A fireman’s widow has sued Honeywell, the provider of an alarm system intended to *485 protect the house where her husband was killed in the line of duty. The suit, filed in an Indiana state court, charges that David John Edwards died because of Honeywell’s negligence in failing to call the fire department promptly upon receiving a signal from the alarm. As a result of the delay, the floor of the burning house was in a severely weakened condition by the time the firemen entered, and it collapsed beneath Edwards, plunging him to his death. The district court, to which the suit had been removed under the diversity jurisdiction, granted summary judgment for Honeywell. The court held that Honeywell owed no duty of care to fireman Edwards under the common law of Indiana. The widow’s appeal requires us to grapple with the elusive concept of “duty” in the law of torts.
In 1982 Honeywell had made a contract with a couple named Baker to install (for $1,875) and monitor (for $21 a month) an alarm system in the Bakers’ house. The house is a wood-frame house located in a suburb of Indianapolis and ordinary in every respect except that the Bakers conducted an interior-decorating service out of the basement. The contract limited Honeywell’s liability to the Bakers for the consequences of any failure of the system to $250. The validity of this limitation is not questioned.
Leon’s Bakery, Inc. v. Grinnell Corp.,
The alarm system was of a type that has become common. If the house was entered while the alarm was turned on, and the alarm was not promptly disarmed, or if someone in the house pushed either a “panic button” or a button on the alarm console labeled fire, police, or emergency medical service, a signal was automatically transmitted over the telephone lines to a central station maintained by Honeywell. The person manning the station (called the “alarm monitor”) would call the fire department if the fire or medical-emergency button had been pressed, and otherwise would call the police department. After that the alarm monitor would call a neighbor of the subscriber. The contract required the subscriber to inform Honeywell which police and fire department and which neighbor should be notified, and presumably the Bakers had done this back in 1982, though whether accurately or not we do not know. Honeywell does not make any effort to assure the accuracy of, or keep up to date, the information furnished by the subscriber concerning whom to call.
Six years passed. It was now an afternoon in the winter of 1988, and Mrs. Baker was working in the basement with two of the employees of the decorating service when she heard a sound. She looked up and noticed an orange glow in the furnace room. One of the employees opened the door to the room, revealing a shelving unit in the furnace room already engulfed in flames from floor to ceiling. Mrs. Baker ran upstairs and tried to dial 911 but misdialed. She gave up on the phone and pushed two buttons on the control panel of the alarm system. One was the fire button, the other the police button. Then she grabbed her dog and ran out the front door. The two people who had been working in the basement with her fled at the same time; they were the only other people in the house. They drove to their home, which was just a couple of blocks away, to call the fire department, while Mrs. Baker, her sandals slipping on the ice, ran from house to house until she found one in which someone was at home. That person, a babysitter, called the Lawrence Township fire department. The call was placed between one and four minutes after Mrs. Baker triggered the alarm in her house. We must give the plaintiff the benefit of the doubt (her case having been dismissed on a motion for summary judgment) and therefore assume that it was four minutes, in which event, as we are about to see, the township fire department received the babysitter’s call no earlier than it received the call from Honeywell’s central station. (If the call had been received much earlier, the plaintiffs complaint about Honeywell’s delay might be academic.)
The signals from the Bakers’ house had come into the central station at 2:54 p.m., triggering an audible alarm. The alarm monitor, hearing it, had pressed a function key, causing the relevant information about the Bakers to flash on the screen of her computer. The display told her to call the Indianapolis Fire Department (Honeywell’s *486 policy, if both the police and the fire signals are transmitted by the alarm system, is to call only the fire department). So she pushed the “direct fire button” to the Indianapolis Fire Department, connecting her immediately with the department’s dispatcher. She gave the dispatcher the Bakers’ address. The dispatcher told her that it was within the jurisdiction of a different fire department, that of the City of Lawrence, to which the dispatcher transferred the call. That was wrong too. It was the fire department of Lawrence Township that had jurisdiction over the Bakers’ house. So the dispatcher for the City of Lawrence transferred the call that had been relayed to the City of Lawrence’s fire department.
