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When a Partnership Pitch Becomes a Trade Secret Lawsuit: DynamoEdge v. Andretti

Every IP lawyer has heard some version of this story from a founder: we shared our technology with a bigger, better-connected partner during “partnership talks,” the deal fell apart, and a few years later our idea showed up inside someone else’s billion-dollar company. Usually the facts are murkier than the founder’s telling. But when the allegations land in a filed complaint, with a granted patent number attached and a state economic development agency named as a defendant, the story becomes a useful case study regardless of how it ultimately resolves.

That is exactly what happened on March 5, 2026, when Barbara Bessolo, founder and CEO of the Carmel, Indiana-based startup DynamoEdge, filed suit in Marion Superior Court against Michael Andretti, Andretti Autosport Holding Company, Andretti Global, the Indiana Economic Development Corporation (IEDC), former IEDC chief innovation officer David Roberts, Indy Autonomous Challenge founder Paul Mitchell, contractor 9-12 LLC, Palantir Technologies, the Applied Research Institute/Indiana Innovation Institute, and more than a dozen additional individuals and entities.

The technology at the center of the dispute

DynamoEdge builds real-time “edge AI” for motorsports telemetry — software designed to process vehicle sensor data on the fly and predict performance outcomes and equipment failures before they happen. The complaint centers on U.S. Patent No. 12,518,219, which DynamoEdge filed for in May 2022 and which was granted in early 2026, covering real-time processing of vehicle sensor data. Bessolo also claims common-law rights in the phrase “Predicting the Unpredictable,” which she says DynamoEdge has used as a slogan since around 2021.

How the relationship allegedly unraveled

According to the complaint and subsequent reporting, the story begins in October 2020, when DynamoEdge entered partnership discussions with Andretti. Bessolo alleges Andretti agreed to rebrand the company as “AndrettiEdge” and brought her into investor meetings with AT&T. Around 2021, DynamoEdge also held a subcontract with 9-12 LLC, which was terminated that September. A May 2021 matching-grant agreement between 9-12 and DynamoEdge was reportedly canceled within weeks of being signed.

Bessolo alleges that David Roberts, in his IEDC role, undermined her relationships with prospective partners including Cisco and AT&T, at one point allegedly telling her the technology was “never going to be at IMS” — a reference to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. By 2024, Andretti had launched an AI venture reported to be valued at roughly $1 billion, which the complaint alleges incorporates DynamoEdge’s vehicle-performance-prediction technology and marketing language. The complaint also points to a 5G proof-of-concept project involving 9-12 LLC, AT&T, and Purdue University as another avenue through which DynamoEdge’s IP allegedly ended up in other hands.

The legal theories

The complaint reportedly pleads several distinct causes of action rather than a single trade secret claim, which is worth noting for anyone tracking how these disputes get pleaded in practice: misappropriation of trade secrets, breach of contract, tortious interference, defamation, and a claim for an accounting of IEDC contracts and grants dating back to 2016. That last piece is unusual — Bessolo’s team is effectively asking the court to require a public agency to open its books, on the theory that public funds may have supported ventures built on her technology without authorization. She is seeking exemplary and punitive damages along with an injunction barring further use of the disputed IP, trademarks, and technology.

Roberts, through his attorney Paul Jefferson, has already pushed back publicly, characterizing the suit as resting on “a fundamental lack of knowledge of the facts.” None of the defendants have been found liable, and the case is still in its early stages.

Why this case is worth watching

Setting aside how the facts eventually shake out, the fact pattern touches several issues that come up constantly in technology partnership deals: what happens when a startup shares proprietary technology during unsigned “partnership” discussions with a larger, better-resourced counterparty; whether a slogan or brand phrase used consistently in commerce can support common-law trademark rights; how patent prosecution timing (a 2022 filing, a 2026 grant) interacts with allegations of use that predate issuance; and the added complexity of layering a public-private economic development relationship — with grants, subcontracts, and a state agency’s own conflict-of-interest exposure — on top of an ordinary commercial dispute.

For founders, the practical lesson is the same one IP counsel gives in every deal-stage conversation: get the NDA and any IP assignment or license terms in writing before the pitch, not after the rebrand discussion; file for patent protection early rather than relying on trade secret status alone once a technology is being shopped around to partners; and document who said what, and when, because years later those details are exactly what a complaint like this one is built on.

We’ll continue to monitor this case as it proceeds through Marion Superior Court.

 

This post summarizes publicly reported allegations from a filed civil complaint. The claims described above are allegations only and have not been proven in court.

Sources

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Can You Use ChatGPT/Claude/Gemini While Inventing? What the Rule Against “AI Inventors” Actually Requires

A question we’re hearing more and more from inventor clients goes something like this: I used AI tools throughout development — for research, for organizing my notes, for drafting business documents, for thinking through regulatory strategy. Does that create a problem for my patent application?

It’s a fair question, and it’s usually prompted by half-remembered headlines about Thaler v. Vidal — the case that made clear an AI system can’t be named as an inventor on a U.S. patent. That headline is accurate, but it answers a narrower question than most people think it does. Below is how we walk clients through it, using a recent (anonymized, and lightly composited) fact pattern as an illustration.

The scenario: The client’s product idea originated years earlier from the client’s own hands-on experience solving a personal problem. Long before any AI-assisted work began, the client had privately worked out the core mechanism themselves. The client also happened to have a timestamped chat log — from before any substantive development work — in which they described the concept, in their own words, to an AI assistant. From that point forward, the client used AI tools extensively: researching related art and regulatory questions, organizing findings, drafting business documents, and thinking through strategy. All physical testing and refinement was done by the client, by hand, on the actual product.

1. Does this create an inventorship problem, or a disclosure obligation?

Short answer: not on these facts, and here’s why.

Thaler v. Vidal held that under the Patent Act, an “inventor” must be a natural person — a machine can’t be listed as one. The Federal Circuit decided that in 2022, and the Supreme Court has since twice declined to disturb the underlying principle (denying certiorari in the original patent case, and again in the companion copyright dispute over AI-generated output). That rule is now settled.

