Rolando Ruiz is set to be executed by the State of Texas this Tuesday, March 7th, at 6pm Central Time.
I write to Rolando and was able to meet him while visiting Ramiro in Texas last August. He’s been in prison since 1992. He is 44 years old and has been on death row for 22 years.
Rolando was hired to kill Theresa Rodriguez by her husband, Michael. Michael Rodriguez was executed in 2008 – not for Theresa’s murder, but for the death of Officer Aubrey Hawkins after he and six other inmates escaped incarceration in 2001.
Rolando, Ramiro and I started a little prayer group that has extended around the world. Over 24 years in prison, and three execution dates, Rolando has become an extremely spiritual person. More importantly, he is a very kind and gentle person and goes out of his way to support other Death Row inmates in the limited ways he can. He is lightyears away from the desperate, drug addicted young man who perpetrated such an inexcusable and evil act.
He is also one of the few people who has actually made the trip to the holding cell in Huntsville (steps away from the death chamber) and then returned to Polunsky. He’s been through this “last days” ritual before in 2007 – sitting in the cell, wondering why nobody was coming to strap him to the gurney…
If you can, please keep Rolando, his mother, his sister, his lawyers and the family of Theresa Rodriguez in your prayers or thoughts over the next couple of days. Texas is deluded if they think killing Rolando is going to make room for any kind of good in the world.
As you can imagine (and as I was prepared for), the reactions to the Star article were very mixed. I’ve received many supportive messages, and for those, I am quite grateful. I’ve had the chance to speak with people from around the world. Some have shared their own experiences with writing men and women on Death Row. Some have said that because of the article they’ve decided to start corresponding with Death Row inmates as well. I’ve really enjoyed reading these messages and comments and am touched that so many have felt moved by Amy’s article.
I’ve also read some messages and comments that have been critical of my choosing to enter into relationship with Ramiro because of the horrific crimes he has committed.
These complaints can be roughly and imperfectly separated into the following categories:
I am an attention seeking nut job
I am a bad mom
I am a bad wife and my husband is a loser
I need psychiatric intervention
I should be trying to befriend Bridget Townsend’s family or the relatives of other murder victims
Except for posts to my Facebook Fan Page, I have tried to restrain myself from responding to public comments sprinkled around the internet. But I do want to answer to some of the general themes.
I’ve included some examples of the public posts.
1. I am an attention seeking nut job
I don’t really know how to respond to this except…
I can think of approximately 1654 easier ways of “seeking attention”.
Seriously. I could shave my head. I could tattoo Rainbow Brite onto my face. I could go over Niagara Falls in a barrel filled with lobsters while naked. All of those would be easier than this experience has been – and it’s only going to get harder.
In my very first conversation with Amy, I asked her if there was any way my work as a singer/songwriter could be left out of the Toronto Star article. I was worried because I knew there would be accusations of trying to capitalize on Ramiro’s situation to promote my music. Amy heard me out but explained it was important for people to know what I do and who I am. Writing music and performing is a fundamental part of this.
I’d also like to suggest that it’s unlikely these accusations of “seeking attention” would be levelled at me if I was not a woman. Society’s tolerance for women wanting to be seen and heard is much lower than it is for men. I have never heard of a male activist on either side of the capital punishment debate accused of “seeking attention” when talking about his experience and what he believes in. Women are charged with this all the time.
2. I am a bad mom
Ok, here’s the thing – I am with my kids a lot. I mean a lot a lot. My oldest son just started Junior Kindergarten this week, and for 4.5 years I have been his primary caregiver. I spit my coffee out when I read these kinds of comments. Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? I don’t know how I could spend more time with them and remain a sane, functioning human being.
And yes, my husband does “pitch in to help” because he is awesome andbecause we are a team and they are his children too.
I was going to sit here and talk at length about how I write to Ramiro when my kids are in bed and that aside from the time I was in Texas this summer, none of this has taken me away from my children. But I’m not going to do that because I don’t think I have to justify how I choose to spend my time — also something I wouldn’t be expected to do if I was a man. Just saying.
Even Bill Carroll on Newstalk1010 suggested he was in a position to judge how I spend my time when I’m not with my children.
