Taylor Frankie Paul, the star of "Secret Lives of Mormon Wives," has lost temporary custody of her son, Ever, after her ex, Dakota Mortensen, filed for an order of protection against her. Mortensen was granted temporary custody on Friday, and no parent time is allowed for Paul until a court hearing scheduled for April 7.
The custody shift came after footage from a 2023 domestic incident between Paul and Mortensen surfaced publicly. The clip reportedly shows Paul getting physical with Mortensen, putting him in a chokehold, and throwing several barstool chairs at him. Paul's eight-year-old daughter, Indy, was sitting in the room during the incident and can be heard crying in the background. Mortensen claimed in the clip that Indy was "hit in the head with a metal chair."
According to Page Six, the Draper City Police Department confirmed to People on Monday that it is investigating an alleged domestic altercation and that "allegations have been made in both directions." The department said contact was made with the involved parties on February 24th and 25th.
This is not Paul's first encounter with the legal system over domestic violence. Following the 2023 altercation, she was arrested and charged with three felonies: one count of aggravated assault and two counts of domestic violence in the presence of a child. She was also hit with one misdemeanor count each of child abuse and criminal mischief. Paul pleaded guilty to the aggravated assault charge, and the lesser charges were dropped.
A guilty plea to felony aggravated assault. A child was present during the violence. And the entertainment industry's response was to hand her a bigger platform.
ABC had tapped Paul to star in the upcoming Season 22 of "The Bachelorette." Only after the footage went public on Thursday did the network decide to shelve the installment. Production on a new season of "Secret Lives of Mormon Wives" was also halted.
The sequence matters. ABC didn't discover Paul's criminal history last week. A felony guilty plea is a public record. The network moved to distance itself only when video made the situation impossible to ignore. There is a difference between accountability and damage control.
Both sides are lawyered up and talking. A spokesperson for Paul called the footage "selectively edited" and framed Mortensen's filing as part of a pattern:
"[Doing this] on their son [Ever's] birthday is a reprehensible attempt to distract from his own behavior."
The spokesperson went further, casting Paul as the real victim in the relationship:
"After years of silently suffering extensive mental and physical abuse as well as threats of retaliation, Taylor is finally gaining the strength to face her accuser and taking steps to ensure that she and her children are protected from any further harm."
Mortensen, for his part, offered a more restrained statement to Page Six on Thursday night:
"As anyone who has seen the video will understand, this is a deeply upsetting situation."
He added that he "categorically" denies Paul's claims about their relationship and said he is focusing on their son's safety.
The court will sort out the competing accusations. That is what courts are for. But the facts already in the public record tell their own story: a guilty plea to aggravated assault, video footage showing violence in front of a child, and a restraining order granted by a judge who reviewed the petition and found it warranted.
What makes this case worth watching beyond the tabloid fodder is what it reveals about how the entertainment industry processes domestic violence when the perpetrator is a woman.
Paul's spokesperson described the situation as part of a broader pattern affecting women, telling reporters:
"There are too many women who are suffering in silence as they survive aggressive, jealous ex-partners who refuse to let them move on with their lives."
That framing does real work. It redirects attention from a woman who pleaded guilty to felony assault toward a narrative of female victimhood. It is a familiar playbook: acknowledge nothing, reframe everything, and hope the public's sympathies follow the script.
Imagine the genders reversed. A male reality star pleads guilty to felony aggravated assault against a female partner, with a child in the room crying during the attack. He then gets cast as the lead on a major network dating show. The outrage would be immediate, universal, and career-ending. There would be no "selectively edited" defense. There would be no second act.
Paul got a second act. She nearly got a third. ABC only pulled the plug when the footage made continued silence untenable.
The April 7 hearing will determine custody arrangements going forward. Until then, Mortensen retains temporary custody of their son, and Paul has no parenting time. The Draper City Police Department's investigation remains open, with allegations running in both directions.
Whatever the court decides, the broader failure is already clear. A felony conviction for domestic violence should have been disqualifying for a network television lead. It wasn't. A child was in the room. That should have settled the debate about who deserved the benefit of the doubt. It didn't.
The system that was supposed to protect a two-year-old boy waited for a viral video to act. The network that was supposed to vet its star waited for public pressure. Everyone waited until the cost of looking away exceeded the cost of looking.
