RYAN HANSON
Fine Artist, Author, Proud American and Wrongfully Convicted Prisoner
About Me
Whatever brought you to our page, we are hoping that one day soon to have a special event where we can all meet everyone that met us here & joined us on this journey we're now on...
So, until then: Hello, my name is Ryan Hanson. Over the years I’ve grown to become a problem solver at heart—helping others with personal issues or hashing out more complex political ones. I also love to snow ski, waterski and play golf with family and friends. As a family, we love each other very much & so it would seem life is good for us, right?
All this is true... except for a tragic twist.
I’m serving a Life sentence for a murder I never committed...a murder that a judge & jury know was committed by someone else. This sounds impossible... but it is real. For now over two decades, I have been in a Texas prison due to a controversial law known as the "Law of Parties", which allows for the prosecution of those who had & wanted NO part in crimes committed by others, but who were there at the scene when they took place.
It is beyond words...how impossible to fully express the emotions—to be separated from family and friends this way—but we still do our best to share our journey & have written out my story so more will understand how this really can happen to ANYONE. You'll get to know me & (so important!) be better prepared to avoid the darker side of the broken parts of our legal system—& help your loved ones avoid them as well.
Please read my story below, to fully understand.
I have ONE mindset: Constant learning to help solve REAL problems & encouraging others to NEVER give up in the face of adversity…
Author
of
US Money Matrix Exposed: A Patriot's Guide of Essential Knowledge for Restoring America to Honor
Art
https://www.hansoncollection.com
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My Story
With every moment...our lives unfold. Each day arrives anew—no matter how similar the next feels from the last. Most of us welcome routine. Our daily routines are nurturing environments, where we hone our unique talents, to thrive & enrich our communities within—giving us a mostly stable & familiar territory. To live & work...in relative safety…& hopefully with a real sense of enjoyment & comfort.
We’d also prefer to avoid, altogether, those experiences & bad actors that just might bring us up close & personal with the most callous & ruthless behaviors of humanity we know exist...hoping never to be the relatively rare few who actually become any part of them.
The problem is...it is IMPOSSIBLE for all to escape this real-life reverse Lottery.
For those whose numbers are chosen...life takes a new—often tragic—meaning & purpose.
And that is most assuredly an understatement.
The following is a true account of just how quickly a series of events can turn, to come face-to-face with just such an act of unconscionable human cruelty—& the aftermath that continues…. decades later:
Even though I hadn’t seen much of Austin—the times I had, visiting my sisters attending the University of Texas (UT) there, led me to consider the smaller city feel to our hometown… Houston. With my youngest sister, Allison, still enrolled—it sounded like as good a time as any actually.
Giving it some serious thought, I decided my best path was to simply transfer the course credits I’d already earned at Houston Community College over to Austin Community College (ACC). The idea was to complete my two-year Associate’s degree with ACC & then transfer/enroll at UT for continued studies toward earning a Bachelor’s degree—just as my sisters had earned there.
Allison liked the idea also & soon assisted with my move by finding temporary housing for me, while I sought out stable employment anywhere I could find it—& until I could locate a more comfortable apartment closer to campus. It was the summer of 1997 & soon I finally found a job I could handle along with my studies—even as a full-time student. In the fall, however, I made a mistake… My employer, Amy’s Ice Cream, offered extra shifts if we wanted to volunteer for them. I signed up for one that fell on a weekend & forgot about it. I simply hadn’t put it on my calendar back at my apartment! Amy’s had a three-month probationary period for new hires, so they made the decision to terminate me for the scheduling conflicts I had been responsible for. Without receiving some minimal notice as afforded to post-90-days employees, I knew I needed to start immediately looking for new employment—or I’d never be ready for the spring semester at ACC!!
It was during this period, searching for a new job when we had an unusual late-fall cold-snap. I remember it vividly. The wind had picked up & the temperature had dropped so fast & hard; it was hard not to take notice. Stopping at a corner convenience store that night, I passed by a young couple shivering just outside near the entrance. Still there after I exited the store, they asked if I had any change to spare. This was not unusual; at least from what I’d seen since arriving & living so near to the UT campus—Austin had a considerable homeless community...especially young adults of near my age & more youthful. I was 24.
With the wind biting & the cold dropping closer to freezing, I felt I could do better than what spare change would do for them that night… I asked if they had a place to stay, noting the crazy cold front coming through as well. They shook their head. No...they didn’t. I shared that I had a small room—not much—but good heat if they wanted it for the night. They appeared sincerely thankful & said so—which was good—as I would have changed my mind if they hadn’t most likely. It would be crowded for sure, but not all so bad. I rented an “efficiency-type” apartment. I shared a small shower/sink/toilet with one of my neighbors, which we both had a door to & could lock—accessible in the back corner for each room. Entirely fitting our tiny spaces! You get what you pay for, right? It was okay; had all I needed as a single student & it’s a former campus dorm housing MADE for students anyway. You just couldn’t use your own bathroom if you tried to go…& found it locked! Odd...but tolerable.
I was breaking my lease agreement by letting them stay...but it was one night & I took the risk. I explained this to both of them & they agreed to be out before daylight—before few, if any, would notice them leaving...especially the landlord. It was actually the first opportunity I’d had to help anyone homeless like this & I thought `What’s the worst that could happen?´. Surely if it became known, the landlord would bring a stern warning. Right? He would SURELY consider the unusually cold night. Well...I hoped. Regardless, I believed it was the right thing to do & they didn’t act suspicious or appear threatening, dangerous, etc.
Only blocks away from UT campus, there were always a good number of homeless—often panhandling—but still mostly friendly despite their living condition. Even if the couple I’d taken in for several hours turned out to be grifters (or worse), they were about to see my scarce possessions wouldn’t go for much at any pawn shop! They were fortunate I had a few extra blankets (!), which I handed them as soon as we came in & removed our coats to the room’s inviting heat. They did have ONE surprise for me: Her boyfriend shared that they were heroin users/addicts & said both needed to “shoot up” to relax their nerves—otherwise, they couldn’t fall asleep. I sure didn’t approve but with the calmness & sincerity in the way he explained—it made perfect sense, & they would do it regardless of whether I asked them to leave or not. I’d never injected drugs—but wasn’t like I wasn’t a user myself from time to time...that’s just where I drew the line for myself.
They did their thing & were quickly asleep… Once convinced they were, I let go & nodded off myself after checking the alarm I’d set one more time. Feeling like I’d woken just a second later to the blaring beeps going off, I looked at the clock: 4:45 am. Both of my visitors were still snoring away—evidently under the spell of old Morpheus, having dosed just five hours before. I gently rocked the boyfriend’s shoulder & when our eyes met, I said, `It’s time.´ They only took a few minutes to put on their footwear & coats—thanking me again, he shook my hand & they were gone. I’ve not encountered them since then…&, sadly, wouldn’t be seeing one of them for sure. Not in this life.
* * *
During that week, I spent a few days away from my apartment. I was meeting new people, trying to network, hoping to find something other than telemarketing (!) for employment. Been there done that. (No, thanks!) While gone, I found out an incident had happened at my apartment & my landlord, along with a police officer, was looking for me about it. I knew I didn’t have anything illegal in my room, but I got there as soon as I could, regardless. I quickly learned, that the same couple I’d allowed to stay that one cold night...had entered my apartment through my back window while I was away. His girlfriend...had overdosed on heroin soon after. And died.
I answered the investigator’s questions just outside my door in the hallway, with the landlord standing right there with us. I shared everything...including why I did it. While I wasn’t in trouble with the Law, I was with my landlord. I’d obviously broken the terms of my lease—a solid basis for him to evict me. Caught up in the moment, I made a hasty decision. I had never liked to be the one to make things more difficult for those around me, if it was ever in my power… & sure didn’t want to be anywhere I knew I wasn’t wanted—like right then. With the Officer still there, I turned to the landlord & said that I’d be moving out that very night. I didn’t ask for even a few days to make suitable arrangements! Looking back, that was pretty short-sighted—I should have asked for a week. (At least!) He would have given that to me under the circumstances & eviction procedures would have taken far longer.
Bottom line: I just felt so bad about ALL of it...mostly because of having never been so close to death. Also, in my apartment. Accidents happen...but an overdose? I couldn’t help all the “What if’s?” from going around in my head. I should have been there. None of this would have happened. She could still be alive. We can’t know all of this for sure of course, but it’s what was going through my head… over & over.
So, yeah, I knew a few people I might be able to stay with, even if for only a few days…
Just a few blocks away actually. After explaining what happened, my new hosts agreed. So yes, somewhat ironically, I just became homeless myself...but thankfully I had a warm place to sleep. Temporarily. On their carpet. Hey, I’d slept on the ground in the Philippine jungles during my time in the Marines (yes, without a tent)—so this was the Four Seasons in comparison. It didn’t faze me. At all. Well, okay...just a little. They could relate though, & even shared small comforts with me...snacks, drinks, etc. In times like these, even small acts of generosity are HUGE...they may not make an impact on some, but they did on me.
I’ve been asked why I hadn’t reached out more to family a few times. In hindsight, I really should have. It came down to pride—though not the best kind. This latest incident was just compounded with all the rest of past mistakes I’d made. They weren’t life or death mistakes, but rather life-changing ones. You want to somewhat plan out your own path in life in your own way—at least that’s how I felt at the time...but life throws you curveballs...things happen & you have to go through them. You have to adjust to unfavorable—undesirable—conditions. Again, it didn’t too much phase me so much… It seems like a lot to many, but you’ve got to factor in that I’m a MARINE. I was trained in fast-changing situations. Very intense ones. We adapt & overcome. This is basic & ingrained in us. It’s why we don’t react & cope in the same ways average individuals do. So, yeah, I didn’t want to face the fact about my failure—as I saw it—with my family too...as I’d have to explain how the overdose of this young woman came about in my own apartment. Didn’t matter to me that I could prove I wasn’t even there or that they had, essentially, trespassed. My emotions had overridden my reasoning process. I decided this was my battle to overcome this time. I needed to go through this on my own. A lesson I would learn the hard way—so I would never repeat it. Ever. It would be a struggle...but just temporary. A month at most. And I’d do it without a family bailout this time...
With my temporary sleeping arrangements expiring, I’d, fortunately, found an improvement in accommodations with another acquaintance. Not too much further away from campus (maybe half a mile), “Hillary” had a one-bedroom with full kitchen & bath—& offered me the living room until I could receive my first paycheck & have enough to secure my own place again. I’d found what I thought a perfect job at Texas French Bread close by. It was closing in on Christmas Holiday season & guess I applied at the ideal time—just when they needed extra seasonal workers to manage the usual pick-up in business. The training was enjoyable, considering I had some cooking/baking experience from home & school. Eventually, I settled into the night shift—which I preferred. I could sleep during the day when Hillary was in classes—& work at night when he was home. Nights were less hectic than days at the bakery too. It was a great routine. Finally, I thought, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel with this whole ordeal!
* * *
Pffffffffft!!! So much for that!!! Yeah… Hillary decided he would be dropping out of school & moving...to Boulder, Colorado. He said I had about a week—& also welcomed me if I wanted to go with him. I really considered the possibility, but I’d JUST settled into work & would be paid in less than two weeks. I’d have to start all over in Boulder & had no idea if the bakery would mail my check if I did. Could I even cash it with out-of-state I.D.? I’d be penniless until I could.
No. As much as I’d always wanted to settle in Colorado eventually, this wasn’t the time. Having the UT experience & education was too strong a draw & I had a perfect job—one I could even advance with into management, especially with a degree. Tempting...but no.
I just had to stick it out a few more weeks & I’d be in a great place. Good job. Regular income. Secure housing. Ready to enroll for the Spring semester. All was just within reach. NOW, I just had to find someone to stay with for maybe ONE week. That’s it. If I had it...I’d just take over paying Hillary’s rent—but was a bit out of my range (by a few hundred bucks a month).
The next day, right after I’d finished my shift, I was off again… and the best place to spot anyone I’d met so far? Take a walk near campus. To “The Drag”...Guadalupe Street. It’s a most popular hang-out with lots of traffic. All day long. Didn’t take but maybe one hour & I recognized a guy I’d met at a recent house party, at a friend of Hillary’s, in his apartment building. I mentioned it & he remembered. (It had only been the week before.) I was straight with him, explaining my situation & he knew, exactly where I had been staying too. He said, sure, I could stay for a week—as his roommate was still out-of-town for Winter Break from classes. I thanked him profusely & assured him I had a job & wasn’t just freeloading...in fact, I could provide leftover baked goods from work they let us take home, after our shifts, if we wanted any. Deal. I was set until payday! HOPEFULLY.
The name of my new newest benefactor? David Ludwick.
* * *
When he shared his place was a two-bedroom apartment, I expected it would most likely have even more space than Hillary’s. Not so. After walking in, I could see it was close to same floor space—with just smaller rooms. That wasn’t a big shocker, nor was another person who was there when I arrived with my belongings. Ludwick introduced him as Chris. Christopher Kotaska. I wasn’t the only person Ludwick was allowing to stay at his apartment while his roommate was away. They both were accommodating & I shared I had the night shift at work, so all was understood. Kotaska was definitely a smoker...of cannabis. Also not a shocker. It was quite common almost everywhere since I’d arrived in Austin, to be honest. More than I’d heard it was actually.
The only effect it really had on me was to make me drowsy & extra relaxed...so, if I ever needed a sleep aid (!) & it was offered—I accepted it. Unless I was employed where I had random drug testing that is. This definitely came in helpful when I came in from work in the mornings… I’d bring some pastries, leftover from work, & Kotaska would offer his smoke & I’d be fast asleep within 30 minutes.
This continued to be the routine for about a week. My day of relief was within a handbreadth! I hadn’t spent a lot of time getting to know either Ludwick or Kotaska. They seemed to be occupied with their own lives. I certainly wasn’t the center of their attention—& never expected to be. I just had this spot on the couch with a blanket—& thankfully a hot shower—until my next work shifts. From what we had shared, Ludwick worked part-time at a print shop nearby. Kotaska was a drifter...he hadn’t been in Austin very long himself—in fact, had arrived only recently from a State up north.
Suddenly I noticed I was seeing Ludwick more. He became more talkative too. Talked about maybe moving to California where his sister lived in L.A., mentioned his father also...who Ludwick used to live with, in D.C. if I remember correctly. It was around that time he shared he quit his job & shared he was going to “skip” his rent. He was moving out! He wanted to do this before his roommate got back… I had no idea his situation was close to being as precarious as my own. One thing I could do is relate to him, so instead of starting to search for another place I could crash for a few days—I attempted to be helpful & talk through his options. He said he would figure something out, but thanked me anyway. I asked how long I had before he would be out. He said about three days. Okay...not great. I needed around five...maybe six!
About two days later, Ludwick let me know he’d found a place & also asked if I could help him with something. Obviously, I felt in his debt for the days of the shelter he provided...so I wondered how I could help? Ludwick showed me a blank check made out for a few hundred dollars or so, that had his roommate’s name & their apartment’s address on it. Ludwick said he didn’t have valid I.D. to cash it & if I did—could I do it?
I looked at the bank on the check. It was like three blocks away! If there were funds in his account & check was valid, I didn’t mind. Worst they could do was not cash it, so I told him, `Let’s go.´
He wrote my name in as the `payee´ on the blank line & we made the five-minute walk. I presented the check with I.D., and after a few minutes, they declined to honor (cash) it. So we left. On the way back he shared that he’d hoped he could have something to give “Chase”...something for letting him stay at his place for a while. He said he found a place to stay, about a mile away. His name was Chase Coulter. Turns out Ludwick was as broke as I was!
