In the world of public policy, there is a phrase that acts as a universal solvent for logic, restraint, and due process: “If it saves just one life.”
The phrase is designed to be unanswerable. It is the ultimate moral high ground. To question it is to be framed as indifferent to tragedy, or worse, “pro-violence.” But when the emotional force of a slogan overwhelms the analytical rigor of the law, the legal system drifts away from its bedrock: careful lawmaking and disciplined adjudication grounded in reliable evidence.
We are seeing this dynamic play out in Utah. Supporters of “Om’s Law” are seeking, via House Bill 303, to expand family-court reforms centered on concepts like “coercive control” and “psychological maltreatment.” The tragedy that inspired these movements is real and devastating; no decent person is unmoved by it. But when policy is driven primarily by a reaction to a horrific, high-profile event, the law predictably begins to prioritize the management of fear over the adjudication of facts.
When Safety Becomes a Shield Against Evidence
Utah courts already operate under a solemn mandate: protect children. No one disputes this. But when a statute signals to judges that “safety must be prioritized above all else,” the judicial role shifts. Judges are no longer neutral arbiters determining what the evidence proves; they become risk managers trying to avoid being the subject of the next viral news story. And when courts begin managing risk rather than adjudicating proof, liberty inevitably contracts. Restrictions imposed on uncertain evidence may protect against hypothetical danger, but they do so by treating freedom and innocence as the “risks” to be managed.
In a system where a sensational catastrophe can produce immense political pressure, the “safest” professional course for a judge is obvious: restrict first, and sort the evidence out later (if ever). The incentives are not subtle. If judges limit parent-time, order supervision, or impose invasive therapy, they look “cautiously responsible.” If they allow normal parent-time and something goes wrong, their careers are in jeopardy.
Consequently, the law may still speak the language of proof, but the system increasingly rewards caution over evidence.
The Elasticity of “Coercive Control”
The most significant shift in H.B. 303 is the codification of “coercive control.” While emotional domination is a reality in many toxic relationships, translating it into a legal standard creates a “subjectivity trap” that courts are poorly equipped (and always will be poorly equipped) to navigate.
According to the definition in H.B. 303[1], coercive control includes patterns such as “isolating” an individual, “excessively monitoring” behavior, or “unreasonably interfering” with independent decisions. The problem is not the intent of the law, but its inherent subjectivity. Unlike physical violence, which leaves a footprint of verifiable injury, medical records, and police reports, “coercive control” is typically reconstructed through competing narratives. Consider these typical examples:
- The Financial Trap: Who controlled the money? Was it a “pattern of deprivation,” or a mutual agreement where one spouse preferred not to manage the purchases or bills?
- The Social Trap: Was a spouse “isolated from friends,” or did he/she avoid the social circle because of a mutual dislike of certain peers?
- The Monitoring Trap: Is “monitoring movements” a form of stalking, or is a couple using a shared GPS app to manage the children’s chaotic school and activities schedules?
- The Parenting Trap: Did a parent exercise normal authority—setting curfews or restricting phone use—or was that parent “compelling another individual to abstain from conduct in which they had a right to engage”?
- The Concern Trap: Was repeated questioning about whereabouts an attempt to intimidate, or was it a spouse worried about late nights and family stability?
- The Budget Trap: Was limiting discretionary spending “economic coercion,” or was it a household trying to survive on a tight income where someone had to say no?
- The Privacy Trap: Was reading a spouse’s messages evidence of controlling behavior, or a reaction to suspected infidelity in a collapsing marriage?
- The Emotional Conflict Trap: Was harsh criticism “psychological maltreatment,” or two people in a strained or failing relationship venting their collective spleens?
In each of these scenarios, the underlying conduct may be identical. What changes is the narrative attached to it. The evidentiary issue is as concerning as it is obvious: subjective experience vs. objective proof. By embedding these amorphous concepts into statute, the law invites courts to resolve disputes based on which narrative sounds more alarming. When allegations are framed in the language of “safety,” any attempt to provide context is portrayed as “minimizing” abuse. Courts predictably gravitate toward the “better safe than sorry” posture.
