Summary:

My name is Tyler, and I’m writing this with tears in my eyes.

I’m not someone who usually shows emotion, but watching my dad break — piece by piece — has shattered me.

He’s the kind of man who’s always put everyone else first. He never asked for help. Never complained. Just worked harder. Loved deeper. And held our family together, even as everything around him fell apart.

But now, after years of emotional abuse, financial devastation, and being dragged through a legal system that feels rigged against him, my dad is out of strength — and out of options.

We’re trying to raise $5,000–$10,000 in the next few days to retain his lawyer. If we lose that, he’ll be left to fight this battle alone — unprotected, unheard, and completely exposed.

Our whole goal is $75,000 — enough to:

Cover urgent legal fees this week.

Repay my grandfather, who gave up part of his savings just to help us survive

Start rebuilding the life my dad’s been stripped of — his stability, his peace, his future

I’ve spent hours writing our full story. Crying. Editing. Rewriting. Because this isn’t just a fundraiser. It’s a desperate attempt to give my dad a chance. A voice. A future.

If you can donate, thank you more than I can say.

And if you can’t, just sharing this could help us reach someone who can.

Please don’t scroll past this. Not this time.

Because good fathers like mine deserve to be fought for.

—Tyler

Why I’m Creating This GoFundMe:

My name is Tyler Dorn. I’m 22, finishing my last semester of college, and planning a move to North Carolina with my fiancée. Her mom is relocating there—and by coincidence, my dad lives there too.

But now, it’s not just a plan—I have to do it. Because my dad needs me, and I won’t sit back while everything is ripped away from him.

I’ve spent hours writing this through tears—because it’s hard to explain what it feels like to watch one of the strongest people you know fall apart. But I’m sharing it anyway, because I need your help. My father needs your help. So please, if you can, take a moment to read this all the way through. It means more than you know.

This GoFundMe is about giving my dad, Adam Dorn, a chance to keep fighting through what he’s been put through—and what’s still coming.

He’s 46 years old and has been trapped in an abusive, manipulative divorce for over two years. What started as a separation turned into a slow, calculated attempt to destroy him emotionally, financially, and psychologically. He’s endured:

Yesterday, August 5th, he told me something I’ve never heard from him in my life:

“I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

And that crushed me.

My father is a man who has always found a way to keep going. Who never gives up. Who’s worked harder than anyone I know—not for himself, but for me and my little brother, Noah. My dad has never cared about chasing money or focusing on himself. He’s always put me, my brother, and his family first. Always.

Now he’s completely drained. No money. About to lose legal help. Nothing to his name except what’s inside the house. All he can focus on is paying the bills. Not even fighting back—just surviving.

Even at this moment, he still isn’t thinking about himself. He’s worried about how this affects Noah, who’s just 8 years old. And it is affecting him, no matter how hard my dad tries to shield him from it.

That’s why I’m going to North Carolina. To help my dad. To be there for my brother. To stand between them and the storm that’s still coming. But the truth is—I don’t have the funds or ability to get there sooner. And time is running out.

I must raise $5,000 to $10,000 by August 8th or 9th to keep him afloat. The goal is $75,000, which I’ll explain more about below—including exactly where it will go, and what any extra support will help make possible.

But this isn’t just about money.

It’s about protecting what little he has left: his sons, home equity, and hope.

I’ve stayed quiet for a long time. But I’ve seen what he’s endured with my own eyes. And I’m done being silent while someone tries to destroy the most amazing man I’ve ever known.

This GoFundMe is for him.

And I will not let him go through the rest of this alone.

Who My Dad Is (As a Father and a Man):

I’m Adam’s first son. He raised me from the very beginning. When I was two, my parents split, and I spent my childhood between both of them. Around age four, Rebecca came into our lives when she and my dad started dating. But my dad was the constant presence—the one who always showed up no matter what.

And from the start, something about Rebecca felt off. I couldn’t put my finger on it then, but I had no idea what rollercoaster ride we were in for.

When my little brother Noah was born in 2017, I lived with them. I stayed until 2020. Over those years, I saw firsthand what kind of father my dad was. He wasn’t passive. He was present. He made sure Noah read educational books, stayed off screens, got outside to play, and had a real childhood. He helped with bedtime, built sandcastles at the beach, and showed up daily as an involved, hands-on parent.

