The film tells the story of Indy fertility specialist, Donald Cline, and how his biological children got justice. It premieres on Netflix May 11.
And I think that everybody has to be honest with themselves on where they are at today and do what's best for them and their family and to give each other grace going through the process." "I have resources (that) I'll be posting for people," she said. "What resulted was a really authentic moment where .... she'd forgotten all this, and she could be in it, and I think that kind of helped with the healing process," Jourdan said. So we're getting that little bit of justice now, and hopefully it brings awareness." "Do you want to find out someday that you married your brother or your sister?" "It's tough and it's hard, but it's reality. When asked what she wants people to take away from the documentary, Ballard emphasized the importance of consent. "It always came from the victim's perspective." Ballard reached out to Ganote back in 2015, asking her to look into the story. "I've taken on that role, and sometimes it is frustrating, overwhelming, but I wouldn't want it any other way. "And he never gave them a choice." Eventually, Ballard and some of her other half-siblings confronted Cline, who admitted to using his own sperm to inseminate patients.
"Our Father": the 5 creepiest moments from Netflix's harrowing fertility fraud documentary · For years, Dr. Donald Cline got away with using his own sperm to ...
Many of Cline's children also believed he was part of the Quiverfull movement, a fundamentalist subculture of conservative Christians who denounce contraception, abortion and sterilization but laud widespread procreation. In an emotional moment from the documentary, the children acknowledge their glaring Aryan-like similarities — they are all white and have both blonde hair and blue eyes. The scripture, which is found at the opening of the documentary, was also found in Cline's office and previously given to Ballard when they first met in person. "Maybe he thought that this was his way of giving back, that he took a life that really wasn't his fault," said Mark Farber, Cline's former colleague, of the doctor's medical crimes. White noted that Cline was always alone in his office, whether it was during the weekend or during the week or during midday or late evening. They also suspected Cline of committing a slew of strange attacks, even though they never caught him in the act. Things quickly became heated when Cline offered Ballard a piece of paper that contained scripture from Jeremiah 1:5 to help her cope with the news. In another, Harmon's computer was hacked and her files and emails on Cline were erased. She said the doctor showed no visible emotion during the meeting and managed to stay calm and composed in the face of his children. The doctor's motives, however, proved to be more vile in nature after it was revealed that he had fathered 94 children and counting, all of whom are half-siblings. The doctor also carried with him a gun, which Ballard claimed was an intimidation tactic. One of Cline's children, Jacoba Ballard, uncovered the truth when she grew suspicious of the doctor after taking a 23AndMe DNA test in search of possible half-siblings.
Here's what to know about disgraced Indiana fertility doctor Donald Cline.
Sibling Matt White suggests in the film that someone must have known that Cline was inseminating women with his own sperm. We learn in the film that Cline has an affinity for the Bible verse "Jeremiah 1:5," and Ballard notes it's "one of the Bible verses Quiverfull uses." It's unclear if Cline is actually the one speaking in the recording. No one in the office? (An actor for Cline is used in other parts of the film to re-create scenes). "They were in fear that other races were infiltrating and the white race would eventually disappear," she says. It's implied in the doc that Cline collected his own sperm just before he inseminated patients. I don't know," he says in the film. She says the Indiana Attorney General's Office sent her emails, she looked up the people who replied and everyone copied on the emails, and through that, she found that "one of the people with the state" had a "Quiverfull" email address. Quiverfull is an ultra-conservative Christian movement mentioned in the film. Cline is currently alive and in his 80s. The Medical Licensing Board of Indiana revoked his license in 2018.
There have been other stories about fertility doctors who abused their positions, and even a short-lived Fox drama built around the idea.
Netflix has enjoyed its share of success with similarly themed and executed fare, "The Tinder Swindler" being a recent example. The sense of violation that this story entails is almost palpable, and "Our Father" certainly conveys that. It's nonetheless remarkable hearing one of the children discuss finding out about being connected to Cline by watching an episode of "Dr. Phil."
Where is Dr. Donald Cline from Netflix's Our Father documentary now? Find out what happened to Don Cline here.
Despite the fact that what Cline did was undeniably a sexual violation, a somewhat crass and unsympathetic lawyer explains in the documentary that it was not legally—according to Indiana state law—rape. Because of that, in 2017, Cline was charged only with obstruction of justice, for lying to the attorney general’s office about using his sperm on patients. One of his former patients interviewed for the Atlantic story, Liz White, told the magazine the former doctor “lives down the street over there. Though he’s played by an actor, Keith Boyle, in the movie, he refused to participate in the film.
"Our Father" is the spine-tingling new true-crime documentary on Netflix about the harrowing actions of a fertility doctor, Dr. Donald Cline.
I didn't get to know that or have the chance to say, 'no. I would rather see someone else. Kramer shares Dr. Cline went on to become Alison's fertility doctor when she was older. The documentary also touches on the gaps in the legal system which made it difficult to criminally prosecute Cline for his actions. So, I have this mix of emotions and I have twin daughters who are absolutely delightful girls and you can't be angry when you've had what you always dreamed of." Their biological mothers also spoke of numerous visible biblical verses across his office. I didn't get to have that knowledge. Sheeren and Mark were once good friends of Dr. Cline's. Due to the lack of evidence and requirements of the law in place, the actions of Dr. Cline did not constitute rape, battery, or sexual assault. I don't want someone who is biologically related to me, to touch me in that way", Kramer stated, holding back tears. Dr. Cline was even the one to deliver their twins and at one point in Our Father, photographs are shown of Cline holding Kramer when she was just eight months old. She shares: "On the other hand, I thought about the fact that because of his skills in operating on me and clearing up some of the things that were causing infertility, I was grateful to him. At the end of Our Father, Angela Ganote a Fox59 reporter who was one of the first to cover the story, urges any woman who has a child and who saw Dr. Cline, even if they were not experiencing problems with fertility, that their child takes a DNA test.
