Waterfront Dr, Road Town, Tortola. Kevin Stroup via Wikimedia Commons.

We aren’t building rockets here.  But we are building a ship of sorts, and a leaky hull means the cruise ship might not get you to that cabana sheltered rum drink you’ve been craving.  Serving process in the British Virgin Islands is subject to the strictures of the Hague Service Convention, regardless of which U.S. venue* is hearing the matter– in exactly the same way as service in England and Wales.

Continue Reading How to Serve Process in the British Virgin Islands (updated 2023)

Yeah, cruise ships dock there. A lot. [Prince George Wharf, Nassau Harbor. TampAGS, for AGS Media, via Wikimedia Commons.]
We aren’t building rockets here.  But we are building a ship of sorts, and a leaky hull means the cruise ship might not get you to that cabana sheltered rum drink you’ve been craving.  Serving process in the Bahamas is subject to the strictures of the Hague Service Convention, regardless of which venue is hearing the matter.  No longer an overseas territory of the United Kingdom, the Bahamas adopted an independent constitution in 1968,* and fully implemented the Service Convention thirty years later.  Not even 200 miles off south Florida, the islands get a whole bunch of tourists– and commerce– from the U.S. & Canada, and lawsuits are a natural result.

Continue Reading How to Serve Process in The Bahamas (updated 2023)

The Martyrs Monument and the Royal and Ancient Golf Club, St. Andrews.

[Scotland is, without question, my favorite country to visit, and I’ve been coming since college.  Nice people here.]

Most of us in the U.S. have a fairly cinematic image of Scotland in our heads– usually something to do with Gene Kelly waking up in a mystical village & falling in love with Cyd Charisse (and who wouldn’t?), or Mel Gibson with half a blue face, before he really went nuts, or a time traveling romance in the Highlands.  The beach in the picture above?  Yeah… three words: Chariots of Fire.

But there’s quite a bit more to this northern half of Great Britain.  I could tell stories for hours, but this post is about procedure, so here we go…

Serving process in Scotland is subject to the strictures of the Hague Service Convention, regardless of which U.S. venue is hearing the matter, but the Scots have a slightly different system than in their fellow UK (for now?) members.

You’ve got three ways to go:

  1. Tap us on the shoulder for bespoke attention—and probably some amusing commentary to boot (see the upper right if you’re on a desktop, or way down below if you’re on a phone/tablet),
  2. Cruise over to the Hague Envoy platform at USM94.com to automate the completion of your forms in perhaps twenty minutes or so, or
  3. If you’re feeling froggy & would like to handle the whole thing yourself, keep reading.  This lays out the framework you’ll need.

Some background is in order, if you’re so inclined, before we cut to the chase.

Now, here’s how service is done in Scotland:

Article 5 Service

  • Translate the documents. The UK’s declaration to Article 5(3) requires that documents be in English.  Game over, right?  Pack up and go home?  Not so fast, counsel… make sure your defendant speaks English, because his U.S. Due Process (Canadian Natural Justice) rights follow him, in a sense.  Anybody sued in a U.S. or Canadian court must be served in a language they understand, so if they don’t speak English, translation is still necessary.
  • Fill out a USM-94. Be very careful about ensuring that it is complete and concise, and make sure that it is signed by a court official or an attorney.  If it is not, make sure that the person signing is commissioned by the court.
  • Send to the Central Authority.
  • Sit tight. It may take a while—perhaps several weeks from submission to return of proof– but by global standards, this is lightning fast.

Article 10 alternative methods

The U.K.’s declarations and Central Authority information can be found here.

Bonus practice tip… if you’re defense counsel, always question the validity of service effected on your overseas client.  The plaintiff may not have done it correctly.

The seaside village of Pittenweem, Kingdom of Fife. I seriously met Ronald McDonald in a pub there. No lie.
(Wm. Grimes, via Wikimedia Commons.)

Our handy-dandy “How to Serve Process in China” guide has been posted for quite some time.  Pretty straightforward stuff, given that the Chinese declarations to the Hague Service Convention eliminate Article 10’s alternative methods from the equation.  There’s only one way to get it done, and that is by filing a USM-94 with the Ministry of Justice in Beijing.  On its face, a seemingly simple undertaking… rock & roll that thing on over to the PRC.

