Washington civil procedure is unforgiving. Your next move doesn't have to be a guess.

The fifth state on the TrialVector chassis — the same litigation operating system that runs Florida, Texas, North Carolina, and Arizona, re-keyed to Washington civil procedure. It shows official Washington law verbatim, attacks its own work like opposing counsel, computes every deadline with the citation attached, and proves in an immutable record that a human ruled on every finding. It is software, not a law firm.

No, no, and no. TrialVector provides legal information — and Washington's own definitional rule draws the line we stand on: GR 24(d) keeps “information of a general nature about the law and legal procedures” outside the practice of law entirely, while GR 24(a)(2) makes selecting, drafting, or completing legal documents for another person the practice of law. So the document formatter here is gated OFF in code until the Supreme Court's Entity Regulation Pilot authorizes it: the platform shows the law and the clocks, points at the judiciary's own free pattern forms (courts.wa.gov/forms), and routes drafting to licensed Washington attorneys — and the served flow says exactly why. The signer owns the filing, always.

The public tools — the Deadline Engine, the commencement-trap computation, Cite Check, the rule corpus — are free forever. The full per-matter workspace is free during founding access (no card, no clock). When billing activates, it is priced per matter for solo users and as a flat subscription for firms. We show no dollar figure until the checkout behind it is real.

Because the entire product is built on "honest states, never faked." A corpus section that isn't loaded says so instead of guessing; a citation that isn't verified is flagged, not faked. A price with no live checkout behind it would be the same lie we refuse everywhere else. When billing is real, the number will be too.

Every other tool tells you your request is fine. The War Room's Self-Audit Mirror reads every draft from the opponent's chair — a request that would flunk TrialVector's own deficiency engine does not serve. And Washington adds a doorway no motion may skip: the 26(i) conference gate fronts every discovery motion, the 26(g) signature certifies every request, and CR 37 prices the positions — the governors are IN the rules, and the Mirror scores against them.

Verbatim or absent. Nineteen whole titles of the Revised Code of Washington enter byte-for-byte from the Legislature's compilation (current through its July 15, 2026 refresh — and the certified RCW Archive's official-publication status rides every unit's provenance), the Constitution whole — and every court rule loads from the judiciary's own per-rule PDF, with the September 1, 2026 amendment wave ledgered so text never goes silently stale. A model never authors law or a citation. Inspect it yourself on the engine page.

Both — the same analytical engine, enforced by code, not promised. Attack-register vocabulary never reaches a self-represented surface, high-risk exports become counsel-review packets, and the pro-se lane demands the same attestations before anything leaves the door. Washington even wrote limited-scope help into its signing rule — CR 11(b) contemplates attorney drafting assistance for otherwise self-represented people. See Parity & Trust.

From the official sources themselves. Washington's judiciary publishes each court's local rules, and GR 7(d) makes the CLERK's set the official record — so the committed 39-county board loads the published books (46 of them), names the OCR and parse queue, and says NONE ON THE INDEX where that is the truth, with “verify with the clerk” instead of a guess. See the local-law board and the court map.

The public tools run entirely in your browser — nothing you enter is transmitted. Workspace matters are tenant-isolated, encrypted, and access-audited; the model is never trained on your matter content. Fail-closed never means data-hostage: if an entitlement lapses, existing matters stay readable.