He did say he had a Lone Star Card—it was a State issued debit card for those eligible for food purchase assistance—and would stock Chase’s refrigerator & pantry at the very least. I’d never seen such a card but heard about some change from actual food stamps (that looked like paper currency) to a card that was automatically loaded with a set dollar amount each month to its holder who had benefits for food assistance. Still, it was an excellent way to offer Chase something for his hospitality without ready cash.
As we walked back, I also had to at least ask if there was any possibility I could stay a few days with them at Chase’s place. Ludwick had no idea. I hadn’t approached him about it until then, so he never mentioned me to Chase. He’d ask about it though. In the meantime, I needed to get some sleep as I had my next shift approaching…
The next day, we moved our things to Chase’s. Ludwick had to get a key from him as he was still at work, so we stopped at the studio where he was. He went in, got the key, and we went off to his apartment. It was a small one-bedroom, but spacey enough. The living room was much bigger than Ludwick’s former place, which was good—as there would be three of us in it! After getting our things in, all three of us went to an H.E.B. grocery store within walking distance, & Ludwick maxed out his card getting as much food as he could. I helped put away the groceries & when done Ludwick & Kotaska said they had to go somewhere for a while & that I should stay in case Coulter came back.
I had to get some sleep anyway as I’d been up all night from working the previous one—so I locked the door once they left & crashed on the couch within minutes. I woke up just a few hours later to the door opening. It was Chase. This was somewhat awkward—as this was his apartment & we’d not met in person yet. I introduced myself & thanked him on behalf of all of us...also mentioning the groceries Ludwick just purchased. He was very modest & hospitable...considering all! Not sure I would be so generous with strangers, so he must have known Ludwick very well to do this for him. I didn’t think I’d be able to get back to sleep with this whole new situation evolving… I knew I had another shift that night too.
Chase was gay. Quite sure he knew I wasn’t since he mentioned he knew two very outgoing women my age just downstairs in the apartment below.
Chase knew “Hannah” very well & she had a close friend visiting her, both single. Chase was quite social & he suggested we might all get together & “party” that night. From then on, the hours just flew by. Ludwick & Kotaska returned, & we all sat around talking. Next thing I knew Hannah & “Tisa” joined us from downstairs. (I definitely wasn’t getting any sleep now.) I enjoyed Hannah’s company & we talked all night almost exclusively… The smoke was passed plus drink—& as amusing as it was, I was exhausted. There was NO way I could make it through a work shift! Hannah understood perfectly & even offered to call me in sick. I’d never called in sick before, so I agreed—it was about the only option available! She called in & I’m sure she could see I turned a bit more relaxed...I could hardly keep my eyes open...so we talked in bed & she even offered a ride to get my check & cash it at the bank. At some point, she must have noticed I was drifting off. I remember seeing her set the alarm clock and thinking, `Maybe I wouldn’t need to find my own place after all...I wonder...would Hannah like to share the rent? Maybe this is too much too soon, though? Yeah...we only just met´. It was too early to tell, but it felt good to have reached the end of this whole debacle… & what seemed like a great new beginning also. Ever had one of those days that couldn’t come fast enough? For me, that day had just begun...but it would not be the one I hoped nor ever imagined it would be.
* * *
Tisa dropped Hannah off at work & stopped at my bakery so I could grab my check...then we were off to the bank. Took about 15 minutes with the line, but there wasn’t a problem. It was a few hundred & change. All was pretty up in the air now… `Should I wait to talk to her or just go get my own place?´ I thought. I was still working on little sleep, so THAT was my priority really. I thanked Tisa & went right back to sleep at Chase’s place. Whatever else could wait. I needed catch-up Z’s…
* * *
Ludwick came through the door around noon. I woke up as soon as I heard the door close. He saw I was up & inquired if I had handled my check issue. I said, `Oh yeah. Finally.´ He replied that that was great & proposed we all go to Sixth Street downtown since it was Saturday night. `Sixth Street´ was common parlance for downtown Austin party central…College towns have their favorite social spots & Sixth Street was packed with bars, clubs, retail, etc. ready to cater the whole crowd—no matter your taste.
In case Ludwick was (wrongly) thinking I was ready to blow some stress off...along with some cash (!), I let him know: `Oh, no. I’ve got ZERO money for overpriced drinks. Thanks. But NO thanks.
He assured me I wouldn’t be spending a single DIME. And I said, `How’s that again?´
He knew the manager who was also a bartender at one of the bars...so, drinks were on him. I was off work that night, so sounded fine to me in that case! I hadn’t been to Sixth Street in months with the busy holiday work schedule, but all that was behind me now. So...why not? Victory lap here I come!
* * *
Ludwick, Kotaska & I left the apartment with a few hours of daylight left. It was warm for January & we could catch a city bus at some point, but I mentioned (keep the following in mind, as you’ll see later as very important) I wanted to stop by my old place (Hillary’s) to see if a few of my shirts I’d left were still there. Sure enough, Hillary’s home was open. He’d abandoned some of his own clothes & other odds & ends. He never was very tidy. I found my shirts where I’d left them & found a few tools he’d left along with a mason jar of nails, nuts & screws of many sizes also. This was just what I was looking for at Chase’s… I’d asked Chase if he had some wood glue or some small nails or tacks when I had been making some breakfast (more like brunch) earlier. I had noticed the veneer on the side of his counter had become unfastened. All I needed was some wood glue & tape to hold it until it dried, but Chase had not even a basic tool kit. Well, a tack or small nail would work just as well…& not a chance Hillary hadn’t left all this behind on accident.
I chose a few of the smallest nails & tacks I thought best, along with an old hammer—& put them in my small knapsack with my shirts. I’d fix that counter for Chase tomorrow. It was the least I could do for the few days he’d let me stay…….
*As we were getting closer to our “party destination”, there was no reason for me to go back to Chase’s place… only to bring back my knapsack… I took it with me just like almost everyone would have done.
I would be back after our night out within hours, to fix the counter for Chase.
RIGHT……………?
As we got closer to downtown, Ludwick mentioned it was a little early still; he didn’t think his manager friend would be there yet. Seeing a bar & grill across the street, we stopped in to get a beer & a few snacks. I still had no idea which bar we were headed to… I wouldn’t even know it even if I knew the name of it most likely. Sixth Street had a massive number of them.
After another hour passed, we continued down the street & Ludwick said,
“There it is.”
It had a rustic looking exterior on first glance. It certainly was a Country & Western-type bar.
“Western bar?” I asked as I noticed the bar’s signage:
RAINBOW CATTLE COMPANY
If my guess was right...this was the first Country & Western gay bar I’d ever heard of. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Yep!” Ludwick chuckled.
Some surprise. Not that it mattered that much… We came for the drinks—& it wasn’t the first gay bar or club I’d been to—so it wasn’t some big deal to me. We walked in, presented I.D.’s & they had a guest sign-in journal each of us signed…& thankfully, I saw a few pool tables. That would be fine. Probably keep any guys shooting me looks & pick-up lines to the bare minimum. We’d be there four to five hours max & I hadn’t played pool in a while; time would fly...especially after drinking a few. Hey...I wasn’t being vain. I was young & knew where I was. It was expected.
* * *
“Thanks for the advance notice,” I replied.
“Hey, I can’t help where he works,” Ludwick replied. “Come on, let’s get a drink & I’ll introduce you to the manager.”
I recalled in one of our brief conversations Ludwick mentioning his father revealed he was gay not too long ago...also that it was quite a shock to him (Ludwick), still being quite young when he told him. I assumed he, himself, was not…& I don’t recall ever asking him point-blank. I’d seen many photos of him with women at his apartment. Neither he nor Kotaska seemed at all to me of the type...but if they were, did I care? Would I be standing in a gay bar if I did? My father’s second wife’s brother was gay. I was a teenager when I met him. I’d been briefly employed at a gay bar.
There were ALL different personalities/character-types in the LGBT+ community. While I wouldn’t have chosen the place to drink & socialize myself...I sure wasn’t super uncomfortable or anything of the kind. And if Ludwick &/or Kotaska were gay/bisexual after all...it didn’t change anything for me. We were about to part ways soon anyways (so I thought), & to be honest, I didn’t see any blossoming friendship with either of them. I was really more focused on getting back on course with college, now that I’d have my own place again…& maybe by Monday most likely!
* * *
Actually, while it was a little odd to be seeing a significant number of men dancing in western wear (boots, hats & all…)—it was a very clean & professionally run establishment. Even though I was getting a few more `looks´ as it approached midnight, I was never harassed. Not once. It was a very polite & respectful clientele overall.
Ludwick introduced me to his manager/bartender/ex-coworker friend tending the bar & I accepted a drink he offered—along with some quarters for the pool tables. I played like maybe one or two with both Ludwick & Kotaska before they both seemed to drift more to the bar after no more than one hour. I played a few strangers, but I was just fine mostly having the table for myself nearly the entire night. I know I had drunk far too much though...probably had the equivalent of eight or nine mixed drinks by the time the Last Call was announced. Way too much.
I’d seen Kotaska & Ludwick sporadically throughout the night...mostly when I was walking to & from the restroom. There was a dance floor towards the opposite end of the bar, so that was undoubtedly the reason I hadn’t seen much of them. On one trip back from the restroom, I saw Ludwick approaching… going in for one of his own visits. I could very much tell he’d had more than a few drinks himself. He was smiling more & looser in his walking, but the speech wasn’t slurred too much...only slightly. He asked if I was good. I said, “Oh yeah. Sure. And you?”
“Great!” He almost yelled, due to the music getting louder & applause from the dance floor erupting for some reason. “You ready to knock off one of these queers or what?” He added, with a rather clownish smile.
I took this as some sort of his trying to make a BAD stereotypical joke, given the
context.
“Not funny,” I said. “I’ve been to gay bars before. Really, it’s fine. Thanks for the free drinks...but remember, don’t quit your day job. Oops, I forgot!” (Now, I attempted to be funny this time.)
“Also not funny!” He said, almost yelling again…& started walking to the restroom.
We were definitely very intoxicated. I didn’t give the stupid joke a second thought...I’ve heard immensely more inappropriate statements from people around me drinking—even in high school...but most recently in the Marines. FAR WORSE. I’ve been told that such a comment crossed a line that I should have paid more attention to. No. That’s a hindsight 20/20 thing… People say dumb, stupid, offensive things when drunk. This was no exception. It was tame from things I’ve heard & seen.
* * *
Patrons were beginning to leave. It was getting close to closing time...near 1 a.m. I was assuming we’d get a ride back to Coulter’s place by Ludwick’s bartender friend...that or grab a taxi. When the music stopped, the bar was really starting to clear out—so I started looking for Ludwick & Kotaska. Spotting them with someone a little taller than both of them—Ludwick turned & saw me as I approached, saying “Hey, Ryan… this is John...another friend I use to work with. John, this is Ryan...the guy I said was staying with me who works at that French bakery”. A quick & appropriate introduction.
“Hey, John.” As we shook hands. “Pleasure.”
“As well.” John returned.
Ludwick said we were going to crash at John’s place as it was pretty close by & there was plenty of space. Assured this wasn’t some complete stranger, I was okay with it. Falling to sleep would be NO problem with the amount of alcohol I’d had. I’d assumed we were all in the same shape, including David, as we gathered our things & jumped in a waiting cab outside.
We were in front of John’s small house within several minutes. When I walked through the door, I`m pretty sure he could tell I just wanted to call it a night. It was a home about the size of a decent two-bedroom apartment. Living room a little bigger than Chase’s. Well furnished.
John almost immediately opened a side-bedroom just past the living-room crossing into the kitchen & said, “You’re welcome to crash-out in here if you want.
There’s a bathroom in there too if you need it. Be my guest, really. It’s fine.”
“Thank you.” And I did just that, removing my shoes & pulling back the sheets—I laid down & was asleep within a minute. The few moments I was awake, the whole room felt like it was spinning. Yes, I’d had WAY too much to drink. I hadn’t drunk this much, since I was 19 in the service, at my first duty station: NAS Subic Bay. That was my last thought when I drifted into a deep sleep……
THIS was the John Cavness I knew. Hospitable. Considerate. Generous.
* * *
“Hey!.........HEY!!!!” was how I was pulled out of nothingness. Was I dreaming? I opened my eyes & saw someone standing in the lighted frame of the open bedroom door. Hoping it was a dream, I closed my eyes again, willing the vision away.
“HEY!!!!!!!!” I heard again. Okay, now I was up. The light was too bright, so I tried to focus harder as to who was in the doorway. Kotaska? “Come on, we’re leaving.” The figure commanded.
“I’m not,” I told him. “Go ahead. I’ll catch a cab later. Go without me.”
“Uh-uh. You don’t understand. We’ve got to go now!” He said with alarm.
“What is it?” I asked, pulling myself up on an elbow. He was acting like the place was on fire, but I heard no fire detector. Maybe there wasn’t one…
“Come on.” He insisted. “Get your shoes on, your bag’s out here.” Whatever it was, it was serious. The clock said 3-something a.m., so I hadn’t been sleeping but for maybe an hour or so. I wanted to go back to sleep so bad...but got up, slipped my shoes on & went to find out for myself what was so serious. The kitchen was right outside the bedroom door. As soon as I crossed into the light from the dark room, I saw someone laying on the ground to my immediate left—right near where the living room began—about 10 feet from where I stood in the doorway.
It was John Cavness.
“What happened?!” I asked loudly. There was high tension in the air, which was almost tangible. No one was answering me. I saw the kitchen drawers opened. A few utensils on the floor. A whisk. A few kitchen knives. I looked back at John. He was gasping. There was a pool of blood on the floor around his head. Ludwick was kneeling down at his head now, on both knees. I assumed he was trying to do something to help him.
“He’s still breathing. I’ve got to finish this!” He shouted, with clear determination.
The whole scene was unfolding so quickly, I couldn’t make out what was going on. As soon as I registered what Ludwick was doing, with what he just said…
HE’D DONE IT. I was frozen. I could not believe what I was seeing at this moment. Was I dreaming? If this was real—& I still wasn’t completely sure—I was watching the most violent scene I’d ever seen in real life. I’d awakened to a living nightmare.
Ludwick had grabbed hold of John’s head, holding it still, & slashed across his throat with what appeared to be a long kitchen knife. He just killed him. My God! At first, I thought he’d had a bad fall & Ludwick was trying to stop the bleeding. I hadn’t even had time to blurt out if someone called 911 when Ludwick had slashed his throat & I turned my head... I couldn’t watch any of it!
How did he get on the floor? Where was Kotaska? I was just too drunk to evaluate & know what was best to do. I looked around in unbelief but tried to stay calm… This was something I did know I had to do: STAY calm.
I saw Kotaska moving around in the living room now...just as Ludwick tossed the knife in his hand across the kitchen floor where the other utensils were laying. It was a kitchen knife. One of those serrated ones.
“Hey.” Ludwick looked at me. “Put all those in the sink.” Pointing to the two or three knives & whisk, which were right below where the sink was. I did. I knew this was partly seeing on who’s side I was on at that point. He’d already done the act of horror. Now it was how I was going to react. I knew that much. Ludwick didn’t seem as drunk as I thought he’d been. Was it an act? Or had he all sobered up with all the adrenalin? Nothing was for certain. My instincts said to cooperate in my drunken state. There was NO way I could defend myself if it came down to fighting Ludwick or Kotaska—& certainly not both. That’s how heavily intoxicated I was.
To this day, I know, without a doubt, if I hadn’t acted as I did—by staying calm—in that moment of ultra-violence...I’d most likely died in the same fashion as John Cavness. It’s the only reason I’m alive today.