Not so fast, though.  It’s always been a bit more complicated than that.  For starters, the Chinese bureaucracy is excruciatingly slow– historically, they’ve taken six to nine months to return a proof of service.  Lately, though, more than a year passes, and there are rumblings in the transnational litigation community that they’ve stopped executing U.S. requests altogether.  But Hague strictures remain mandatory doctrine in U.S. procedure [see Volkswagenwerk Aktiengesellschaft v. Schlunk, 486 U.S. 694 (1988) for more], so you have to at least attempt it.  And unlike their counterparts in Russia, the Chinese have not expressly stated that they will not execute U.S. Hague requests.  Instead, China assesses a reciprocal fee of $95 per request– as a countermeasure to the U.S. fee charged due to Congress’ outsourcing of the Justice Department’s Central Authority function.*

But recently, two critical developments have come to light, and practitioners need to know about them:

First, the reciprocal fee can no longer be submitted by check.  The fee has to be wired to our friends in Beijing, and a wire transmittal confirmation must accompany the Hague request instead of a bank draft.

Second, they moved!  And they didn’t tell anybody for a couple of months.  The new address for China’s Hague Central Authority:

Ministry of Justice of China
International Legal Cooperation Center
No.33 PingAnLi XiDaJie
Xicheng District, Beijing,100035
People’s Republic of China

Critical information right there.  And there’s been no official notification to the Hague Conference for a website update– as of this writing, the Conference’s site still shows the old address (which is summarily walled off, my courier tells me) and it can only be updated upon official notification from Beijing.  An update is coming eventually, I’m confident, but meanwhile a good many requests could be lost in the ether.  [UPDATE:  The Hague Conference website has been updated, as of June, 2018.]


* I still happen to think the Russians are completely justified in their recalcitrance.  I also think the Chinese are completely justified in their reciprocal fee requirement.  The Convention prohibits fees, but we charge one anyway because Congress decided we didn’t need all those gubmint employees drawing a paycheck.  Now, to be sure, the Central Authority function is outsourced to a top-flight organization– and I’m a huge advocate of outsourcing where it’s reasonable.  But the United States charges foreigners a fee for something that ought to be a routine government function, provided at public expense.

Palace of Justice, on Plaza de Bolivar, Bogota. Kamilokardona, via Wikimedia Commons.

Most of us in the U.S. have a fairly warped image of Colombia in our heads– usually something to do with cocaine or a big emerald the size of your hand.  If it’s not Pablo Escobar in (pick a movie about the drug trade), it’s Michael Douglas sliding down a rain-soaked hillside after Kathleen Turner in Romancing the Stone.

Oh, yeah, and then there’s Shakira… whose Hips Don’t Lie.  She’s Colombia’s biggest export of late.

But there’s quite a bit more to this South American nation than drug trafficking and pop culture, and litigation involving legitimate Colombian companies is picking up lately.  Since 2013, serving process in Colombia has been subject to the strictures of the Hague Service Convention, regardless of which U.S. or Canadian venue is hearing the matter.

Some background is in order, if you’re so inclined, before we cut to the chase.

Now, for the chase scene.  Here’s how service is done in Colombia:

Colombia in the Hague Service Convention

The Convention only entered into force for Colombia in November, 2013, and the Colombians have yet to make their declarations known to the Hague Conference.  That’s such a short time that they really don’t have much of a track record for Hague Service requests– by comparison, Mexico took a decade to really hit its stride, make its declarations known, and get the job done… but serving there is still not smooth.  For my money, you’re best served (very bad pun intended) to stick to what’s known on Colombia.  Don’t assume, just because they haven’t said anything, that everything’s jake and you can use Article 10.  It ain’t.

In my estimation, there’s really only one practical avenue to service: Article 5.