Since moving out, I’ve seen nothing change. Every time I visit, he’s still there—helping Noah with school, keeping him active, teaching him life lessons, and doing everything he can to support him. He handles challenging moments with patience. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t lash out. He explains. He teaches. He parents.

When Noah misbehaves, my dad grounds him and sticks to it—not out of anger, but out of principle. He believes that follow-through matters, the kind of discipline that comes with love, and that being a good man starts with understanding that your actions have meaning. As someone raised in the same way, I can tell you: it works.

We’ve had our differences, like any father and son. But now that I’m older, I see it all so clearly. The structure, lessons, and consistency weren’t about control. It was preparation. He taught me how to face the world, not just behave in a house. I’m grateful every day for that foundation, and for what I believe it will help me achieve in my future.

He didn’t just provide—he guided. He wasn’t just a dad—he was a coach, a teacher, a protector. And no matter what was happening behind the scenes or how much stress he carried, he never made us feel like a burden. We always came first.

He poured everything he had—financially, emotionally, and mentally—into his kids. That’s the man my dad is.

And that’s why this fight hurts so much.

Because the last person on earth who deserves to be broken like this is him.

What He’s Been Through (The Relationship and the Divorce):

My dad has been stuck in a toxic, drawn-out divorce for over two years—but the damage didn’t begin in court. It started many years ago, when Rebecca entered our lives and slowly took control of everything behind closed doors.

I was about four when they began dating. At first, I couldn’t explain it, but something always felt off. By age seven, I started noticing how she treated people—especially me. She’d give me the silent treatment for days at a time. I felt invisible in my own home. If I got in trouble and my dad grounded me, she’d stack more punishments on top—extra chores, more restrictions, constant surveillance. I remember hoping my dad would take me to work with him so I didn’t have to be around her.

The chores she gave me were excessive—especially for a kid who only lived there half the time. I was expected to:

There was no allowance. No praise. No balance. Just control.

My dad was working long hours and didn’t see it happening—but when he did, he defended me. I remember him saying, “Let him be a kid.” Every time he did, it triggered hours of yelling, days of silence, and sometimes her packing a bag and going to her mom’s to punish him with absence.

She also attacked my self-esteem. I wasn’t even that overweight, but she mocked my body constantly. If I cried, she’d make baby noises. She called me spoiled, ungrateful, manipulative—then forced me to sit at the table until I finished oversized plates of food while claiming it was “for my health.”

She obsessed over her appearance—constantly buying expensive purses while bins of unused bags piled up in the basement. Even when my dad was between jobs and money was tight, she talked about wanting a Mercedes. It was always about how things looked—never what the family needed.

She trashed every relationship around her: my mom, my stepdad, my dad’s family, his friends. She spread lies, fueled conflict, and destroyed any sense of peace we had. She didn’t want harmony. She wanted control.

When Noah was born in 2017, the pattern didn’t change. She began using the same tactics on him. But my dad stayed consistent. He read to Noah, kept him active, taught him right from wrong, limited screen time, and handled tantrums calmly and patiently. He was doing everything he could to raise his son in a constantly unpredictable home.

In 2021, my dad moved to North Carolina to give Rebecca the life she wanted. He left behind family, friends, and his support system. He even took a lower-paying job to make it happen. He gave up everything for her—and she used that sacrifice to isolate him further.

She knew about my dad’s mental health—about his childhood trauma, the loss of his mother at a young age, and the emotional toll of custody battles from his past. She was the person he confided in. And instead of helping, she used that knowledge to break him down. She was an RN at the time—fully trained and aware—and still chose to use his vulnerabilities as leverage.

By May 2023, the damage was showing. My dad looked different—heavier, tired, withdrawn. Depressed. That same trip, she casually mentioned wanting to rehome our dog, Bruno—a dog she had forced him to get during COVID, and one both he and Noah loved. It was just another thing she was ready to throw away.

Then came July.

During a trip to New York, she started acting cold and distant. Not long after, she messaged me and said she loved me “no matter what happens in life.” I knew something was coming.

A few weeks later, my dad discovered she had been sending inappropriate photos to multiple men. He hired a private investigator, and on August 9th, with help from a close friend, he caught her at night in her car with another man. I saw the video.

