Lets Talk About You.

Your emotional well-being is just as important — if not more — than your physical health or financial stability. Why? Because what you're facing is a brutal journey. It demands strength, endurance, and clarity. And to survive it, you need to operate like a machine: steady, resilient, and reliable.

But what happens when that machine starts to break down? When it leaks, sputters, or stalls out?

The truth is, the fight becomes nearly impossible.

As dads, we’re wired to protect, to fix, to carry the weight for those we love. But ask yourself honestly: Who carries you? Who’s helping you fix the emotional wreckage you're buried under?

If your answer is "no one," that’s not okay — even if you’ve convinced yourself it is.

You're still human. You still bleed, break, and ache like anyone else. And going through a divorce — especially a high-conflict, child-involved divorce — will push you to emotional places you never thought you’d visit. Rage. Grief. Helplessness. Revenge. Fear.

That’s why you need support. Real support.

You’ll need:

• A shoulder to cry on — and you will cry, whether you admit it or not.

• People who know the real you, the man underneath the pain and anger, to remind you of who you are when you’ve forgotten.

• Therapy, in layers: one-on-one, group support, books, podcasts — anything that helps you make sense of the chaos.

• And most of all: time.
  Time to grieve.
  Time to feel angry.
  Time to heal.
  Time to grow.
  Time to reclaim yourself.

This road isn’t a straight line. You’ll have setbacks. You’ll fall into dark places. You may lean on vices you never had before — drinking, smoking, drugs, isolation. Even if you’ve never struggled before, you might now.

Unchecked, this storm can take everything from you: your children, your career, your friendships — maybe even your life.

So here’s the message, loud and clear:
Get help. Get a lot of it. And don’t wait.

Let yourself move through the stages of grief, but also look inward. Be accountable. Own your role in what’s happened — not to blame yourself, but to empower yourself to grow.

If you’re a father, your kids are watching. They’re learning from how you handle this. You must be their calm in the chaos. You must be their anchor.

But you can’t do that if you’re falling apart inside.

This journey is not one you’re meant to walk alone.
And you don’t have to.

I hope the resources on this site help you realize that.
You are not broken — you're in the process of rebuilding.
And you’re not alone.

Lets Talk About Lawyers.

You need to understand something important: just because you hire a lawyer to represent your best interests and fight for you doesn’t mean that’s what will actually happen—especially in a high-conflict divorce that requires heavy litigation.

What often happens behind the scenes is this: your lawyer and your ex's lawyer will communicate privately, trying to craft options to settle the case outside of court. It might sound cooperative or even productive, but in reality, these “backdoor negotiations” rarely lead to real settlements. Worse, they cost you money—sometimes a lot of it. If your case truly needs litigation, these side discussions can become a costly distraction.

This is why you need to monitor this kind of behavior closely. Make sure your attorney only engages in these talks with your permission and full understanding of the potential costs. Trust me—you’ll feel it when the bill arrives.

Another thing to consider: these lawyers work with each other on other cases, and they want to keep things friendly and professional—even when one or both sides are acting unethically. And more importantly, they appear before the same commissioners and judges regularly. The last thing your lawyer wants is to upset a judge and risk unfavorable rulings—not just in your case, but in others that may matter more to their practice.

So if you're expecting someone like Beth Dutton to show up and blaze a trail of justice for you, I hate to break it to you—that kind of warrior only exists on TV.

Lets Talk About the Court

The chances of getting a fair ruling as a dad in a Utah family court are incredibly slim. The system is outdated, disconnected from reality, and, frankly, a mess. It's so backed up that just getting in front of a commissioner can take anywhere from 3 to 6 months and for a judge, years. And once you're finally there, don't expect efficiency or fairness.

The court only handles one motion at a time. They rarely grasp the full context of your case and often do little to no review of your evidence before the clock starts ticking in court. They’re notoriously resistant to objections during hearings, often forcing you to accept unfavorable rulings without recourse in the moment. If you want to challenge a decision, you’re forced to go through a formal appeal process—filing new motions, scheduling a new hearing (which everyone must agree to), preparing detailed objections, and showing up again. All of this adds legal fees, delays, and unnecessary emotional stress.

And then? More often than not, that same commissioner or judge simply doubles down on their original ruling.

Why? Because these officials don’t like being told they’re wrong—especially not in a public courtroom. The system is structured in a way that protects them from criticism. They're insulated on their judicial pedestal, and their decisions rarely reflect true accountability or empathy. You won’t get much of a voice either. On the rare occasions you're allowed to speak, it’s usually performative—just enough to make you feel heard, but not enough to make a real difference.

Don’t count on your attorney to push back either. Very few have the courage—or the career capital—to challenge a judge or commissioner, especially in a system where keeping professional relationships smooth is more important than getting justice for one client.