Article 5 Service

  • Translate the documents. Colombia’s declaration to Article 5(3) only says that they’d appreciate having your request completed in Spanish– there’s no real requirement indicated.  Seriously– just that they’d appreciate the form being in Spanish– although they recognize that Article 7(2) says it doesn’t have to be.  The reality is that if you don’t translate the served documents into Spanish, your request will probably be rejected, if not by the Central Authority, then by the local officials who actually execute the request.  Plus that, always keep Due Process/Natural Justice requirements in mind.
  • Fill out a USM-94. Be very careful about ensuring that it is complete and concise, and make sure that it is signed by a court official or an attorney.  If it is not, make sure that the person signing is commissioned by the court.
  • Send to the Central Authority.
  • Sit tight. It may take a while—likely 9 months, perhaps a year, from submission to return of proof.  The judge is just going to have to accept that fact, because there is no realistic alternative.

Article 10 alternative methods

  • Article 10(a) may or may not be available– we don’t know.  But even if mail is legally valid, it’s still a bad idea.
  • Article 10(b) & 10(c) amount to nothing, because if the Colombians haven’t declared whether they’re opposed or not, they also haven’t declared who is a “competent person.”

Seriously—that’s all there is to it in Colombia, but don’t get excited.  Sure, the method is straightforward and simple, but actually making it happen could be anything but easy.  It may take an interminably long time, and in many cases, local authorities are decidedly less than motivated to act against large local entities, so service on the local factory boss may not happen at all.  Pablo Escobar may be dead, but hometown loyalty is not.

Colombia’s Central Authority information can be found here.


Bonus practice tip #1: if the idea is strategically sound, ask the defendant to waive service.  Note that I didn’t say accept— I said waiveThere’s a very important difference.

Bonus practice tip #2: if you’re defense counsel, always question the validity of service effected on your overseas client.  The plaintiff may not have done it correctly.


You didn’t seriously think I’d do this without a picture of Shakira, did you?

Shakira looks like my wife’s cousin, the anesthesiologist.  [I actually spelled anesthesiologist on the first shot. Yes, I Googled it to make sure.]
Seriously, this is a nice way to spend an hour & a half. It’s no Citizen Kane, but who cares?

My wife gives me incessant grief because I enjoy romantic comedies.  I’m kind of a sap.  One rom-com that I absolutely adore is My Life in Ruins, a fun little film by Donald Petrie, set in Greece and starring Nia Vardolos (of My Big Fat Greek Wedding fame).   An essential element of the plot is the insistence by Vardolos’ character that they do everything far too slowly in Greece.  Personally, I don’t think so.  They’re simply more relaxed than the rest of us.

Okay, by common law standards, sure, Greece is pretty pokey.  But compared to other civil law jurisdictions, service of process in Greece is comparatively quick.  The procedure is subject to the strictures of the Hague Service Convention, regardless of which U.S. or Canadian venue is hearing the matter.

You’ve got three ways to go:

  1. Tap us on the shoulder for bespoke attention—and probably some amusing commentary to boot (see the upper right if you’re on a desktop, or way down below if you’re on a phone/tablet),
  2. Cruise over to the Hague Envoy platform at USM94.com to automate the completion of your forms in perhaps twenty minutes or so, or
  3. If you’re feeling froggy & would like to handle the whole thing yourself, keep reading.  This lays out the framework you’ll need.

Some background is in order, if you’re so inclined, before we cut to the chase.

Now, here’s how service is effected in Greece:

Article 5 Service

  • Translate the documents. Greece’s declaration to Article 5(3) requires it and, although the defendant may speak flawless English, omitting translated documents will prompt the Central Authority to reject your request.
  • Fill out a USM-94. Be very careful about ensuring that it is complete and concise, and make sure that it is signed by a court official or an attorney.  If it is not, make sure that the person signing is commissioned by the court.
  • Send to the appropriate Central Authority.
  • Sit tight.  It may take a while—likely four months or more from submission to return of proof.

Article 10 alternative methods

  • They simply aren’t available, because Greece objects to them all. Article 5 is the only way it can be done.

Seriously—that’s all there is to it.  Greece’s declarations and Central Authority information can be found here.

Bonus practice tip… if you’re defense counsel, always question the validity of service effected on your overseas client.  The plaintiff may not have done it correctly.