John died a horrific death…& right then, as a living witness to that very act—I found myself at the mercy of one—or two—just mere acquaintance(s) turned killer(s). What’s my best option—if not SHOW these two, that I’m not a threat to them...NO threat whatsoever? I can hardly walk straight. I was the witness to survive this. I survived to tell “exactly” what happened. Yes, not just for John’s sake & his family—but for the experience to be understood as well. I had not had a clue about how I was going to get to that point. Not yet. But until the time came when I could safely explain all—I was going along for the ride…& maybe I’d find out what led up to the actual murder—& who did what—along the way.
* * *
“We’re taking his pick-up,” Ludwick said, matter of factly. “Just lay down in the back of the cab. We got this. We’ll be out in a minute.” I knew he wasn’t that drunk now. But he knew I was. Looking back to that moment, & discovering later that he did all this spontaneously—I also knew Ludwick not only made sure I wasn’t a threat but believe he knew how really intoxicated I was & the position he’d put me in. I was right. I would have to ride this out...as far as I needed to.
“I’ll be in the truck,” I replied. Then, I thought about going out the back door. John’s body was laying across the kitchen floor, at a narrow spot just before the living room. I’d have to step over his dead body or around his head at the narrowest of spaces between him & the wall. Ludwick saw my hesitation…
“Your bag’s in the living room…& I already pulled the truck around to the front.” Ludwick said.
No getting around this one. I chose the small spot near John’s head—& walked into the living room. It was clear now what Kotaska was doing. They weren’t just here to kill someone. Whether Ludwick &/or he planned it—or not—Kotaska was unplugging & stacking stereo equipment. My bag was on the carpet in front of the coffee table, with the contents laying around it. (The hammer! He’d used the hammer… Hillary’s hammer.) Still, in utter shock & heavily intoxicated, I mechanically gathered up the contents & put it all back in my bag & started towards the door. The truck’s door was already open...keys in the ignition? Nope. It was clear, Ludwick wasn’t taking any chances. I’d be watching every step. For a while.
* * *
We were definitely driving to Chase’s. All of our belongings were there. I was getting genuinely nauseous from the drive back. Could they possibly let me stay? I knew I would be about to vomit as soon as we stopped. Now, this was no act! When we arrived at Chase’s, I went straight for the bathroom & did just that...then took water from the faucet to rid my mouth of all that acidic alcohol aftertaste.
I collapsed on Chase’s bed, still hoping it was all just a bad dream. Could I stay? I didn’t think it was possible. No. They’d made my mind up for me. Ludwick—or both of them—weren’t leaving me behind. No matter how sick I really was.
“Hey. We’re ready. I got your stuff already loaded for you.” Ludwick hinted. I got it. I knew. I pulled myself up once more & made a makeshift bed in the super-cab space—knowing it was going to be a very long ride...no matter where we ultimately stopped. Once on the highway it was smooth, unlike Austin streets. I was asleep for hours.
Destination unknown.
* * *
Somewhere along the way, I awakened & saw the passing road signs. We were headed west on Interstate 10 towards El Paso. Ludwick had made a quick stop at a mall attempting to make some purchases with John Cavness’ credit cards...with no success. He’d made clear then that we’d go to Los Angeles, with his sister there. Not any surprise, since he’d talked about her & the possibility of moving about a week ago. Just not like this! No matter what happened, L.A. was huge—& surely wouldn’t take long for us to get separated. Few days at most.
That opportunity came. I found someone in West Hollywood who’d offered me a place to recover as long as I needed. That was a huge relief. Kotaska had disappeared a few days before & I’d lost contact with Ludwick a few days after that. Now I had a secure place to rest & time to relax a little to gather my thoughts. Finally! Still, I didn’t know if I could share all with my new host—but I was considering it. What were my best options now? Go to the nearest police station? Call my parents? Consult with an attorney close by? Just wanted a few days to recover… maybe even only one.
* * *
It was not to be. I should have known how intense the authorities would be searching… The Texas Rangers & LAPD were hot on the trail. Ludwick’s sister was a prominent lead & it wouldn’t take long to recognize either one of us...with the help of the public. They’d tracked me down & took me to a local jail early one morning. This wasn’t one of the better options I had in mind. It was by far the worst. Only the fact I had distanced myself from Ludwick safely was positive. I’d have been better off walking into a police station on foot, to explain all best I could, & take my chances with that decision. It would be much harder now to find someone who would really listen...much less genuinely understand.
Who even wanted to understand. Given all...this was no simple proposition. But none of the better options mattered now… and never would. This reality hit me hard. I had been a hunted fugitive! A suspected murderer in the general public’s mind...no doubt. No different than Ludwick & Kotaska. My time had run out. I failed to consider this other side in all the chaos; too focused on what my next best step should be. My mind drifted back…
On that long drive, I’d asked if the hammer was used as I thought. Ludwick told how he hit him several times in the head before he fell. I said I didn’t know this was what he had in mind when he mentioned moving closer to his sister. He didn’t really respond to that…just said there was really nothing holding him down anymore & just didn’t care. I didn’t probe any further. Wasn’t even going to touch the subject of his father. I also wasn’t shocked to discover some empty pill bottles—actual prescriptions—with his name on them. Zoloft. I’d never heard of it. He said he’d stopped taking them. Couldn’t afford to fill it. Said he was bipolar. Something about hyperactivity. Moods were erratic. It wasn’t until years later, I’d begun reading more & more articles about side-effects of Zoloft…& psychotic breaks if dosages weren’t maintained/taken regularly once started. It all made sense. Just wish I’d known some of this BEFORE we’d met. I had NO IDEA he was a ticking time bomb!
* * *
Kotaska hadn’t assaulted John Cavness. From his testimony at his trial—along with a witness to Ludwick saying there was no plan, that he (Ludwick) had just decided to do it suddenly—it shows Kotaska found out what Ludwick was going to do only moments before the assault began. Kotaska had testified he was bisexual as well. I never saw any violent tendencies in him...but neither did I see any in Ludwick either. Why the whole Zoloft issue wasn’t considered a major factor in this entire case is still beyond me. These psychotic breaks were undoubtedly relevant, but I’d little knowledge of how criminal defense law worked. As I’d find out, disastrously very little.
* * *
As I sat waiting in jail, I knew this wasn’t the best of outcomes...but I’d explain all as it happened...the evidence would show the truth, no matter what the other two said—assuming they were caught as well. It would take longer & be no easy life, as they needed time to sort all out, but I had the truth on my side—& there was also zero evidence I’d had a hand in actually killing John Cavness. They’d understand my reasons for reacting the way I did, given the circumstances...before & after. They had to. That’s what all the science—the forensics—is for...to prove what actually happened. I wasn’t worried at all about being tagged with murder. I thanked God for that! I’d do time for something most likely...but not murder. Right?
WRONG. I didn’t know the criminal justice system...I had minimal run-ins with the authorities in the past—& nothing severe enough for prison. Just probation & no clear act of violence...EVER. Anyone who knows the “system”—knows exactly how naive I had been, in my willingness to cooperate from the start with the authorities. I was in over my head on this one…& had NO CLUE just how much…
* * *
I had been 100% open with the Texas Ranger & Austin Police detectives. About everything. Ludwick & Kotaska were far from friends. I’d known them maybe 10 days total before Ludwick made this life-altering choice; not just—and worst of all—for John Cavness...his family...his friends, but ALL of our families & friends as well. His included. Would I have told the truth if I’d have known him/them longer? Of course. He had brutally murdered an unexpecting & considerate man...in his own home. But the truth was, I didn’t know them much at all… & even if none of this happened, most likely never would. All three of us were on entirely different life paths…& I’d soon have my own place since I’d just gotten paid—the very DAY before the murder. What happened—what Ludwick chose to do—dramatically changed the course of all our lives. I knew that from the start, but not to the full extent to what I’d soon enough discover…
I didn’t just tell the police detectives all as it happened, I did so in GREAT detail...making their work essentially much easier for them…& that seemed the best option for myself as well. What possible good would it do to me if I did otherwise? Why make their work—their lives—more difficult than, I was sure, already was? The answer is complicated. It shouldn’t be...but it is…& you can sit down with any experienced criminal defense attorney & they will tell you exactly the same thing. Without going into a dissertation on how our criminal justice system has, in many ways, strayed from its ESSENTIAL & PRIMARY purpose—to exact a real sense of justice in society (i.e., providing the accused of meaningful legal process where he/she can defend their claimed innocence, in a fair hearing of the facts surrounding the matter), here’s a brief highlight on the famous (infamous?) Miranda warning BILLIONS have most likely heard in movies & so many police drama shows...but don’t really give much thought to what is really being said. It helps to emphasize portions of it…& do, please LISTEN...because you too may want to cooperate with the police as I did—after all, you want to do the right thing…& the truth will set you free, right? Sorry. It’s not such a perfect world. You just WANT to believe very much, that if it ever came down to YOU—justice would be done. Maybe it would...but, then maybe it wouldn’t. That is why the following is extremely important to understand—FOR YOURSELF. Justice is not always done quickly or fairly.
Errors can take DECADES to correct—if at all—& you may have to fight every day of your life for your freedom—on your own or with those closest to you...if you ever stand any chance of reclaiming your FREEDOM. Many choose not to spend a second...not a single minute even considering they’d fall through the cracks of the justice system. I’d like to believe, that if you’re reading this, you’re not one of them...but you & I know very well, most DO prefer to live oblivious to the very possibility. It is for them I ask that you share this story… for I am not alone. There are untold thousands serving decades in prison right now—in America—for crimes they never committed nor wanted any part of. In Texas, they call it the “Law of Parties”—so as of how the law is written… a person not committing the actual crime, as the person who did, can still be convicted & given the same exact sentence as the proven culprit. Despite this law being so highly unpopular—even despised—by judges themselves & anyone else knowing it’s actually common effect to exact injustice...this poorly constructed law, so irresponsibly written, remains the law in Texas & other States in similar forms.
As much as we tend, as a society, to so resist serious discussions—even with our families & friends, the dangers expressed here are real. Think of them as hidden, but always present. If all I can do is to prevent a few—even one—from having to spend decades in prison, all due to badly written, poorly executed State laws… then I will surely leave this world a better place than I came. So, I do ask—yes, at the very least share this...but also make an effort to discuss parts you honestly hadn’t thought about with them too. Chances are good that those closest to you haven’t either. Most importantly, understand this:
Did I know the Miranda warning? I thought I did. Many of us do. But, in truth, many really DO NOT. You’ve heard it countless times—maybe even can recite it. So, here’s why many of us don’t give it a second thought: When we know the facts are on our side...when we aren’t actually guilty of crime(s) we’re suspected or accused of...WE DON’T CARE about such warning. We aren’t setting out to commit a crime...so we don’t believe we need to heed such warning, much less invoke/use these rights! Do not make such mistake.
>>WRONG THINKING: `Okay, but if I’m silent—then it appears I’m not cooperating. I’ll look more guilty if I refuse to share/talk about what really happened!´
>>RIGHT THINKING: `Yeah...if it’s my RIGHT, then I can’t be penalized/punished for claiming/using my RIGHT. It’s in my best interest to consult a specialist in criminal law...an attorney...whom I also have a right to consult with.´
2. “Anything you say can & will be used against you in a court of law…”
>>WRONG THINKING: `Oh...this is for guilty criminals, so it doesn’t apply to me. If I tell them the TRUTH, it can be proven true, because of forensic science. The quicker I tell them the truth...the facts…, the quicker they can prove them & they’ll let me go!´
>>RIGHT THINKING: `WAIT. Anything? Can & will?? Yeah…NO THANKS! If the police are TELLING me every single thing that comes out of my mouth WILL be used against me in court (!!!)...I’ll be talking to my lawyer since he/she is the specialist. Thanks for the warning!!!´ (Just remember to choose your counsel wisely…)
* * *
So, that last one is KEY. They “CAN” use whatever you say against you because that’s the law...it’s LEGAL for them to do so. But they also say they “WILL” use what you say against you—to PROSECUTE YOU…which is also LEGAL for them to do. Is that right/ethical/moral for them to do? What do YOU think? Does it matter?
I’d say so!!...but until our State & Federal lawmakers AGREE that this legal sleight of hand is not, in practice, producing the desired effect in its intended purpose—make sure you exert your rights. No matter HOW innocent you are...or what small part you may have played—if you are arrested or a family member, friend or anyone else you care about is arrested, WAIT to talk to your attorney or encourage your loved one to do so if they are arrested near you. Only this one ACTION taken by you or your loved one has enormous potential to save you &/or them, along with everyone who cares about you, untold amounts of suffering...whether it be physical or emotional.
Remember: “Anything you say...WILL (not may!) be used against you…”
Yes, it’s called “lawyering up”. It’s your right. Use it. No matter what. If they penalize you in any way for using your right to remain silent & requesting a (or your) lawyer—it is THEY who have committed a crime…& if you can prove you were punished, your lawyer (or you) can & should file a lawsuit against the actual violators. If serious enough, they may be convicted of the crime committed (when/if found guilty beyond a reasonable doubt) as well.
The strong urge to explain & prove our innocence can be overpowering.
Don’t let it.
Save it for a specialist in criminal law. (It also wouldn’t hurt to find one you prefer & to have reviewed their background BEFOREHAND. You don’t have to retain them...just remember their name. It’s very cheap insurance...as it’s just your TIME to find one just in case you need one. It’s that or a court-appointed one! Not advisable! (Choose your own.)
* * *
My story is but one of the most extreme cases. Hopefully, it’s one most anyone can see that no matter how sincere you are...no matter how much you try to cooperate & state only the facts...it can all backfire & change the course of your life, beyond what you might ever think possible in this—supposedly—advanced age of enlightenment… Let’s not kid ourselves shall we? GOOD & BAD EXIST. We live with this truth every day. Every moment, in fact. We can strive for excellence & virtue—yes, live as an example for all to see...live out the values that benefit yourself & others—but perfection? In this life? We will always err—yes, even the BEST among us. (And the longer you live, the more you will know this.) Strive to be your best & find your Love. (Just ensure it doesn’t involve causing harm to others—in a real way, not just perceived!) This is, arguably, the best life we can live…& indeed—an enjoyable/abundant one. In leisure & adversity. For what is life without even some adversity? How else do we become stronger? More resilient? More able to help another through their period(s) of adversity?
* * *
I’d been taken to a smaller holding facility part of L.A. County Jail. Because of the massive size of Los Angeles, there are numerous such county jail “intakes”...& as I would soon find out, they’re also utilized for interrogating suspects.
The interrogation room was tiny. Maybe 12 feet long...but only four wide. If the design was intentional—to make it extra cramped & uncomfortable—it probably had its desired effect on the suspect(s) being questioned. I’d lived on aircraft carriers & was trained in the most cramped aircraft & transports, so this was more ridiculous to me...but I understood. The problem was the detectives...they didn’t understand. And in hindsight? I can understand that also. They deal with many of the worst of us, in some cases... the worst of the worst. Even at that moment...I got that. They didn’t know all that occurred & surely considered me hostile, uncooperative &/or someone who would say anything or nothing at all. I’m sure they’d heard it all… & more. They had their “ways” (tactics) & most likely were very effective in some, if not many, of these type cases—but, foolishly, I’d not be dissuaded.
I really could relate to their doing what worked for them—to better get the information they were looking for. I was always going to tell the Detectives what actually happened…& did...but I was destined to learn the hard way.
Here is why—no matter what—you FIRST talk to an attorney, before you ever open up to the police:
My first interaction at my initial interrogation was with the Texas Ranger on my case: Sal Abreo. He wouldn’t be doing the questioning, but it was clear he wanted to make a strong first impression. There were already two Austin Police Detectives--Gilchrest & Merrill--seated to my right along the small narrow table along the right wall as you walked into the room. So, Gilchrest was only a few feet from me while Merrill was seated behind him along the table. Merrill was plugging in & setting up a laptop computer when ranger Abreo walked in—literally squeezing past the other detectives—& positioned a chair, so he’d be facing me almost directly.
