Marty (Martin) Hertel
August 26, 1972 — January 7, 2026
Marty entered my life in 2002—the same year my ex-wife entered my life. Coincidentally, it was also the same year Marty entered her life, too. Looking back, it feels like one of those moments where life quietly lines up the right people at the right time, even before you understand why.
At the time, Marty was my boss at Communications and Commerce (Comm.Comm). I knew who he was through work, but I didn’t actually meet him until I took my ex-wife on our first date. I was working for an MSN subcontractor, and during a break I ended up in an MSN chat room where I met Marty’s sister. When she found out where I worked, she told me her brother was my boss. That surprised me a lot—it made the world feel instantly smaller.
Marty was funny, and he didn’t hide it. My ex-wife wore extremely baggy pants—her favorites were JNCOs; and before our first meeting Marty told her, “You look like you’re wearing a burlap sack.” That was Marty: bold, honest, and hilarious. But what mattered even more was what came with it; his generosity. He bought her a bunch of feminine clothes to wear, and he even helped with an eyeglass prescription around that time. He looked out for people in real ways, not just with words.
In truth, I don’t think my ex-wife and I would have gotten married if it weren’t for Marty.
That year was messy for me in some ways. I was dating two girls with the same name when I met Marty’s sister—one was his sister, and the other was someone I had met earlier. After a few weeks, I took them both out to dinner and broke up with them both. But Marty encouraged Kim and me to keep talking, and we did.
Marty was also instrumental in my ex-wife finding a relationship with Christ strangely, just 7 days before Marty passed, I had mentioned this event in a video that I made –click here-.. Just before I met her, she had given her life to the Lord at Marty’s church. That’s an important piece of the puzzle for me, because I wouldn’t have married a woman who wasn’t Christian. In more ways than I probably realized at the time, Marty helped set the foundation for the life I was building.
2002 was also the year I lost my brother, Justin. In the middle of that loss, Marty felt like home. He was kind and generous, sweet and funny; and he reminded me so much of Justin. Marty and I played golf a few times together, and one story still makes me laugh. We were at a golf course in Salt Lake City, and on the third hole I hit a ball so hard it struck another player in the chest from halfway across the course. I ran over and apologized, worried I’d seriously hurt him. The guy shook it off and said, “I’m too drunk for it to hurt.” Marty and I laughed about that for years.
That same year, my ex-wife and I got married—and Marty married us. He officiated as a priest and presided as we said our vows. During our wedding, Marty’s cousin and best friend met my sister, and they ended up getting together because of that day. Tony and my sister had a child together, though their relationship was short-lived. Even in that, you can see how Marty’s presence somehow connected lives and created ripple effects that lasted beyond the moment.
Not long after we got married, our family moved out of Utah. My ex-wife hated Utah. I kept trying to bring us back, but it never lasted long.
And later, when our first son was born 8 years later, we named him after Marty. Iriel Martin Thompson. That name wasn’t accidental. It was a way of honoring someone who had been there at such a critical time, someone who had mattered more than he probably knew.
Many years have gone by, and I haven’t spoken to Marty. But I will always remember him for what he was in my life when it counted most: a steady presence, a generous heart, a man who made people laugh, and a man who helped guide and shape a chapter of my story.
Rest in love, Marty.
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