Donald F. Conviser -- A Black Belt in 'High Conflict' Marital Martial Arts
What can I say about a man that saved my children from being disenfranchised from their loving father by a vicious, conspiring Cabal? A man that took my case at hour 11, minute 59, and WON a resounding victory 4 days later at a hearing to take my kids away from their father? A man that became a real friend, mentor, and kindred spirit after less than 1 month of working day and night together? A man that I know WILL FIGHT as hard for the rights and best interests of my children as any attorney the world has ever seen?
Donald Conviser, Certified Family Law Specialist, is a bad-to-the-bone Squire. You will not find a harder working, smarter, seasoned, creative, and more caring human being on this troubled planet, much less an attorney with these qualities. I have received three miracles in my life this past year and Mr. Conviser is one of them. I now know there is a God, and God is just and loving. A big reason for my newfound belief is the man who is Esq. Conviser.
When my ex- filed for divorce, I didn’t really understand the process and just assumed it would be amicable and relatively easy. I picked my first Family Law Attorney because he was cheap. Looking back, oh boy, did he turn out to be expensive after taking a Laissez-Faire approach to the beginnings of my divorce and allowed me to be painted to court as the Great Satan by my ex-. Believe me, I am far, far from a Great Satan. Am I a flawed individual? Yes, but then again all of us are.
The Petitioner and her Pettifogger began the divorce process over 2 years ago by filing an approximately 65 page “Satan Declaration”, which for those of you who are curious, can be written just about any of the 6,862,539,405 people on this earth. A “Satan Declaration” is merely a “Worst Of” compilation of one’s life, twisted by a vengeful ex-spouse, and then magnified and distorted by an attorney whose character and ethics are dubious. My first Pettifogger let all these heinous allegations, most based on hearsay or figments of the ex-’s imagination, go uncontested, presumably to keep my attorney fees down. In retrospect, I believe it was more about work-ethic than fees, but it certainly was a serious mistake that would come back to haunt me. You see, although my ex- filed the “Satan Declaration” believing I would go ballistic and have a “War of the Roses”-type of divorce, I instead pleaded with her to conduct ourselves like adults. She feigned agreement and the “Satan Declaration” just sat there in the court file, waiting like a live grenade, for some future evil doer to pull the pin.
About a year later, things took a horrible turn for the worst, as the ex- slowly began to limit access to my daughters, both of whom I love more than anyone can know. When I made a mistake and got angry one night about being cut-off from my kids, the ex- and her Pettifogger led me down a blind alley of life and proceeded to rob me, beat me, and left me for dead, metaphorically speaking. In cahoots, or so I believe, with her new boyfriend, who, as chance would have it, happened to be another pettifogger, but of the ambulance-chasing variety. The next thing I knew, the divorce went from “Amicable” to level “11” on the “High Conflict”-divorce proceedings amplifier, for those of you that enjoy the movie “This is Spinal Tap”.
My first attorney was unprepared for the acrimonious proceedings that would follow and, at the time, neither was I. After I got my clock cleaned for the next several months, I switched to a new lawyer, who, alas, turned out to be another pettifogging solicitor. He immediately proceeded to let me down, and hard. He interviewed well in his office and talked the talk but had NO game. I truly regret not doing what would have amounted to a 30-second AVVO search to dig up the dirt on him. It turns out that his AVVO reviews, which I later saw, albeit after the all the animals were out of the barn door (read: my ex- and her conspiring and man-hating Cabal), painted an exact portrait of him, and it certainly wasn’t the Mona Lisa, except for the smirk on his face.