When you buy a product, you trust that the company has thought it through. You assume that before it hit the shelves, someone considered how it would be used and made sure it wouldn’t hurt you. Defective product design shatters that trust at its very foundation. This isn’t about a single item that slipped through quality control with a bad screw or a cracked handle. This is about a fundamental flaw in the product’s blueprint that makes every single unit dangerous, even when it’s perfectly manufactured according to the plan.

Think of it this way: if a car’s design places the fuel tank in a spot where a minor rear-end collision will cause it to explode, that’s a design defect. Every car that rolls off that assembly line, built exactly to specification, carries that lethal risk. The problem is baked into the DNA of the product. This is what separates a design defect from a manufacturing defect. A manufacturing flaw is a mistake in the build; a design defect is a mistake in the idea itself.

Companies have a basic responsibility to design products that are reasonably safe for their intended use. This also includes foreseeable misuses—the ways people might realistically use the product even if the instructions say not to. For example, a lawn chair should be designed to hold a reasonable amount of weight, even if someone stands on it to change a lightbulb. That’s a foreseeable misuse. The law doesn’t expect products to be indestructible or accident-proof, but it does expect the design to account for ordinary human behavior.

To prove a design defect case, the core question is whether a safer, practical alternative design existed at the time the product was made. The injured person must show that this alternative design could have been implemented without destroying the product’s usefulness or making it prohibitively expensive, and that the failure to use this safer design made the product unreasonably dangerous. This often involves expert testimony from engineers and designers who can explain what the company could have done differently—a different material, a different mechanism, a simple guard or shield.

Common examples of defective design are all around us. It could be a space heater that gets hot enough on its outer shell to seriously burn skin if touched. It could be a child’s toy with parts that easily break off, creating a choking hazard. It could be a medication with a dangerous side effect that isn’t adequately warned about, where the very formulation of the drug is the problem. In the modern world, software and user interface design can also be defective if, for instance, a car’s touchscreen entertainment system is so distracting it inevitably causes driver inattention.

The consequences of a defective design are often widespread and severe. Because the flaw exists in every product, recalls are frequent and lawsuits can become class actions involving thousands of injured people. The damage to a company’s reputation is profound, as the public learns that the danger was not a fluke but a conscious choice, or a reckless oversight, in the design phase.

Ultimately, liability for defective design exists to force companies to put safety at the forefront of their creative process. It’s a legal check on the rush to market, ensuring that the quest for profit, aesthetics, or cost-cutting does not override the basic duty to prevent foreseeable harm. It holds corporations accountable for the thinking behind the product, not just the building of it. When a design is defective, the law states that the company got the most important part wrong from the very start, and it must answer for the injuries that its flawed blueprint caused.