tracing how South Carolina became a national hub for asbestos litigation, why it ranks among the top “judicial hellholes” in America, and how the interplay of courtroom control, political influence, and financial incentives fuels a cycle that’s as lucrative as it is controversial.
The next installment will take a step back from the courthouse to examine how these cases are built — from the search for exposure sites to the resurrection of “zombie” corporations — and meet the other power players who have thrived in this uniquely Palmetto State brand of “justice.”
