Law360 Canada (May 8, 2026, 10:49 AM EDT) --

Jacob Murad

Spoiler Alert: The following contains plot details from Better Call Saul.

Charles McGill, the decorated senior partner in the TV series Better Call Saul, is everything the legal profession tells itself it stands for: principled, authoritative, a guardian of the rule of law. His younger brother Jimmy — the poor, hustling, desperate Saul Goodman — represents everything the profession looks down on. But as artificial intelligence dismantles the gatekeeping function that long justified the legal profession’s self-image, it is worth asking: which one of them is a more accurate reflection of a lawyer?

(Note: Saul’s exclusion from the profession leads him to a life of crime, and in no way am I suggesting that all lawyers should strive to be like Saul. For the purposes of this article, the point is that he starts off as a lawyer who is frowned upon and the opposite of the “ideal” only due to his outward presentation style.)

From the first day of law school, students are told they are entering an elite class of membership; that those who pass and are sworn to the bar are of the highest character and fitness. There is even a character and fitness process to ensure a proper screening of those with a checkered past. The implicit message is that lawyers are not merely service providers; they are officers of the court and stewards of the legal framework and the “rule of law.” This identity has produced a recognizable archetype: the ideal lawyer works in a nice office, drafts complex contracts, argues in court on behalf of the underrepresented, reads case law late into the night, and can cite procedural rules from memory. This lawyer is independently respected and is wealthy only as a result of societal recognition of the lawyer’s excellence.

But has anyone stopped to ask: what is it about lawyers that is so special? Why are they held to this standard and does it still apply today?

The gatekeeper problem

The cultural identity of the ideal lawyer rests on a specific function: the gatekeeper. A client with a legal problem comes to a lawyer, and the lawyer guides them through their options — whether or not any of them lead to a practical solution — and charges accordingly. The lawyer’s value lies not in actually solving the problem, but in counselling the legal system that surrounds it.

This model made sense when legal knowledge was scarce. Understanding the law required years of specialized education, access to expensive databases and familiarity with procedural nuances that took decades to master. Clients had little choice but to rely on lawyers as intermediaries of the law. But that hidden information has been democratized, and the gatekeeper’s gate has been destroyed.

Widely accessible artificial intelligence systems are enabling individuals (lawyers included) to draft contracts, research case law, generate legal memos and understand their rights at a fraction of the traditional cost and time. People are increasingly turning to AI for legal guidance when they feel they are not getting sufficient value from the lawyer class. All of this is causing a breakdown in the legal profession’s perception of the ideal lawyer — it is completely out of line with reality.

Two paths forward

This creates a genuine fork in the road for the legal profession.

The first path is for regulators to double down on the officer-of-the-court identity. If lawyers truly are guardians of the rule of law rather than private service providers, that logic leads somewhere specific: toward something closer to a regulated public function — a branch of government or a professional union with capped fees and government-aligned mandates. Lawyers would ensure compliance with the legal framework, prioritize systemic integrity over client outcomes and accept the compensation structure that comes with public service.

The second path — and the more likely one given the current trend — is for the profession to begin to fully embrace its identity as a private service industry like any other. Lawyers, like engineers, accountants and physicians, provide specialized expertise and are compensated based on the value they deliver. Here, the measure of a good lawyer is not adherence to a professional ideal but the quality of outcomes for clients.

The incentive structures under each path are fundamentally different. In the first model, lawyers are rewarded for procedural compliance and systemic stewardship — not necessarily for solving the client’s problem. In the second, lawyers are rewarded for solutions, creative interpretation and results. The legal profession has historically tried to be both, but it is becoming quickly unsustainable.

The solution

Law schools should begin to de-emphasize the lawyer as officer of the court and invest in teaching client counselling, practical problem-solving and the presentation skills needed to explain sophisticated legal analysis to non-lawyers. Anyone can generate a first-draft memo with AI. What AI cannot do — at least not yet — is exercise the contextual judgment, ethical reasoning and interpersonal intelligence required to counsel a client through a complex, high-stakes situation. They need to teach students about quality of service.

Regulatory bodies and bar associations have a harder job: updating a professional identity that has been decades in the making. This might mean taking drastic measures such as allowing non-lawyer ownership of firms, ensuring the rules of Professional Responsibility act as guidelines instead of bright line tests, reducing the rules of compliance while helping clients ensure professional standards of service. But the alternative — a status quo that preserves an ideal that no longer reflects how clients experience legal services or how lawyers provide them — will only accelerate the erosion of public confidence in the profession. This is the opposite of what these institutions are trying to accomplish.

Charles McGill’s story concludes in tragedy, but the legal profession does not have to follow that path. Doing so requires an honest reckoning with a question the profession has long avoided: is the ideal lawyer still ideal for anyone other than lawyers?

Jacob Murad is the managing partner and general counsel to Bluestar Equity, a private equity family office in Toronto, as well as president of KPA Lawyers Professional Corporation, a full-service law firm in Mississauga, Ont. He has served as general counsel and director for a large number of private companies throughout Canada and was responsible for the negotiation of complex mergers and acquisitions across a variety of industries. He is a member of the Law Society of Ontario’s Coach and Mentor Roster. He can be reached at jacob@kpalawyers.ca.

The opinions expressed are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the author’s firm, its clients, LexisNexis Canada, Law360 Canada or any of its or their respective affiliates. This article is for general information purposes and is not intended to be and should not be taken as legal advice.

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