Sam had gone into law because he wanted to help people. And when Sam Winchester got an idea in his head, nothing short of a nuclear blast could change his mind. He'd spent years of his life studying so he could graduate top of his class from Stanford, which was hardly an easy task. After the bar exam, he'd had top firms calling him for interviews. Of course, these firms were enormous and handled high-profile cases from high-profile clients.
But Sam wanted to be in the courtroom, not going over indiscriminate details in a cubicle in hopes that, someday, he might be the one telling the newly hired graduates what to do.
So he'd turned down their offers and instead entered a firm in Chicago so he could work with civilian cases. The next few years had been spent on grunt work and trying to pay off student loans, which had become necessary despite his full scholarship. As it turned out, it hadn't quite covered his schooling.
Two years pass and things are starting to look up. The loan is paid (Sam knew how to live cheaply) and he's starting to get cases of his own, under observation of course. Within the next few years, he should be partner. He can move out of his tiny apartment, maybe buy his own house.
And so it was that, on the eighth of September, Gabriel Garrison strode into Sam's office, plopped himself in a chair, and said "I want a divorce. We have three children, one of whom is a minor and I need full custody."
Never let it be said that career gifts didn't waltz through your door.