Prison set Nomz free.
The irony of that statement isn’t lost on her. It took complete isolation to free Nomz from an even more sinister captor — one who imprisoned her mind for years.
Naomi “Nomz” Bistline grew up in Short Creek, Utah, as a member of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (FLDS). In 2011, Warren Jeffs — leader of the breakaway polygamist Mormon sect — was convicted of child sexual assault and sentenced to life in prison. Enter Samuel Bateman, a little-regarded FLDS member who took advantage of the power vacuum left by Jeffs. He proclaimed himself the next prophet and began to grow his following and take multiple wives, including underage girls as young as 9. Nomz was one of his most loyal adult wives.
The story of Bateman’s rise — and eventual fall — is documented in detail in the new documentary series Trust Me: The False Prophet. Directed by Emmy and Peabody Award–winning filmmaker Rachel Dretzin (Keep Sweet: Pray and Obey), the four-part documentary follows cult psychology expert Christine Marie and her videographer husband, Tolga Katas. After hearing that Bateman was sexually abusing children, the pair secretly worked to expose his crimes and help his victims. They were successful: The police arrested Bateman in 2022, and two years later, he was sentenced to 50 years in prison for conspiracy to commit transportation of a minor for criminal sexual activity and conspiracy to commit kidnapping.
At a turning point in the series, Nomz, who had seemed unwavering in her devotion to Bateman and her faith, walks into the frame and sits down in the interview chair. But this isn’t the Nomz we’ve seen — barefaced with pinned-up hair, never without her modest blue dress. This Nomz has silky, styled curls that hang freely down her shoulders, and she sports a shocking pink sweater. This is a Nomz who’s finally free. Following Bateman’s arrest, Nomz and sister wife Moretta Johnson were arrested for their roles in Bateman’s kidnapping plot and served prison time. They were also the only two of his adult wives to later testify against him in court.
“[Severing contact with Bateman] was a very crucial thing for me,” Nomz tells Tudum, “because as long as he was in contact, he still had control. I always say prison was the best and worst thing that happened to me. It was another thing I had to learn to heal and survive from, but it had to happen. It forced me to start thinking for myself. It forced me to start questioning things.”
Nomz is the only one of Bateman’s wives who agreed to be interviewed in the documentary. She stresses that speaking out now is her moral obligation. “I’m making this commitment that I will do whatever it takes to stop Sam and any other person like him,” she says. “And the only way to do that is to talk about it and even show the parts [in the documentary] where I was very vulnerable and even stupid.”
Below, Nomz gives a candid look into how Bateman weaponized fear to control those around him and justify his abuse. She shares how she rewired her mind, where things stand with Christine, and about the joy of living for herself.
What was it like to watch the documentary for the first time?
Nomz Bistline: It was overwhelming and emotional, mainly because I’ve worked so hard to get past that, and now it’s out to the whole world. […] There are some parts that I’m so embarrassed about. But I was really appreciative that it was victim sensitive, and I was very supported throughout the whole process of filmmaking.
What was it like seeing yourself from an outside perspective?
Bistline: It was like seeing a whole different person who I hardly even recognized. I use the third person when I talk about that time.
What was so compelling about Sam Bateman?
Bistline: Nothing was really compelling. In the documentary, when my caretaker at the time told me that I “belonged to him,” there’s one moment where I even say that my blood ran cold. Every one of us really hated him at first. And then he would break us down and make us into what he wanted. It was a lot of abuse and coercion.
Every time people like Christine and Tolga were there, we were all on script and we complied. We did exactly what he would’ve expected us to do, because if we were to go off that, we’d get in really bad trouble. There was one time that he sent me off to live in a trailer for three months. I didn’t get to see anyone or come into town. I just had to sit out there and repent because I dared question him about something. And that was one of the mild things.
But you had doubts.
Bistline: We were too terrified [to voice any of them].
Was it this fear that kept you in his circle?
Bistline: Yes. Toward the end, he got into this blood atonement stuff, and he would tell us if we weren’t perfectly obedient to him and [didn’t do] exactly what he said, then, “One day you’ll be crawling to me begging for me to take your life.” Then a few months before his arrest and the raid, he had me get a life insurance policy. And if I were to die, he would collect that money. At the time, I felt like the only way to survive was to get close to him.
It’s hard for many people to understand how this kind of deception could really take hold of someone — they think, “This could never happen to me.” But this kind of manipulation even happened to Christine.
Bistline: No one is exempt. It can happen to anyone. It starts small, it builds up. And especially as someone who’s grown up with it, I didn’t know any different. A lot of his stuff that he would teach and pressure us with was actually straight from Warren Jeffs’s writings. So that was how he presented himself as very justified in it all: He used a lot of Warren Jeffs, a person who we were all raised to believe was some kind of God.
How did it feel to find out that Christine, someone you had gotten really close to and trusted, was purposefully deceiving you?
Bistline: It felt like a really hard betrayal. But looking back now, I feel like it was very necessary. There was no way she could have gotten close to us if she had revealed what she was doing.
How long did it take you to realize that?
