FOSTERING INNOVATION

Before I get to Jenny and her valuable contributions to innovation, I want to say this first.

When I was a boy, my mom was an anesthesiologist at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Minneapolis. I visited regularly and was awestruck by the medical professionals working there, doing everything in their power to care for those who served our country. Their level of dedication to their patients set a standard for me that endures to this day—both in attitude and in work ethic.

Alex Pretti would later become an ICU nurse not only at that same medical center, but in the very same building where my mom once worked. By all accounts, he brought to that hospital each day the same level of commitment, skill, and—quite frankly—love that I witnessed firsthand in those who came before him many years ago. And that should surprise no one. That VA hospital has never accepted anything less from its staff.

We can debate endlessly about circumstances. About judgment calls. About what Alex Pretti should or should not have done that Saturday morning. But for me, the bottom line is this: Far too much attention has been placed on dissecting the moments surrounding his death ("FAFO!" "But he kicked in a taillight 11 days earlier!", etc.), and far too little on mourning the senseless loss of a dedicated caregiver and a fellow human being. I find it deeply troubling how quickly grief is displaced by finger-pointing, how easily empathy is replaced by moral posturing, and how readily some are willing to say, outright, that they feel no sympathy, explain it away, or speak of a life lost without sorrow. Or, just plain lie about it ("This individual … came with a weapon and dozens of rounds of ammunition and attacked them."). If your reaction to this event falls into any of those categories, then this entire blog—more than just this post—is not for you. You are not a part of my intended audience.

I am writing from a place of grief, reflection, and love. I ask that it be met in the same spirit. Anything else is not only unwelcome here, but it is deeply triggering for me and profoundly incompatible with the values my wife lived by.

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With that said, I want to turn to Jenny, and to the way she brought care, curiosity, and generosity into her professional life—especially in spaces where those qualities are too often treated as optional. Where others drew lines, she built bridges. Where indifference could have been the easier response, she chose engagement. And where effort and creativity might have gone unnoticed, she made sure they were recognized and rewarded.

Jenny in front of Lyndon B. Johnson's official governor portrait at the Texas State Capitol, Austin. Jenny studied more about LBJ than she did any other president, reading the first four volumes (the fifth is in progress) of The Years of Lyndon Johnson. Lyndon B. Johnson fostered innovation not only through investments in NASA, science and technology, but also by building human potential--programs like Head Start gave disadvantaged children early education, health and nutrition, laying the foundation for a future workforce capable of driving American progress.

When people think about patent attorneys, they often imagine someone who appears at the end of the process—after the invention exists, after the engineering work is done—tasked with translating technical brilliance into legal language. That was never how Jenny saw her role.

As a senior patent attorney at Siemens, and later at Varian, Jenny made it a point to actively bring engineers and attorneys together. One of the ways she did this was by organizing and leading what were often referred to as "patent harvesting" meetings—deliberate, focused conversations with engineers designed to bring to the surface ideas that might otherwise have gone undocumented or unnoticed. These were not perfunctory sessions. Jenny asked questions, listened carefully, and worked to understand not just what had been built, but why it mattered.

She also drove the meetings that followed—bringing together patent attorneys and engineering managers to evaluate potential invention disclosures and decide whether they should be filed with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. Jenny didn’t treat those decisions as mere gatekeeping exercises. She saw them as moments where encouragement or indifference could shape an engineer’s willingness to innovate again. Her goal was always to create clarity, fairness, and momentum, rather than friction.

Perhaps one of Jenny’s more meaningful contributions was the incentive system she helped establish for invention disclosures. She understood that innovation requires time, creativity, and risk—and that recognition should not be deferred indefinitely. Engineers were rewarded at multiple stages: a monetary award for filing an invention disclosure internally, additional compensation when an application was filed with the USPTO, and a final award when the patent was published. Each step acknowledged effort and progress, reinforcing the idea that innovation was valued throughout the process, not just at its conclusion.

Jenny at the Tech Museum of Innovation in 2016

What set Jenny apart, though, was not just structure or incentives—it was how personally invested she was in the people behind the ideas. She routinely met with engineers to understand their technology, even when she wasn’t asked to do so. That level of engagement went far beyond what is typical for a corporate attorney. It reflected her belief that protecting innovation first requires respecting the people who create it. On one occasion, Jenny nominated an engineer she worked with for Inventor of the Year—and he ultimately won the award, an honor given to only one inventor across Siemens Healthineers. At the time, Siemens Healthineers comprised roughly one third of the entire Siemens conglomerate. The successful recommendation spoke not only to the engineer’s technical excellence, but to Jenny’s willingness to advocate for others and ensure their contributions were recognized at the highest level.

Looking back, it’s clear that Jenny didn’t view innovation as a pipeline to be managed. She saw it as a process to be nurtured. She believed that when people are encouraged, understood, and rewarded along the way, extraordinary work can happen. That belief shaped how she practiced law—and it remains one of the many ways her professional legacy endures.