Dear Skeptical Husband: A Letter From a Lawyer Who Once Agreed With You

I used to think estate planning was a scam, too.

I'm not saying that to win you over. I'm saying it because it's true. I was a Georgetown-educated estate planning attorney, and I still thought the whole thing was, at best, overblown — and at worst, a way for lawyers to scare people into spending money they didn't need to spend.

So I quit.

I walked away from being a lawyer entirely. I needed to figure out what was actually true about estate planning, life insurance, all of it — without the bias of a profession that profits from people's fear. If it turned out the skeptics were right, I was fine with that. I'd go do something else.

Here's what I found instead: the skeptics aren't wrong about everything. There are lawyers who overcomplicate things to run up fees. There are insurance salespeople who push products people don't need. That part of your gut feeling? It's valid.

But here's the part that changed my life — and the part I want you to hear.

What I Learned When I Stopped Being a Lawyer and Started Paying Attention

When I stepped back and looked at what actually happens to families, including my own family, when someone dies without a plan, without coverage, without anything in place — it wasn't abstract anymore. It was devastating. And it was preventable.

I'm not talking about rich people fighting over mansions. I'm talking about regular families thrown into court proceedings that drain their savings. Kids whose surviving parent has to scramble to keep the lights on. Spouses who can't access their own bank accounts for months because everything was in one name and there was no plan.

None of that is a scam. That's just what happens when you leave it to chance.

Or when you work with a lawyer or insurance advisor who has a broken business model.

So I went back to the law. But I went back differently. I went back because I realized the problem wasn't estate planning itself — it was how the industry did it. And I decided to fix that.

Now Let Me Tell You About My Kids' Dad

He's a good man. He loves our kids. And he was skeptical about life insurance — the same kind of skeptical you might be right now. He didn't see the point. It felt like paying for something that would never matter. So he never got it.

He's 58 now.

My dad died at 58.

And my kids' dad? He's uninsurable now. Due to health conditions that have accumulated over the decades, the window has closed. There is no policy available to him at any price.

I knew this was coming, yet I couldn’t persuade him to take action when he could.

So, I've spent my entire career — decades — building businesses, working around the clock, making sure that when he and I are gone, our kids won't be left with nothing. I've chosen to be the safety net that a simple, affordable insurance policy could have been twenty years ago.

I love my kids enough to do that. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't keep me up at night, knowing it didn't have to be this hard.

What I Want You to Know

Your wife sent you this article. That means she's worried. Not because she's being dramatic or because some slick salesperson got to her. She's worried because she loves you and your kids and she's thinking about what happens to them (and her) when you're not here.

That's not a comfortable thing to sit with. I get it.

But here's what I've learned after two decades of working with families on both sides of this — the ones who planned well and the ones who didn't:

The families who planned? They grieve. That's hard enough.

The families who didn't plan? They grieve and they fight. They grieve and they go to court. They grieve and they lose the house.

Estate planning isn't about lawyers getting paid. And life insurance isn't about insurance companies winning. It's about your wife not having to figure out how to access money while she's also planning your funeral. It's about your kids not waiting months or years for a court to decide what happens to the home they grew up in.

Here's What I'd Actually Ask You To Do

I'm not asking you to go sign up for the most expensive plan on the market. I'm not even asking you to trust the industry.

I'm asking you to do what I did: look into it with open eyes. Be skeptical — but be informed skeptical, not avoidant skeptical. There's a difference.

Talk to your wife about what would actually happen, logistically, financially, practically, if one of you died tomorrow. Not to be morbid. To be honest.

Because here's the thing my kids' dad didn't know at 30 what he knows now at 58: the window closes. Quietly, gradually, and then all at once. And once it's closed, no amount of money or regret can open it again.

Your wife is trying to open that window for your family while it's still open.

Let her.

When I came back to the law, I didn't come back to the old way. I built something different. A process called Life & Legacy Planning, where families actually sit down and get educated about what estate planning is supposed to do before they ever sign a document. Where there are letters written to every person named in the plan so they know exactly what to do. Where your plan is reviewed every three years, not stuffed in a drawer to expire. Where your voice, your stories, and your wishes are recorded — because I lost my father's voicemail after he died, and I never want another family to lose what matters most.

Today, I've trained over 800 lawyers across the country to do it this way.

I also know this: there are roughly $70 billion in unclaimed assets sitting in state departments right now — because people died and nobody knew what they had or where to find it. That's not a scare tactic. That's a fact. And every single one of those people probably assumed someone would figure it out.

So here's what I'd say to your husband

You're right to be skeptical. The estate planning industry earned that skepticism. A lot of it IS overpriced documents that fail when families need them most.

But the answer isn't doing nothing. The answer is finding a lawyer who does it right — who educates you first, who builds a living plan instead of a stack of paper, and who actually gives a damn about whether it works when your family needs it.

Because here's the real question: If something happens to you, what happens to them?

Not theoretically. Specifically. Who picks up your kids from school that day? Who can access your bank accounts? Who makes your medical decisions? Does your wife even know what accounts you have? Will your family end up in court — spending the money you earned on lawyers arguing about what you would have wanted?

The cost of a good estate plan is a few thousand dollars. The cost of no plan — or a bad one — is your family's peace, your family's money, and sometimes, your family's relationships. Permanently.

I know, because I've seen it in my own family. After my father died, my grandmother passed some years later. Before she died, cousins transferred all of her assets into their own names — cutting my sister and me out completely. Every relationship in that family line: severed. We never spoke again.

That wasn't about money. That was about what happens when there's no plan, no structure, and no one in charge of doing the right thing.

One more thing

Your wife sent you this article because she loves you. She's not trying to spend your money. She's trying to protect your family. And the fact that she cares enough to research this, find the right information, and send it to you — that's not nagging. That's leadership.

Let her lead on this one. It might be the most important financial decision you make together.

And get the life insurance. Please. While you still can.