None of them had any issue with making eye contact…& neither did I. At the moment, I really was just ready to explain everything—but it was clear, they would ask the questions when & how they decided. The Ranger introduced himself & stated the other detectives would be the ones actually to ask about what happened & take notes...but he also had something he wanted me to consider…
“Can I call you, Ryan?” He asked. “It’s Ryan, correct?”
“Yes, sir. Ryan’s fine, if you prefer.”
“Ryan. Good.” He said, then drawing his chair a little closer to me. “Now, before Detectives Gilchrest & Merrill begin...I wanted to make sure we’re clear about something. Tell us what happened & things will go much easier for you.”
“Sir, “ I replied as he paused. “I have every intention to give you every detail I can recall about all that happened. You’ll be able to prove everything I share about everything. What happened was like a nightmare...it was just crazy—& I wanted no part of it. Sir, I wasn’t even awake when it all began. I’ll explain, Sir. I will. I understand your position, but, I was caught up in this whole thing too. You can confirm the truth of everything I say. Sir, I’m a veteran—I’m really on your side here. I hardly knew the guy who did this...maybe 10 days at most.”
“Okay. That’s fine.” Abreo held up a hand. “Relax. I’ll be out of y’alls way in a second.” He added, as he glanced at Detective Gilchrest & slid his chair even closer to me. At this point, our knees were actually side by side, so not sure where all this was going…
Looking back at me, Abreo put his palms up so I could see they were empty—then said, “Let me see your right arm.” As he slowly went to grab my right elbow with his left hand & with his right pulled slowly on my right wrist. Okay… my arm was now stretched straight out. “What the…?” I thought.
“You know what you’re facing if you don’t cooperate, don’t you, Ryan?” He continued.
As he said this, he maintained his grasp on my wrist firmly—then moved his index finger of his other hand to the inside fold of my elbow. He started pressing down at where the visible vein was. He pressed firmly down on that vein several times, then finally let go of me. “Don’t you?” He said again, while still maintaining eye contact.
This was Abreo’s intimidation tactic. I, for sure, got it. But they still didn’t. So I tried again…
“Sir, I’m saying I will cooperate. You can use a lie detector test on me if you want. I really don’t mind if you like to do that. There’s no need to threaten me like that or try to intimidate me or whatever that was. I really didn’t kill anyone. I shook Mr. Cavness’s hand one time. That was it.”
“Well, we’ll see. The evidence won’t lie.” Abreo replied to me, as he got up. “I’ll see y’all later.” he added, looking at the other two detectives—then walking out.
* * *
After I’d explained as best I could what happened & answered every question Detective Gilchrest posed—even drawing a sketch of the murder scene for him—they both left & said they’d be back in about 15 minutes.
When they returned, Gilchrest presented a small stack of papers. It was the printout of what Detective Merrill had been typing what I told. It was much more than just notes. It was written in paragraph—narrative form. That was more than I expected. It was supposed to be all I had told them, just typed instead.
“We need you to read through this quickly & initial each page as you go, to show you’ve read them & think it’s pretty much what you told us. It’s needed to present to the L.A. judge so we can fly you back to Austin. Extradition requirement.” Gilchrest explained, tossing down a pen. They just sat there, like I was just going to take a minute & initial the pages for them.
As I read through several pages...I looked up at them periodically...not believing how poorly it was written. Honestly. If they wanted a written statement from me, I would have written it myself—& told them the same. It was that bad. While I understood that many—possibly a majority—of suspects they question aren’t literate, I assured them I could write an accurate statement in my own words & it would only take me a few hours to do it. When I said this, they both looked at each other—then Gilchrest turned back to me to answer.
“Look. It doesn’t need to be perfect right now. Anything you see that we need to fix, we’ll do that when we get you back to Austin.” He assured.
And I bought it.
Many don’t know this, but it’s the absolute truth...research if you want: It is 100% legal for the police to LIE to suspects & unless you can find new law in the United States saying otherwise, this remains true. It’s certainly one more reason (if not the most important) to not speak to the police if you’ve been arrested or even if you’re a possible suspect.
* * *
I initialed the pages & after a few months in L.A. County jail, I was flown back to Austin...but there would be no re-write. It wasn’t until I consulted with my lawyer that I really started to understand…& it doesn’t matter how outrageous it is. This is REAL. You just need to know this & don’t assume those closest to you know it...it only takes a few minutes to have a heart-to-heart with those you love, just to make sure they do. At the same time, they really will know you sincerely care for them. These days, we need more of that(!)...(That’s for sure.)
It needs to be said, that this kind of questionable tactic CAN be valuable in some exceptional situations. There are career criminals that know the law well...some know it better than some of the best police officers! They know how to “game” the system to their advantage in many & various ways. With few exceptions, however, a very good/skilled police officer...especially experienced detectives...will know when they are dealing with an experienced criminal or not.
If ALL the evidence was clear...that I had committed the murder or revealed I had assisted in bringing it about, then I could relate to some zealous—overeager—police work. Anyone should get that. This? This is not one of those cases. The actual evidence would show—& did prove—that Ludwick had murdered John Cavness…& after he was, in fact, convicted...he publicly admitted to it. One such instance has been published in the HOUSTON CHRONICLE, as reported by Lindsey Wise:
...Even after incarceration, Ludwick continued his criminal activities for years.
He joined a gang, rose through the ranks, and sold drugs and cell phones to
other inmates… Ludwick was convicted of killing the 43-year-old (John)
Cavness during a robbery by hitting him at least 10 times on the head with
a hammer and slashing his throat…
“When I had first become a Christian, I still had doubt that God forgave
me for what I did,” Ludwick said. “What I did was so terrible. How could
he forgive me?”
—December 9, 2011
And if Ludwick’s Christian faith is truly genuine, Christ does forgive him. His life is certainly not irredeemable. Ludwick may even accomplish great things in his life. He’s paying the price for his `terrible´ crime—as he, himself, called it. We can only hope he lives out his faith & finds his meaning & purpose—for his sake & ours. All this is settled. Ludwick committed the crime…& he’s doing his time. The police got their man.
Such murder is a travesty...but another travesty was committed in attempts to bring some semblance of justice & relief to the family & friends of the late John Cavness. In zealous fervor to bring “justice” on the guilty...they, themselves, committed an incredible injustice on an innocent.
“It is better that ten guilty persons escape than one innocent suffer.”
William Blackstone (1723-1780)
How many innocents have suffered for the crimes of another—not as their intended/chosen victims, but as unsuspecting acquaintances or bystanders who became a party to the crime, not by choice, but because of how a law was written & passed by lawmakers? How many? Untold thousands. Many of whom are still living behind bars today…
* * *
The same statement I initialed, is the very same statement presented to the jury...but more than that, the same was treated as if it was some unquestionable/sacred text—throughout the entire legal process, including every appeal. Despite my reasonable protests, it continued to be attributed as my very own statement...even though Mr. Robert Merrill most likely will have no issue telling you that he wrote it. One that at best is a crude/loose version of what I shared with him & his partner, Detective Gilchrest, at the time. So why not allow me to just write my own statement, when I was the one who was there when the horrible murder took place? Allow me to present how everything happened in my own words?
After 20+ years in prison, at the time of this writing—it’s still a question that has not brought a truly reasonable or rational answer. There should be NO reason why I could not have written it. Instead, the false version was used as the primary basis for rendering a final decision on my guilt or innocence--for murder.
You can find & review this statement easily online. Just search Hanson v. State, 03-00-103-CR. There’s been many who openly share..that they don’t think they would have made it as far as I have. My answer is...you don’t know what you’re capable of until you have to go through something like this. It’s hard to relate to someone who says they couldn’t survive one day in a prison or jail cell—guilty or innocent. What happens is, you’d have more time to THINK about what’s important to you. What do you truly value? If your life’s near entirely dependent on material pleasures—the things you possess, consume, &/or actively participate in...then you’ll definitely find it an extreme adjustment! You may come to the realization that you didn’t even KNOW what you truly valued…& you would spend each day—as tricky as they might be—answering that profound
question…& if honest with yourself—become more true to who you really are & be able to know others better as well. It truly is about the journey. And of course, you’d have plenty of time to read…& write. You don’t know what you might really do—if you’re intent is to create something of value. So, no, I encourage you to not ever think you couldn’t survive a place like this...you might even find a way to thrive in some ways…& maybe you’d contribute something—perhaps many things—of lasting worth.
“ The injustice done to an individual is sometimes of service to the public.”
Junius (1769-1772)
So don’t underestimate yourself. There’s a good chance you’re more resilient than you think. There’s also a higher chance you’ll never have to experience this for yourself(!), now that I’ve inscribed the Miranda warning not just into your head, but hopefully...on your heart.
* * *
Ask me what has been the most traumatic event that occurred in my ongoing story…& I’d say that’s hard to measure. What about the cumulative effect? And at this point, is any of it what matters most? It’s been well proven I can take a punch. (In more ways than one, obviously.)
What I, & many, believe is more important—is to notice just how easily we, as a society, have become able to disregard injustices around us—simply because we aren’t directly or indirectly affected. When individual miscarriages of injustice—such as grossly disproportionate punishments—are discovered, why is it in this day & age we can’t correct them in a reasonable way & time? Do we instead prefer to allow thousands caught in similar positions as mine—or worse—to be forced to survive in prisons across this country? I just can’t believe that. Can you?
What possible good does this do, other than the few —who are the exceptions—finding a way to contribute something of value to society—despite where they are? There are many that, sadly, are just not that strong.
Today, we have both the technology & networks able to reevaluate individuals’ histories more efficiently & in more detail than ever before. Why not utilize this improved ability we have in areas like this? Why not bring creative problem solving to expand alternative sentencing programs already proving to benefit our communities...especially when we can have near total surveillance with current technologies to monitor & track any person under supervision?
It’s always seemed more comfortable to maintain the status quo in society. But when a better way becomes obvious—even practical & preferable—should we not take it? These types of reforms are far from impossible...so where best to start? Identifying where injustices are done, in the name of justice—would seem to be an essential cornerstone to lay & build on. So that’s what we’ve done.
We’d all like to see immediate change...but we know better. Most all social change—especially involving government policy & officials—is a gradual process...but if you’d like to see the progress made in just the last decade(?) try entering some search terms like “Texas exoneration” or “Alternative Sentencing” & you’ll find plenty. (Texas isn’t the only...but it has had a large number of exonerations in recent years.)
* * *
With more & more becoming aware of the draconian mass incarceration trend, beginning in the 1980s & ‘90s, the more stories of those caught up in that tidal wave are becoming known. It was only a matter of time when this massive nationwide increase in the prison population would backfire on our communities & overall culture. When you build hundreds of thousands of new prison cells & consider the rest of the infrastructure required to maintain them...you also create a new kind of culture. Once in place, it’s a difficult one to reverse obviously.
Still, it’s necessary we continue this reversal. Anyone who remembers the 1980s will know better than anyone. Our technology & materials have improved (I dare say) at least five-fold. We have so many more options to serve our criminal justice needs now, than to just house/support the thousands upon thousands of men & women, who have years of proven good behavior, when they can well serve safely in our communities, in various ways, under strict supervision considering our current level of technological surveillance/tracking abilities.
How can this be argued against? If we’re really honest...there will be no argument. Do we even need prisons? Yes, just not as many… Prisons will always be required for the most unmanageable class of criminals—such as the ultra-violent & repeat sexual predators for example.
Just why we haven’t made faster progress isn’t pretty...overwhelmingly, there is still the majority of Americans that choose to look the other way. Prisons are usually off in the middle of nowhere. Far from population centers.
Out of sight...out of mind.
Facing our mistakes isn’t a painless proposition & when immense levels of investment have been committed(?)...it becomes more comfortable to look the other way. It’s a hard pill to swallow...but it does us much better to keep in mind:
Who enjoys having to face the harsher, unpleasant—even more repulsive—realities of our world? But, don’t we need to? ...or else how would we ever find solutions to them? How else did we make the progress we have made to this point?
EXACTLY.
* * *
Our mistakes, whether our own or as a society, are to be learned from. They are not without value—we need to remember—just like adversity forges our character...to strengthen us. It’s part of our imperfect nature. Once we really understand this...you’ll never be afraid of failing—because you know it’s just an essential part of life. We’re just getting better.
“Not everything faced can be solved...but
nothing will be solved without being faced.”
— James Baldwin
You’d be surprised…if you haven’t discovered already...how many just snap out of the haze—the confusion—of what they allowed their lives to become these days when they finally come to grips with the above. Distractions & diversions abound today as never before…& yet we still have responsibilities to fulfill. As I began my story, I touched on this: our routines...our comfort zones. It’s easy to lose sight of the BIG PICTURE...the larger world at work.
Because we are individuals...on this planet, we are just one out of the billions, in fact...we easily fall for a common misconception: that we can’t make a truly significant difference, being only one person.
It’s just not true.
We need to recognize that. Always.
Your choices? Your actions? They can be profound...even though it won’t be so apparent in the beginning. (Rarely.) Just do what you know should be done… not for attention… not for praise or thanks from others… but because it’s the right thing to do. It doesn’t matter how small or seemingly insignificant you think or feel it is.
A fire begins with the smallest spark…
* * *
I recently heard this unrelated but still remarkable & true story as well—to make the point:
In a small middle-class neighborhood within Los Angeles, Meghan had a social studies assignment at school: watch some commercials on TV & focus on the “messaging” to discuss in class.
At 11 years old, Meghan noticed an Ivory dish soap advertising saying, “Women are fighting greasy pots & pans.”...& she knew it wasn’t right. Men wash dishes too. But what could she do about it?
Meghan told her father about it later that day & he encouraged his daughter to write some letters. And she did. She wrote directly to Procter & Gamble—who produced the soap—as well as other well-known women who might feel like her.
She wrote: “So I was wondering if you would be able to change the commercial to `people´.”
And about a month later, she saw the same commercial one day but heard the voice on the TV say, “People are fighting greasy pots & pans.”
It was then that Meghan realized the enormous impact of her actions. As should we all.
And sure… while no earth-shaking achievement, the message was significant—reaching millions of viewers. Meghan’s story, alone, will continue to inspire us all…& not just little girls everywhere.
The girl? We know her as Meghan Markle. Princess Meghan now… Duchess of Sussex.
What may seem small to you, might turn out something truly inspiring to someone else…& you never know where their lives may lead because of it. What will your letter say?
* * *
Maybe you needed a little encouragement in your own adversity or challenge… Perhaps this was the spark you needed… &/or you know someone right now that needs one…
And perhaps you’ll join us on our journey too…
For this very day, I still remain in the—often unspoken of—depths & notoriously draconian conditions… of the Texas state prison system (as compared to States & countries which long ago adopted improved environments & rehabilitation methods—proven to return better educated/able men & women back into society.)
For whatever reason, despite being the Great State of Texas in many areas...it has lagged in Criminal Justice Reform & remains known as one of the very worst in civilized society—when evaluated as a whole. It doesn’t take long for anyone to research & verify this unfortunate reality in our world today… & it is from this small closet-size cell where I write this message-in-a-bottle to you--& hold on...day to day.
* * *
Stone walls do not a prison make
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent & quiet take,
That for a hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free;
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.
— Richard Lovelace
(1618-1658)
Don’t let this world’s growing pains
suppress your unique insight…
You may hold a valuable key.
No matter where you are, I welcome you to join us… so together we can better share our extraordinary stories & Love—which so many need—especially in these fast-changing times.
We look forward to hearing from & meeting you!