What it does not say is that using AI during the invention process disqualifies you as the inventor. The USPTO addressed that directly, first in 2024 guidance and then in a revised version issued in late November 2025 that simplified the standard considerably. The Office now applies a single, uniform inventorship test regardless of what tools were involved: did a natural person form the definite and permanent idea of the complete and operative invention? The 2025 revision explicitly frames AI as “a sophisticated tool, akin to a laboratory instrument” — the same category as a modeling program, a search database, or a bench assistant who follows instructions. Using a tool to research, organize, draft, or test doesn’t make the tool a co-inventor, any more than a word processor or a CAD program would be.

Applied to the scenario above: the conception — the actual inventive insight — occurred in the client’s own head, based on personal experience, and there’s a contemporaneous, timestamped record showing the concept was already fully formed before any AI involvement. Everything after that point — research, drafting, strategy discussions, and the physical testing that reduced the idea to practice — is exactly the kind of tool-assisted work the current guidance says doesn’t touch inventorship, provided the AI wasn’t the source of the inventive contribution itself. The one thing we’d always confirm with a client in this position: did the AI, at any point, propose a specific technical solution or design element — as opposed to organizing, summarizing, or explaining things the client already directed — that ended up in the claims? If so, that particular element deserves a closer look. Explaining well-understood concepts or executing on the inventor’s specific instructions doesn’t count as a contribution to conception; independently proposing a novel technical fix might.

As for disclosure: there’s no separate box to check telling the USPTO “I used AI.” What does apply is the ordinary duty of candor and good faith that already governs every filing — the Office’s April 2024 guidance made clear that duty extends to “the actions individuals take with any automated tools, including AI tools,” meaning anything AI-assisted that’s material to patentability has to be handled with the same honesty as anything else. Practically, that means two things: the inventor’s declaration (the sworn statement that you believe yourself to be the true inventor) has to remain accurate, which it is here; and nobody gets to treat AI output as pre-verified. If an AI tool is used anywhere near the substance of the application — drafting language, characterizing prior art, describing what the invention does — a human has to independently check it before it’s filed. The Office has been blunt that “simply relying on the accuracy of an AI tool is not a reasonable inquiry.”

A contrasting example — where it gets murkier

Not every AI-assisted development story is this clean, and it’s worth showing the other end of the spectrum so the line is clear. In a different (also anonymized and composited) matter, a founder came to us with a working prototype and a fairly polished specification, largely shaped by an AI tool from early on. Their process had been to describe the problem they wanted solved and ask the tool to propose a mechanism, then build around whatever it suggested. When we asked the founder to walk us through their own contribution to the core mechanism in the claims, the honest answer amounted to: recognizing that the AI’s suggestion would work, and then building it.

That’s a materially different fact pattern, and current guidance treats it as a real risk rather than a formality. Identifying a problem and prompting a tool to solve it, then appreciating that the tool’s proposed solution is a good one, generally isn’t enough to establish conception of that solution — a person has to have actually formed the definite and permanent idea of the claimed invention, not merely recognized the value of an idea that originated elsewhere. If no natural person can honestly say they conceived a given claim element, that element is on shaky ground: it can jeopardize the validity of the claim, and it puts the inventor’s signed declaration at real risk of being inaccurate.

Situations like this are usually recoverable, but not by adjusting the paperwork. The fix is substantive: go back and identify where the founder’s own independent judgment actually entered the process — a modification, a rejection of one AI-suggested approach in favor of another, a design constraint only the founder would know to apply — and build claims around what they can honestly stand behind as their own. Where there wasn’t much of that, the claims may need to be narrowed, or the invention may need further independent development before it’s ready to file. What doesn’t work is treating an AI-proposed mechanism as your own idea simply because you were the one who typed the prompt.

2. Documentation practices worth adopting going forward

None of this requires overhauling how a client works — it mostly means being deliberate about what gets recorded and when.

  • Keep the conception record intact and separate. The dated, contemporaneous description of the idea — in the client’s own words, before AI-assisted development began — is exactly the kind of evidence that makes this analysis easy. Export it, preserve the metadata, and don’t let it get mixed in with later, more collaborative research threads.
  • Maintain an ongoing inventor’s record. Dated notes, sketches, or a simple log of testing and iteration — kept independent of any AI tool — continues to be the strongest evidence of who actually conceived and refined the invention.
  • When AI is used to brainstorm technical options, document the human judgment layer. If a client ever does ask an AI tool for possible solutions to a design problem, the record should show the client evaluating, selecting, modifying, and testing those options — not simply adopting an output wholesale. That evaluative work is itself evidence of inventive contribution.
  • Verify before it’s filed. Any AI-touched language, citation, or technical characterization headed for the application should be independently checked against source material — both because of the duty of candor and because AI tools are known to occasionally fabricate or misstate details.
  • Mind confidentiality, separately from inventorship. Before pasting unfiled invention details into a consumer-tier AI account, check the provider’s data-use settings. It’s less about patent law and more about not inadvertently sharing confidential technical information more broadly than intended.

The bottom line for clients using AI as part of an otherwise ordinary R&D and business-development process: the Thaler rule is about who — or what — can be named as an inventor, not about what tools an inventor is allowed to use along the way. Good habits around dating and preserving your own conception evidence do more to protect the application than any change in how AI is used.

This post discusses general principles of current U.S. patent law and USPTO guidance for informational purposes; it isn’t legal advice and doesn’t create an attorney-client relationship. The scenario described is a composite, anonymized illustration and doesn’t identify any client or specific matter. Every fact pattern is different — if you’re navigating a similar question, talk to counsel about your specific situation.

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From Cattle Brands to Trademarks: Protecting Your Brand in the Wild West of Business

Long before “brand” meant a logo, a tagline, or a feeling customers get when they see your name, it meant something you could smell burning. On the open range of the American West, a rancher’s brand — a distinctive shape burned into a calf’s hide — was the only thing standing between “that’s my cattle” and a very expensive argument. One glance at the mark told everyone on the trail exactly whose herd was whose, and rustling a branded animal was a serious offense precisely because the brand was proof of ownership.

That’s not just a colorful bit of frontier history. It’s the literal ancestor of modern trademark law.

The Original Brand Protection

When ranchers registered their brands with the local cattlemen’s association or county recorder, they were doing something strikingly similar to what a business does today when it files a trademark application with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. Both acts say the same thing: this mark identifies something as mine, and I’m putting the world on notice.

