To you, who are still beside your children.
To you, who think that being honest, present, and loving is enough.
To you, who believe these things only happen to violent fathers.
To you, who have no idea how fragile your role as a father truly is.
Until a few months ago, I was like you.
A man who had built his life around his family.
Who had made difficult but shared choices.
Who had given up much for the common good.
I believed respect, care, and dialogue still held value.
I was wrong.
I didn’t lose my family because of a grave mistake or unforgivable act.
I didn’t abandon my children. I didn’t mistreat them.
And yet, overnight, I was excluded.
Erased.
Reduced to an inconvenience.
The truth is this: today, it takes very little.
A misplaced word. An accusation. Even one without evidence.
All it takes is for your wife to meet the "right person".
To reach out to the "right association".
To read the "right book", or watch the "right video" on TikTok.
All it takes is for someone to tell her she’s a “victim”, even when she isn’t.
That happiness lies in rupture, in conflict, in denunciation.
And from that moment on, you stop being a father and become a suspect.
The presumption of guilt replaces truth.
It no longer matters who you were. What matters is what is said about you.
And what is said is believed. Period.
A small sacrifice, a minor concession, a simple act of responsibility is labeled as violence.
Conflict is amplified. Intentions are twisted. Reality is reversed.
Today, the system is no longer neutral.
In many European countries, the family justice system has become a minefield.
A structure that doesn’t protect but divides.
That rewards rupture over reconciliation.
That favors those who scream louder, not those who love more.
A system that, in the name of child protection, treats the exclusion of the father as a precaution — regardless of facts.
I’m not speaking of ideology.
I’m speaking of bureaucracy, decrees, social services, lawyers, judges.
I’m speaking of fathers disappearing in silence.
Not because they did wrong, but because it’s easier that way.
I write this letter to say just one thing: don’t sleep.
Don’t think that being a good father keeps you safe.
Don’t believe your love will protect you.
If one day everything falls apart, I want you to at least be able to say:
“Someone warned me.”
And today, that someone is me.