Bistline: I didn’t really trust her until after prison. There were times in prison when I felt sorry for the texts and things that I’d said to her. I had even texted Tolga from prison and was like, “I’m really sorry because that wasn’t me.” I apologized for it and everything, but I still was very afraid to trust them until … I remember the exact day. After I was released, I was driving back to court to be sentenced. She sent me this podcast of her telling her story, and that was when it all clicked. I was like, “Oh my God, of course she did what she did.” Since then, we’ve been really close friends. [Tolga and Christine] are godparents to me, and they’re some of the best people in my life.
How has your relationship evolved since then?
Bistline: I talk to them every day. I’m very close with them. They’ve been the biggest support and have been helping me navigate the outside world and making connections. I was very alone. That community was my whole life. I didn’t know anybody outside it.
What’s happened since your release from prison? What does life look like now?
Bistline: I’ve been working with a vocal coach, and Tolga has arranged for me to meet different producers and songwriters. I’ve been really obsessed with music, especially because it helps me process things. The other thing that I’ve kind of played around with is modeling.
Are you fully removed from your former FLDS community?
Bistline: I still live in the same town, but I’m very disassociated from everybody here. A lot of my time is spent away, and I can’t wait until I’m able to afford an apartment somewhere else.
Is there anybody you’ve been trying to appeal to who’s still in it, or are you trying to completely cut off contact?
Bistline: I still try because I have so much sympathy and compassion for them because I was there once, and I know what they’re going through. So it’s really hard for me, but every time I do try to approach them, they’re very passive-aggressive to me because they’re really offended that I [spoke in the documentary]. So I do try to give them their space. There’s this saying: “You can only lead a horse to water. It’s up to them to drink.” And that’s all I can do.
Nobody understands how difficult it is to rewire your brain from the way you were raised. Learning how to completely deconstruct it, deprogram it, and rewire it to think another way.
Naomi “Nomz” Bistline
Is there anything that you miss from that time with the FLDS?
Bistline: Actually, no. It was just really bad memories. Actually, I take that back — I do miss some of the other girls. I miss the closeness. But thankfully, I’m still very close to Moretta.
She’s one of the few people, if not the only person, who knows exactly what your experience was like.
Bistline: Yeah. In prison, they put us in these units that were right next to each other and thought we couldn’t see each other, but we would talk through the door a lot.
We couldn’t tell each other when we started shifting and turning away from the [FLDS] group, but we would hint at it to each other a lot. We were too scared that the other person would rat you out or something. It wasn’t until the trial that we found out we were in the same boat, and we were the only ones of the adult women who were testifying against him.
How did that realization feel?
Bistline: I was so relieved. I had somebody. Even now, we’ll talk about that day when we found out both of us were out [of the group] and what a relief that was.
Was it hard to believe that either of you had “woken up,” so to speak?
Bistline: Nobody understands how difficult it is to rewire your brain from the way you were raised. Learning how to completely deconstruct it, deprogram it, and rewire it to think another way.
I’ll think to myself, “Why do I feel this certain way?” And then I can route it back to some of Warren Jeffs’s training, and it’s like it’s not even true. I know now it’s a complete myth.
I have a really hard time believing there is this one God that’s over everything, because if he is all-powerful, how could he have let this happen?
Naomi “Nomz” Bistline
What helped you untangle and reconnect those wires?
Bistline: There were quite a lot of things. I read over 300 books in prison, and a lot of them were novels and self-help books. In those self-help books, they would talk about these fascinating things about the mind.
But every time I questioned Sam, I was also questioning Warren Jeffs, since Sam was using his words. So then I started questioning Warren Jeffs as well. I finally asked people, “What exactly did [Jeffs] do?” Because at that time, I didn’t know. I thought he was in prison because of our wickedness and unworthiness. That’s what I had been told my whole life. When I found out the heinous crimes he did, and how they were parallel to what Sam did, it was shocking, disturbing, and overwhelming. I thought, “Oh my God, they lied to me. My whole life is a lie.”
Then when Sam openly lied to me at the courthouse, as I explained in the documentary, that was when it all really hit me. That was one of the scariest days of my life. Here I am sitting in prison for being completely obedient to someone who had lied to me — had raised me in lies. It was really dark.
So what does your relationship with your faith look like now?
Bistline: Oh, I don’t know. I have a really hard time believing there is this one God that’s over everything, because if he is all-powerful, how could he have let this happen? I do believe there is something — a higher power, the universe, God, whatever you want to call it. I’m still processing that. For me now, though, I only believe something if it’s been scientifically proven. I question everything now.
What would you say to somebody watching the series who sees themselves or a loved one in a similar story?
Bistline: My hope is that they will see the parallels in their situation or relationship, and they’ll be able to see me coming out of it and be like, “If she can do it, then I can do it and be able to leave it.” If this can help even one person, then I’ll feel like it was something good for the world.
You could have very easily said, “This is behind me,” and decided not to revisit this dark chapter of your life. Why did you decide to speak out?
Bistline: I remember telling [the filmmakers], “I’m willing to put my pain and comfort aside in order to bring awareness.” Because the story needed to be told. As hard as it was, it needed to come out.
This interview was edited and condensed for clarity.
Trust Me: The False Prophet is now streaming.
If you or someone you know has experienced sexual abuse, information and resources are available at www.wannatalkaboutit.com.