The parallels go deeper than the word itself:

A registered cattle brand had to be distinctive enough that it couldn’t be mistaken for a neighbor’s — two ranchers couldn’t both claim a plain circle. Trademark law imposes the same requirement today: your mark has to be distinctive enough to actually distinguish your goods or services from everyone else’s.

A brand only meant something if you used it and defended it. A rancher who let others use his brand without objection risked losing the exclusive right to it. Trademark law works the same way — rights are built through use in commerce, and they can erode if you don’t police unauthorized use.

And just as a clever rustler might alter a brand slightly — turning a bar into a cross, adding a stroke to disguise one mark as another — trademark infringers today rely on the same trick: a name or logo close enough to cause confusion, but just different enough to claim innocence. Courts see through both.

When “Close Enough” Isn’t

This is where a lot of small and growing businesses get burned, so to speak. They assume that as long as their name or logo isn’t an exact copy, they’re safe. But trademark law — like the old brand inspectors riding the range — cares about the likelihood of confusion, not an identical replica. If a customer could reasonably mistake your mark for someone else’s, that’s a problem, whether you meant to cause confusion or not.

We see this play out constantly: a new coffee shop picks a name uncomfortably close to a regional chain’s; a startup’s logo echoes a competitor’s color palette and shape a little too closely; a product name borrows the “feel” of an established brand hoping some of that goodwill rubs off. Sometimes it’s innocent. Sometimes it isn’t. Either way, it can end in a costly dispute — or a rebrand nobody wanted to pay for.

Staking Your Claim the Right Way

The good news is that protecting your brand doesn’t require a six-shooter — just the right paperwork, done early.

Register your mark. A registered trademark is your recorded brand, on file, on notice to the world. It gives you stronger legal ground if someone else tries to ride in on your reputation.

Choose a distinctive mark from the start. The most defensible brands, like the most recognizable cattle brands, are the ones that don’t look like anyone else’s. Descriptive or generic names are harder to protect — a mark that’s inherently distinctive gives you a much stronger claim.

Use it consistently, and watch for imitators. Brands lose strength when they’re used inconsistently or left undefended. Keeping an eye on your industry — and your marketplace — for marks that ride too close to yours is part of actually owning your brand, not just registering it.

Don’t wait for a dispute to find out where you stand. By the time a conflict shows up, it’s often more expensive to fix than it would have been to prevent.

The Range Is Bigger Now, but the Principle Hasn’t Changed

Today’s marketplace is a lot more crowded than the open range ever was, and the “cattle” — your name, your logo, your reputation — moves across state lines and the internet in an instant. But the underlying idea a rancher understood in 1880 still holds: a mark is only worth something if it’s clearly yours, clearly distinctive, and clearly defended.

If you’ve built something worth putting your brand on, it’s worth protecting properly. Our team at Martin IP Law Group helps businesses register, strengthen, and defend their brands — no branding iron required. If you’re not sure whether your mark is as protected as you think it is, we’re happy to take a look.

Got a brand you’d like us to help protect? Reach out to Martin IP Law Group — we’ll help you make sure it’s yours, free and clear.

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When the Little Guy Sues the Big Guy Over a Name — And Wins the Argument on Size Alone

Usually, trademark fights follow a predictable shape. The big, famous brand sues the small upstart for trading on its name. This one runs the other way. The University of Indianapolis — a private school of about 4,700 students — has sued Indiana University, a public system with more than 90,000 students across its campuses, over three letters: “IU.” And UIndy’s argument isn’t that IU is too small to be confused with. It’s that IU is too big not to be.

What Happened

On August 11, 2026, UIndy filed suit against IU in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Indiana, alleging trademark infringement, unfair competition, and false designation of origin. The dispute traces back to July 1, 2024, when Indiana University and Purdue University dissolved their joint IUPUI campus and split it into two separate schools: IU Indianapolis and Purdue in Indianapolis. In rebranding its half of the split, IU began using “IU Indy” across its website, promotional materials, and athletic uniforms.

One problem: UIndy has owned a federal registration for “UINDY” since 2003 — more than two decades of exclusive use before IU Indy existed. IU actually filed its own trademark application for “IU Indy” in February 2024, months before the split took effect. UIndy opposed that application in 2025, and the opposition never resolved. Now it’s a lawsuit.

The two names are separated by one letter. “UIndy.” “IU Indy.” Say them out loud and the difference nearly disappears.

The Legal Theory: Reverse Confusion

Here’s where the doctrine gets interesting, and where most people’s intuition about trademark law breaks down.

The classic trademark infringement story is “forward confusion”: a small, unknown company uses a name close to a famous brand’s, and consumers assume the small company is affiliated with — or is somehow riding the coattails of — the famous one. Think of a no-name soda calling itself “Coca-Cola Classic Plus.” The little guy is trying to borrow the big guy’s reputation.

UIndy isn’t making that argument, because it can’t. UIndy is the older, smaller, less nationally known name here. So instead, UIndy is alleging “reverse confusion” — a less common but well-established theory where the roles flip. In reverse confusion, a larger, more powerful junior user (IU, in this case) adopts a mark so close to a smaller senior user’s mark that the market starts to assume the senior user — the one who had the name first — is the newcomer, copycat, or unauthorized affiliate. The senior trademark holder doesn’t need the big guy’s fame to make its case. It needs the opposite: it needs to show the big guy’s fame is drowning it out.

In other words, UIndy isn’t worried that people will think it’s associated with IU. UIndy is worried that thirty years of brand-building around “UIndy” will simply be swallowed by an institution nine times its size using a nearly identical name, until the public assumes IU Indy came first and UIndy is the one riding coattails — even though the registration timeline says the exact opposite.

Why UIndy’s Case Isn’t Just Theoretical

Trademark law doesn’t protect a name because a company likes it. It protects a name because consumer confusion causes real, measurable harm — misdirected customers, diluted goodwill, lost sales. UIndy’s complaint leans on exactly that kind of evidence, not just the abstract unfairness of a bigger school using a smaller school’s near-identical name.