Be blessed,
Ryan Hanson
US Mail: 12071 FM 3522 #904909
Abilene, TX 79601
Email: [email protected]
Fine Artist, Author, Proud American and Wrongfully Convicted Prisoner
About Me
Whatever brought you to our page, we are hoping that one day soon to have a special event where we can all meet everyone that met us here & joined us on this journey we're now on...
So, until then: Hello, my name is Ryan Hanson. Over the years I’ve grown to become a problem solver at heart—helping others with personal issues or hashing out more complex political ones. I also love to snow ski, waterski and play golf with family and friends. As a family, we love each other very much & so it would seem life is good for us, right?
All this is true... except for a tragic twist.
I’m serving a Life sentence for a murder I never committed...a murder that a judge & jury know was committed by someone else. This sounds impossible... but it is real. For now over two decades, I have been in a Texas prison due to a controversial law known as the "Law of Parties", which allows for the prosecution of those who had & wanted NO part in crimes committed by others, but who were there at the scene when they took place.
It is beyond words...how impossible to fully express the emotions—to be separated from family and friends this way—but we still do our best to share our journey & have written out my story so more will understand how this really can happen to ANYONE. You'll get to know me & (so important!) be better prepared to avoid the darker side of the broken parts of our legal system—& help your loved ones avoid them as well.
Please read my story below, to fully understand.
I have ONE mindset: Constant learning to help solve REAL problems & encouraging others to NEVER give up in the face of adversity…
Author
of
US Money Matrix Exposed: A Patriot's Guide of Essential Knowledge for Restoring America to Honor
Art
https://www.hansoncollection.com
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My Story
With every moment...our lives unfold. Each day arrives anew—no matter how similar the next feels from the last. Most of us welcome routine. Our daily routines are nurturing environments, where we hone our unique talents, to thrive & enrich our communities within—giving us a mostly stable & familiar territory. To live & work...in relative safety…& hopefully with a real sense of enjoyment & comfort.
We’d also prefer to avoid, altogether, those experiences & bad actors that just might bring us up close & personal with the most callous & ruthless behaviors of humanity we know exist...hoping never to be the relatively rare few who actually become any part of them.
The problem is...it is IMPOSSIBLE for all to escape this real-life reverse Lottery.
For those whose numbers are chosen...life takes a new—often tragic—meaning & purpose.
And that is most assuredly an understatement.
The following is a true account of just how quickly a series of events can turn, to come face-to-face with just such an act of unconscionable human cruelty—& the aftermath that continues…. decades later:
Even though I hadn’t seen much of Austin—the times I had, visiting my sisters attending the University of Texas (UT) there, led me to consider the smaller city feel to our hometown… Houston. With my youngest sister, Allison, still enrolled—it sounded like as good a time as any actually.
Giving it some serious thought, I decided my best path was to simply transfer the course credits I’d already earned at Houston Community College over to Austin Community College (ACC). The idea was to complete my two-year Associate’s degree with ACC & then transfer/enroll at UT for continued studies toward earning a Bachelor’s degree—just as my sisters had earned there.
Allison liked the idea also & soon assisted with my move by finding temporary housing for me, while I sought out stable employment anywhere I could find it—& until I could locate a more comfortable apartment closer to campus. It was the summer of 1997 & soon I finally found a job I could handle along with my studies—even as a full-time student. In the fall, however, I made a mistake… My employer, Amy’s Ice Cream, offered extra shifts if we wanted to volunteer for them. I signed up for one that fell on a weekend & forgot about it. I simply hadn’t put it on my calendar back at my apartment! Amy’s had a three-month probationary period for new hires, so they made the decision to terminate me for the scheduling conflicts I had been responsible for. Without receiving some minimal notice as afforded to post-90-days employees, I knew I needed to start immediately looking for new employment—or I’d never be ready for the spring semester at ACC!!
It was during this period, searching for a new job when we had an unusual late-fall cold-snap. I remember it vividly. The wind had picked up & the temperature had dropped so fast & hard; it was hard not to take notice. Stopping at a corner convenience store that night, I passed by a young couple shivering just outside near the entrance. Still there after I exited the store, they asked if I had any change to spare. This was not unusual; at least from what I’d seen since arriving & living so near to the UT campus—Austin had a considerable homeless community...especially young adults of near my age & more youthful. I was 24.
With the wind biting & the cold dropping closer to freezing, I felt I could do better than what spare change would do for them that night… I asked if they had a place to stay, noting the crazy cold front coming through as well. They shook their head. No...they didn’t. I shared that I had a small room—not much—but good heat if they wanted it for the night. They appeared sincerely thankful & said so—which was good—as I would have changed my mind if they hadn’t most likely. It would be crowded for sure, but not all so bad. I rented an “efficiency-type” apartment. I shared a small shower/sink/toilet with one of my neighbors, which we both had a door to & could lock—accessible in the back corner for each room. Entirely fitting our tiny spaces! You get what you pay for, right? It was okay; had all I needed as a single student & it’s a former campus dorm housing MADE for students anyway. You just couldn’t use your own bathroom if you tried to go…& found it locked! Odd...but tolerable.
I was breaking my lease agreement by letting them stay...but it was one night & I took the risk. I explained this to both of them & they agreed to be out before daylight—before few, if any, would notice them leaving...especially the landlord. It was actually the first opportunity I’d had to help anyone homeless like this & I thought `What’s the worst that could happen?´. Surely if it became known, the landlord would bring a stern warning. Right? He would SURELY consider the unusually cold night. Well...I hoped. Regardless, I believed it was the right thing to do & they didn’t act suspicious or appear threatening, dangerous, etc.
Only blocks away from UT campus, there were always a good number of homeless—often panhandling—but still mostly friendly despite their living condition. Even if the couple I’d taken in for several hours turned out to be grifters (or worse), they were about to see my scarce possessions wouldn’t go for much at any pawn shop! They were fortunate I had a few extra blankets (!), which I handed them as soon as we came in & removed our coats to the room’s inviting heat. They did have ONE surprise for me: Her boyfriend shared that they were heroin users/addicts & said both needed to “shoot up” to relax their nerves—otherwise, they couldn’t fall asleep. I sure didn’t approve but with the calmness & sincerity in the way he explained—it made perfect sense, & they would do it regardless of whether I asked them to leave or not. I’d never injected drugs—but wasn’t like I wasn’t a user myself from time to time...that’s just where I drew the line for myself.
They did their thing & were quickly asleep… Once convinced they were, I let go & nodded off myself after checking the alarm I’d set one more time. Feeling like I’d woken just a second later to the blaring beeps going off, I looked at the clock: 4:45 am. Both of my visitors were still snoring away—evidently under the spell of old Morpheus, having dosed just five hours before. I gently rocked the boyfriend’s shoulder & when our eyes met, I said, `It’s time.´ They only took a few minutes to put on their footwear & coats—thanking me again, he shook my hand & they were gone. I’ve not encountered them since then…&, sadly, wouldn’t be seeing one of them for sure. Not in this life.
* * *
During that week, I spent a few days away from my apartment. I was meeting new people, trying to network, hoping to find something other than telemarketing (!) for employment. Been there done that. (No, thanks!) While gone, I found out an incident had happened at my apartment & my landlord, along with a police officer, was looking for me about it. I knew I didn’t have anything illegal in my room, but I got there as soon as I could, regardless. I quickly learned, that the same couple I’d allowed to stay that one cold night...had entered my apartment through my back window while I was away. His girlfriend...had overdosed on heroin soon after. And died.
I answered the investigator’s questions just outside my door in the hallway, with the landlord standing right there with us. I shared everything...including why I did it. While I wasn’t in trouble with the Law, I was with my landlord. I’d obviously broken the terms of my lease—a solid basis for him to evict me. Caught up in the moment, I made a hasty decision. I had never liked to be the one to make things more difficult for those around me, if it was ever in my power… & sure didn’t want to be anywhere I knew I wasn’t wanted—like right then. With the Officer still there, I turned to the landlord & said that I’d be moving out that very night. I didn’t ask for even a few days to make suitable arrangements! Looking back, that was pretty short-sighted—I should have asked for a week. (At least!) He would have given that to me under the circumstances & eviction procedures would have taken far longer.
Bottom line: I just felt so bad about ALL of it...mostly because of having never been so close to death. Also, in my apartment. Accidents happen...but an overdose? I couldn’t help all the “What if’s?” from going around in my head. I should have been there. None of this would have happened. She could still be alive. We can’t know all of this for sure of course, but it’s what was going through my head… over & over.
So, yeah, I knew a few people I might be able to stay with, even if for only a few days…
Just a few blocks away actually. After explaining what happened, my new hosts agreed. So yes, somewhat ironically, I just became homeless myself...but thankfully I had a warm place to sleep. Temporarily. On their carpet. Hey, I’d slept on the ground in the Philippine jungles during my time in the Marines (yes, without a tent)—so this was the Four Seasons in comparison. It didn’t faze me. At all. Well, okay...just a little. They could relate though, & even shared small comforts with me...snacks, drinks, etc. In times like these, even small acts of generosity are HUGE...they may not make an impact on some, but they did on me.
I’ve been asked why I hadn’t reached out more to family a few times. In hindsight, I really should have. It came down to pride—though not the best kind. This latest incident was just compounded with all the rest of past mistakes I’d made. They weren’t life or death mistakes, but rather life-changing ones. You want to somewhat plan out your own path in life in your own way—at least that’s how I felt at the time...but life throws you curveballs...things happen & you have to go through them. You have to adjust to unfavorable—undesirable—conditions. Again, it didn’t too much phase me so much… It seems like a lot to many, but you’ve got to factor in that I’m a MARINE. I was trained in fast-changing situations. Very intense ones. We adapt & overcome. This is basic & ingrained in us. It’s why we don’t react & cope in the same ways average individuals do. So, yeah, I didn’t want to face the fact about my failure—as I saw it—with my family too...as I’d have to explain how the overdose of this young woman came about in my own apartment. Didn’t matter to me that I could prove I wasn’t even there or that they had, essentially, trespassed. My emotions had overridden my reasoning process. I decided this was my battle to overcome this time. I needed to go through this on my own. A lesson I would learn the hard way—so I would never repeat it. Ever. It would be a struggle...but just temporary. A month at most. And I’d do it without a family bailout this time...
With my temporary sleeping arrangements expiring, I’d, fortunately, found an improvement in accommodations with another acquaintance. Not too much further away from campus (maybe half a mile), “Hillary” had a one-bedroom with full kitchen & bath—& offered me the living room until I could receive my first paycheck & have enough to secure my own place again. I’d found what I thought a perfect job at Texas French Bread close by. It was closing in on Christmas Holiday season & guess I applied at the ideal time—just when they needed extra seasonal workers to manage the usual pick-up in business. The training was enjoyable, considering I had some cooking/baking experience from home & school. Eventually, I settled into the night shift—which I preferred. I could sleep during the day when Hillary was in classes—& work at night when he was home. Nights were less hectic than days at the bakery too. It was a great routine. Finally, I thought, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel with this whole ordeal!
* * *
Pffffffffft!!! So much for that!!! Yeah… Hillary decided he would be dropping out of school & moving...to Boulder, Colorado. He said I had about a week—& also welcomed me if I wanted to go with him. I really considered the possibility, but I’d JUST settled into work & would be paid in less than two weeks. I’d have to start all over in Boulder & had no idea if the bakery would mail my check if I did. Could I even cash it with out-of-state I.D.? I’d be penniless until I could.
No. As much as I’d always wanted to settle in Colorado eventually, this wasn’t the time. Having the UT experience & education was too strong a draw & I had a perfect job—one I could even advance with into management, especially with a degree. Tempting...but no.
I just had to stick it out a few more weeks & I’d be in a great place. Good job. Regular income. Secure housing. Ready to enroll for the Spring semester. All was just within reach. NOW, I just had to find someone to stay with for maybe ONE week. That’s it. If I had it...I’d just take over paying Hillary’s rent—but was a bit out of my range (by a few hundred bucks a month).
The next day, right after I’d finished my shift, I was off again… and the best place to spot anyone I’d met so far? Take a walk near campus. To “The Drag”...Guadalupe Street. It’s a most popular hang-out with lots of traffic. All day long. Didn’t take but maybe one hour & I recognized a guy I’d met at a recent house party, at a friend of Hillary’s, in his apartment building. I mentioned it & he remembered. (It had only been the week before.) I was straight with him, explaining my situation & he knew, exactly where I had been staying too. He said, sure, I could stay for a week—as his roommate was still out-of-town for Winter Break from classes. I thanked him profusely & assured him I had a job & wasn’t just freeloading...in fact, I could provide leftover baked goods from work they let us take home, after our shifts, if we wanted any. Deal. I was set until payday! HOPEFULLY.
The name of my new newest benefactor? David Ludwick.
* * *
When he shared his place was a two-bedroom apartment, I expected it would most likely have even more space than Hillary’s. Not so. After walking in, I could see it was close to same floor space—with just smaller rooms. That wasn’t a big shocker, nor was another person who was there when I arrived with my belongings. Ludwick introduced him as Chris. Christopher Kotaska. I wasn’t the only person Ludwick was allowing to stay at his apartment while his roommate was away. They both were accommodating & I shared I had the night shift at work, so all was understood. Kotaska was definitely a smoker...of cannabis. Also not a shocker. It was quite common almost everywhere since I’d arrived in Austin, to be honest. More than I’d heard it was actually.
The only effect it really had on me was to make me drowsy & extra relaxed...so, if I ever needed a sleep aid (!) & it was offered—I accepted it. Unless I was employed where I had random drug testing that is. This definitely came in helpful when I came in from work in the mornings… I’d bring some pastries, leftover from work, & Kotaska would offer his smoke & I’d be fast asleep within 30 minutes.
This continued to be the routine for about a week. My day of relief was within a handbreadth! I hadn’t spent a lot of time getting to know either Ludwick or Kotaska. They seemed to be occupied with their own lives. I certainly wasn’t the center of their attention—& never expected to be. I just had this spot on the couch with a blanket—& thankfully a hot shower—until my next work shifts. From what we had shared, Ludwick worked part-time at a print shop nearby. Kotaska was a drifter...he hadn’t been in Austin very long himself—in fact, had arrived only recently from a State up north.
Suddenly I noticed I was seeing Ludwick more. He became more talkative too. Talked about maybe moving to California where his sister lived in L.A., mentioned his father also...who Ludwick used to live with, in D.C. if I remember correctly. It was around that time he shared he quit his job & shared he was going to “skip” his rent. He was moving out! He wanted to do this before his roommate got back… I had no idea his situation was close to being as precarious as my own. One thing I could do is relate to him, so instead of starting to search for another place I could crash for a few days—I attempted to be helpful & talk through his options. He said he would figure something out, but thanked me anyway. I asked how long I had before he would be out. He said about three days. Okay...not great. I needed around five...maybe six!
About two days later, Ludwick let me know he’d found a place & also asked if I could help him with something. Obviously, I felt in his debt for the days of the shelter he provided...so I wondered how I could help? Ludwick showed me a blank check made out for a few hundred dollars or so, that had his roommate’s name & their apartment’s address on it. Ludwick said he didn’t have valid I.D. to cash it & if I did—could I do it?
I looked at the bank on the check. It was like three blocks away! If there were funds in his account & check was valid, I didn’t mind. Worst they could do was not cash it, so I told him, `Let’s go.´
He wrote my name in as the `payee´ on the blank line & we made the five-minute walk. I presented the check with I.D., and after a few minutes, they declined to honor (cash) it. So we left. On the way back he shared that he’d hoped he could have something to give “Chase”...something for letting him stay at his place for a while. He said he found a place to stay, about a mile away. His name was Chase Coulter. Turns out Ludwick was as broke as I was!
