The "Full House" actress filed for divorce from Mossimo Giannulli just before Labor Day weekend, ending a marriage that survived a federal fraud conviction and dueling prison sentences but not, apparently, what came after.
Lori Loughlin, 62, petitioned for dissolution of marriage citing irreconcilable differences, listing August 31, 2025, as the couple's date of separation. Fox News Digital obtained the court documents, which show Loughlin asked the court to reserve spousal support for future determination and to divide community property according to a prenuptial agreement the couple signed in October 1997, one month before their November 27, 1997, wedding.
Neither Loughlin's nor Giannulli's representatives responded to requests for comment at the time of the filing. But the split had been telegraphed for months. In October, Loughlin's representative confirmed the two were living apart, telling Fox News Digital, "Lori and Mossimo are living apart. There are no legal proceedings underway." The filing made those proceedings official.
The separation has not been easy on Loughlin, according to people in her orbit. The New York Post reported that sources close to the couple described the actress as "devastated" by the breakup, adding that reconciliation was off the table entirely.
An anonymous source told Us Weekly, as cited by the Post: "This isn't a shock to people around them. It has been a rough time for Lori. She is devastated." A second source was blunter: "They will not reconcile, there is currently no chance, and will ultimately divorce."
Giannulli, meanwhile, has reportedly already been seen on dates. Loughlin has not.
The couple shares two adult daughters, Olivia Jade and Bella Rose, both of whom became household names for all the wrong reasons during the federal college admissions scandal that upended the family's public image.
Loughlin and Giannulli both pleaded guilty to wire and mail fraud as part of Operation Varsity Blues, the sprawling federal investigation into parents who paid bribes to get their children into elite universities. The couple paid what prosecutors described as hundreds of thousands of dollars in bribes to secure their daughters' admission to the University of Southern California.
Loughlin served nearly three months in prison and was released in December 2020. Giannulli drew a stiffer sentence, five months, and was released in April 2021. The disparity in their sentences reflected the government's view of their respective roles in the scheme, a point that has lingered in the public conversation ever since.
The college admissions scandal did more than land both of them behind bars. It stripped Loughlin of her role on the Hallmark Channel series "When Calls the Heart" and turned the family into a national symbol of elite entitlement, wealthy parents gaming a system that ordinary families were expected to navigate honestly.
John Stamos, Loughlin's longtime "Full House" co-star, weighed in publicly during an October 2025 appearance on the "Good Guys" podcast. He did not hold back about where he believed responsibility for the scandal belonged.
"She goes to f***ing prison for this a**hole for three months, right? And he goes for whatever."
Stamos called Giannulli "a terrible narcissist" and said he knew "for a fact it was all him." He added flatly: "She didn't deserve to be dragged through that."
Stamos also shared an anecdote that painted Loughlin in a more sympathetic light. He said he asked her how prison had been, and her response was characteristically understated:
"You know, I met a lot of nice ladies in there. We have a book club."
Stamos's characterization of Giannulli is his own opinion, not a court finding. But the fact that Loughlin's close friends were publicly assigning blame months before the divorce filing suggests the marriage had fractured well before the paperwork landed.
The divorce filing leans heavily on the couple's prenuptial agreement, signed in October 1997. Loughlin's petition confirmed that assets and debts would be treated as separate property under the terms of the prenup, with a judge asked to determine rights to any community property in accordance with that agreement.
The financial dimensions of celebrity divorces often become public spectacles in their own right. In this case, the court documents include a request from the respondent's side asking for detailed calculations on everything from spousal support and property characterization to tax consequences and attorney's fees. Both parties will be responsible for their own legal costs.
Spousal support remains unresolved. Loughlin asked the court to reserve it for future determination, a common move in high-profile filings where the financial picture is complex and neither side wants to commit to a number before discovery.
Long-term celebrity marriages ending in divorce have become a recurring feature of the entertainment landscape, but few carry the kind of legal and moral baggage that Loughlin and Giannulli's does. Their names will always be linked to a federal fraud case that exposed how far some wealthy parents would go to rig the system, and how unevenly the consequences fell.
Several open questions remain. The jurisdiction where Loughlin filed has not been publicly identified. The exact filing date, described only as before Labor Day weekend, has not been confirmed. And whether the couple's daughters have commented on the split is unknown.
What is clear is that the marriage survived guilty pleas, prison sentences, and public humiliation, but it did not survive the aftermath. For Loughlin, the woman Stamos called "a saint," the cost of someone else's decisions may still be adding up.
Some debts, it turns out, a marriage cannot outlast.
