Domestic violence victim advocates launch ‘Dear Utah’ campaign to elevate victims’ voices

When Michelle Nybo arrived at the domestic violence shelter in Vernal, all she had was a blanket her grandmother had given her, the clothes she needed to wear for work and — for the first time in a while — the feeling of safety.
“Coming from such destruction and coming to a shelter like that — one thing I do have to say is I remember the carpet when I took my shoes off, and I got a walk on that carpet, how grateful I was that I was in a place that had carpet that was safe,” Nybo recalls. “Even though I was in pain, I did not have to suffer because I went to their women’s shelter, and what a blessing it was. I didn’t have anywhere to go.”
The shelter became Nybo’s home, with Friends Against Family Violence service providers working to make accommodations for her. The shelter adjusted some of its rules to allow her to leave early for her 4:30 a.m. work shift. She recalled waking up and starting her car during winter to warm up while she ate breakfast before leaving for work. When Nybo didn’t qualify for a housing voucher because of her income, program administrators assured her they would help.
“I remember sliding down the wall with such gratitude,” Nybo said tearfully. “They helped me get into the place I live now. It’s a little studio. It’s awesome, my own little safe haven. I didn’t have a fork, spoon, (or) anything, and they provided that all for me. I have a bed now, too.”
Nybo shared her story Tuesday to help launch “Dear Utah,” a campaign by the Utah Domestic Violence Coalition and 15 domestic violence service providers across the state. The campaign — prompted by a 2023 survey that found only 26% of Utahns believed that domestic violence is an issue in our state — provides a space for survivors, family members, service providers, health care workers, law enforcement and individuals to share their connections to domestic violence happenings.
In Utah, statistics show that 1 in 3 women and 1 in 7 men will experience domestic violence in their lifetime. The impact of domestic violence is widespread and, unfortunately, resources for survivor victims are spread thin. Limited budgets and shelter capacity can force providers to turn people away, a decision that can be lethal.
In 2021, Kait Sorenson answered a phone call at Canyon Creek Services, which provides support to victims of domestic and sexual violence in Beaver, Iron and Garfield counties. The woman on the other end of the phone told Sorenson that she was nervous about her partner. The woman said that while he had never hit her, he had threatened to kill her.
The fear in the woman’s voice was evident to Sorenson, who began the lethality assessment protocol with her — a questionnaire designed to help determine whether a domestic violence situation could be deadly. It soon became clear that the likelihood of deadly violence was high.
Sorenson explained to the woman that the shelter was full and that she would need some time to find a safe place for her to stay. The woman’s next words are etched into her memory.
“She said, ‘Calling you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done; maybe this is a sign I should stay. If I leave, he’ll kill me.’ I tried everything I could to help her in that moment, but she hung up, and I never heard from her again,” said Sorenson.
Two years later, the community was rocked by the deaths of Tausha Haight, 40; Tausha Haight’s mother, Gail Earl, 78; Haight’s three daughters, Macie, 17; Briley, 12; and Sienna, 7; and two sons, Ammon, 7; and Gavin, 4. Enoch police later released a report detailing the concerning timeline ahead of Haight’s estranged husband, Michael Haight, killing the family and then himself.
“A tragedy that has left many of us asking, ‘How did this happen?’ and ‘How are we going to show up for survivors?’ Moving forward, many people still believe that domestic violence is mostly an urban issue, yet rural areas like mine consistently file more domestic violence charges per capita than some of the most populous counties in the state,” said Sorenson.
While 10% of Utahns live in rural areas, almost 17% of domestic violence-related charges originate in rural counties.
“For those of us in rural communities, the conversation is even more complex,” Sorenson said. “Small towns can make it feel more isolating to speak up. The challenges of domestic violence feel invisible. Resources are scarce, distances are vast, and it’s easy to dismiss it as someone else’s problem.”
“This is the norm for too many Utahns,” she continued. “We don’t have the same access to shelters, resources or support networks that larger cities do. But that doesn’t mean we should accept it. In fact, it means that we must fight harder. We need your voices to share these stories, to amplify the message that everyone in Utah deserves safety.”
In addition to awareness, there is a need for government intervention, according to state Rep. Gay Lynn Bennion, D-Cottonwood Heights.
“We have the strongest economy in the country. We have the most young people that are being affected by this domestic violence in the country. We have a culture, which I am part of, that has led to patriarchy that keeps too much of this quiet, and so we need to have policies that protect survivors and prevent future violence. We need to fully support and fund the lethality assessment protocol,” said Bennion.
“We need to not give money back to taxpayers when we have these urgent needs in our state that go unfunded,” she added. “We cannot be turning domestic violence survivors away from centers. We have the funds, and I know that our voters support us doing this because it’s going to save lives in our state.”
To read or contribute to the campaign, visit dear-utah.com.