He did say he had a Lone Star Card—it was a State issued debit card for those eligible for food purchase assistance—and would stock Chase’s refrigerator & pantry at the very least. I’d never seen such a card but heard about some change from actual food stamps (that looked like paper currency) to a card that was automatically loaded with a set dollar amount each month to its holder who had benefits for food assistance. Still, it was an excellent way to offer Chase something for his hospitality without ready cash.
As we walked back, I also had to at least ask if there was any possibility I could stay a few days with them at Chase’s place. Ludwick had no idea. I hadn’t approached him about it until then, so he never mentioned me to Chase. He’d ask about it though. In the meantime, I needed to get some sleep as I had my next shift approaching…
The next day, we moved our things to Chase’s. Ludwick had to get a key from him as he was still at work, so we stopped at the studio where he was. He went in, got the key, and we went off to his apartment. It was a small one-bedroom, but spacey enough. The living room was much bigger than Ludwick’s former place, which was good—as there would be three of us in it! After getting our things in, all three of us went to an H.E.B. grocery store within walking distance, & Ludwick maxed out his card getting as much food as he could. I helped put away the groceries & when done Ludwick & Kotaska said they had to go somewhere for a while & that I should stay in case Coulter came back.
I had to get some sleep anyway as I’d been up all night from working the previous one—so I locked the door once they left & crashed on the couch within minutes. I woke up just a few hours later to the door opening. It was Chase. This was somewhat awkward—as this was his apartment & we’d not met in person yet. I introduced myself & thanked him on behalf of all of us...also mentioning the groceries Ludwick just purchased. He was very modest & hospitable...considering all! Not sure I would be so generous with strangers, so he must have known Ludwick very well to do this for him. I didn’t think I’d be able to get back to sleep with this whole new situation evolving… I knew I had another shift that night too.
Chase was gay. Quite sure he knew I wasn’t since he mentioned he knew two very outgoing women my age just downstairs in the apartment below.
Chase knew “Hannah” very well & she had a close friend visiting her, both single. Chase was quite social & he suggested we might all get together & “party” that night. From then on, the hours just flew by. Ludwick & Kotaska returned, & we all sat around talking. Next thing I knew Hannah & “Tisa” joined us from downstairs. (I definitely wasn’t getting any sleep now.) I enjoyed Hannah’s company & we talked all night almost exclusively… The smoke was passed plus drink—& as amusing as it was, I was exhausted. There was NO way I could make it through a work shift! Hannah understood perfectly & even offered to call me in sick. I’d never called in sick before, so I agreed—it was about the only option available! She called in & I’m sure she could see I turned a bit more relaxed...I could hardly keep my eyes open...so we talked in bed & she even offered a ride to get my check & cash it at the bank. At some point, she must have noticed I was drifting off. I remember seeing her set the alarm clock and thinking, `Maybe I wouldn’t need to find my own place after all...I wonder...would Hannah like to share the rent? Maybe this is too much too soon, though? Yeah...we only just met´. It was too early to tell, but it felt good to have reached the end of this whole debacle… & what seemed like a great new beginning also. Ever had one of those days that couldn’t come fast enough? For me, that day had just begun...but it would not be the one I hoped nor ever imagined it would be.
* * *
Tisa dropped Hannah off at work & stopped at my bakery so I could grab my check...then we were off to the bank. Took about 15 minutes with the line, but there wasn’t a problem. It was a few hundred & change. All was pretty up in the air now… `Should I wait to talk to her or just go get my own place?´ I thought. I was still working on little sleep, so THAT was my priority really. I thanked Tisa & went right back to sleep at Chase’s place. Whatever else could wait. I needed catch-up Z’s…
* * *
Ludwick came through the door around noon. I woke up as soon as I heard the door close. He saw I was up & inquired if I had handled my check issue. I said, `Oh yeah. Finally.´ He replied that that was great & proposed we all go to Sixth Street downtown since it was Saturday night. `Sixth Street´ was common parlance for downtown Austin party central…College towns have their favorite social spots & Sixth Street was packed with bars, clubs, retail, etc. ready to cater the whole crowd—no matter your taste.
In case Ludwick was (wrongly) thinking I was ready to blow some stress off...along with some cash (!), I let him know: `Oh, no. I’ve got ZERO money for overpriced drinks. Thanks. But NO thanks.
He assured me I wouldn’t be spending a single DIME. And I said, `How’s that again?´
He knew the manager who was also a bartender at one of the bars...so, drinks were on him. I was off work that night, so sounded fine to me in that case! I hadn’t been to Sixth Street in months with the busy holiday work schedule, but all that was behind me now. So...why not? Victory lap here I come!
* * *
Ludwick, Kotaska & I left the apartment with a few hours of daylight left. It was warm for January & we could catch a city bus at some point, but I mentioned (keep the following in mind, as you’ll see later as very important) I wanted to stop by my old place (Hillary’s) to see if a few of my shirts I’d left were still there. Sure enough, Hillary’s home was open. He’d abandoned some of his own clothes & other odds & ends. He never was very tidy. I found my shirts where I’d left them & found a few tools he’d left along with a mason jar of nails, nuts & screws of many sizes also. This was just what I was looking for at Chase’s… I’d asked Chase if he had some wood glue or some small nails or tacks when I had been making some breakfast (more like brunch) earlier. I had noticed the veneer on the side of his counter had become unfastened. All I needed was some wood glue & tape to hold it until it dried, but Chase had not even a basic tool kit. Well, a tack or small nail would work just as well…& not a chance Hillary hadn’t left all this behind on accident.
I chose a few of the smallest nails & tacks I thought best, along with an old hammer—& put them in my small knapsack with my shirts. I’d fix that counter for Chase tomorrow. It was the least I could do for the few days he’d let me stay…….
*As we were getting closer to our “party destination”, there was no reason for me to go back to Chase’s place… only to bring back my knapsack… I took it with me just like almost everyone would have done.
I would be back after our night out within hours, to fix the counter for Chase.
RIGHT……………?
As we got closer to downtown, Ludwick mentioned it was a little early still; he didn’t think his manager friend would be there yet. Seeing a bar & grill across the street, we stopped in to get a beer & a few snacks. I still had no idea which bar we were headed to… I wouldn’t even know it even if I knew the name of it most likely. Sixth Street had a massive number of them.
After another hour passed, we continued down the street & Ludwick said,
“There it is.”
It had a rustic looking exterior on first glance. It certainly was a Country & Western-type bar.
“Western bar?” I asked as I noticed the bar’s signage:
RAINBOW CATTLE COMPANY
If my guess was right...this was the first Country & Western gay bar I’d ever heard of. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Yep!” Ludwick chuckled.
Some surprise. Not that it mattered that much… We came for the drinks—& it wasn’t the first gay bar or club I’d been to—so it wasn’t some big deal to me. We walked in, presented I.D.’s & they had a guest sign-in journal each of us signed…& thankfully, I saw a few pool tables. That would be fine. Probably keep any guys shooting me looks & pick-up lines to the bare minimum. We’d be there four to five hours max & I hadn’t played pool in a while; time would fly...especially after drinking a few. Hey...I wasn’t being vain. I was young & knew where I was. It was expected.
* * *
“Thanks for the advance notice,” I replied.
“Hey, I can’t help where he works,” Ludwick replied. “Come on, let’s get a drink & I’ll introduce you to the manager.”
I recalled in one of our brief conversations Ludwick mentioning his father revealed he was gay not too long ago...also that it was quite a shock to him (Ludwick), still being quite young when he told him. I assumed he, himself, was not…& I don’t recall ever asking him point-blank. I’d seen many photos of him with women at his apartment. Neither he nor Kotaska seemed at all to me of the type...but if they were, did I care? Would I be standing in a gay bar if I did? My father’s second wife’s brother was gay. I was a teenager when I met him. I’d been briefly employed at a gay bar.
There were ALL different personalities/character-types in the LGBT+ community. While I wouldn’t have chosen the place to drink & socialize myself...I sure wasn’t super uncomfortable or anything of the kind. And if Ludwick &/or Kotaska were gay/bisexual after all...it didn’t change anything for me. We were about to part ways soon anyways (so I thought), & to be honest, I didn’t see any blossoming friendship with either of them. I was really more focused on getting back on course with college, now that I’d have my own place again…& maybe by Monday most likely!
* * *
Actually, while it was a little odd to be seeing a significant number of men dancing in western wear (boots, hats & all…)—it was a very clean & professionally run establishment. Even though I was getting a few more `looks´ as it approached midnight, I was never harassed. Not once. It was a very polite & respectful clientele overall.
Ludwick introduced me to his manager/bartender/ex-coworker friend tending the bar & I accepted a drink he offered—along with some quarters for the pool tables. I played like maybe one or two with both Ludwick & Kotaska before they both seemed to drift more to the bar after no more than one hour. I played a few strangers, but I was just fine mostly having the table for myself nearly the entire night. I know I had drunk far too much though...probably had the equivalent of eight or nine mixed drinks by the time the Last Call was announced. Way too much.
I’d seen Kotaska & Ludwick sporadically throughout the night...mostly when I was walking to & from the restroom. There was a dance floor towards the opposite end of the bar, so that was undoubtedly the reason I hadn’t seen much of them. On one trip back from the restroom, I saw Ludwick approaching… going in for one of his own visits. I could very much tell he’d had more than a few drinks himself. He was smiling more & looser in his walking, but the speech wasn’t slurred too much...only slightly. He asked if I was good. I said, “Oh yeah. Sure. And you?”
“Great!” He almost yelled, due to the music getting louder & applause from the dance floor erupting for some reason. “You ready to knock off one of these queers or what?” He added, with a rather clownish smile.
I took this as some sort of his trying to make a BAD stereotypical joke, given the
context.
“Not funny,” I said. “I’ve been to gay bars before. Really, it’s fine. Thanks for the free drinks...but remember, don’t quit your day job. Oops, I forgot!” (Now, I attempted to be funny this time.)
“Also not funny!” He said, almost yelling again…& started walking to the restroom.
We were definitely very intoxicated. I didn’t give the stupid joke a second thought...I’ve heard immensely more inappropriate statements from people around me drinking—even in high school...but most recently in the Marines. FAR WORSE. I’ve been told that such a comment crossed a line that I should have paid more attention to. No. That’s a hindsight 20/20 thing… People say dumb, stupid, offensive things when drunk. This was no exception. It was tame from things I’ve heard & seen.
* * *
Patrons were beginning to leave. It was getting close to closing time...near 1 a.m. I was assuming we’d get a ride back to Coulter’s place by Ludwick’s bartender friend...that or grab a taxi. When the music stopped, the bar was really starting to clear out—so I started looking for Ludwick & Kotaska. Spotting them with someone a little taller than both of them—Ludwick turned & saw me as I approached, saying “Hey, Ryan… this is John...another friend I use to work with. John, this is Ryan...the guy I said was staying with me who works at that French bakery”. A quick & appropriate introduction.
“Hey, John.” As we shook hands. “Pleasure.”
“As well.” John returned.
Ludwick said we were going to crash at John’s place as it was pretty close by & there was plenty of space. Assured this wasn’t some complete stranger, I was okay with it. Falling to sleep would be NO problem with the amount of alcohol I’d had. I’d assumed we were all in the same shape, including David, as we gathered our things & jumped in a waiting cab outside.
We were in front of John’s small house within several minutes. When I walked through the door, I`m pretty sure he could tell I just wanted to call it a night. It was a home about the size of a decent two-bedroom apartment. Living room a little bigger than Chase’s. Well furnished.
John almost immediately opened a side-bedroom just past the living-room crossing into the kitchen & said, “You’re welcome to crash-out in here if you want.
There’s a bathroom in there too if you need it. Be my guest, really. It’s fine.”
“Thank you.” And I did just that, removing my shoes & pulling back the sheets—I laid down & was asleep within a minute. The few moments I was awake, the whole room felt like it was spinning. Yes, I’d had WAY too much to drink. I hadn’t drunk this much, since I was 19 in the service, at my first duty station: NAS Subic Bay. That was my last thought when I drifted into a deep sleep……
THIS was the John Cavness I knew. Hospitable. Considerate. Generous.
* * *
“Hey!.........HEY!!!!” was how I was pulled out of nothingness. Was I dreaming? I opened my eyes & saw someone standing in the lighted frame of the open bedroom door. Hoping it was a dream, I closed my eyes again, willing the vision away.
“HEY!!!!!!!!” I heard again. Okay, now I was up. The light was too bright, so I tried to focus harder as to who was in the doorway. Kotaska? “Come on, we’re leaving.” The figure commanded.
“I’m not,” I told him. “Go ahead. I’ll catch a cab later. Go without me.”
“Uh-uh. You don’t understand. We’ve got to go now!” He said with alarm.
“What is it?” I asked, pulling myself up on an elbow. He was acting like the place was on fire, but I heard no fire detector. Maybe there wasn’t one…
“Come on.” He insisted. “Get your shoes on, your bag’s out here.” Whatever it was, it was serious. The clock said 3-something a.m., so I hadn’t been sleeping but for maybe an hour or so. I wanted to go back to sleep so bad...but got up, slipped my shoes on & went to find out for myself what was so serious. The kitchen was right outside the bedroom door. As soon as I crossed into the light from the dark room, I saw someone laying on the ground to my immediate left—right near where the living room began—about 10 feet from where I stood in the doorway.
It was John Cavness.
“What happened?!” I asked loudly. There was high tension in the air, which was almost tangible. No one was answering me. I saw the kitchen drawers opened. A few utensils on the floor. A whisk. A few kitchen knives. I looked back at John. He was gasping. There was a pool of blood on the floor around his head. Ludwick was kneeling down at his head now, on both knees. I assumed he was trying to do something to help him.
“He’s still breathing. I’ve got to finish this!” He shouted, with clear determination.
The whole scene was unfolding so quickly, I couldn’t make out what was going on. As soon as I registered what Ludwick was doing, with what he just said…
HE’D DONE IT. I was frozen. I could not believe what I was seeing at this moment. Was I dreaming? If this was real—& I still wasn’t completely sure—I was watching the most violent scene I’d ever seen in real life. I’d awakened to a living nightmare.
Ludwick had grabbed hold of John’s head, holding it still, & slashed across his throat with what appeared to be a long kitchen knife. He just killed him. My God! At first, I thought he’d had a bad fall & Ludwick was trying to stop the bleeding. I hadn’t even had time to blurt out if someone called 911 when Ludwick had slashed his throat & I turned my head... I couldn’t watch any of it!
How did he get on the floor? Where was Kotaska? I was just too drunk to evaluate & know what was best to do. I looked around in unbelief but tried to stay calm… This was something I did know I had to do: STAY calm.
I saw Kotaska moving around in the living room now...just as Ludwick tossed the knife in his hand across the kitchen floor where the other utensils were laying. It was a kitchen knife. One of those serrated ones.
“Hey.” Ludwick looked at me. “Put all those in the sink.” Pointing to the two or three knives & whisk, which were right below where the sink was. I did. I knew this was partly seeing on who’s side I was on at that point. He’d already done the act of horror. Now it was how I was going to react. I knew that much. Ludwick didn’t seem as drunk as I thought he’d been. Was it an act? Or had he all sobered up with all the adrenalin? Nothing was for certain. My instincts said to cooperate in my drunken state. There was NO way I could defend myself if it came down to fighting Ludwick or Kotaska—& certainly not both. That’s how heavily intoxicated I was.
To this day, I know, without a doubt, if I hadn’t acted as I did—by staying calm—in that moment of ultra-violence...I’d most likely died in the same fashion as John Cavness. It’s the only reason I’m alive today.
