Republican Trevor Lee spent four years in the Utah Legislature making other people’s lives his business. On Monday, his own became a criminal case. The Utah Attorney General’s Office charged Lee with four felonies: communications fraud and mortgage fraud, both second-degree felonies, plus forgery and possession of a forging device, both third-degree felonies. Prosecutors allege he used false employment information and a forged contract to obtain a $1 million home loan. According to the charging documents, investigators say Lee admitted forging a company CEO’s signature and acknowledged that another employment letter used to establish income did not reflect money the company could actually pay him. Hours after the charges were filed, Lee resigned from the Utah House, effective immediately, only saying, “Due to personal circumstances that require my attention, I no longer feel I can give my constituents the time, attention, and service they deserve.” It is quite an ending for a political career built largely around scrutinizing everyone else. Before taking office, Lee operated an anonymous Twitter account that disparaged LGBTQ people. Once elected, he sponsored Utah’s Pride flag ban, proposed stripping legal protections from transgender Utahns, tried to remove “gender” from state law and threatened more legislation after the Utah Jazz and Utah Mammoth dared to acknowledge Pride Month. Allegations surfaced that Lee had altered checks at a previous job and later tried to use his legislative position to secure a government contract for a company that had advanced him $93,000. Lee denied the latter allegation. Then Republican voters in his own district rejected him in the June primary, 66% to 33.9%. After an investigation four felony charges followed. Lee is presumed innocent. These are criminal charges, not convictions, and prosecutors will have to prove their case in court. But after years spent using government power to examine the lives, families and identities of LGBTQ Utahns, Trevor Lee will now experience government scrutiny from the other side of the desk. The court can decide guilt—but Trevor’s history needs very little editorial assistance.