You can hear Bill discuss how he “finds the whole thing disgusting” at 32:00. You can also hear how (I think) John Moore received some flak for saying he would “not allow”(!) his wife to start writing to a Death Row inmate.
(The entire segment runs from 21:50 to 35:50 and for the record, Ryan and Jay were quite lovely and polite to me while they were conducting the interview.)
Speaking of wives…
3. I am a bad wife and my husband is a loser
(I had to find the definition for what a “Beta Male” was. My husband and I had a good laugh about this one.)
My husband, Jason, has been so incredibly supportive of Ramiro and me through this entire experience. When Ramiro asked if I would go to Texas for his execution, I called Jason immediately. Without hesitation he said, “If you want to go, we can make this work.” Comments criticizing my husband, quite frankly, piss me off.
Here’s one of my favourite pictures of us together:
Aren’t we cute?
4. I need psychiatric intervention
My going alone had more to do with a) the cost of the trip and b) not wanting to expose my children to a maximum security prison environment. I can’t even imagine how many more “I’m a bad mom” comments would have been put out there if I had brought my children along. I didn’t go alone because of “unresolved issues”. I went alone because it was more practical and so I could protect my kids.
5. I should be trying to befriend Bridget Townsend’s family or the relatives of other murder victims
I’ve left this section for last because I think it is the most important one to address and deserves the most space.
I think of Bridget Townsend and her family ever single day.
Every. Single. Day.
I have read all the court transcripts. I’ve seen the media reports. I am outraged that Bridget was raped and murdered. I am outraged it took so long to find her. Transgressions of this magnitude demand outrage. But I can simultaneously hold being outraged at the injustice of Bridget’s murder with the injustice of Ramiro’s probable government sanctioned homicide.
We talk about compassion and empathy as if they are finite resources. If I show compassion for Ramiro, I won’t have any left over for those he has harmed. If I hold empathy for somebody who has violated women in the most egregious ways, it must mean I’ve turned my back on victims and their own experiences of suffering. When I hear people assuming I don’t care about those who have been affected by Ramiro’s actions, I want to set the record straight. In a few years, I will be a psychotherapist. I will be spending a great deal of my time working with those who are the products others’ violence and failures.
But I also understand that people who perpetrate and perpetuate violence are often victims themselves. My hope is that by working with people who have experienced cruelty, we can help to stop the violence trickling down. Although Ramiro owns his actions and the pain he has inflicted, I don’t believe he would have harmed his victims if he hadn’t fallen through so many cracks. I want to help stop violence on the back end before it blows up. As somebody who has experienced sexual violence themselves, I am desperate to see a change.
And yes – I understand that even if Ramiro receives a commutation of his sentence, he will not be released from prison. But how we treat those who are furthest on the margins of society is not a reflection of their transgressions. It is a reflection of our capacity for understanding and acknowledging our responsibility for their failures. Ramiro is so far out on the margins he is about to be pushed off the cliff. I am trying to cushion his fall.
As for trying to befriend Bridget’s family, it is not that simple. Ramiro posted a profile seeking friendship. I responded to that ad. Bridget Townsend’s family left Bandera years ago. I can’t very well track them down, describe who I am, explain that I’ve been corresponding with the person who killed their daughter/sister/niece, but I’d like to be their friend too so let’s get ice cream. It would be entirely inappropriate and is an impossible standard to hold me to. If Bridget Townsend’s family were to get in touch with me, I would welcome the opportunity to sit and hear them.
When I was in Texas, I did spend a short time talking with a woman who’s daughter was raped and murdered. It was incredibly moving, and I am so inspired by her strength and capacity for empathy after this tragedy. She’s been added to my list of spiritual heroes.
This is a long post, so thanks for making it this far.
I’ve spent 10 hours over the past few days visiting with my friend, Ramiro Gonzales. Ramiro is currently on Texas Death Row for a crime he committed when he was 18 years old. Today was originally set to be his execution day.
