Published on
By: Tanner O’Neal Riley
At the University of Missouri School of Law, the distance between engineering and law is shorter than it looks. What begins as equations and design often ends as arguments and advocacy, and for a growing number of students, the transition feels less like a leap and more like a continuation.
“It’s a different kind of equation,” said Jacqueline “Jacqi” Parker, a first-year law student with an engineering background. “You’re still solving problems—you’re just using words.”
That idea of translation rather than transformation runs through the experiences of students, faculty, and alumni shaping a quiet but meaningful shift at Mizzou Law.
A Different Starting Point
For Parker’s sister, Mizzou Law 3L Rachel Carlson, law was always the destination. Engineering came later, sparked by an unexpected interest in computer science during high school. For Parker, the path began with math and a desire to make a tangible difference—initially through engineering, and later through law.
“I wanted to see more real-world impact,” Parker said. “Law felt like a way to engage directly with people and their problems.”
What both found was that engineering had already prepared them—just not in the way they expected.
“Engineering teaches you to take big ideas and break them into pieces,” Carlson said. “That’s exactly what legal arguments require—figuring out what you’re really saying at the core.”
That ability to distill complexity, to reduce noise and isolate what matters, is a skill that shows up again and again among engineers in law.
Building in a New Medium
For Professor Dennis Crouch, that connection is foundational.
“I’m a maker at heart,” Crouch said. “That’s what drew me to engineering—and to law. Law turned out to be another kind of building. You’re constructing arguments, designing frameworks, assembling solutions.”
But the materials are different.
“A bridge either holds the load or it doesn’t,” he said. “With people, you have to build in nuance and empathy.”
That shift from certainty to complexity is what makes legal work both more difficult and more meaningful. Engineers, Crouch said, are uniquely equipped to navigate that tension.
“They’re trained to anticipate problems before they happen,” he said. “And when something gets complicated, they don’t back away—they lean in.”
Learning to Show the Work
For Avery Welker, now an attorney at Morgan, Lewis & Bockius LLP, the transition from engineering to law came during a moment of uncertainty.
“It was a perfect storm,” Welker said, describing the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic. “Mentors, an interest in patents, and everything happening around the world pushed me to make the switch.”
He entered Mizzou Law just days before orientation. What followed was an adjustment—not of intelligence, but of mindset.
“Law school is about showing how you get from A to B,” he said. “Engineering is about finding the right B.”
That difference, between arriving at an answer and explaining it became his turning point.
“Once I learned to show my work, everything clicked.”
Today, that skill defines his practice. Whether working through intellectual property issues or communicating with clients, Welker relies on the same structured thinking that engineering instilled paired with a new emphasis on clarity and explanation.
“Clients feel more comfortable when you can speak the language of their technology,” he said.
The Role of Opportunity
That pipeline from engineering to law is not accidental. It is being actively built, in part, by Mizzou Law alumni like Bob Langdon.
Through full-ride scholarships aimed at students with engineering backgrounds, Langdon has created a pathway for technically trained students to enter the legal profession without the burden of debt.
“When you’re an engineer, this is where you ought to go,” Langdon said. “When engineers come here, they’ve got a shot.”
For Langdon, the scholarships are about more than financial access. They are about expanding what students believe is possible.
“Education gives you options,” he said. “That’s what it’s all about. You’re not stuck doing one thing—you can do a lot of different things.”
That emphasis on choice and mobility reflects a broader view of legal education. Many law graduates, Langdon noted, don’t follow a single, linear path. Instead, they move into business, policy, entrepreneurship, and beyond.
“It’s such a different way of thinking,” he said. “That’s what makes it so valuable.”
Langdon has also pushed for structural changes to better accommodate engineering students, many of whom take longer to complete their undergraduate degrees due to demanding course sequences. Among his ideas: creating more flexible entry points into law school that align with engineering timelines.
The goal, he said, is simple: make the transition easier, and more engineers will make it.
A Culture of Collaboration
Inside the classroom, that growing presence is already shaping the culture.
“Engineers bring a very straightforward, technical way of thinking,” Welker said. “But when you combine that with students from other backgrounds, you get something stronger.”
At Mizzou Law, that mix includes students from political science, business, journalism, and the arts, each contributing a different lens.
“We can all learn from each other,” Parker said. “That diversity of thought makes everyone better.”
Faculty see the same dynamic.
“We’re training lawyers at a moment when technical literacy isn’t optional anymore,” Crouch said. “As technology reshapes the profession, students who understand how systems work—who can think critically about tools like AI—are going to have a real advantage.”
Leadership and Vision
That interdisciplinary approach is central to the law school’s broader mission, according to Dean Paul Litton.
“We’re not just training students to practice law,” Litton said. “We’re preparing them to lead in a world where law intersects with technology, business, and public life in increasingly complex ways.”
For students with engineering backgrounds, he added, that intersection is a natural fit.
“They come in already trained to think systematically, to solve problems, to work through complexity,” Litton said. “Our job is to help them translate those strengths into legal reasoning and advocacy.”
Programs in intellectual property and entrepreneurship, along with visiting speakers from government and industry, reinforce that connection. But just as important, Litton said, is the everyday collaboration happening in classrooms and study groups.
“The strength of this place is its people,” he said. “When you bring together students with different ways of thinking, you elevate everyone.”
Paths Forward
For Carlson and Parker, those opportunities are already taking shape.
Carlson plans to begin her career in California, applying her technical background in a professional setting that bridges engineering and legal concepts. Parker, meanwhile, has secured a position as a summer associate with Shook, Hardy & Bacon, where she will work in intellectual property.
Their trajectories reflect both ambition and adaptability qualities echoed across every voice in the story.
They also reflect something quieter: confidence.
“If you’re an engineer wondering whether you belong in law,” Parker said, “your background is an asset, not a hurdle.”
The Common Thread
Across students, faculty, and alumni, the message is consistent.
Engineers don’t leave their training behind when they enter law school. They carry it with them—reshaped, refined, and redirected toward new kinds of problems.
They learn not just to solve, but to explain. Not just to build, but to persuade.
And in a profession increasingly defined by complexity—by technology, data, and human nuance—that combination is powerful.
“Run toward something, not away from something,” Crouch said.
For those who do, the path from equations to arguments isn’t a detour. It’s a continuation—one that opens doors, expands possibilities, and, as Langdon puts it, offers something increasingly rare:
Options.