Disclaimer: All facts gleaned from the filings stated hereafter are only as truthful as the petitioner. The tone of this article expresses a style of writing historically employed by America’s greatest writers and, as such, is for opinion purposes only. No intentional harm is due. Do not read if the topic of divorce (even your own) causes you emotional distress. Continue at your own risk.
Picture it—March 12, 2025, in the gritty sprawl of Cook County, Illinois, where Adam Siegel, fifty-one, a man of steady employment and iron will, slams down a petition in the Circuit Court to torch his marriage to Cristin Siegel, forty-five, a working woman herself. He’s got the legal wizards at Kogut & Wilson, L.L.C., spinning the paperwork, and this ain’t no sentimental fade-out—it’s a full-on dissolution of a sixteen-year reel, kicked off October 19, 2008, in Chicago’s own heart. Two kids, M.S., twelve, and H.S., nine, flicker in the frame, but Cristin’s not expecting, and the script’s clear: irreconcilable differences have smashed this union to bits.
Adam’s not begging for her cash, nor she for his—both can stand tall, he says. Property’s the loot—cars, accounts, furniture, debts—all up for a fair chop, his non-marital stash claimed outright. The kids? Joint custody’s the call, decisions shared, time split, their needs met by both. No other courts meddle here, no outsiders claim the young ones. Legal fees? Each pays their own, a clean break with no whining.
This is Adam’s big move—a brassy, no-nonsense bid to cut the cord and divvy the spoils, kids in tow, in a courthouse showdown.
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