John died a horrific death…& right then, as a living witness to that very act—I found myself at the mercy of one—or two—just mere acquaintance(s) turned killer(s). What’s my best option—if not SHOW these two, that I’m not a threat to them...NO threat whatsoever? I can hardly walk straight. I was the witness to survive this. I survived to tell “exactly” what happened. Yes, not just for John’s sake & his family—but for the experience to be understood as well. I had not had a clue about how I was going to get to that point. Not yet. But until the time came when I could safely explain all—I was going along for the ride…& maybe I’d find out what led up to the actual murder—& who did what—along the way.
* * *
“We’re taking his pick-up,” Ludwick said, matter of factly. “Just lay down in the back of the cab. We got this. We’ll be out in a minute.” I knew he wasn’t that drunk now. But he knew I was. Looking back to that moment, & discovering later that he did all this spontaneously—I also knew Ludwick not only made sure I wasn’t a threat but believe he knew how really intoxicated I was & the position he’d put me in. I was right. I would have to ride this out...as far as I needed to.
“I’ll be in the truck,” I replied. Then, I thought about going out the back door. John’s body was laying across the kitchen floor, at a narrow spot just before the living room. I’d have to step over his dead body or around his head at the narrowest of spaces between him & the wall. Ludwick saw my hesitation…
“Your bag’s in the living room…& I already pulled the truck around to the front.” Ludwick said.
No getting around this one. I chose the small spot near John’s head—& walked into the living room. It was clear now what Kotaska was doing. They weren’t just here to kill someone. Whether Ludwick &/or he planned it—or not—Kotaska was unplugging & stacking stereo equipment. My bag was on the carpet in front of the coffee table, with the contents laying around it. (The hammer! He’d used the hammer… Hillary’s hammer.) Still, in utter shock & heavily intoxicated, I mechanically gathered up the contents & put it all back in my bag & started towards the door. The truck’s door was already open...keys in the ignition? Nope. It was clear, Ludwick wasn’t taking any chances. I’d be watching every step. For a while.
* * *
We were definitely driving to Chase’s. All of our belongings were there. I was getting genuinely nauseous from the drive back. Could they possibly let me stay? I knew I would be about to vomit as soon as we stopped. Now, this was no act! When we arrived at Chase’s, I went straight for the bathroom & did just that...then took water from the faucet to rid my mouth of all that acidic alcohol aftertaste.
I collapsed on Chase’s bed, still hoping it was all just a bad dream. Could I stay? I didn’t think it was possible. No. They’d made my mind up for me. Ludwick—or both of them—weren’t leaving me behind. No matter how sick I really was.
“Hey. We’re ready. I got your stuff already loaded for you.” Ludwick hinted. I got it. I knew. I pulled myself up once more & made a makeshift bed in the super-cab space—knowing it was going to be a very long ride...no matter where we ultimately stopped. Once on the highway it was smooth, unlike Austin streets. I was asleep for hours.
Destination unknown.
* * *
Somewhere along the way, I awakened & saw the passing road signs. We were headed west on Interstate 10 towards El Paso. Ludwick had made a quick stop at a mall attempting to make some purchases with John Cavness’ credit cards...with no success. He’d made clear then that we’d go to Los Angeles, with his sister there. Not any surprise, since he’d talked about her & the possibility of moving about a week ago. Just not like this! No matter what happened, L.A. was huge—& surely wouldn’t take long for us to get separated. Few days at most.
That opportunity came. I found someone in West Hollywood who’d offered me a place to recover as long as I needed. That was a huge relief. Kotaska had disappeared a few days before & I’d lost contact with Ludwick a few days after that. Now I had a secure place to rest & time to relax a little to gather my thoughts. Finally! Still, I didn’t know if I could share all with my new host—but I was considering it. What were my best options now? Go to the nearest police station? Call my parents? Consult with an attorney close by? Just wanted a few days to recover… maybe even only one.
* * *
It was not to be. I should have known how intense the authorities would be searching… The Texas Rangers & LAPD were hot on the trail. Ludwick’s sister was a prominent lead & it wouldn’t take long to recognize either one of us...with the help of the public. They’d tracked me down & took me to a local jail early one morning. This wasn’t one of the better options I had in mind. It was by far the worst. Only the fact I had distanced myself from Ludwick safely was positive. I’d have been better off walking into a police station on foot, to explain all best I could, & take my chances with that decision. It would be much harder now to find someone who would really listen...much less genuinely understand.
Who even wanted to understand. Given all...this was no simple proposition. But none of the better options mattered now… and never would. This reality hit me hard. I had been a hunted fugitive! A suspected murderer in the general public’s mind...no doubt. No different than Ludwick & Kotaska. My time had run out. I failed to consider this other side in all the chaos; too focused on what my next best step should be. My mind drifted back…
On that long drive, I’d asked if the hammer was used as I thought. Ludwick told how he hit him several times in the head before he fell. I said I didn’t know this was what he had in mind when he mentioned moving closer to his sister. He didn’t really respond to that…just said there was really nothing holding him down anymore & just didn’t care. I didn’t probe any further. Wasn’t even going to touch the subject of his father. I also wasn’t shocked to discover some empty pill bottles—actual prescriptions—with his name on them. Zoloft. I’d never heard of it. He said he’d stopped taking them. Couldn’t afford to fill it. Said he was bipolar. Something about hyperactivity. Moods were erratic. It wasn’t until years later, I’d begun reading more & more articles about side-effects of Zoloft…& psychotic breaks if dosages weren’t maintained/taken regularly once started. It all made sense. Just wish I’d known some of this BEFORE we’d met. I had NO IDEA he was a ticking time bomb!
* * *
Kotaska hadn’t assaulted John Cavness. From his testimony at his trial—along with a witness to Ludwick saying there was no plan, that he (Ludwick) had just decided to do it suddenly—it shows Kotaska found out what Ludwick was going to do only moments before the assault began. Kotaska had testified he was bisexual as well. I never saw any violent tendencies in him...but neither did I see any in Ludwick either. Why the whole Zoloft issue wasn’t considered a major factor in this entire case is still beyond me. These psychotic breaks were undoubtedly relevant, but I’d little knowledge of how criminal defense law worked. As I’d find out, disastrously very little.
* * *
As I sat waiting in jail, I knew this wasn’t the best of outcomes...but I’d explain all as it happened...the evidence would show the truth, no matter what the other two said—assuming they were caught as well. It would take longer & be no easy life, as they needed time to sort all out, but I had the truth on my side—& there was also zero evidence I’d had a hand in actually killing John Cavness. They’d understand my reasons for reacting the way I did, given the circumstances...before & after. They had to. That’s what all the science—the forensics—is for...to prove what actually happened. I wasn’t worried at all about being tagged with murder. I thanked God for that! I’d do time for something most likely...but not murder. Right?
WRONG. I didn’t know the criminal justice system...I had minimal run-ins with the authorities in the past—& nothing severe enough for prison. Just probation & no clear act of violence...EVER. Anyone who knows the “system”—knows exactly how naive I had been, in my willingness to cooperate from the start with the authorities. I was in over my head on this one…& had NO CLUE just how much…
* * *
I had been 100% open with the Texas Ranger & Austin Police detectives. About everything. Ludwick & Kotaska were far from friends. I’d known them maybe 10 days total before Ludwick made this life-altering choice; not just—and worst of all—for John Cavness...his family...his friends, but ALL of our families & friends as well. His included. Would I have told the truth if I’d have known him/them longer? Of course. He had brutally murdered an unexpecting & considerate man...in his own home. But the truth was, I didn’t know them much at all… & even if none of this happened, most likely never would. All three of us were on entirely different life paths…& I’d soon have my own place since I’d just gotten paid—the very DAY before the murder. What happened—what Ludwick chose to do—dramatically changed the course of all our lives. I knew that from the start, but not to the full extent to what I’d soon enough discover…
I didn’t just tell the police detectives all as it happened, I did so in GREAT detail...making their work essentially much easier for them…& that seemed the best option for myself as well. What possible good would it do to me if I did otherwise? Why make their work—their lives—more difficult than, I was sure, already was? The answer is complicated. It shouldn’t be...but it is…& you can sit down with any experienced criminal defense attorney & they will tell you exactly the same thing. Without going into a dissertation on how our criminal justice system has, in many ways, strayed from its ESSENTIAL & PRIMARY purpose—to exact a real sense of justice in society (i.e., providing the accused of meaningful legal process where he/she can defend their claimed innocence, in a fair hearing of the facts surrounding the matter), here’s a brief highlight on the famous (infamous?) Miranda warning BILLIONS have most likely heard in movies & so many police drama shows...but don’t really give much thought to what is really being said. It helps to emphasize portions of it…& do, please LISTEN...because you too may want to cooperate with the police as I did—after all, you want to do the right thing…& the truth will set you free, right? Sorry. It’s not such a perfect world. You just WANT to believe very much, that if it ever came down to YOU—justice would be done. Maybe it would...but, then maybe it wouldn’t. That is why the following is extremely important to understand—FOR YOURSELF. Justice is not always done quickly or fairly.
Errors can take DECADES to correct—if at all—& you may have to fight every day of your life for your freedom—on your own or with those closest to you...if you ever stand any chance of reclaiming your FREEDOM. Many choose not to spend a second...not a single minute even considering they’d fall through the cracks of the justice system. I’d like to believe, that if you’re reading this, you’re not one of them...but you & I know very well, most DO prefer to live oblivious to the very possibility. It is for them I ask that you share this story… for I am not alone. There are untold thousands serving decades in prison right now—in America—for crimes they never committed nor wanted any part of. In Texas, they call it the “Law of Parties”—so as of how the law is written… a person not committing the actual crime, as the person who did, can still be convicted & given the same exact sentence as the proven culprit. Despite this law being so highly unpopular—even despised—by judges themselves & anyone else knowing it’s actually common effect to exact injustice...this poorly constructed law, so irresponsibly written, remains the law in Texas & other States in similar forms.
As much as we tend, as a society, to so resist serious discussions—even with our families & friends, the dangers expressed here are real. Think of them as hidden, but always present. If all I can do is to prevent a few—even one—from having to spend decades in prison, all due to badly written, poorly executed State laws… then I will surely leave this world a better place than I came. So, I do ask—yes, at the very least share this...but also make an effort to discuss parts you honestly hadn’t thought about with them too. Chances are good that those closest to you haven’t either. Most importantly, understand this:
Did I know the Miranda warning? I thought I did. Many of us do. But, in truth, many really DO NOT. You’ve heard it countless times—maybe even can recite it. So, here’s why many of us don’t give it a second thought: When we know the facts are on our side...when we aren’t actually guilty of crime(s) we’re suspected or accused of...WE DON’T CARE about such warning. We aren’t setting out to commit a crime...so we don’t believe we need to heed such warning, much less invoke/use these rights! Do not make such mistake.
- “You have a right to remain silent…”
>>WRONG THINKING: `Okay, but if I’m silent—then it appears I’m not cooperating. I’ll look more guilty if I refuse to share/talk about what really happened!´
>>RIGHT THINKING: `Yeah...if it’s my RIGHT, then I can’t be penalized/punished for claiming/using my RIGHT. It’s in my best interest to consult a specialist in criminal law...an attorney...whom I also have a right to consult with.´
2. “Anything you say can & will be used against you in a court of law…”
>>WRONG THINKING: `Oh...this is for guilty criminals, so it doesn’t apply to me. If I tell them the TRUTH, it can be proven true, because of forensic science. The quicker I tell them the truth...the facts…, the quicker they can prove them & they’ll let me go!´
>>RIGHT THINKING: `WAIT. Anything? Can & will?? Yeah…NO THANKS! If the police are TELLING me every single thing that comes out of my mouth WILL be used against me in court (!!!)...I’ll be talking to my lawyer since he/she is the specialist. Thanks for the warning!!!´ (Just remember to choose your counsel wisely…)
* * *
So, that last one is KEY. They “CAN” use whatever you say against you because that’s the law...it’s LEGAL for them to do so. But they also say they “WILL” use what you say against you—to PROSECUTE YOU…which is also LEGAL for them to do. Is that right/ethical/moral for them to do? What do YOU think? Does it matter?
I’d say so!!...but until our State & Federal lawmakers AGREE that this legal sleight of hand is not, in practice, producing the desired effect in its intended purpose—make sure you exert your rights. No matter HOW innocent you are...or what small part you may have played—if you are arrested or a family member, friend or anyone else you care about is arrested, WAIT to talk to your attorney or encourage your loved one to do so if they are arrested near you. Only this one ACTION taken by you or your loved one has enormous potential to save you &/or them, along with everyone who cares about you, untold amounts of suffering...whether it be physical or emotional.
Remember: “Anything you say...WILL (not may!) be used against you…”
Yes, it’s called “lawyering up”. It’s your right. Use it. No matter what. If they penalize you in any way for using your right to remain silent & requesting a (or your) lawyer—it is THEY who have committed a crime…& if you can prove you were punished, your lawyer (or you) can & should file a lawsuit against the actual violators. If serious enough, they may be convicted of the crime committed (when/if found guilty beyond a reasonable doubt) as well.
The strong urge to explain & prove our innocence can be overpowering.
Don’t let it.
Save it for a specialist in criminal law. (It also wouldn’t hurt to find one you prefer & to have reviewed their background BEFOREHAND. You don’t have to retain them...just remember their name. It’s very cheap insurance...as it’s just your TIME to find one just in case you need one. It’s that or a court-appointed one! Not advisable! (Choose your own.)
* * *
My story is but one of the most extreme cases. Hopefully, it’s one most anyone can see that no matter how sincere you are...no matter how much you try to cooperate & state only the facts...it can all backfire & change the course of your life, beyond what you might ever think possible in this—supposedly—advanced age of enlightenment… Let’s not kid ourselves shall we? GOOD & BAD EXIST. We live with this truth every day. Every moment, in fact. We can strive for excellence & virtue—yes, live as an example for all to see...live out the values that benefit yourself & others—but perfection? In this life? We will always err—yes, even the BEST among us. (And the longer you live, the more you will know this.) Strive to be your best & find your Love. (Just ensure it doesn’t involve causing harm to others—in a real way, not just perceived!) This is, arguably, the best life we can live…& indeed—an enjoyable/abundant one. In leisure & adversity. For what is life without even some adversity? How else do we become stronger? More resilient? More able to help another through their period(s) of adversity?
* * *
I’d been taken to a smaller holding facility part of L.A. County Jail. Because of the massive size of Los Angeles, there are numerous such county jail “intakes”...& as I would soon find out, they’re also utilized for interrogating suspects.
The interrogation room was tiny. Maybe 12 feet long...but only four wide. If the design was intentional—to make it extra cramped & uncomfortable—it probably had its desired effect on the suspect(s) being questioned. I’d lived on aircraft carriers & was trained in the most cramped aircraft & transports, so this was more ridiculous to me...but I understood. The problem was the detectives...they didn’t understand. And in hindsight? I can understand that also. They deal with many of the worst of us, in some cases... the worst of the worst. Even at that moment...I got that. They didn’t know all that occurred & surely considered me hostile, uncooperative &/or someone who would say anything or nothing at all. I’m sure they’d heard it all… & more. They had their “ways” (tactics) & most likely were very effective in some, if not many, of these type cases—but, foolishly, I’d not be dissuaded.
I really could relate to their doing what worked for them—to better get the information they were looking for. I was always going to tell the Detectives what actually happened…& did...but I was destined to learn the hard way.
Here is why—no matter what—you FIRST talk to an attorney, before you ever open up to the police:
My first interaction at my initial interrogation was with the Texas Ranger on my case: Sal Abreo. He wouldn’t be doing the questioning, but it was clear he wanted to make a strong first impression. There were already two Austin Police Detectives--Gilchrest & Merrill--seated to my right along the small narrow table along the right wall as you walked into the room. So, Gilchrest was only a few feet from me while Merrill was seated behind him along the table. Merrill was plugging in & setting up a laptop computer when ranger Abreo walked in—literally squeezing past the other detectives—& positioned a chair, so he’d be facing me almost directly.