In my own case, I was forced to move out of the home I solely own and find new housing for myself and my children. The court micromanaged every line of my expenses—food, gas, clothing, childcare—but didn’t allocate a single dollar for the new rent they were essentially mandating. A modest 1,000-square-foot apartment, 20 minutes from my kids' school, added $3,000 a month to my expenses—and required two of my children to share a bedroom. The court’s response? Silence.

They have no grasp of the financial strain, emotional toll, or long-term damage their rulings can cause—not just to you, but to your children. Once that gavel falls, they’re on to the next case, with little thought or care for the wreckage left behind.

There is zero accountability. And that’s the real injustice.

The good news, commissioners can be unseated as they are not elected officials. Judges are elected officials, and their removal can be determined in an election cycle. More on this in the Resources page.

Lets talk about Commissioners, especially Christina Wilson of the 2nd Judicial District Court of Davis County.

I can admit that much of my perception of anti-father bias in the Utah family court system comes directly from my personal experience — specifically, from the way my case was handled by Commissioner Christina Wilson. While I understand that every situation is unique, what I witnessed firsthand exposes a deep flaw in the structure and accountability of the system itself.

Here’s how it works:

Commissioners are appointed judicial officers, not elected by the public, who handle much of the day-to-day case management in family law. They take on the bulk of hearings and rulings in divorce, custody, and support matters — essentially doing the work the elected district court judges don’t have time to do. The appointment process is said to be “merit-based,” open to qualified attorneys with family law experience. But in reality, it's an in-house selection — the district judge simply chooses the commissioner they want to work with. There is no public input, no transparency, and no external oversight.

Commissioners are supposed to follow the Utah Code of Judicial Conduct, which sets standards for impartiality, integrity, and professionalism. But from what I experienced, those standards are routinely ignored with no consequence.

If you disagree with a commissioner’s ruling, you have just 14 days to file a formal objection. After that, it goes to the district court judge — the one you've likely never seen or spoken to — for a decision. That judge, who often knows nothing about your case, consults with the commissioner (whether in person, via email, or phone — we’re not told), and then almost always rubber-stamps the commissioner’s recommendation. It’s a closed-loop system. A commissioner is rarely, if ever, overruled by the very judge who appointed them.

This is exactly why I chose not to waste my time objecting to Commissioner Christina Wilson’s rulings. It became clear — just from watching her in our hearings — that there was little to no meaningful oversight from the judge assigned to our case. Commissioner Wilson operated like a free agent in her courtroom — ruling as she pleased, unchecked.

And that is the root of the problem.

There is no accountability.
There is no transparency.
There is no public check on the power these commissioners hold.

When your entire life — your relationship with your children, your financial future, your dignity — hinges on a system that claims to uphold standards of fairness but fails to enforce them, what are you supposed to do?

You fight back.

Because if the system won’t hold itself accountable, the people have no choice but to demand change from the outside.

Lets Talk About Guardian Ad Litems (GAL)

As mentioned in the What to Watch Out For section, Guardian ad Litems (GALs) are attorneys appointed by a judge or commissioner to represent the best interests of children—especially in high-conflict divorces involving allegations of abuse, neglect, or custody disputes. They are not free and, like most legal resources, come with a cost. Despite that, I was optimistic. I saw the GAL’s involvement as a positive step forward and was willing to absorb the financial burden in hopes it would benefit my children.

Unfortunately, what my attorney prepared me for and what I actually experienced were vastly different.

The GAL assigned to our case, in my opinion, was a poor communicator, seemed unable to build rapport with my children, and behaved unprofessionally. To be fair, this is my only experience with a GAL, and I recognize that not all of them are the same. However, after going through this process and connecting with other parents, I suspect my experience is not all that rare. You can read more about what happened in the My Story section of this site.

Despite her behavior, the GAL ultimately recommended that our custody arrangement return to 50/50—a decision in my favor. (As of now, the court still has not adopted that recommendation.) So if I seem critical, let me explain why.

She met with my children only once. When she arrived, she was visibly disheveled and dressed in what can only be described as a ruffled prom-style dress from the 1980s. I remember the look on my children’s faces—it was enough that I had to silently give them the “don’t say a word” look as she entered our home. After their private conversation, the expressions on my children's faces were telling—confused, uncomfortable, and a little unsettled. And for context, my kids are exceptionally polite, especially with guests.

She spoke to me very little. Technically, a GAL is not required to speak with either parent, as their duty is solely to represent the child’s best interests. I understand that. However, in our case, she missed major red flags—issues that should have at least raised questions if she had been thorough. I eventually had to hire a private investigator to uncover things the GAL should have noticed.

Despite her role as an advocate for the children, she seemed unaware—or uninterested—in the environment my ex was exposing them to. She did the bare minimum. Even more concerning, although GALs are required to remain neutral, she has consistently ignored my attempts to contact her for nearly ten months and appears to have developed a very casual and friendly relationship with my ex.

That level of inconsistency and disregard is troubling, especially from someone entrusted to speak on behalf of children in vulnerable situations.