UIndy President Tanuja Singh pointed to a concrete example: mistaken deliveries — including deliveries intended for prospective students — showing up at the wrong campus. “It’s not hurting just us,” Singh said. “It’s hurting them as well.” That’s a notable admission threaded into UIndy’s own argument: reverse confusion, done right, is bad for both sides, not just the smaller one. When your name and mine are one letter apart, every mixed-up FedEx package, misdirected campus tour, and confused prospective-student inquiry is evidence for a lawsuit.

UIndy is also alleging harm to merchandise sales — arguing that revenue from IU gear bearing the disputed name represents profits UIndy should be able to recover.

What UIndy Is Asking For

The relief sought tells you how seriously UIndy is treating this: a permanent injunction blocking IU’s use of the “IU Indy” marks, cancellation of IU’s pending trademark applications, disgorgement of IU’s profits tied to the disputed name, and punitive damages and attorney’s fees on top of it. That’s not a cease-and-desist letter dressed up as a lawsuit. That’s a full request to unwind IU’s rebrand.

IU, for its part, isn’t saying much. A university spokesman offered the standard line: “The university does not comment on litigation.” UIndy’s spokesman struck a more conciliatory tone, saying the school will “allow the legal process to proceed and remain hopeful that this matter can be resolved.”

The Takeaway for Business Owners

You don’t need a university’s budget to learn something from this case. Three things are worth taking away, regardless of what industry you’re in.

First, registering your name early matters — and it matters for longer than you’d think. UIndy’s registration dates to 2003. Twenty-plus years later, that registration is the entire foundation of its case against an institution roughly twenty times its size by enrollment. If you’re pitching it, you should be protecting it, and the earlier you file, the stronger the ground you’re standing on when a much bigger competitor eventually shows up next door.

Second, size cuts both ways in a trademark dispute. Most founders assume the danger is a small company copying a big one’s name. Reverse confusion is the reminder that the danger also runs the other direction: a much larger competitor adopting something close to your name can erase your market identity even without any intent to trade on your goodwill. If a bigger player enters your space with a name that echoes yours, that’s not a coincidence to shrug off — it’s a trademark problem to evaluate immediately.

Third, oppositions don’t resolve themselves. UIndy opposed IU’s trademark application back in 2025. That opposition sat unresolved until UIndy escalated to federal court. If you’ve filed an opposition and it’s stalled, stalling isn’t neutral — it’s time your competitor gets to keep building brand recognition around the name you’re disputing.

How Martin IP Law Group Can Help

Watching for confusingly similar marks — before they cost you customers, merchandise revenue, or years of brand equity — is exactly what proactive trademark counsel is for. Whether you’re the university that’s been using a name since 2003 or the growing company that just noticed a much bigger competitor edging into your name space, the time to act is before the misdirected deliveries start piling up, not after.

If you’re concerned about a name that’s a little too close to yours — in either direction — we’d welcome the conversation.

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When Brand Protection Becomes a Branding Problem: What Buc-ee’s Beaver-vs-Mickey’s Moose Fight Teaches Business Owners About Trademark Enforcement

If you have driven through Texas in the last decade, you already know the beaver. Buc-ee’s has turned a grinning, buck-toothed cartoon rodent into one of the most recognized retail brands in the country, and the company guards that mark aggressively. Recently, that enforcement strategy has become the story itself. Buc-ee’s is currently in federal court against Coles IP Holdings, the operator of Ohio’s Mickey’s convenience store chain, arguing that Mickey’s cartoon moose — a mascot that has coexisted with the beaver for roughly 35 years — infringes its trademark rights.

The Mickey’s suit is not an isolated dispute. Court filings show Buc-ee’s has brought more than a dozen federal trademark actions in the past two years against businesses using cartoon animal logos, from an apparel seller’s patriotic beaver patches to a Georgia koala and a Missouri duck. As a patent and trademark attorney who has spent over 30 years building and defending IP portfolios for manufacturers and growing brands, I think this case is worth unpacking — not for the gossip value, but because it illustrates a tension every client with a valuable mark eventually faces: how aggressively should you enforce your trademark rights?

The Legal Theory Is Straightforward

Trademark infringement turns on “likelihood of confusion,” not on whether two logos depict the same species. Buc-ee’s complaint points to shared visual elements — a cartoon animal facing right, wide eyes, a smile, a round badge-style frame — and argues those similarities, combined with Mickey’s increased use of red branding, could confuse convenience-store shoppers about the source of goods. That is a legitimate legal theory, and Buc-ee’s has won this kind of fight before: it prevailed in a 2018 jury trial against Choke Canyon’s alligator mascot on similar grounds.

But legal defensibility and business wisdom are not the same question. Outside trademark counsel quoted in press coverage of the Mickey’s case have called the theory a stretch, given the decades of peaceful coexistence between the two marks and the fact that a moose and a beaver are, as Mickey’s lawyers put it, simply not the same animal.

Enforcement as an Expansion Strategy

What makes this pattern especially instructive for our clients is the apparent correlation between Buc-ee’s litigation targets and its store-opening map. The Ohio suit against Mickey’s coincided with Buc-ee’s first Ohio location; the Georgia koala suit came as Buc-ee’s was already operating in that state. With per-store construction costs running into the tens of millions of dollars, protecting the singularity of the beaver in a shopper’s mind before entering a new market is, from a pure brand-value standpoint, a rational calculation.

This is a legitimate use of trademark enforcement: clearing likely sources of confusion ahead of a market entry is exactly what the law is designed to allow. Where it gets risky is in the court of public opinion, which brings us to the second lesson.

Reputational Risk Is a Real Cost of Enforcement

Mickey’s is a 42-store chain with a mascot literally sketched by a child, operating in the region for more than 40 years. Suing that kind of local, beloved brand — and demanding it “deliver up and destroy” its merchandise — has generated exactly the backlash you would expect. News coverage describes Ohio consumers calling the suit “petty,” and commentators have pointed to well-documented psychological effects: people instinctively root for the smaller party in a mismatched fight, and heavy-handed demands can trigger reactance, making the public want to defend the very thing a company is trying to suppress.

For a consumer-facing brand, goodwill is itself an asset built over years and spent in days. Any enforcement strategy that ignores that fact is incomplete, no matter how sound the underlying legal theory is.