Peace Garden– Manitoba/North Dakota border.  [Bobak Ha’Eri , via Wikimedia Commons.]
This blog is primarily geared toward U.S. and Canadian attorneys who need to serve documents off-continent.  For the most part, there’s no difference between what a U.S. lawyer must do and what a Canadian lawyer must do to serve in Asia or Europe or many other parts of the world.  Our systems are incredibly similar, and so are our respective declarations to the Hague Service Convention.  In short, if I say that “a Hague request must be filed with the appropriate Central Authority in (Country X),” that requirement applies whether the action is being heard in Manitoba or Mississippi.  What I haven’t addressed– until now– is how Canadian actions must be served in the United States.  So, for my colleagues north of the border, you’ve got three ways to go:

  1. Tap us on the shoulder for bespoke attention—and probably some amusing commentary to boot (see the upper right if you’re on a desktop, or way down below if you’re on a phone/tablet),
  2. Cruise over to the Hague Envoy platform at USM94.com to automate the completion of your forms in perhaps twenty minutes or so, or
  3. If you’re feeling froggy & would like to handle the whole thing yourself, keep reading.  This lays out the framework you’ll need.

Some background is in order, if you will, before we cut to the chase.

  • The roadmap to the overall process—the recipe to our Secret Sauce.
  • The structure of the Convention itself is discussed in this four-part series.
  • And an absolutely critical note: the Hague Service Convention does not pertain to subpoenas.  Repeat after me—you can’t just SERVE a subpoena abroad.  At least, not if you want it to have any teeth.  You have to file a Letter Rogatory.  Dramatically different from serving a summons or notice.  But in the U.S., even that isn’t necessary.  It’s far quicker and more effective to hire U.S. counsel (I suggest you contact Ted Folkman for help) to file a request under 28 U.S.C. § 1782 in whichever federal district the evidence (or deponent) is located.

As to serving Canadian process in the U.S.:

Article 5 Service

  • Translate the documents. The U.S. declaration to Article 5(3) requires that documents be in English.  For most Canadian actions, that’s no problem, but if the action is being heard in Québec, then the documents are probably in French.  That triggers a natural justice question (due process in the U.S.), so it’s highly advisable.  To be sure, the U.S. Central Authority does not require translation of French documents, but if the defendant isn’t a French speaker, big problems follow.
  • Fill out a Hague Service Request, referred to down here as a USM-94. Be very careful about ensuring that it is complete and concise, and make sure that it is signed by an authorized person (this is an exhaustive list)…

– Attorney General for Canada
– Attorney General, Ministry of the Attorney General or Minister of Justice of a province or territory
– Clerks of the courts and their deputies for a judicial or a court district.
– Central Authority for Alberta
– Deputy Minister of Justice, Northwest Territories
– Huissiers and sheriffs
– Local registrars
Members of the law societies of all provinces and territories
– Members of the Board of Notaries of the Province of Québec (for non-litigious matters only)

Article 10 alternative methods

  • Mail service is available, depending on the venue court’s rules, but it’s a bad idea anyway.
  • Service via private agent (process server) is available to Canadian litigants under Article 10(c).  Technically, it doesn’t even have to be a professional process server, although that’s a good idea– if you have “the plaintiff’s cousin Todd” do it, there’s a pretty good chance Cousin Todd will screw things up, and you don’t want that hanging over your head.  Easiest way to find a pro: just Google “process server (city where the defendant is located)” and you’re good to go.  Just make sure that you write the affidavit in a form used by the venue court.

The U.S. declarations and Central Authority information can be found here.

Bonus practice tip… if you’re defense counsel, always question the validity of service effected on your overseas client.  The plaintiff may not have done it correctly.

Supreme Court of Spain in Madrid. FDV, via Wikimedia Commons.

Once we get past the romantic mental images of bullfights and Picasso, or of Hemingway running through cobbled streets in a white shirt & red scarf, Spain is rightly seen as a highly industrialized society– one with many of the same problems shared by its Mediterranean neighbors, and much of the same sunny, sophisticated allure.  Serving process in Spain is subject to the strictures of the Hague Service Convention, regardless of which U.S. or Canadian venue is hearing the matter.