None of them had any issue with making eye contact…& neither did I. At the moment, I really was just ready to explain everything—but it was clear, they would ask the questions when & how they decided. The Ranger introduced himself & stated the other detectives would be the ones actually to ask about what happened & take notes...but he also had something he wanted me to consider…
“Can I call you, Ryan?” He asked. “It’s Ryan, correct?”
“Yes, sir. Ryan’s fine, if you prefer.”
“Ryan. Good.” He said, then drawing his chair a little closer to me. “Now, before Detectives Gilchrest & Merrill begin...I wanted to make sure we’re clear about something. Tell us what happened & things will go much easier for you.”
“Sir, “ I replied as he paused. “I have every intention to give you every detail I can recall about all that happened. You’ll be able to prove everything I share about everything. What happened was like a nightmare...it was just crazy—& I wanted no part of it. Sir, I wasn’t even awake when it all began. I’ll explain, Sir. I will. I understand your position, but, I was caught up in this whole thing too. You can confirm the truth of everything I say. Sir, I’m a veteran—I’m really on your side here. I hardly knew the guy who did this...maybe 10 days at most.”
“Okay. That’s fine.” Abreo held up a hand. “Relax. I’ll be out of y’alls way in a second.” He added, as he glanced at Detective Gilchrest & slid his chair even closer to me. At this point, our knees were actually side by side, so not sure where all this was going…
Looking back at me, Abreo put his palms up so I could see they were empty—then said, “Let me see your right arm.” As he slowly went to grab my right elbow with his left hand & with his right pulled slowly on my right wrist. Okay… my arm was now stretched straight out. “What the…?” I thought.
“You know what you’re facing if you don’t cooperate, don’t you, Ryan?” He continued.
As he said this, he maintained his grasp on my wrist firmly—then moved his index finger of his other hand to the inside fold of my elbow. He started pressing down at where the visible vein was. He pressed firmly down on that vein several times, then finally let go of me. “Don’t you?” He said again, while still maintaining eye contact.
This was Abreo’s intimidation tactic. I, for sure, got it. But they still didn’t. So I tried again…
“Sir, I’m saying I will cooperate. You can use a lie detector test on me if you want. I really don’t mind if you like to do that. There’s no need to threaten me like that or try to intimidate me or whatever that was. I really didn’t kill anyone. I shook Mr. Cavness’s hand one time. That was it.”
“Well, we’ll see. The evidence won’t lie.” Abreo replied to me, as he got up. “I’ll see y’all later.” he added, looking at the other two detectives—then walking out.
* * *
After I’d explained as best I could what happened & answered every question Detective Gilchrest posed—even drawing a sketch of the murder scene for him—they both left & said they’d be back in about 15 minutes.
When they returned, Gilchrest presented a small stack of papers. It was the printout of what Detective Merrill had been typing what I told. It was much more than just notes. It was written in paragraph—narrative form. That was more than I expected. It was supposed to be all I had told them, just typed instead.
“We need you to read through this quickly & initial each page as you go, to show you’ve read them & think it’s pretty much what you told us. It’s needed to present to the L.A. judge so we can fly you back to Austin. Extradition requirement.” Gilchrest explained, tossing down a pen. They just sat there, like I was just going to take a minute & initial the pages for them.
As I read through several pages...I looked up at them periodically...not believing how poorly it was written. Honestly. If they wanted a written statement from me, I would have written it myself—& told them the same. It was that bad. While I understood that many—possibly a majority—of suspects they question aren’t literate, I assured them I could write an accurate statement in my own words & it would only take me a few hours to do it. When I said this, they both looked at each other—then Gilchrest turned back to me to answer.
“Look. It doesn’t need to be perfect right now. Anything you see that we need to fix, we’ll do that when we get you back to Austin.” He assured.
And I bought it.
Many don’t know this, but it’s the absolute truth...research if you want: It is 100% legal for the police to LIE to suspects & unless you can find new law in the United States saying otherwise, this remains true. It’s certainly one more reason (if not the most important) to not speak to the police if you’ve been arrested or even if you’re a possible suspect.
* * *
I initialed the pages & after a few months in L.A. County jail, I was flown back to Austin...but there would be no re-write. It wasn’t until I consulted with my lawyer that I really started to understand…& it doesn’t matter how outrageous it is. This is REAL. You just need to know this & don’t assume those closest to you know it...it only takes a few minutes to have a heart-to-heart with those you love, just to make sure they do. At the same time, they really will know you sincerely care for them. These days, we need more of that(!)...(That’s for sure.)
It needs to be said, that this kind of questionable tactic CAN be valuable in some exceptional situations. There are career criminals that know the law well...some know it better than some of the best police officers! They know how to “game” the system to their advantage in many & various ways. With few exceptions, however, a very good/skilled police officer...especially experienced detectives...will know when they are dealing with an experienced criminal or not.
If ALL the evidence was clear...that I had committed the murder or revealed I had assisted in bringing it about, then I could relate to some zealous—overeager—police work. Anyone should get that. This? This is not one of those cases. The actual evidence would show—& did prove—that Ludwick had murdered John Cavness…& after he was, in fact, convicted...he publicly admitted to it. One such instance has been published in the HOUSTON CHRONICLE, as reported by Lindsey Wise:
...Even after incarceration, Ludwick continued his criminal activities for years.
He joined a gang, rose through the ranks, and sold drugs and cell phones to
other inmates… Ludwick was convicted of killing the 43-year-old (John)
Cavness during a robbery by hitting him at least 10 times on the head with
a hammer and slashing his throat…
“When I had first become a Christian, I still had doubt that God forgave
me for what I did,” Ludwick said. “What I did was so terrible. How could
he forgive me?”
—December 9, 2011
And if Ludwick’s Christian faith is truly genuine, Christ does forgive him. His life is certainly not irredeemable. Ludwick may even accomplish great things in his life. He’s paying the price for his `terrible´ crime—as he, himself, called it. We can only hope he lives out his faith & finds his meaning & purpose—for his sake & ours. All this is settled. Ludwick committed the crime…& he’s doing his time. The police got their man.
Such murder is a travesty...but another travesty was committed in attempts to bring some semblance of justice & relief to the family & friends of the late John Cavness. In zealous fervor to bring “justice” on the guilty...they, themselves, committed an incredible injustice on an innocent.
“It is better that ten guilty persons escape than one innocent suffer.”
William Blackstone (1723-1780)
How many innocents have suffered for the crimes of another—not as their intended/chosen victims, but as unsuspecting acquaintances or bystanders who became a party to the crime, not by choice, but because of how a law was written & passed by lawmakers? How many? Untold thousands. Many of whom are still living behind bars today…
* * *
The same statement I initialed, is the very same statement presented to the jury...but more than that, the same was treated as if it was some unquestionable/sacred text—throughout the entire legal process, including every appeal. Despite my reasonable protests, it continued to be attributed as my very own statement...even though Mr. Robert Merrill most likely will have no issue telling you that he wrote it. One that at best is a crude/loose version of what I shared with him & his partner, Detective Gilchrest, at the time. So why not allow me to just write my own statement, when I was the one who was there when the horrible murder took place? Allow me to present how everything happened in my own words?
After 20+ years in prison, at the time of this writing—it’s still a question that has not brought a truly reasonable or rational answer. There should be NO reason why I could not have written it. Instead, the false version was used as the primary basis for rendering a final decision on my guilt or innocence--for murder.
You can find & review this statement easily online. Just search Hanson v. State, 03-00-103-CR. There’s been many who openly share..that they don’t think they would have made it as far as I have. My answer is...you don’t know what you’re capable of until you have to go through something like this. It’s hard to relate to someone who says they couldn’t survive one day in a prison or jail cell—guilty or innocent. What happens is, you’d have more time to THINK about what’s important to you. What do you truly value? If your life’s near entirely dependent on material pleasures—the things you possess, consume, &/or actively participate in...then you’ll definitely find it an extreme adjustment! You may come to the realization that you didn’t even KNOW what you truly valued…& you would spend each day—as tricky as they might be—answering that profound
question…& if honest with yourself—become more true to who you really are & be able to know others better as well. It truly is about the journey. And of course, you’d have plenty of time to read…& write. You don’t know what you might really do—if you’re intent is to create something of value. So, no, I encourage you to not ever think you couldn’t survive a place like this...you might even find a way to thrive in some ways…& maybe you’d contribute something—perhaps many things—of lasting worth.
“ The injustice done to an individual is sometimes of service to the public.”
Junius (1769-1772)
So don’t underestimate yourself. There’s a good chance you’re more resilient than you think. There’s also a higher chance you’ll never have to experience this for yourself(!), now that I’ve inscribed the Miranda warning not just into your head, but hopefully...on your heart.
* * *
Ask me what has been the most traumatic event that occurred in my ongoing story…& I’d say that’s hard to measure. What about the cumulative effect? And at this point, is any of it what matters most? It’s been well proven I can take a punch. (In more ways than one, obviously.)
What I, & many, believe is more important—is to notice just how easily we, as a society, have become able to disregard injustices around us—simply because we aren’t directly or indirectly affected. When individual miscarriages of injustice—such as grossly disproportionate punishments—are discovered, why is it in this day & age we can’t correct them in a reasonable way & time? Do we instead prefer to allow thousands caught in similar positions as mine—or worse—to be forced to survive in prisons across this country? I just can’t believe that. Can you?
What possible good does this do, other than the few —who are the exceptions—finding a way to contribute something of value to society—despite where they are? There are many that, sadly, are just not that strong.
Today, we have both the technology & networks able to reevaluate individuals’ histories more efficiently & in more detail than ever before. Why not utilize this improved ability we have in areas like this? Why not bring creative problem solving to expand alternative sentencing programs already proving to benefit our communities...especially when we can have near total surveillance with current technologies to monitor & track any person under supervision?
It’s always seemed more comfortable to maintain the status quo in society. But when a better way becomes obvious—even practical & preferable—should we not take it? These types of reforms are far from impossible...so where best to start? Identifying where injustices are done, in the name of justice—would seem to be an essential cornerstone to lay & build on. So that’s what we’ve done.
We’d all like to see immediate change...but we know better. Most all social change—especially involving government policy & officials—is a gradual process...but if you’d like to see the progress made in just the last decade(?) try entering some search terms like “Texas exoneration” or “Alternative Sentencing” & you’ll find plenty. (Texas isn’t the only...but it has had a large number of exonerations in recent years.)
* * *
With more & more becoming aware of the draconian mass incarceration trend, beginning in the 1980s & ‘90s, the more stories of those caught up in that tidal wave are becoming known. It was only a matter of time when this massive nationwide increase in the prison population would backfire on our communities & overall culture. When you build hundreds of thousands of new prison cells & consider the rest of the infrastructure required to maintain them...you also create a new kind of culture. Once in place, it’s a difficult one to reverse obviously.
Still, it’s necessary we continue this reversal. Anyone who remembers the 1980s will know better than anyone. Our technology & materials have improved (I dare say) at least five-fold. We have so many more options to serve our criminal justice needs now, than to just house/support the thousands upon thousands of men & women, who have years of proven good behavior, when they can well serve safely in our communities, in various ways, under strict supervision considering our current level of technological surveillance/tracking abilities.
How can this be argued against? If we’re really honest...there will be no argument. Do we even need prisons? Yes, just not as many… Prisons will always be required for the most unmanageable class of criminals—such as the ultra-violent & repeat sexual predators for example.
Just why we haven’t made faster progress isn’t pretty...overwhelmingly, there is still the majority of Americans that choose to look the other way. Prisons are usually off in the middle of nowhere. Far from population centers.
Out of sight...out of mind.
Facing our mistakes isn’t a painless proposition & when immense levels of investment have been committed(?)...it becomes more comfortable to look the other way. It’s a hard pill to swallow...but it does us much better to keep in mind:
Who enjoys having to face the harsher, unpleasant—even more repulsive—realities of our world? But, don’t we need to? ...or else how would we ever find solutions to them? How else did we make the progress we have made to this point?
EXACTLY.
* * *
Our mistakes, whether our own or as a society, are to be learned from. They are not without value—we need to remember—just like adversity forges our character...to strengthen us. It’s part of our imperfect nature. Once we really understand this...you’ll never be afraid of failing—because you know it’s just an essential part of life. We’re just getting better.
“Not everything faced can be solved...but
nothing will be solved without being faced.”
— James Baldwin
You’d be surprised…if you haven’t discovered already...how many just snap out of the haze—the confusion—of what they allowed their lives to become these days when they finally come to grips with the above. Distractions & diversions abound today as never before…& yet we still have responsibilities to fulfill. As I began my story, I touched on this: our routines...our comfort zones. It’s easy to lose sight of the BIG PICTURE...the larger world at work.
Because we are individuals...on this planet, we are just one out of the billions, in fact...we easily fall for a common misconception: that we can’t make a truly significant difference, being only one person.
It’s just not true.
We need to recognize that. Always.
Your choices? Your actions? They can be profound...even though it won’t be so apparent in the beginning. (Rarely.) Just do what you know should be done… not for attention… not for praise or thanks from others… but because it’s the right thing to do. It doesn’t matter how small or seemingly insignificant you think or feel it is.
A fire begins with the smallest spark…
* * *
I recently heard this unrelated but still remarkable & true story as well—to make the point:
In a small middle-class neighborhood within Los Angeles, Meghan had a social studies assignment at school: watch some commercials on TV & focus on the “messaging” to discuss in class.
At 11 years old, Meghan noticed an Ivory dish soap advertising saying, “Women are fighting greasy pots & pans.”...& she knew it wasn’t right. Men wash dishes too. But what could she do about it?
Meghan told her father about it later that day & he encouraged his daughter to write some letters. And she did. She wrote directly to Procter & Gamble—who produced the soap—as well as other well-known women who might feel like her.
She wrote: “So I was wondering if you would be able to change the commercial to `people´.”
And about a month later, she saw the same commercial one day but heard the voice on the TV say, “People are fighting greasy pots & pans.”
It was then that Meghan realized the enormous impact of her actions. As should we all.
And sure… while no earth-shaking achievement, the message was significant—reaching millions of viewers. Meghan’s story, alone, will continue to inspire us all…& not just little girls everywhere.
The girl? We know her as Meghan Markle. Princess Meghan now… Duchess of Sussex.
What may seem small to you, might turn out something truly inspiring to someone else…& you never know where their lives may lead because of it. What will your letter say?
* * *
Maybe you needed a little encouragement in your own adversity or challenge… Perhaps this was the spark you needed… &/or you know someone right now that needs one…
And perhaps you’ll join us on our journey too…
For this very day, I still remain in the—often unspoken of—depths & notoriously draconian conditions… of the Texas state prison system (as compared to States & countries which long ago adopted improved environments & rehabilitation methods—proven to return better educated/able men & women back into society.)
For whatever reason, despite being the Great State of Texas in many areas...it has lagged in Criminal Justice Reform & remains known as one of the very worst in civilized society—when evaluated as a whole. It doesn’t take long for anyone to research & verify this unfortunate reality in our world today… & it is from this small closet-size cell where I write this message-in-a-bottle to you--& hold on...day to day.
* * *
Stone walls do not a prison make
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent & quiet take,
That for a hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free;
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.
— Richard Lovelace
(1618-1658)
Don’t let this world’s growing pains
suppress your unique insight…
You may hold a valuable key.
No matter where you are, I welcome you to join us… so together we can better share our extraordinary stories & Love—which so many need—especially in these fast-changing times.
We look forward to hearing from & meeting you!
Be blessed,
Ryan Hanson
US Mail: 12071 FM 3522 #904909
Abilene, TX 79601
Email: [email protected]