‘Sons of Perdition’: How teenage escapees expose a polygamist cult
The 2010 documentary Sons of Perdition tracks three teenage boys expelled from the FLDS polygamist community in Short Creek and the larger pattern of mass banishments that kept young girls available for older leaders. Their stories show how a single expulsion rule exposed a systematic campaign to remove hundreds of boys from their homes, schools, and families. The film remains the clearest first-person record of that practice and its lasting effects on the boys who survived it.
Three boys, one expulsion
Sam Zitting, Joe Broadbent, and Bruce Barlow left Colorado City with almost nothing. Joe pushed his belongings out of town in a wheelbarrow. Sam and Bruce carried what they could fit in backpacks. The documentary follows them through the first months in St. George, where they tried to find work, finish school, and learn basic facts that the community had kept from them.
Each boy had been told he was a “son of perdition,” a label that meant both spiritual damnation and permanent family exile. Their parents were instructed to cut contact. Some complied; others tried to reach out secretly. The film captures phone calls that end in silence and letters returned unopened.
The directors filmed over three years, recording small daily adjustments such as learning to use a bank card or asking for the correct change at a grocery store. Those ordinary tasks reveal the larger isolation the boys faced once the community closed its doors.
Why the expulsions began
Warren Jeffs tightened control after he became prophet in 2002. He preached that teenage boys posed a threat to plural marriage arrangements that paired teenage girls with older men. Any infraction, from listening to music to speaking with a girl, became grounds for removal. Estimates suggest more than a thousand boys were cast out between 2002 and 2010.
The practice was not hidden inside the community. Sermons recorded in the film spell out the rule: parents who refused to expel a son risked their own salvation. The boys heard these recordings for the first time after they left and realized the language had been aimed at them.
Private investigator Sam Brower appears in the film to explain the numbers. He tracked license-plate sightings and welfare reports that showed clusters of teenage boys living in cars or cheap motels outside the creek. His data matched the personal accounts the directors collected.
Life after the creek
Most boys arrived in nearby towns with no birth certificate, limited schooling, and no credit history. Construction jobs provided immediate cash, yet many struggled with the social skills needed for steady work or housing applications. Substance problems appeared early; several of the film’s subjects entered rehab within the first year.
Others found unexpected advantages. Mechanical skills learned on ranch equipment translated to steady employment. A few enrolled in GED programs and later community college. The film shows one boy studying a map of the United States for the first time, trying to locate Washington, D.C.
Family contact remained the hardest adjustment. Some mothers risked shunning to send money or clothes. Others followed church instructions and treated their sons as dead. The documentary records both outcomes without commentary, letting the phone calls and letters stand on their own.
Festival response and timing
Sons of Perdition sold out its Tribeca premiere in an hour. It later won the Directors Award at Telluride Mountainfilm and Best Documentary at Lone Star. Critics noted that the film arrived just as Warren Jeffs faced new charges in Texas, giving audiences a direct look at the community he led.
Reviewers at the time focused on the boys’ lack of basic knowledge rather than graphic abuse. That choice kept the story centered on the expulsions themselves. The film’s 86-minute runtime and R rating limited wide release, but it found steady streaming placement on Tubi and similar platforms.
Ten years later, clips from the documentary still circulate on social media whenever new FLDS raids or custody cases appear in the news. The boys’ faces have aged, but the footage of them learning to order food at a drive-through remains a concise illustration of institutional isolation.
Legal and political fallout
Jeffs was convicted in 2011 on child sexual assault charges and sentenced to life in prison. The trial records include testimony about the same expulsion policy shown in the film. Prosecutors used the practice to demonstrate how the community removed potential witnesses and rivals.
State agencies in Utah and Arizona began tracking “lost boys” cases more closely after the documentary aired. Some boys received help obtaining identification documents; others entered workforce training programs. The film’s release coincided with these policy shifts, though the directors have said they did not coordinate with officials.
Texas officials used similar evidence during the 2008 raid on the Yearning for Zion ranch. Footage of teenage boys living in group homes outside Short Creek supported arguments that the FLDS leadership separated families to maintain control over marriages.
Media coverage then and now
Initial reviews in Slant and Salon praised the film for avoiding sensationalism. They noted that the boys speak plainly about confusion and fear rather than cataloging abuse. NPR aired segments that paired the documentary with updates on Jeffs’ appeals, keeping the story in circulation.
Recent podcasts have returned to the material, often comparing the FLDS expulsions to other high-control groups that eject young men. The comparison keeps the original footage relevant without requiring new access to the community.
Streaming numbers on free platforms remain steady. The film’s availability on YouTube with ads has introduced it to viewers who encounter the title through algorithm recommendations rather than festival coverage.
Where the subjects are now
Sam Zitting has spoken at conferences about exit support for people leaving high-demand religions. Joe Broadbent has worked in construction and occasionally appears in local news segments about FLDS property disputes. Bruce Barlow has kept a lower profile but has confirmed he remains in contact with some family members who left after the film was released.
None of the three have returned to the creek. Their public comments focus on practical needs such as education access and legal identification rather than broader calls for reform. The documentary ends without a clear resolution, and their later lives reflect that open ending.
Other boys featured briefly in the film have formed informal networks to help newer arrivals. They share job leads and apartment listings, filling gaps left by formal services that still struggle to locate people without documentation.
Streaming and renewed interest
Sons of Perdition is currently free with ads on Tubi, Plex, and YouTube. Paid options include Apple TV and Fandango. The combination keeps the film accessible to viewers searching for FLDS stories after watching dramatized series on other platforms.
Short clips posted on TikTok and Instagram Reels often highlight the wheelbarrow scene or the moment one boy learns the U.S. capital. These fragments drive new viewers to the full documentary without requiring them to search by title.
Directors Tyler Measom and Jennilyn Merten have not released a follow-up feature, but both have participated in Q&As tied to recent streaming releases. They note that the boys’ legal and educational issues persist, suggesting the original material still describes present conditions.
Looking ahead
The documentary’s value lies in the direct record it preserves of a policy that the community no longer discusses openly. As long as new cases surface involving FLDS property, custody, or raids, the boys’ accounts remain the clearest evidence of how that policy operated. Their stories continue to surface whenever the subject returns to court or to the news cycle.