You’ve got three ways to go:

  1. Tap us on the shoulder for bespoke attention—and probably some amusing commentary to boot (see the upper right if you’re on a desktop, or way down below if you’re on a phone/tablet),
  2. Cruise over to the Hague Envoy platform at USM94.com to automate the completion of your forms in perhaps twenty minutes or so, or
  3. If you’re feeling froggy & would like to handle the whole thing yourself, keep reading.  This lays out the framework you’ll need.

Some background is in order, if you’re so inclined, before we cut to the chase.

Here’s how service is effected in Spain:

Article 5 Service

  • Translate the documents. Spain’s declaration to Article 5(3) sort of requires it and, although the defendant may speak flawless English, omitting translated documents will prompt the Central Authority to reject your request.*
  • Fill out a USM-94. Be very careful about ensuring that it is complete and concise, and make sure that it is signed by a court official or an attorney.  If it is not, make sure that the person signing is commissioned by the court.
  • Send to the Central Authority.
  • Sit tight. It may take a while—anywhere from nine to twelve months, from submission to return of proof.

Article 10 alternative methods

  • Mail service may be available, depending on your venue, but it was a bad idea even pre-pandemic, but even worse now.
  • Service via local counsel is available under Article 10(b)– a procurador (a Spanish attorney, roughly akin to a French hussier de justice**) seeks the assistance of a local court to effect service without the involvement of the Central Authority.  It can save a couple of months or more, but the cost in many cases outweighs the speed.  If time is of the essence, though, this can be a fantastic option.  Just make sure local counsel is adept at Hague issues.

Seriously—that’s all there is to it in Spain, but don’t get excited.  Sure, the method is straightforward and simple, but it’s going to take a while, even if you have a lawyer handling things for you in-country.  The wheels just move more slowly than they do over here.

Spain’s declarations and Central Authority information can be found here.


* Technically, it’s not an outright requirement.  But the declaration is so vague as to essentially make it mandatory.  Rather like saying, “yeah, we’re not saying you have to, but don’t expect results if you don’t.”

**  I said roughly akin.  Not identical, not parallel…

Toledo Courthouse, San Juan, PR. Notice the big blue mailbox with the eagle on it.  Look familiar? (Daderot, via Wikimedia Commons.)

This conversation happens pretty frequently.  At first glance, it might seem like a silly discussion to have, but in reality, most of us don’t have a good handle on the geography or history behind it because we were never really exposed to it in high school.  And who paid attention then, anyway?

Caller:  “Hey, Aaron, how do I serve process in Puerto Rico?”

Me:  You pick up the phone and call a process server on that sunny island.  It’s really that simple.

Caller:  “But don’t I have to follow the Hague?”

Me:  No.

Y’see, Puerto Rico is a territory of the United States, and has been since just after the Spanish-American War.  Think “Remember the Maine,” Teddy Roosevelt, San Juan Hill and all that.  Of course, San Juan Hill is in Cuba and the city of San Juan is in Puerto Rico, but I digress.  Puerto Ricans (or, Boricuas if you’re keen to use the proper term) are U.S. citizens, they (kinda-sorta) vote in presidential elections,* and they carry blue passports with a big gold eagle stamped on the front, just like folks born in Iowa.

For the purpose of procedural requirements in U.S. state courts, Puerto Rico should be viewed in the same manner as a sister state…

  • Divorce case in Georgia, serving a respondent in Saint Paul?  You need a Minnesota process server.
  • Divorce case in Georgia, but serving a respondent in San Juan? You need a Puerto Rico process server.  It’s literally the same analysis.

Things are even clearer in federal court…

  • RICO case in S.D.N.Y., serving a defendant in Miami?  You need a Florida process server– or any non-party adult willing to do the job.
  • RICO case in S.D.N.Y., with a defendant in Mayagüez?  You need a Puerto Rico process server– or any non-party adult willing to do the job.  Again, same analysis.
  • In either case, the defendant is obliged to waive.  And if they refuse without cause?  Mandatory fee shifting under Rule 4(d)(2).**  They’re within a judicial district of the United States (D.P.R., naturally), so… pay up, folks.