Had Honeywell’s operator called the township’s fire department first, rather than reaching that department as it were on the third try, it would have taken no more than 45 seconds for the department to learn of the fire at the Bakers’ house. Because of the jurisdictional error, it was not until 2:58 that the department received the call. The 45 seconds had been stretched to four minutes because of the misinformation in Honeywell’s computer. The plaintiff claims, and for purposes of this appeal we accept, that Honeywell was careless in not having a procedure for verifying and updating such essential information as which fire department to call in the event of a fire in a subscriber’s premises, since the boundaries between fire districts are shifted from time to time.
A Lawrence Township fire chief arrived at the scene at 3:00 p.m. (This was remarkably prompt, the call having come in only two minutes earlier. But the Bakers’ residence was only a mile or a mile and a half from the firehouse. This shows by the way the importance of notifying the right fire department.) He saw dark smoke but no flames. Mrs. Baker was there and told him that she thought her furnace had exploded. The chief did not ask her when the fire had started but assumed that, because Mrs. Baker had been at home, she had notified the fire department immediately. This implied that the fire was less than three minutes old. Five minutes later, at 3:05 p.m., two parties of firemen began leading hoses into the house, entering through the front door and the garage (which was on the side of the house) respectively. The floor was hot to the touch (firemen customarily enter a burning building on all fours because smoke and heat rise), and the group that had entered through the front door quickly withdrew, fearing that the floor would collapse. The smoke thickened. Fire was seen darting from the roof. Edwards, an experienced fireman, was one of two men who had entered the house from the garage. Sometime between 3:10 and 3:15, before he could withdraw from the house, the floor collapsed and he fell into the basement and was asphyxiated.
The house was severely damaged by the fire, and the Bakers have since moved to another house. They no longer subscribe to Honeywell’s alarm service.
We may assume that the firemen would have arrived a little more than three minutes earlier (to be exact, four minutes minus 45 seconds earlier) had Honeywell's call gone to the right fire department directly rather than having to be relayed. Whether fireman Edwards’ life would have been saved is obviously a highly speculative question.
Robinson v. Southern New England Tel. Co.,
Honeywell does urge a related alternative ground, that Edwards would have been killed even if the Bakers hadn’t had an alarm system at all, since in its absence it would surely
*487
have taken Mrs. Baker four minutes to reach the fire department, the time she took (by the plaintiffs own estimate) to reach the neighbor’s house and get the babysitter to call. This is not so clear as Honeywell makes out. Before fleeing the house, Mrs. Baker pressed the alarm buttons. Had there been no alarm buttons, she might have redialed 911. (She knew her mistake. She had dialed 1911.) This is the theory on which a rescuer is required to act nonnegligently even if he was not obliged to attempt the rescue in the first place: his effort may have deflected alternative attempts at rescue, here a more determined use of the phone.
Jackson v. City of Joliet,
To bolster its position on causation, Honeywell argues that if it had
really
screwed up, so that the fire department hadn’t arrived on the scene until the fire was visibly raging, none of the firemen would have dared enter the house and so Edwards would have been saved. The argument in effect is that alarm systems endanger firemen, so the provider of a system that works badly or not at all should be rewarded by being excused from liability. It is a strange argument even if its premise is granted, which it should not be. Fire departments want to be summoned as soon, not as long, after a fire has started as possible, because in general though not in every case large fires are more dangerous than small ones and fires are more likely to be large the longer they are allowed to bum out of control, although of course at some point a fire will burn itself out and thus cease to be dangerous. (It would be
some
fire department that thought the best time to fight fires was after they had burned themselves out.) Honeywell’s bad argument was invited by the plaintiffs bad argument — an argument supported by the fire chiefs' affidavit but still preposterous — that a fire doubles every five minutes. There is no such law of nature. (Which doesn’t mean it has never been recited in a judicial opinion. See
ITT Terryphone Corp. v. Tri-State Steel Drum, Inc.,
As the premise of our further discussion, we may assume without having to decide not only that Honeywell breached its duty of care to the Bakers by not updating the information in its computer on which fire department to call if the Bakers’ house caught on fire, but also that as a consequence of this breach fireman Edwards died. We are speaking of a tort duty of care founded on the reasoning underlying the rescue cases, not a* contractual duty; there is no suggestion that Edwards was a third-party beneficiary of the contract between Honeywell and the Browns.