That’s when everything unraveled.

She didn’t just leave—she retaliated.

And just like that—Noah was gone. My dad was kept from his son for over a month. No warning. No explanation. Rebecca never told Noah what had happened—she had just erased his father from his life. The damage had already been done when they finally saw each other again.

When I saw my dad shortly after, he had a large bruise on his arm—one he wouldn’t talk about, but I saw it. A former friend of Rebecca’s later admitted that Rebecca had staged her bruises and planned to frame him.

This is the man who raised me never to lay a hand on a woman. He protected his three younger sisters his entire life. And now, someone is using false accusations to try to destroy him.

Since then, she has:

She even claimed my dad bad-mouthed her to Noah—but I know that isn’t true. I’ve seen it. Whenever her name needs to come up, my dad steps out of the room, lowers his voice, or waits until Noah is gone. He refuses to bring adult problems into Noah’s world. That’s the kind of father he is.

But Rebecca doesn’t hold herself to that same standard. She made derogatory comments about my dad’s current partner. She threw a fit when he introduced her to Noah—even though she introduced Noah to her new boyfriend within days of ending the relationship. That was two years ago.

She also tried to accuse him of interfering with Noah’s therapy. The truth? He asked for documentation and a treatment plan that was never provided. He saw Noah alone in the office while Rebecca walked the therapist’s dog. She and the therapist would have private conversations—completely unprofessional behavior. My dad has always been open to finding a new therapist together. But Rebecca doesn’t want collaboration. She wants control.

And this isn’t new.

This pattern goes back years.

She used calculated language to wear people down, destroy trust, and isolate anyone who didn’t fall in line.

She’s done it to me.

She’s done it to my mom and stepdad.

She’s done it to her parents.

And now, she’s doing it to my dad.

This isn’t just a messy divorce.

This is a long-term pattern of abuse, manipulation, and control.

And now, she’s trying to take the last things my dad has:

And the truth is—he’s exhausted.

He’s barely hanging on.

And he can’t fight this alone.

What This Has Cost Us All:

This situation hasn’t just hurt my dad emotionally—it’s torn through every part of our lives. My grandfather, Noah, I, and others in our family have all felt the impact. And the damage goes far beyond money.

But let’s start there, because the numbers are real.

Over $100,000 has already been spent trying to keep my dad afloat in this legal war. That money wasn’t extra. It was everything my dad had left; he alone has spent $80,000. It was meant for my grandfather’s and other family members' security —not to fight off lies, manipulation, and endless legal attacks. And now it’s gone.

Every week, as this goes on, we fall further behind. Every day she stalls the divorce, files another motion, or spreads another lie—it costs us something. Money. Time. Sanity. Peace. And we’re running out of all of them.

What started as a toxic relationship has become a full-scale collapse of my father’s life. The man who gave everything to his family is now hanging on by a thread.

This is where we are now.

And if we don’t step in—fast—I honestly don’t know how much more he can take.

He’s lost nearly everything—his peace, financial stability, and home. He’s been dragged through false accusations, blocked from seeing his child, and locked out of his house.

But the damage didn’t stop with him.

It hit my grandfather, who drained his money to help his son.

It hit Noah, who was ripped away from his dad and thrown into a confusing, unstable situation.

And it hit me.

Because of how much this has cost our family—especially my dad and grandfather—I’ve had to take on more student debt than I ever should’ve. And now, even after working tirelessly every summer, landing a top internship at Regeneron, and being days away from hopefully securing a full-time offer—I’m staring down the possibility that the life I’ve been building with my fiancée might not happen.

We’ve been planning to buy a house and start our future together. We’re engaged. Getting married in two years. And this dream? It means everything to us.

I was ready to take on the mortgage. I earned it. I fought for it.

Late nights. No sleep. Multiple jobs. All of it—to build something solid for our future.

But now?

Because of this extra burden—this debt that should never have been mine to carry—it’s slipping out of reach.

And it doesn’t just crush me because it’s our dream.

It crushes me because I know it’s the life my fiancée’s father would’ve wanted for her.

He was a police officer—a good one—the kind who truly protected and served. From everything I’ve heard, he was the kind of man I admire. And all I’ve ever wanted was to be someone he would’ve been proud of. I carry that responsibility now. I’m the man of the house. I want to give my fiancée the life he would’ve wanted for her.