Perhaps an even better analogy is this:  think of Puerto Rico in the same way you’d think of the District of Columbia.  No, it’s not a sovereign state, but it might as well be– at least in terms of procedural questions.  People born in DC are U.S. citizens, they vote in presidential elections, and they carry blue passports with a big gold eagle stamped on the front, just like folks born in Iowa.  (To be sure, both DC and PR are taxed without representation, but that’s an entirely different kettle of fish.)

In short, you don’t need somebody like me to effect service in Puerto Rico pursuant to the Hague Service Convention.  [Unless you’re in Canada– and even then, it’s pretty simple.  Yes, the Convention would govern how you do it, but you can use a process server under Article 10(b) just like you would in Michigan.]


* A very astute reader pointed out to me that Puerto Ricans can only vote in presidential primaries unless they move to the mainland.  I had completely forgotten about the nuance about that– and stand happily corrected.

** For a discussion of fee shifting in cases where a foreign defendant refuses to waive, see Serving Overseas: The Carrot and Stick of Waiver.  [That’s foreign in the “you need a passport to go there” sense, rather than the “across State Line Road” sense.  Yes, this is a distinction only a very nerdy lawyer could love.]

Bermuda Tourism Authority, at gotobermuda.com. No, seriously, go to Bermuda. And take me with you.

We ain’t building rockets here.  But we are building a ship of sorts, and a leaky vessel means the cargo may not make it to its destination; this could be a frightening concept if, like me (at the age of eight), you believe in the mythology surrounding the Bermuda Triangle.

Serving process in Bermuda is subject to the strictures of the Hague Service Convention, regardless of which U.S. venue is hearing the matter.  The tiny island is an overseas territory of the United Kingdom, which has extended the treaty’s effect to most of the remaining parts of its former Empire; this includes the UK declarations.*  A fair number of U.S. tourists spend time in Bermuda, just a few hundred miles off North Carolina, and a whole bunch of financial houses are chartered there thanks to a highly favorable tax structure.  That means a fair amount of U.S. litigation involves entities on the tiny island.

Some background is in order, if you’re so inclined, before we cut to the chase.

Now, for the chase scene.  Here’s how service is effected in Bermuda:

Article 5 Service

  • Translate the documents. The UK’s declaration to Article 5(3) requires that documents be in English.  Game over, right?  Pack up and go home?  Not so fast, counsel… make sure your defendant speaks English, because his U.S. Due Process rights follow him, in a sense.  Anybody sued in a U.S. court must be served in a language they understand, so if they don’t speak English, translation is still necessary.
  • Fill out a USM-94. Be very careful about ensuring that it is complete and concise, and make sure that it is signed by a court official or an attorney.  If it is not, make sure that the person signing is commissioned by the court.
  • Send to the Central Authority.
  • Sit tight. It may take a while—likely three or four months from submission to return of proof.

Article 10 alternative methods

  • Mail service is available, but it’s a bad idea anyway.
  • Service via private agent (process server) is available to U.S. litigants under Article 10(c). This is absolutely critical—make sure to have the process server instructed by a solicitor, or the attempt to serve is ineffective, as it violates the UK’s position on Article 10.

Pretty straightforward stuff in Bermuda.  For more insight, the UK’s declarations and Central Authority information can be found here.  And I’m serious– when you go to Bermuda, take me with you.

Bonus practice tip… if you’re defense counsel, always question the validity of service effected on your overseas client.  The plaintiff may not have done it correctly.


* Declarations (also called reservations in treaty law) frustrate the hell out of U.S. practitioners who aren’t aware that they change the effect of statutory text.  If a country declares its opposition to Article 10 (Germany and China do, for example), then Article 10 does not exist between it and the United States.  The methods described there aren’t even part of the agreement.


Following the death of Queen Elizabeth II, much speculation has been thrown around, concerning whether certain members of the Commonwealth of Nations might jettison their membership, kick out the monarchy, and go it alone as a republic.  That’s not in the cards for Bermuda– it’s not an independent state.  It’s a British Overseas Territory.