But I should back up…
Saturday night I drove the 90 minutes from Houston to Livingston to make it to the Alan B. Polunsky Unit, where all Death Row inmates are housed. I was very nervous. I was nervous about being in a maximum security prison. It was pretty intimidating. I was nervous about meeting Ramiro. We had never spoken face to face before. I was nervous we would run out of things to talk about. What if this all went wrong?
My visit was scheduled for 8:00pm. I was encouraged to show up an hour early to make it through security and get snacks for the two of us from the vending machines. I was told this would be the best food Ramiro would receive all week(!). When I walked up to the security building, the officer quickly waved me away and told me to come back at 7:55pm to go through security. I went back at 7:50pm.
Going through security at the prison is much like going through security at the airport, except you’re always selected for a pat down, and there seems to be more emphasis on the breasts. The only things that can be brought in are your ID, keys and a Ziploc bag with $25 in change. In a country without $2 coins, this is a lot of change. I handed one of the officers my passport and drivers licence. There was a problem entering the IDs into the TDCJ system because of the lack of ZIP and State codes, so that took up about 15 minutes. The confusion was now eating away at the two hours I had scheduled with Ramiro. One of the officers suggested I come earlier next time. 🤔
Because I was stuck behind the rest of the more experienced visitors, I wasn’t able to follow them into the next building where the visitations take place. The officers in the security building explained to me where I needed to go. Unfortunately, I am hopeless with directions. By the time I approached the next building, there were two doors that I could see, and I wasn’t sure which one to walk towards. Door A was closer. Door B had a kitty sitting in front of it. Obviously, I went to the door with the cat. Door B was the wrong door. No big deal if I had been visiting a shopping mall. Much bigger deal in a maximum security prison.
“Excuse me, Ma’am? STOP! STOP Ma’am!!”
The kitty ran away. I guess he wasn’t supposed to be there either.
“Turn around and walk back where you were. You can’t be here. Go in the other door.”
I went through the door (the one without the cat) and found my way to the visiting room. Ramiro hadn’t been brought out yet, so I went to the vending machines and bought him some food. This took quite a while (lots of snacks and no toonies), and the guard had to help me because I was not allowed to touch any of the food that went to him.
Finally, they brought Ramiro out. He was beaming. I must have been beaming too. It was so incredible to see him. There are no contact visits on Death Row, so I sat in front of the glass with my telephone receiver, waiting for them to take off his handcuffs and lock him in his tiny booth.
Any of the anxieties I had about meeting him melted away instantly. The time went very fast. We certainly didn’t run out of things to talk about. Saturday is photograph day, so we had one taken (see above). They don’t really train the officers in flattering photo composition. The camera looked like it was purchased in 2003.
It felt like I was only there for half an hour. At 10:00pm, I was told to leave. I was tired but excited. It hadn’t felt like it was the first time we had met. It felt like we’d been talking together for years. We have been exchanging letters for a long time and meeting face to face seemed simplyjust to be an extension of that.
Yesterday I arrived at Polunsky and Ramiro had this piece of artwork ready for me. It’s a gift for my son.
Today was our last visit before I head back to Toronto on Sunday. As we approached hour three, we both started to acknowledge how sad we were to say goodbye. We couldn’t even say, “See you in November!” with any happiness, because I won’t be coming back in November unless his execution is moving forward. I won’t be back until Texas is ready to kill Ramiro. It was hard to think about before. It’s even harder now.
I would challenge anybody who is a proponent of the death penalty to spend some time getting to know somebody like Ramiro. Write with them. Meet them. Learn about their life story. Do it with an open heart and then at the end decide whether or not this person should be killed. It’s one thing to talk about the statistics and theories around capital punishment. It’s another to enter into relationship with somebody who has been condemned. There is humanity in each of us, but it’s frightening to think of sharing in a common humanity with somebody who has caused so much hurt and destruction. It means we have to confront our own darkness. By acknowledging the capacity for good that we share, it means we also have to acknowledge our shared capacity to hurt and create suffering. We don’t want to do that, so we paint these broken people as an Other. But we are all broken.