Practical Takeaways for Business Owners

  • Enforce deliberately, not reflexively. A mark is worth defending, but every cease-and-desist letter and lawsuit should be weighed against the reputational cost of the specific target, not just the legal merits.
  • Document your rationale. If enforcement is tied to a market-entry strategy, memorialize that business justification. It supports your legal position and helps you explain the decision if it draws public attention.
  • Consider tiered responses. A quiet cease-and-desist letter, a coexistence agreement, or a licensing conversation can often resolve a conflict without the public relations exposure of a federal lawsuit — particularly against smaller or long-coexisting users.
  • Know your actual exposure. “Likelihood of confusion” depends on the totality of the marks, the goods, the channels of trade, and the strength of your mark — not merely surface-level similarities like a smiling animal facing the same direction.
  • Protect the mark before you need to litigate it. Regular trademark audits, consistent use, and prompt registration in new markets reduce the number of hard enforcement calls you will ever have to make.

The Bottom Line

A trademark is one of the most valuable assets a growing business owns, and the law gives you real tools to protect it. But those tools should be used with judgment. The Buc-ee’s and Mickey’s dispute is a live demonstration that a legally colorable claim can still be a strategic misstep if it is not weighed against brand goodwill, market perception, and the practical realities of who you are suing and why.

At Martin IP Law Group, we help manufacturing, retail, and consumer brand clients build enforcement strategies that protect the mark without sacrificing the reputation the mark represents. If you are considering a trademark dispute — on either side of it — we would welcome the conversation.

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Can AI Create Something You Can Actually Own? The Supreme Court Says No — For Now

A client asked me last month whether the AI-generated product renderings her design team had been using could be protected as her company’s intellectual property. It’s a great question, and as of this spring, we finally have a clearer answer from the courts — even if it isn’t the one everyone wanted.

In March 2026, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear Thaler v. Perlmutter, letting stand a ruling that copyright law requires a human author. If you’re using AI in your business — and by now, most of us are, in one form or another — this case is worth five minutes of your time.

What Happened

Dr. Stephen Thaler, a computer scientist, applied for copyright registration on an image called “A Recent Entrance to Paradise,” which he said was generated entirely by his AI system, DABUS, with no human prompting, editing, or creative input at all. He was upfront about that — no human touched the creative process. The Copyright Office denied the application. The D.C. Circuit agreed with that denial. And on March 2, 2026, the Supreme Court declined to take the case, leaving the D.C. Circuit’s ruling in place.

The rule, in plain terms: a work produced entirely by a machine, with no human creative contribution, cannot be copyrighted. It doesn’t matter how original the output looks.

What This Case Didn’t Decide

Here’s the part I want my clients to understand, because it’s where the real-world stakes are. Thaler’s case was an extreme, deliberately clean test — he disclaimed any human involvement on purpose. The Court didn’t address the situation most businesses are actually in: a person using AI as a tool, prompting it, picking through outputs, editing results, or combining AI-generated pieces into something new.

That situation is governed by the Copyright Office’s own guidance, and it’s more workable than people assume. Here’s how I’d summarize it for clients:

AI-assisted work can be copyrighted if a human is genuinely exercising creative control — writing a piece and using AI to edit or polish it, for example, doesn’t put your authorship in doubt.

Selection and arrangement can count. If you select, arrange, or substantially modify AI-generated elements in a creative way, that arrangement can be protected — even if the individual AI-generated pieces, on their own, couldn’t be.

A prompt alone isn’t authorship. Typing a prompt into a generative AI tool, no matter how carefully crafted, doesn’t by itself make you the legal “author” of the output. The Office’s logic: identical prompts can produce very different results, which tells you the human isn’t controlling the actual expression — the AI is.

Pure AI output is not protectable. Full stop. If nothing about the final product reflects human creative judgment, it isn’t yours to copyright.

Why I’m Telling You This

If your business leans on generative AI for marketing content, product designs, written materials, or other creative assets, this matters more than it might seem. Content that’s essentially raw AI output — accepted as-is, without meaningful human editing or arrangement — may not be something you can actually stop a competitor from copying. No demonstrable authorship, no enforceable copyright.

It also affects how you should be filing. The Copyright Office now requires applicants to disclose AI’s role in a work and explain the human contribution specifically. I’ve seen clients try to skip past this on an application, and it’s not worth the risk — an inaccurate disclosure can undermine the registration itself, and with it, your ability to enforce the work down the line.

What I’d Recommend

Keep a record of the human creative process behind anything you want to protect: what was selected, edited, arranged, or substantially changed, and by whom. Treat AI output as a draft or raw material rather than a finished product if copyright protection is something you care about. And when you do register AI-assisted work, disclose the AI’s role honestly — the Copyright Office is actively looking at this, and it’s far better to get it right the first time.

Thaler may be the last word on purely autonomous AI authorship, but it’s really just the opening chapter on how the law will handle humans and AI working together, which is the situation nearly all of us are actually in. I’ll keep tracking how this develops. If you have questions about protecting AI-assisted work at your company, give me a call.

 

Rick Martin

IP Solutions Law

This post is for informational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice. If you have questions about protecting AI-assisted work, please contact us and schedule a strategy session.

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Offside on Purpose: What the 2026 World Cup Teaches Businesses About Trademark Risk

The 2026 FIFA World Cup is underway across the United States, Canada, and Mexico, and it is impossible to miss: bars are advertising watch parties, retailers are stocking jerseys, and every brand with a marketing budget wants a piece of the moment. That enthusiasm is exactly why this tournament has become one of the richest case studies in trademark and brand-protection law that our clients will see this year. FIFA does not just police what happens on the pitch. It runs one of the most aggressive intellectual property enforcement operations of any global sporting event, and businesses that misjudge the line between “celebrating the World Cup” and “infringing FIFA’s marks” can find themselves fielding a cease-and-desist letter instead of a wave of new customers.

