Today after Sunday School, a sister in my ward shared something that has stayed with me. She said her son hasn’t seen his six kids since early September. Then she added a phrase that pierced me:

Those words settled into my heart because ever since early September, my life has taken turns I could never have anticipated. What follows is my timeline — what happened, when it happened, and how it felt to walk through it. Not to argue. Not to attack. Not to defend. But simply to tell the truth as I experienced it.

On September 1st, I swore at my daughter. It was the only time in my life I have ever sworn at a person. As a teenager I used those words now and then, but never directed them at anyone — and I quit swearing long ago.

That day, I told my daughter she couldn’t be trusted to pick her socks up off her bedroom floor and that she wasn’t going to get the car keys. I lost my temper. I’m not pleased with myself then, and I’m not pleased with it now.

My wife suggested I take some time away and visit my mom for a few days. I agreed. On September 2nd, I flew to St. George.

The plan was simple: I would fly back on my birthday, September 6th, and my wife would pick me up. But shortly after arriving in Utah, she called and told me not to come home.

​So on my birthday, instead of being with my wife and kids, I spent the day in the temple with my mom — heartbroken, confused, and unsure about the future.

Toward the end of September, I began having unwanted intrusive thoughts. They scared me. They weren’t me. I knew I needed help.

​I was unemployed in Utah at the time, so I went to my bishop seeking support. He referred me to LDS Family Services.

I met with Richelle Wakefield on October 1st and explained everything: the intrusive thoughts, my fear of them, and my desire to get professional help.

She left the room four times during the appointment to find her supervisor. It was obvious she was new and uncertain.

I told her clearly that I wanted help because I was alarmed by the thoughts, not because I had any plan or desire to act on them.

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On October 6th, without informing me, Richelle called my wife’s bishop and told him I had a plan to kill my wife and children.

That is false.

Later that day, she called me twice. I told her, “You’re trying to protect my kids, and so am I.” But the damage was already done.

​Her accusation — a rumor based on an incorrect interpretation — spiraled into something far beyond anything I ever imagined.

A week later, still wanting help managing the intrusive thoughts, I checked myself into the behavioral medicine unit at St. George Regional Hospital.

I stayed from October 14th through October 20th.

I met with at least a dozen medical professionals — counselors, psychiatrists, doctors, nurses. Every one of them came to the same conclusion:

One counselor even opened the Department of Professional Licensing website in front of me and showed me how to file a complaint. When I hesitated, not wanting to get Richelle in trouble because she was new, he reminded me that her supervisor was the one legally responsible.
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While I was still in the hospital, a police officer delivered the first protection order. After I was discharged, a second protection order was delivered to my mom’s home from my wife and minor children.

A week later, on October 24th, I started my new job at UCP Staffing — the same day I had the Idaho hearing regarding my daughter.

​The Idaho judge dismissed the protection order request, saying that while my intrusive thoughts and my daughter’s concerns were concerning, they did not justify a protection order.

On October 30th, the Kansas judge upheld the protection order, stating that my yelling caused my family to fear bodily harm.

I don’t personally believe yelling alone is grounds for fear of bodily injury. But I do fully accept that my yelling was wrong. It was harmful. It was unacceptable. And I own that.

But even with that, I never had a plan or intent to harm anyone. Ever.

I want this to be clear:​

My failure — the one I take full responsibility for — was losing my temper and yelling. I yelled so much over the years that my family actually believed the rumor.  That created fear, and I regret that deeply.

​But the idea that I intended harm is false.

Rumors are powerful. When they start with a licensed counselor, they can redirect the course of a family’s life.

I’m writing this because I want my kids to someday know the truth of what happened.

I’m writing this because healing comes through light, truth, humility, and accountability — including mine.

And I’m writing this because of the quote that keeps returning to me:​

I believe the story isn’t over.

I believe the truth has a way of rising.

I believe redemption is real.

I believe families can be healed and sealed for the eternities to come.

This isn’t the end — and it’s not the beginning either. The middle is often the messiest part of any redemption story. But I am choosing faith, hope, humility, and persistent effort toward a better future.

Thank you for walking this road with me.



​Scott Alan Westhoff
​Create A Great Day!
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​P.S. One last thing needs to be said plainly.

For the sake of honesty and completeness, I will add one final clarification. During this season, I sought professional help for unwanted intrusive thoughts. I did not express intent to harm anyone. I did not have a plan, a means, a timeline, or pose an imminent threat.

What I did have was enough self-awareness to ask for help instead of hiding. That choice matters to me. It reflects my commitment to safety, accountability, and healing. I share this not to argue or persuade, but to be truthful about the steps I took to do the right thing when things felt overwhelming.