The Systemic Incentive for Strategic Allegations
Family court already suffers from a structural asymmetry. An allegation of abuse—even if unproven—can trigger a cascade of life-altering events: temporary protective orders, removal from the home, suspension of parental rights, and social stigma.
Advocates argue this is a necessary price to prevent the “one in a million” catastrophe. But we must evaluate both sides of the ledger. When the standard becomes “restrict first, investigate later,” the incentive for strategic allegations in high-conflict custody disputes skyrockets.
When the legal system lowers the bar for intervention, the “emergency” docket becomes flooded. Courts then devote scarce resources to sorting through exaggerated claims, leaving less focus for cases where children are in genuine danger. By trying to catch every shadow, the system eventually goes blind to the teeth.
The Erosion of Due Process via “Trauma-Informed” Adjudication
Perhaps the most troubling feature of this movement is the push for “trauma-informed” adjudication. While understanding trauma is valuable for clinicians, it carries a massive evidentiary risk in a courtroom.
The premise is that behaviors like avoidance, inconsistent storytelling, or emotional outbursts should be interpreted as “trauma responses.” The danger is that these behaviors are also common in people who are simply angry, lying, or experiencing the normal stress of a divorce. When a court treats a “trauma response” as corroboration of the underlying allegation, psychological theory begins to substitute for proof.
This creates a hidden shift in the burden of proof. Instead of the accuser proving abuse with reliable evidence, the system begins expecting the accused parent to prove a negative—to prove they are not dangerous. This is a reversal of the fundamental principles of justice.
The Illusion of Perfect Safety
The central promise of H.B. 303 is seductive: if we expand the definition of abuse and act aggressively at the first sign of risk, we can eliminate tragedy. But the law can never eliminate all risk (nor is that it’s role). The only way to drive risk toward zero is to intervene earlier on weaker evidence. And when we intervene earlier on weaker evidence, suspicion replaces proof as the trigger for state power. When innocence no longer matters, guilt cannot matter either.
As liberty contracts, the harms multiply. Parents and children wrongly separated for months while a “risk assessment” slowly grinds along. Innocent family members trapped in a cycle of expensive, invasive litigation. The parent-child bond is fragile; a “temporary” restriction during a two-year litigation battle often results in permanent damage. These are the unseen victims of the “if it saves just one life” mentality.
Justice Requires Discipline
Children must be protected from genuine abuse. That protection requires that accusations be tested through rigorous evidence, not filtered through fear.
When “if it saves just one life” becomes the guiding principle of lawmaking, justice collapses. A legal system that abandons disciplined adjudication in the pursuit of absolute safety eventually undermines the very justice it claims to protect. Family courts should remain what they were meant to be: courts of law, not institutions of risk management. Decisions must be grounded in verifiable facts and the enduring principle that an allegation—no matter how serious—must still be proven. Anything less doesn’t make children safer; it simply makes the system less just.
Utah Family Law, LC | divorceutah.com | 801-466-9277
[1] H.B. 303 defines “coercive control” as follows:
(2)(a) “Coercive control” means an individual’s pattern of behavior that, intentionally or in effect, unreasonably interferes with another individual’s ability to make or act on independent decisions.
(b) “Coercive control” includes a pattern of:
(i) isolating another individual from friends, relatives, or sources of support;
(ii) depriving another individual of basic necessities;
(iii) controlling, regulating, or excessively monitoring another individual’s movements, communications, daily behavior, or access to services;
(iv) controlling, regulating, excessively monitoring, depriving, or limiting another individual’s finances, access to finances, or economic resources;
(v) threatening to harm or kill another individual, a relative of the individual, or a household animal that is owned or kept by the individual;
(vi) threatening self-harm if another individual does not comply with the individual’s demands;
(vii) threatening to publish information with the intent to harass or intimidate another individual;
(viii) damaging property or household goods; or(ix)compelling another individual by force, threat of force, or intimidation to:
(A) engage in conduct from which the other individual has a right to abstain; or
(B) abstain from conduct in which the other individual has a right to engage.
(c) “Coercive control” does not include reasonable and appropriate parental conduct undertaken in the care of a minor child.