FIFA Owns More Than You Think

Many businesses assume that a phrase as generic-sounding as “World Cup” can’t really belong to anyone. They are wrong. FIFA holds a live U.S. federal trademark registration for the standalone words “WORLD CUP,” covering everything from apparel and sports balls to beverages and broadcasting services, and it has separately registered “FIFA WORLD CUP,” the 2026 tournament slogan “We Are 26,” the trophy silhouette, the official emblem, and host-city branding. Put simply: the phrase itself, not just the logo, is protected property in the eyes of the USPTO.

That matters because FIFA’s commercial model depends on exclusivity. Official sponsors pay enormous sums specifically for the right to associate their brand with the tournament. If any business could invoke the World Cup for free, that exclusivity — and the sponsorship revenue built on it — would evaporate. So FIFA protects it aggressively, through both formal litigation and rapid-response takedown and cease-and-desist campaigns during the tournament window.

No Special “World Cup Law” This Time — But the Lanham Act Still Bites

Some past host countries passed standalone statutes specifically to shield FIFA’s marks. The 2026 host nations have largely not done that. Instead, FIFA is relying on the existing toolkit: the Lanham Act in the United States, comparable trademark statutes in Canada and Mexico, plus contractual control over stadium and venue advertising and cooperation from municipal authorities in host cities. Venue rules can bar visible non-sponsor branding inside and immediately around stadiums entirely, regardless of whether a court would ultimately find infringement — control of the physical space does a lot of the enforcement work before a lawsuit is ever needed.

Ambush Marketing: Where Businesses Get Tripped Up

“Ambush marketing” is the industry term for a non-sponsor creating the impression of an official relationship with the tournament without paying for the association. It does not require using FIFA’s logo. Legal exposure can arise from:

Using “World Cup” or “FIFA World Cup” in advertising, signage, or promotions without a license, even in phrases like “World Cup Special” or “World Cup Watch Party.”

Reproducing the trophy, mascot, official emblem, or 2026-specific color and design elements.

Marketing campaigns, contests, or social posts that imply sponsorship, endorsement, or an official partnership FIFA never granted.

For most local businesses, the safer path is straightforward: talk about “soccer,” “the tournament,” “the big match,” or “international soccer this summer” rather than FIFA’s registered phrases, and skip official logos, the trophy, and mascot imagery entirely. Showing the games on TV and drawing a crowd is fine — branding the event as if you are an official partner of it is where the risk lives.

Counterfeits: A Parallel Enforcement Front

Trademark enforcement isn’t limited to marketing language. U.S. Customs and Border Protection has already seized more than $6 million worth of counterfeit World Cup merchandise in a single sweep in Houston this year. Businesses that sell licensed merchandise, or that source promotional products for a World Cup-themed event, should confirm their supplier holds an actual license — CBP can and does seize goods at the border, and downstream retailers can face liability even when they didn’t manufacture the counterfeit items themselves.

Practical Takeaways

Audit your marketing copy, signage, and social posts before the next match window — avoid FIFA’s registered phrases and imagery.

If you want to reference the tournament directly, look into a licensing or sponsorship relationship rather than assuming fair use will cover you.

Vet merchandise suppliers for proper licensing before stocking World Cup-branded goods.

Keep an eye on venue-specific advertising restrictions if you operate near a host stadium or official fan zone.

 

The World Cup is a reminder that intellectual property law shows up in places far beyond patents and product names — it shapes what a neighborhood bar can put on a chalkboard sign. If your business wants to run a World Cup promotion, launch merchandise, or simply wants to know what language is safe to use, Martin IP Law Group can help you review your plans before they become a legal problem.

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Sub-Two: The Intellectual Property Hiding Inside the Shoe That Cracked the Two-Hour Marathon

On Sunday, April 26, 2026, Kenya’s Sabastian Sawe did something most physiologists, coaches, and even Eliud Kipchoge had told us would take another decade. He ran 26.2 miles through the streets of London in 1 hour, 59 minutes, and 30 seconds — the first sub-two-hour marathon ever recorded under legal, record-eligible race conditions. Ethiopia’s Yomif Kejelcha crossed eleven seconds later in 1:59:41, in his marathon debut no less. Two men under two hours, on the same morning, on the same course.

It was a stunning athletic moment. It was also a stunning intellectual property moment. Both runners were wearing the same shoe: the brand-new Adidas Adizero Adios Pro Evo 3. And tucked inside that 97-gram slipper of carbon, foam, and rubber sits a small portfolio of legal rights — patents, trade dress, trademarks, and trade secrets — that helped make the impossible legal, marketable, and protectable.

As an IP lawyer who has spent years counseling product companies on how to wrap protection around physical innovations, I find moments like this irresistible. So let’s walk through what is actually being protected when a shoe like this hits the start line.

Utility Patents: The Science Underfoot

The most important IP layer in a “super shoe” is the utility patent. A utility patent protects how something works — its function — and the Pro Evo 3 is a stack of functional inventions sitting on top of each other.

Adidas has publicized three of them: a new LIGHTSTRIKE Pro Evo foam compound engineered for higher energy return per gram; a carbon-fiber-infused stiffening element seated between the foam and outsole to control flex; and a redesigned forefoot outsole geometry tuned for traction at marathon pace. Each of these is the kind of feature that, in patent terms, can support multiple independent claims. The foam is a composition-of-matter invention. The plate-and-foam architecture is a structural invention. The outsole geometry is a design-for-performance invention. Each can be claimed and prosecuted separately, and each can be licensed, enforced, or designed around independently.

This stacked-claim strategy is the same playbook Nike used a decade ago when its ZoomX foam and Vaporfly carbon plate launched the modern super-shoe era. Nike’s portfolio became so thick that competitors spent years either litigating around it or paying to play. The Pro Evo 3 represents Adidas’s answer: its own patent thicket, built from the ground up, designed to give Adidas the same defensive moat Nike enjoyed at the dawn of carbon-plated racing.

The 40-Millimeter Wall

There is a second, less obvious legal layer: the regulatory ceiling. World Athletics caps the maximum stack height of road racing shoes at 40 millimeters. The Pro Evo 3’s stack is reportedly 39 millimeters — exactly one millimeter under the limit. That is not an accident. It is engineering against a rule.