Between 1972 and 1988, fertility doctor Donald Cline inseminated his patients with his own sperm without their knowledge or consent, leading to the births ...
In Our Father, Jacoba and several of her half-siblings recount their experience of shock, anger, their ultimate disbelief in finding out the truth, and the search for justice. Cline was not criminally charged with his actions but was charged with obstructing justice by denying the allegations and received a $500 fine. As a result, several of his patients went on to give birth to sons and daughters, believing their husbands or sperm donors were the biological father. At that meeting, Cline admitted to being their biological father. She was matched with seven half-siblings, instantly raising a red flag as the use of the same donor on more than three occasions went against best medical practices. At the time of Cline's trial in December 2017, there were only 22 siblings.
A small-town doctor with a God complex secretly impregnated dozens of unsuspecting women under the guise of using donor sperm. His crimes were uncovered ...
There is, however, a sense that it could have taken more time in exploring the human fallout of this story. Starting a family was all that they wanted, and Cline was just the man who could help them out. Dr Cline, his old assistant says in the film, had assured his patients that the same donor would not be used for more than three samples, so as to avoid the ethically reprehensible scenario where a bunch of people with the same father were occupying a small geographical area.
Jourdan uses hackneyed techniques, often undermining, and worst yet, trivializing these crimes.
And the obvious reenactments of an actor playing Cline in scenes with the real-life Ballard are strained, at best; amateurish at worst. In this plastic documentary, they’re the only tangible link to reality. For much of the film, the primary question eating at the victims is “why?”—what would drive Cline to inseminate these women? The unnecessary part, however, springs from the sound of a man moaning whenever the number increases. Thanks to popular titles like “Abducted in Plain Sight,” “Making a Murderer,” “The Keepers,” and “ Tiger King,” among many others, Netflix has built a reputation through its true crime documentaries. With its wild twists and turns, the genre has lent itself well to the “win the internet news cycle” of memes and gifs preferred by the streaming giant.
Netflix's 'Our Father' recounts the case of Indianapolis doctor Donald Cline, who used his own sperm to impregnate dozens of women. Where is he now?
The documentary points out that there is no federal law to make illicit donor insemination illegal. According to DNA data collected through 23andMe, Cline used one donor at least eight times, resulting in eight biological siblings born between 1979 and 1986. One of these siblings, Jacoba Ballard, started to piece together the deception after she began looking for her half siblings. Cline opened his clinic in 1979, when infertility practice was still a new—and relatively unregulated—medical specialty. And he did it over and over and over again.” As one victim’s daughter explained during an interview for the documentary: “It’s disgusting to sit there and lay in bed at night and wonder if the person that created you is some racist bigot, and he used my mom as a pawn.
A new documentary tells the story of siblings who unite to bring to justice the fertility specialist who impregnated their mothers with his sperm without ...
The last sibling interviewed in “Our Father” is No. 61. But it is the siblings — their anguish and their anger, as well as the compassion they extend to one another — that drive the narrative. Cline’s deception upends the lives of his unsuspecting patients’ children, and the film is rife with harrowing insights about medical malfeasance and God complexes.
Our Father tells the stories of the victims of Dr. Donald Cline, who inseminated patients with his sperm, without their consent.
While the story Our Father depicts is relatively unique, the violation of a person’s ability to choose the circumstances under which they become pregnant, and the lack of legal protection of that ability, are not. The obstruction of justice charges meant that no evidence related to Cline’s actions toward his former patients was admissible—though those actions constituted the injustice for which the siblings and their parents were truly seeking restitution. In 2018, the siblings’ lobbying, led by Matt White and his mother Liz White, contributed to the passing of Indiana’s fertility-fraud law. “I don’t deny that it was a sexual violation, [but] ‘Dr. Cline committed rape,’ is a legal assertion that was not true, and I wasn’t going to put it on paper with my signature,” Tim Delaney, who was working in the prosecutor’s office in 2015, says in the film. Our Father’s main focus is on highlighting the lack of legal recourse afforded to the siblings and their parents. When the county prosecutors finally investigated Cline, the results were disappointing to the siblings, the women he inseminated, and their families. As the siblings waited for authorities to take action, Cline lived as a pillar of the community and an elder of his church, performing baptisms in his backyard swimming pool. He also began obliquely threatening the siblings with retribution should they continue their effort to bring charges against him and take their story public. In a moment when the right to safe and informed reproductive care is under threat in the U.S., Our Father is particularly resonant given the questions it raises about how our legal system views those seeking control over their own reproductive choices, and restitution when that autonomy is violated. He had his staff recite prayers together, advised patients to pray on their treatment choices, decorated his office with Christian sayings, and had an affinity for the verse Jeremiah 1:5 (“Before I formed you in your mother’s womb I knew you.”), which is often featured in material extoling the Quiverfull lifestyle. The number of confirmed siblings continued to grow as more people added their DNA to 23andMe’s database. During the 1970s and ‘80s, a fertility specialist in Indiana named Dr. Donald Cline inseminated dozens of patients with his own sperm, without their knowledge or consent.