Nobody has any business demanding perfection from judges, commissioners, lawyers, guardians ad litem, custody evaluators, therapists, or court clerks. These are human beings doing difficult work, often under time pressure, with incomplete information, emotionally charged litigants, and consequences that can be enormous. Even when we try our best, honest mistakes will still happen. People will misread a record, overlook a fact, choose an imperfect word, make a judgment call that looks wrong in hindsight, or simply have a bad day.
“To err is human” is not merely a proverb. It is a necessary principle of fairness.
But it has limits.
There is a real difference between making a mistake while conscientiously trying to do the job well and knowingly or indifferently failing to do the work the job reasonably requires. Much of what troubles me about Utah family law falls into the second category.
A judge can weigh conflicting evidence carefully and still reach the wrong conclusion. That is human fallibility. A court that does not meaningfully confront conflicting evidence, does not explain its reasoning, or substitutes a generic “best interests” conclusion for actual analysis has a different problem. A lawyer can research a difficult rule and misunderstand it. That is an honest mistake. A lawyer who has not read the rule but confidently insists that local habit overrides its plain language is not entitled to the same excuse.
The same goes for guardians ad litem, therapists, and custody evaluators. They can investigate conscientiously and reach conclusions with which reasonable people disagree. That comes with the territory. But professional status is not a substitute for evidence. Repeating an allegation does not corroborate it. Playing the odds isn’t sound analysis. Calling something “trauma” does not prove what happened. Summarizing what a child supposedly said is not the same as preserving (so that we can know) what the child actually said. Recommendations should identify their factual basis, their limitations, and meaningful contrary evidence—not acquire authority merely because a credentialed professional made them.
The distinction matters because “nobody is perfect” can become (and, in Utah family law, has become) a remarkably convenient and pervasive defense of mediocrity.
Family law is especially vulnerable to these problems. Caseloads are heavy. Facts are messy. The subject matter discouraging. Much of the work is discretionary, and temporary decisions sometimes must be made quickly. Courts understandably want practical solutions. But those pressures make rigor more important, not less. A temporary order can create the “status quo” later used to justify keeping it. A speculative safety concern can become a restriction, then a history of restriction, then supposed evidence supporting continued restriction. An untested professional assertion can be repeated by enough people that repetition starts to look like corroboration.
Small shortcuts can carry enormous consequences.
I do not expect judges and commissioners never to be wrong. But I do expect them to judge. I do not expect lawyers never to make mistakes. I do expect them to prepare. I do not expect court personnel never to misunderstand a rule. I expect the misunderstanding to be corrected once the rule is brought to their attention. I do not expect flawless findings. I expect findings that show enough of the court’s reasoning to demonstrate that the evidence was truly considered and the governing law was correctly applied (even if and when reasonable minds can differ over the application).
When someone makes an honest mistake, the right response is not condemnation by the observer or defensive dismissal by the one in the wrong. It is correction.
What deserves criticism is different: arrogantly (or slothfully) treating inconvenient rules as optional; illogically (or slothfully) using conclusory language where reasoning is required; timidly (or slothfully) substituting institutional caution for proof; carelessly (or slothfully) delegating judicial responsibility to professionals whose assertions cannot meaningfully be tested; apathetically (or slothfully) allowing cases to stall because nobody takes responsibility for moving them; or pridefully (or slothfully) refusing to correct an obvious error or becoming defensive when a legitimate weakness is identified.
Those are not unavoidable consequences of human imperfection. They are failures of professional discipline.
And the same standard applies to lawyers. We cannot demand rigor from judges while filing sloppy pleadings ourselves. We cannot condemn unsupported (and knowingly false) accusations while making them about opposing parties or counsel. We cannot expect timely rulings while missing our own deadlines. Those of us who take our professional obligations seriously owe the system the same quality of work we demand from it.
That is what the public is entitled to expect from Utah’s family law system: not perfection, omniscience, or immunity from error. Reasonably best efforts.
Read the rule. Study the evidence. Ask the hard question. Distinguish allegation from proof. Conduct the analyses. Explain the decision. Admit uncertainty where it exists. Correct mistakes when they are discovered. Enforce obligations even when doing so is uncomfortable. Take seriously the extraordinary power the legal system exercises over families.
That is not an impossible standard for imperfect human beings. It is what professionalism means.
That is what the public is entitled to expect from Utah’s family law system: not perfection, omniscience, or immunity from error. Reasonably best efforts.
Read the rule. Study the evidence. Ask the hard question. Distinguish allegation from proof. Conduct the analysis. Explain the decision. Admit uncertainty where it exists. Correct mistakes when they are discovered. Enforce obligations even when doing so is uncomfortable. Take seriously the extraordinary power the legal system exercises over families.
That is not an impossible standard for imperfect human beings. It is what professionalism means.
And after thirty years practicing family law in Utah, I do not believe the failures I have described can fairly be dismissed as occasional mistakes, isolated bad actors, or the unavoidable imperfections of human beings doing difficult work. I have seen too much, too often, for too long.
By the standard I have described here, contemporary Utah family law professionals are, on the whole, failing the public they are supposed to serve.
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