For an IP lawyer, this is fascinating because it shapes what is worth patenting in the first place. Once the maximum amount of foam is fixed by regulation, the entire arms race shifts to what kind of foam, how it is laid up, and where the carbon goes inside the legal envelope. Innovation gets pushed into chemistry, geometry, and weight reduction — exactly the areas where Adidas is now filing. A men’s size 9 of the Pro Evo 3 weighs 97 grams, roughly 30 percent lighter than its predecessor. That weight reduction, achieved without sacrificing stack height, is itself patentable subject matter.

Trade Dress and Design Patents: The Look of Going Fast

Function is only half the story. The Pro Evo 3 is also visually distinctive — the silhouette of the midsole, the sweep of the outsole lugs, the placement of the three stripes, the colorway used at London. These visual elements are the domain of design patents and trade dress.

A design patent in the United States protects the ornamental appearance of a functional article for fifteen years. Trade dress, protected under the Lanham Act, protects the overall look and feel of a product when consumers have come to associate that look with a single source. If you can glance at a shoe from across the expo hall and instantly say “that’s an Adizero,” that recognition is exactly what trade dress law exists to protect.

Expect Adidas to pursue both. Design patents lock in protection at the moment of launch, before the shoe has built consumer recognition; trade dress takes over once the look becomes famous. Together they give Adidas a way to stop knockoffs that copy the appearance of the Pro Evo 3 without copying the patented technology inside.

Trademarks: The Words That Sell the Speed

Then there are the names. ADIDAS. ADIZERO. ADIOS. LIGHTSTRIKE. PRO EVO. Each is, or can be, a registered trademark. The three-stripe mark on the side of the shoe is one of the most recognized trademarks in the world.

Trademarks do not protect technology — they protect brand. But in the running market, brand is enormously valuable. A consumer who pays $500 for the Pro Evo 3 is paying partly for the science and partly for the story. Sawe’s 1:59:30 just made that story considerably easier to tell, and considerably more expensive to imitate.

Trade Secrets and Sponsorship Rights

Two final layers deserve mention. First, trade secrets. The exact LIGHTSTRIKE Pro Evo foam formulation — the polymer blend, the gas-loading process, the cure schedule — is almost certainly held as a trade secret rather than disclosed in a patent. Patents require public disclosure in exchange for a 20-year monopoly; trade secrets last forever, but only as long as they stay secret. Most shoe companies pursue both, patenting the structural innovations and locking the chemistry behind NDAs.

Second, the athletes themselves are walking IP. Sawe’s and Kejelcha’s name, image, and likeness rights — what U.S. lawyers call rights of publicity — are being licensed to Adidas through endorsement contracts. When a photo of Sawe crossing the line in the Pro Evo 3 ends up on an Adidas billboard, a separate set of contractual and statutory rights is being exercised in addition to the IP baked into the shoe.

Why It Matters

Records like 1:59:30 are not won by shoes alone. They are won by athletes with extraordinary genetics, extraordinary training, and an extraordinary appetite for pain. But they are enabled by a quiet legal infrastructure most fans never see — the patents, designs, marks, and contracts that let a company invest tens of millions of dollars in research and feel reasonably confident it can recoup that investment.

The next time you watch a world record fall, look past the finish line clock. Somewhere in the corporate filings, there is a patent application that helped get the runner there.

 

Rick Martin is the founder of Martin IP Law Group, where he counsels clients on patent, trademark, and trade-secret strategy for technology-driven products. Nothing in this article is legal advice. If you are evaluating IP protection for an athletic-products innovation, contact the firm directly.

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WTF (What The Font)?

What Every Business Owner Should Know About Fonts & Intellectual Property

If your brand lives anywhere—on packaging, screens, or a storefront—it lives through type. But fonts aren’t just aesthetic choices; they’re governed by a web of intellectual property (IP) rules that can trip up marketers, designers, and developers. Here’s a practical guide to the IP issues that come with choosing, licensing, and using fonts.

First, what is a “font” legally?

Colloquially, people use “font” and “typeface” interchangeably. Legally, there’s a distinction that matters:

  • Typeface: the design of the letterforms (how it looks).
  • Font software: the digital code and data that render those letterforms on your device (.otf, .ttf, .woff/woff2, variable fonts, etc.).

In the U.S., the design of a typeface generally isn’t protected by copyright, but the font software is. Other countries treat typeface designs differently (some protect designs under design rights). Regardless, almost all practical issues you’ll face stem from the End User License Agreement (EULA) that comes with the font software.

Copyright: where the real risk lives

Because font files are software, copying, sharing, or modifying them without permission can infringe copyright. Common pitfalls:

  • Passing files around: Giving the .otf/.ttf to your agency, printer, or a freelancer is usually not permitted unless the license explicitly allows it (often via extra “seats,” “workstations,” or a separate service/vendor license).
  • Embedding: Putting fonts inside PDFs, apps, games, eBooks, or on the web often requires specific embedding rights (e.g., “PDF/Print embedding,” “App/ePub embedding,” “Webfont self-hosting”). Some licenses allow only “subset” embedding; others forbid commercial app embedding unless you upgrade.
  • Server and SaaS use: Hosting a font on a server to dynamically generate images/PDFs or to serve CSS @font-face typically needs an explicit server or webfont license, sometimes priced by pageviews, monthly active users, or output volume.
  • Modifications: Tweaking glyphs, renaming, or building a derivative font usually requires permission. “Outlining” text to curves for a printer is typically permitted as output, but altering and redistributing the actual font files is different.

Trademarks: names and logos

  • Font names (e.g., “Gotham,” “Helvetica”) can be trademarks. You can use the font in your materials, but you generally can’t market a different font under a confusingly similar name or imply affiliation with the foundry.
  • Logos created with a font: Most EULAs allow use of the font to create a distinctive logo or wordmark; the resulting logo can be your trademark. A few licenses restrict “logo use” or charge a premium—check before you launch.

Contracts & EULAs: the real rulebook

Every foundry’s EULA is its own small universe. Expect distinct SKUs for:

  • Desktop (creating static graphics)
  • Webfont (self-hosting vs. service/hosted delivery)
  • App/eBook (embedding in binaries or ePubs)
  • Server/Automated (dynamic rendering, CI pipelines)
  • Broadcast/Film (on-screen graphics)
  • OEM/Hardware (bundling with devices)

Pay attention to metrics (seats, pageviews, MAUs, output volume), permitted recipients (agencies, printers), geography, term/renewal, and audit clauses. Keep purchase records—font audits happen.

