I was raised by a single mom who believed deeply in public service. She was a school principal who showed up every day for her students and for us, even after my father passed away. Money was tight, stress was constant, and the safety net was small. What we had was grit, responsibility, and the belief that if you worked hard, you should be able to build a stable life.

That belief is getting harder to hold onto in Utah.

I’ve spent my adult life running a small business and trying to do things the right way. I know what it’s like to watch healthcare premiums climb and to feel the pressure of rising rent, groceries, insurance, and energy bills all at once. I know what it’s like to work long days and still wonder if the math is going to work out.

Too many Utahns feel that same squeeze right now.

Meanwhile, the largest corporations and wealthiest individuals keep getting tax breaks, loopholes, and special treatment. They consolidate housing, manipulate markets, and raise prices while regular people are told to tighten their belts. That’s not an accident. It’s the result of a system that prioritizes corporate profits over working families.

We need a government that works for people who actually live here. People raising families. People running small businesses. People trying to stay in the communities they love.

That means a fair tax system where everyone pays their share. It means lowering the cost of healthcare, housing, childcare, and energy. It means standing up to corporate price gouging and stopping policies that make life more expensive for no good reason. And it means cutting red tape that blocks smart, community-driven solutions while still protecting workers, consumers, and our land.

I’m not running because I think government has all the answers. I’m running because I’ve lived the problem. I’ve seen what happens when working people are pushed to the margins while powerful interests write the rules.

Utah should be a place where hard work leads to stability, not constant stress. Where you can build a life, raise a family, and plan for the future without feeling like the ground is always shifting under your feet.

That’s the fight. And that’s why I’m in it.

My wife and I pay $1,100 a month for health insurance.

That is not a Cadillac plan. That is not luxury coverage. That is what it costs just to stay insured. And even with that, my wife and I are still traveling to Mexico for IVF because it is the only way we can afford to try to have a family.

Let that sink in.

My wife will walk across the border alone for medical care. I will stay in Utah, working, because we cannot afford for me to take time off. We are doing this not because we want to, but because the American health care system has left us with no other choice.

This is what “coverage” looks like in this country.

We did everything we were told to do. We work hard. We pay our bills. We carry insurance. And still, starting a family means international travel, time apart, and financial risk that hangs over every decision we make.

That is not freedom. That is not dignity. That is not a system that works.

Health care in America is built around profit, not people. Insurance companies decide what is covered. Pharmaceutical companies set prices with no accountability. Families are forced to choose between care, debt, and delay.

And reproductive health care has become collateral damage in political games. IVF, contraception, and basic care are treated like bargaining chips instead of essential medical services. Families are left scrambling while politicians argue.

This is personal for me. It is not theoretical. It is not policy on a page.

It is my wife crossing a border for care.
It is me staying home to keep the lights on.
It is $1,100 a month for insurance that still does not protect us.

That is why I believe health care is a human right.

Because no one should have to leave the country to afford care.
No one should have to delay starting a family because of insurance fine print.
No one should have to choose between work and supporting their partner through medical treatment.

We can do better than this. And we have to.

Public lands are not a luxury. They are part of who we are.

I grew up learning responsibility, humility, and grit outside. On trailheads. In canyons. On ridgelines where no one is selling you anything and no one cares who you are. Those places shaped my values long before politics ever did.

Public lands are where we hunt, fish, hike, run, ski, camp, and breathe. They are where families spend time together without having to buy a ticket. They are where rural economies survive and where people find space to think, heal, and reconnect.

And they are under constant threat.

Oil and gas interests want to drill them. Developers want to sell them off. Politicians who have never set foot on these lands are happy to trade them away behind closed doors. All while telling us it’s about “local control” or “economic growth.”

But selling off public lands does not help working families. It helps corporations. It concentrates wealth. And once land is gone, it is gone forever.

In Utah, public lands are not abstract. They are jobs. They are tourism dollars flowing into small towns. They are guides, outfitters, mechanics, motel owners, and restaurants that depend on access staying open.

Protecting public lands is about protecting rural economies, not killing them.

It is also about preserving something that belongs to all of us. These lands are owned by the public. Not by politicians. Not by corporations. Not by the highest bidder.

I believe future generations deserve the same access we had. The same freedom to roam. The same chance to stand somewhere quiet and feel small in the best possible way.

That is why I will fight to keep public lands public. To protect national monuments. To stop sell-offs disguised as policy. And to make sure decisions about our land are made in the open, with real community input.

Politics feels broken because it is.

A handful of billionaires and massive corporations have figured out how to buy influence, rig the system, and keep themselves on top while the rest of us pay the price.

They pour millions into corporate PACs and dark money groups to elect politicians who work for them instead of their constituents. In return, they get tax loopholes and special treatment. When that revenue disappears, working families make up the difference through higher taxes, higher costs, or cuts to the programs we rely on.

Our schools get less funding so billionaires can get another tax break.
Our health insurance premiums keep climbing so billionaires can get another tax break.

Social Security is constantly under threat so billionaires can get yet another tax break.

Then the same politicians who benefit from this corruption do everything they can to avoid accountability. They gerrymander districts to lock in power. They make it harder to vote. They trade stocks using insider information. And when scandals break, they protect their own and move on.

This is not how a democracy is supposed to work.

Utah’s education system is running on fumes, and the numbers make that impossible to ignore. Utah ranks near the bottom nationally in per-pupil funding, spending roughly $4,000–$5,000 less per student than the U.S. average. At the same time, Utah has the largest average class sizes in the country, with about 22 students per teacher compared to a national average closer to 16. Teachers here also earn significantly less than their peers elsewhere, with average salaries tens of thousands below top-paying states, contributing to chronic burnout and turnover.

The strain shows up in the classroom. Many districts operate on four-day school weeks, aging buildings, and outdated materials. Rural schools struggle to recruit and retain staff. Counselors are stretched thin, often responsible for hundreds of students each. Meanwhile, Utah has one of the youngest and fastest-growing populations in America, meaning enrollment pressure keeps rising while resources lag behind.

This is not a failure of students or teachers. It is a failure of priorities. We are asking educators to do more with less every year while expecting world-class outcomes. If we want safe communities, a strong workforce, and real opportunity for the next generation, we cannot keep funding education at the bottom of the barrel.

Utah’s kids deserve top-tier schools, not last-place investment. Fixing this will take serious commitment: competitive teacher pay, smaller class sizes, modern facilities, and real support for students’ academic and mental health needs. The future of the state depends on it.