And now that dream is on hold—not because of my choices or failures, but because of the damage this one person has done to my family.

Here’s what this has already cost us:

This isn’t just financial damage.

It’s generational damage.

The kind that ripples outward and takes things you can’t get back—time, momentum, hope.

The ripple effect of this damage has affected people who never even had Rebecca involved in their lives. That's how deep this goes.

This isn’t about extra support.

This is about stopping the collapse of everything my dad has spent the last 25 years building—not just for himself, but for me and my little brother.

The system is grinding him down.

Rebecca has used every delay tactic, false accusation, and manipulative move to stretch this process further than anyone can afford. And now that he’s finally at the breaking point—she’s still pushing.

We’re days away from things spiraling in ways that can’t be undone.

We’re not asking for miracles.

We’re asking for a fighting chance.

What your help will do:

He’s spent his life fighting for us.

Now I’m doing everything I can to fight for him.

But I can’t do it alone.

What the Money Will Go Toward:

We aim to raise $75,000—and I want to be completely transparent about why.

This isn’t a wishlist.

It’s not an exaggeration.

It’s what’s needed to stop the collapse and start rebuilding my dad’s life from the ground up.

1. Immediate Legal Fees ($5,000–$10,000 urgently)

To retain legal support this week and stop Rebecca from pushing forward unchecked.

If we miss this window, he’ll be forced to face the following court dates alone—unrepresented, unprotected, and at the mercy of a system that has repeatedly failed him.

2. Reimbursement to Family & Shared Burdens ($25,000–$30,000)

My grandfather stepped in when no one else could. He used his savings to keep my dad afloat through the worst, money he may never see again unless we help make it right.

And because this fight has drained everything from my dad—his time, energy, income, and peace for over two years—I’ve had to shoulder far more than I ever should have as a student.

I’ve spent the last two years scraping by, often with under $100 in my account, doing everything I can to avoid taking on more debt and keeping food on my plate. But I still had no choice but to take on thousands of dollars of debt just to survive—support that, under any other circumstances, my dad would’ve given without hesitation.

This part of the goal is about lifting that burden from everyone who’s sacrificed to keep him from losing everything. It’s about honoring what my grandfather gave, acknowledging what my dad couldn’t, and making sure none of us are left broken by someone else’s abuse.

3. Recovery & Future Protection Fund ($30,000–$40,000)

Once the urgent crisis is handled, my dad will still be left with nothing.

This final portion is about giving him the basic resources to rebuild his life, get ahead on bills, support my brother Noah, or cover legal clean-up. He needs the chance not just to survive, but to stand back up and never stop fighting.

If anything is left after that, we’ll donate the remainder to father’s rights organizations that help other men going through the same nightmare—my dad isn’t the only one. But right now, he’s the one I’m fighting for.

Final Words:

I’ve spent countless hours writing this.

Editing. Rewriting. Breaking down. Crying.

Trying to make sure I got it right—because this isn’t just a fundraiser. It’s everything to him and me.

The truth has been buried under lies for far too long.

It’s a lifeline for the man who gave everything to us and now has almost nothing left.

I’ve cried writing this because I’ve seen what it’s done to him.

To my little brother.

To my grandfather.

To me.

I’ve cried because its weight is too much for one man to carry.

And even with all he’s lost, my dad refuses to give up.

Fathers like mine are rare—men who show up daily, put their kids first, and hold the line.

They’re a disappearing breed.

And they don’t have enough people fighting for them.

Well, I’m fighting.

But no one should have to fight alone.

So please—if you’ve made it this far, thank you.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for caring.

If you’re able to help financially, thank you. Truly. It means more than I could ever put into words.

But even if you can’t, sharing this campaign with your friends, family, coworkers—anyone who might care— also means the world to us.

Your voice might be the one that reaches someone who can change everything.

You’re helping hold together a family that’s been pushed to its breaking point.

You’re helping us believe that truth, goodness, and love matter.

That being a good man still means something.

If you’ve ever loved someone enough to fight for them—

Please stand with me now.

Let’s help him finish this fight.

And let’s make sure this isn’t the end of his story—

But the beginning of something better.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

—Tyler