Open-source and “free” fonts aren’t a free-for-all

“Free” might mean:

  • Open source (e.g., under OFL, Apache): often allows embedding and modification, but may require renaming derivatives, preserving notices, or keeping the same license. Great for web/app use, but read the terms.
  • Freeware: use is free, but redistribution or commercial use can be restricted.
  • Trial/demo: typically watermarked or time-limited—not for production.

Always save the exact license version you relied on; terms can change.

Webfonts & PDFs: embedding essentials

  • Web: Self-hosting typically needs a webfont license and limits like pageviews. Using a subscription/hosted service often ties rights to an active account; if it lapses, your rights to serve the font may lapse too.
  • PDFs: Many EULAs allow subset embedding so documents display correctly. Bulk PDF generation (invoices, catalogs) from a server may require a server or document generation license.
  • eBooks/apps: Treat like software embedding—assume you need a specific license.

Agencies, freelancers, and handoffs

  • If a contractor uses their own license to build assets for you, you usually have rights to the delivered output, but not to the font files. If your team needs to edit the original design later, your company will need its own license.
  • If you buy the license, confirm it allows agency use (often via named seats or a “service provider” clause).

Custom fonts and ownership

Commissioning a custom typeface? Your agreement should spell out:

  • Who owns the font software (including source files), and whether the foundry can resell variants.
  • Exclusivity (industry, geography, term).
  • Scope: desktop/web/app/server rights included? Variable font axes?
  • Maintenance: bug fixes, new scripts, kerning updates.
  • Assignment: if the brand is sold, do font rights transfer?

AI and fonts (emerging issues)

  • Training: Copying proprietary font files to train an internal tool may exceed license rights. Treat the font files as copyrighted software.
  • Generation/“cloning”: Replicating a proprietary design can raise contract and trademark risks (and in some jurisdictions, design-right issues), even if U.S. copyright in the design is limited. Don’t assume “AI made it” is a defense; check licenses and avoid confusingly similar names/branding.

Enforcement & defense

  • If your fonts are pirated: You can use DMCA takedowns for unauthorized file sharing, and pursue copyright claims for unauthorized copying/distribution of the software.
  • If you receive a demand: Audit where the font file lives (local machines, servers, repos, CDN), how it’s used (web/app/PDF), and what the license covers. Shut off infringing distribution paths quickly; negotiate coverage or removal.

Quick compliance checklist

  • Do we have the right license type for each use (desktop, web, app, server, broadcast)?
  • Are pageviews/MAUs/seats within limits? Who monitors them?
  • Are agencies, printers, or vendors covered? If not, do they need their own license?
  • Are font files stored in a controlled location (not in public repos or shared drives)?
  • Do our PDF/app pipelines comply with embedding terms?
  • Have we documented license proofs (invoices, EULA versions, scope)?
  • For logos and brand systems, did we confirm logo-use permissions (if applicable)?
  • If using open-source fonts, did we retain the license text and follow any naming/notice rules?
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Understanding the Spectrum of Trademark Strength

When it comes to securing a trademark in the United States, not all marks are created equal. As an intellectual property attorney with years of experience navigating the complexities of trademark law, I’ve witnessed firsthand the critical role that the inherent strength of a trademark plays in its registrability and defense. Trademarks are generally categorized along a spectrum of strength, ranging from generic to fanciful. Each category bears its own set of challenges and advantages in the realm of trademark protection.

1. Generic Trademarks

At the lowest end of the trademark strength spectrum are generic terms. These are common words or phrases used to describe a product or service (e.g., “Bicycle” for bicycles). Generic terms are inherently incapable of functioning as trademarks because they fail to identify the source of a product or service. Simply put, you cannot monopolize common language that everyone needs to describe an offering. Thus, generic terms are not registrable as trademarks.

2. Descriptive Trademarks

Moving one step up the spectrum, we find descriptive trademarks. These directly describe a characteristic or quality of the product or service (e.g., “Cold and Creamy” for ice cream). Descriptive marks are not initially registrable unless they have acquired distinctiveness through extensive use in commerce. This acquired distinctiveness is also known as “secondary meaning.” For example, “American Airlines” has become distinctive over time through prolonged and substantial use in the market. Obtaining trademark protection for a descriptive mark can be a challenging process, requiring substantial proof of this secondary meaning.

3. Suggestive Trademarks

Suggestive trademarks hint at the nature or quality of the goods or services without directly describing them, requiring some imagination on the part of the consumer (e.g., “Netflix” for streaming services). These marks are inherently distinctive and are thus easier to register than descriptive marks. Suggestive trademarks are strong because they are memorable and still inform the consumer about the nature of the product or service in a non-direct way.

4. Arbitrary Trademarks

Arbitrary trademarks consist of words or images that are in common linguistic use but do not have any inherent connection to the product or service they mark (e.g., “Apple” for computers). Since these terms are common words that are repurposed in a way unrelated to their typical meaning, they are considered strong marks. Arbitrary marks are immediately protectable and are favored in registrations because they naturally serve to identify the unique source of products or services.

5. Fanciful Trademarks

At the pinnacle of trademark strength are fanciful marks. These are invented words that have no dictionary or conventional meaning prior to their use as trademarks (e.g., “Kodak” for cameras). Fanciful marks are the easiest to register and protect because of their inherent uniqueness and distinctiveness. Being completely made-up, they are highly effective at brand identification and are afforded the widest scope of protection under U.S. trademark law.

Conclusion

The journey to trademark registration varies significantly based on the type of mark you choose. Entrepreneurs and businesses should aim for at least suggestive trademarks, if not arbitrary or fanciful, to maximize their trademark protection opportunities. As an intellectual property attorney, I advise clients to consider the inherent strength of a potential trademark from the very beginning of the brand development process. Making the right choice early on can enhance your brand’s protection and prevent costly legal battles over trademark rights.

By understanding the different types of trademarks and their respective strengths, businesses can more effectively navigate the complexities of trademark registration and enforcement. Whether you’re just starting out or looking to expand, always consider how your trademark stacks up against the spectrum of strength.

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