So, if you’ve spent any time on Netflix lately, you’ve probably seen the thumbnail for Our Father. It’s that eerie, high-contrast image that looks like something out of a horror movie. But for the families in Indiana, this wasn’t a script. It was their actual lives. Donald Cline, a once-respected fertility doctor in Indianapolis, didn’t just make a medical mistake; he spent decades playing God with other people's DNA.
Basically, the guy was a pillar of the community. He was a church elder. He had the "best" fertility clinic in the city. But behind the scenes, he was swapping donor samples for his own.
The Myth of the "Small-Scale" Mistake
When the news first broke, people thought maybe this happened a handful of times. Maybe he was just "helping" a few desperate couples when a donor didn't show up? Nope. Not even close. As of early 2026, the count of confirmed biological children fathered by Donald Cline has officially climbed to 94.
Ninety-four.
Think about that for a second. That is nearly a hundred human beings living in and around the same area, many of whom grew up just miles apart, unknowingly sharing half their DNA. It’s heavy. It’s the kind of thing that makes you question every interaction you’ve ever had at a grocery store or a local park in Zionsville.
Honestly, the sheer scale is what gets people. Cline told his patients—women who were often at their most vulnerable, desperate to start families—that the sperm came from medical residents or dental students. He promised that no single donor would be used more than three times. It was a lie. He was the donor. Every. Single. Time.
Why Didn't He Go to Prison?
This is the part that usually makes people’s blood boil. You’d think a doctor who non-consensually impregnated dozens of women would be behind bars for life. But the legal reality in the 2010s, when this all came to light, was a mess.
- The "Rape" Hurdle: At the time, Indiana law didn't really have a category for "fertility fraud." Prosecutors looked at rape charges, but the legal definition didn't fit because there was no "force" in the traditional sense.
- Battery Charges: They even looked at "battery with bodily waste," but that required the act to be done in a "rude, insolent, or angry manner." Since Cline was acting under the guise of medical care, it didn't stick.
- The Final Verdict: In 2017, Donald Cline walked away with a one-year suspended sentence. He didn't spend a single day in a prison cell. He was convicted of two counts of obstruction of justice, mostly because he lied to investigators when they first started sniffing around. He paid a $500 fine. That's it.
The medical board eventually took his license in 2018, but the guy was already 80 years old and long retired. It was a "punishment" that didn't really punish.
The Quiverfull Connection and the "Why"
People always ask why. Why would a successful doctor risk everything to do this? In the documentary and various investigations, there’s a recurring mention of the "Quiverfull" movement. This is a radical Christian ideology that encourages followers to have as many children as possible to "populate the earth" for God.
While Cline himself hasn't explicitly stood up and shouted his allegiance to the movement, the evidence is... well, it’s there. He often quoted Jeremiah 1:5—"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you"—to his patients. The siblings found it suspicious that so many of them have blonde hair and blue eyes, leading to theories about a weird, "Aryan" agenda.
It’s dark stuff. Whether it was a religious crusade or just a massive ego trip, the result was the same: a total violation of medical ethics.
Living with the Aftermath in 2026
The story didn't end when the credits rolled on Netflix. For the "Cline Siblings," as they’re often called, the nightmare is ongoing. Imagine finding out your "donor" father is actually the doctor sitting across from your mother in a cold exam room.
Many of the siblings have reported strange clusters of health issues. Autoimmune disorders are common among them. Because Cline used his own sperm despite having his own health history (like rheumatoid arthritis), he passed those genetics down to nearly a hundred people who had no way of knowing their medical background.
And then there's the "accidental dating" fear. In a city like Indianapolis, the chances of running into a half-sibling are high. One sibling famously realized they had gone to college with a brother. Another lived on the same street as a sister. It’s a social minefield.
What’s Changed Since the Scandal?
If there is any silver lining, it’s that the Donald Cline case forced the law to catch up with technology. In 2019, Indiana passed a first-of-its-kind fertility fraud law. Now, if a doctor does this, they can actually be charged with a felony.
Other states have followed suit. We’re seeing a shift in how we view "medical consent." It’s no longer just about the procedure; it’s about the truth of what’s being put into your body.
What you can do now:
- Check Your History: If you or your parents used a fertility clinic in the Indianapolis area between 1974 and 1987 (specifically Reproductive Endocrinology Associates), genetic testing via 23andMe or AncestryDNA is the only way to be 100% sure of your lineage.
- Support Legislation: Look into the "Fertility Fraud" laws in your own state. Many still don't have specific protections against this kind of medical abuse.
- Advocate for Transparency: Modern fertility clinics are much more regulated, but asking for "donor 360" (full medical and background transparency) is a right, not a privilege.
The legacy of Donald Cline isn't just a true-crime story; it's a cautionary tale about the power we give to people in white coats and the absolute necessity of legal protections in the age of DNA.