Your True Story Identifies Each of Your Injuries: Completeness Matters.

When people think about telling the story of their accident, they naturally focus on the biggest injury.

If they broke a leg, that becomes the story.

If they needed surgery, that becomes the story.

If they suffered a concussion, that becomes the story.

But the complete story almost always includes additional injuries and insults to the body.

Every injury is part of what happened to you. Together, those injuries tell the complete truth about what happened to you and shed broader light on how you were impacted.

That’s why completeness matters.

Imagine reading a 300 page novel with 16 pages randomly removed.

You might still understand the ending, but along the way you’d find yourself asking questions. Why did this happen? What caused that? What am I missing?

People naturally notice gaps in stories. They also notice connections.

Jurors do, too.

This means that your account of what happened should be complete.

The sore shoulder you assumed would disappear.

The bruised ribs that made it painful to sleep for several weeks.

The numbness in two fingers that eventually resolved.

The headaches that came and went before finally disappearing.

In my late 20s I was ejected when the Jeep I was in was T-Boned in an intersection. My liver was severely lacerated. I had emergency surgery. I might have died as a result of my liver injury. It took center stage. But I also had broken ribs and a huge contusion on the back of my head. Those lesser injuries were part of my story - the broken ribs were very painful and essentially untreatable because of my surgery; the contusion made it difficult for me to lay on my back with my head on a pillow. That, in turn, made the three weeks I spent in the Intensive Care Unit substantially more uncomfortable than had I not had broken ribs or a contusion. Telling my complete story required that we include those lesser facts.

The point isn’t to decide for yourself which injuries matter.

The point is to identify all of them.

When pieces of a story are missing, people naturally wonder why.

Were those injuries unrelated?

Were they forgotten?

Did they develop later?

Or were they simply left out?

Those questions can distract from the central issue: understanding what actually happened to you.

A complete story avoids unnecessary questions because it gives people the full picture from the beginning.

Throughout Paul’s Guide, you’ll occasionally see me use the word story. I’m not talking about creating one out of thin air. I’m talking about telling the truth—the complete, accurate, and honest account of what happened to you. True stories are nonfiction. They don’t need embellishment, exaggeration, or selective editing. They simply need to be complete.

That same principle applies when you meet with an attorney.

Don’t assume an injury is too small to mention.

Don’t decide that an injury isn’t important simply because another one seems much worse.

Your attorney can only understand your experience if you share it completely.

More importantly, if your claim is ever presented to a jury, the goal is not to persuade them with a carefully crafted narrative. The goal is to help them understand the truth about how the accident affected your life. A complete, truthful story gives them the opportunity to do exactly that.

Here’s the short version.

Tell the truth.

Tell all of it.

Identify every injury.

Your credibility depends on honesty. Your story depends on completeness. And completeness matters.

General information—not legal advice. Paul’s Guide is not a law firm. This article provides general educational information and may not address every fact, exception, jurisdiction, or change in the law. Legal rights and deadlines vary based on the circumstances and applicable law. Reading this article, by itself, does not create an attorney-client relationship with Paul’s Guide or Paul Zimmerman. For advice about a specific claim, promptly consult a lawyer licensed in the appropriate jurisdiction.