The question we must decide, therefore, is whether Honeywell’s duty of care extended to firemen who might be summoned to fight the blaze, for, if not, the plaintiffs suit was properly dismissed. Why duty should be an issue in a negligence case is not altogether clear, however, and the quest for an answer may guide us to a decision.
*488
Nowadays one tends to think of negligence, even when one is a lawyer or judge thinking about the legal rather than the lay term, as a synonym for carelessness. But originally negligence signified carelessness only in the performance of a duty, whether a duty arising from an undertaking (for example that of a surgeon) or a duty imposed by law, such as an innkeeper’s duty to look after his guests’ goods. It was not until the nineteenth century that a general principle of liability for the careless infliction of harm was securely established. J.H. Baker,
An Introduction to English Legal History
467-76 (3d ed. 1990). But as liability for negligence expanded, the judges felt a need to place limitations on its scope and to rein in juries, and the concept of duty was revived to name some of these limitations and to exert some control over juries. Negligence was redefined as the breach of a duty running from the injurer to the injurer’s victim to exercise due care, and the question whether there was such a duty in the particular case or class of cases was, and remains, a matter for the judge to decide, not the jury.
Webb v. Jarvis,
Should a passerby be liable for failing to warn a person of a danger? The courts thought not, and therefore said there is no tort duty to rescue. Even if the defendant had acted irresponsibly or even maliciously in failing to warn or rescue the passerby— suppose, for example, the defendant had been aware of the danger to the plaintiff and could have warned him at negligible cost— the plaintiff could not obtain damages.
Yania v. Bigan,
*489
Of particular relevance to the present case are two lines of precedent. Indeed the present case could be said to lie at their intersection. One concerns the duty of care to an unforeseeable victim. The classic case is
Palsgraf v. Long Island R.R.,
The other line of cases concerns the duty of care of water companies, telephone companies, and other providers of services of the public utility type — today including alarm services — to the general public as opposed to customers. Again the most famous cases are Judge Cardozo’s.
H.R. Moch Co. v. Rensselaer Water Co.,
We do not know the standing of the public utility cases in Indiana law. The courts of Indiana recognize as do all common law courts the duty limitation on tort liability, but they pitch the criterion for it at so high a level of generality, see, e.g.,
Webb v. Jarvis, supra,
The basic criticism of both the
Palsgraf
and
Moch-Kerr
lines of decisions, articulated with characteristic force by Judge Friendly in
Petition of Kinsman Transit Co.,
The arguments on the other side, the arguments in favor of the duty limitation in these cases, are twofold. The first arises from the fact that a corporation or other enterprise does not have complete control over its employees, yet it is strictly liable under the principle of respondeat superior for the consequences of their negligent acts committed in the scope of their employment. It is not enough to say to the enterprise be careful and you have nothing to fear. The carelessness of its employees may result in the imposition of a crushing liability upon it. In order to know how many resources (in screening new hires and in supervising and disciplining workers after they are hired) to invest in preventing its employees from being careless, the employer must have some idea, some foresight, of the harms the employees are likely to inflict. Imposing liability for unforeseeable types of harm is unlikely, therefore, to evoke greater efforts at preventing accidents; it is likely merely to constitute the employer an insurer. The railroad in Palsgraf did not know that conductors who jostle boarding passengers pose a threat of injury by explosion to people standing elsewhere on the platform, and the water company in Moch did not know the likelihood of fires or the value of the property that might be damaged by them.
The second argument in favor of using the concept of duty to limit the scope of liability for careless acts, an argument relevant to Moch and Kerr though not to Palsgraf, is that the defendant may not be in the best position to prevent a particular class of accidents, and placing liability on it may merely dilute the incentives of other potential defendants. In most cases the best way to avert fire damage is to prevent the fire from starting rather than to douse it with water after it has started. The water company represents a second line of defense, and it has no control over the first. It cannot insist that people not leave oil-soaked rags lying about or that they equip their houses and offices with smoke detectors and fire extinguishers.
How far in general these arguments outweigh the consideration emphasized by Judge Friendly is a matter of fair debate; but they are especially powerful in this case, and remember that Indiana is a jurisdiction that follows Palsgraf. The provider of an alarm service not only has no knowledge of the risk of a fire in its subscribers’ premises, and no practical ability to reduce that risk (though we suppose an alarm service like a fire insurer could offer a discount to people who installed smoke detectors in their premises); it also lacks knowledge of the risk of a *491 fire to firemen summoned to extinguish it. That risk depends not only on the characteristics of the particular premises but also on the particular techniques used by each fire department, the training and qualifications of the firemen, and the quality of the department’s leadership. The alarm company knows nothing about these things and has no power to influence them.
The death of a fireman in fighting a residential fire appears to be a rare occurrence. And we have not been referred to a single case in which such a death was blamed on a malfunction, human or mechanical, in an alarm system. The problem of proving causation in such a case is, as we saw, a formidable one, and the plethora of potential defendants makes it difficult (we should think) for an alarm company to estimate its likely liability even if it does foresee the kind of accident that occurred here. If “unforeseeable” is given the practical meaning of too unusual, too uncertain, too unreckonable to make it feasible or worthwhile to take precautions against, then this accident was unforeseeable.
Mang v. Palmer,
The alarm service constitutes, moreover, not a first or second line of defense against fire but a third line of defense — and in this case possibly a fourth, fifth, or ... %th. The first is the homeowner. We do not know why the Bakers’ furnace exploded — whether it was because of a defect in the furnace or a failure by the Bakers or others to inspect or maintain it properly. The second line of defense is the fire department. Potential defendants in this ease included not only the alarm service and the fire department (though presumably the plaintiffs only remedy against the department would be under Indiana’s public employees’ compensation law), but the Bakers, the manufacturer of the furnace, any service company that inspected or maintained the furnace, possibly even the supplier of the wood for the floor that collapsed or the architect or builder of the house. The plaintiff has chosen to sue only the alarm service. Of course none of the others may be negligent. And if any of the others are, conceivably the alarm service might implead them so that liability could come to rest on the most culpable. Yet it is also possible that the principal attraction of the alarm service as a defendant is that it is a large out-of-state firm with deep and well-lined pockets. We can only speculate. All things considered, however, the creation of a duty of care running from the alarm service to Edwards is likely to make at best a marginal contribution to fire safety and one outweighed by the cost of administering such a duty. That at least is our best guess as to how the Supreme Court of Indiana would evaluate this case were it before that court.
Pointing to the $250 limitation of the alarm service’s liability to the Bakers, the plaintiff argues that if Honeywell prevails in this suit, alarm services will have no incentive to take care. But they will. Honeywell lost the Bakers’ business. Our society relies more heavily on competition than on liability to optimize the quality of the goods and services supplied by the private sector of the economy. A case such as this does Honeywell’s customer relations no good even if it wins the case — as we think it must.
The district court did not consider another alternative ground urged by Honeywell for the dismissal of the suit, that liability to fireman Edwards is barred by the “fireman’s rule.” The rule, in force in Indiana,
Fox v. Hawkins,
AFFIRMED.