“As long as we are on earth, the love that unites us will bring us suffering by our very contact with one another, because this love is a resetting of a Body of broken bones. Even saints cannot live with saints on this earth without some anguish, without some pain at the differences that come between them. There are two things which men can do about the pain of disunion with other men. They can love or they can hate. Hatred recoils from the sacrifice and the sorrow that are the price of this resetting of bones. It refuses the pain of reunion. But love by the acceptance of the pain of reunion, begins to heal all wounds.”
I am sad, but I am also filled with so much love and gratitude. Sad because I feel like I am abandoning my friend. It was so hard to walk away. Love and gratitude, because I know there are many people supporting me through this journey. To everybody who sent me notes of encouragement, to those who gave financial assistance through The Yellow Rose Cabaret, to my church community for all your prayers, please know how appreciative I am.
Ramiro’s execution date is November 2nd. His birthday is November 5th. I am hopeful he will see his 34th birthday.
I am currently sitting in the Columbus airport on a four hour layover waiting for my connecting flight to Houston. I can’t say I’ve ever felt a burning desire to see Ohio, but I have had a burning desire to sing this song:
Because, CAROL BURNETT!
After landing in Houston I will have to find my rental car. Wish me luck! I found out I need to get to the rental kiosk via shuttle and I’m not particularly good with directions. I then head over to my Airbnb. This booking was shockingly inexpensive and I’m choosing not to believe it has anything to do with the fact that nobody really wants to visit Houston in August.
Tomorrow I drive out to the Alan B. Polunsky Unit in Livingston to visit Ramiro Gonzales, my friend and Death Row inmate (in that order). We have never met in person. I only know him through his letters. Ramiro’s execution date had been set for August 10th. Originally, I was travelling to Texas to be one of the witnesses to his death.
However, a few weeks ago, Ramiro’s date was withdrawn and rescheduled to November 2nd. Everything was already in place for this trip, so here I am, drinking bad coffee in a nondescript airport. My plan is to travel back to Texas in November, or whenever it looks like the State will follow through with their plans to kill him.
Ramiro’s date being withdrawn was the first hope I’d felt since April. This is when he was taken to Medina county and told he had about four months to live. There is no question of guilt or innocence. I was told over and over again not to get my hopes up because his was a pretty “cut and dry case”. He killed Bridget Townsend. He admits he killed her. I was told many times to prepare myself for his death.
So, you can imagine my excitement when I woke up on July 16th to one Facebook message, two text messages and 10 missed calls from my friend Catherine. She had been trying to get a hold of me all night. It was the one night I didn’t have my phone on because I was sleeping over at my mother’s and in bed with my toddler.
Catherine lives in Calgary, so she was still awake when the news came in. As you can see, she was really excited. So was I.
Pushing the execution date back means more time for lawyers to do their lawyer things and work their lawyer magic. Hopefully, they can find reasons not to execute Ramiro that are convincing enough to judges who seem reluctant not to kill their fellow citizens that they shouldn’t do it in this case. It also means more time for Ramiro to complete the things he’d like to get done for his family, if he does end up dying in November.
For me, it means hope. I had been gently told so many times not to have hope, I had become resigned to the fact I was almost certainly going to be watching Ramiro be murdered on August 10th. I was still doing everything I could to help stop that from happening, but I had very little hope that my efforts (or anybody else’s efforts) were going to make a difference.
Now, I have a new spark of hope. And as we all know from the great literary classic…
And it means that for this trip, I will get to visit with my friend without the immediacy of his impending death. We have a lot to figure out and talk about. He’s certainly not out of the woods. But he will not be dying during this trip, and I will not be watching it.
Update July 15, 2016: Ramiro Gonzales’ execution date has been withdrawn and rescheduled to November 2nd, 2016.
July 12, 2016
Governor Greg Abbott Office of the Governor P.O. Box 12428 Austin, Texas 78711-2428
RE:Clemency Request for Ramiro Gonzales #999513 (Execution set for August 10th, 2016)
Dear Governor Abbott,
My name is Bri-anne Swan.I am a resident of Toronto, Ontario and a friend of Ramiro Gonzales (#999513). I will be one of his five allotted witnesses if his execution is carried out on August 10th, 2016.
I am writing to ask for clemency for Mr. Gonzales and a commutation of his sentence.
Admittedly, I have had the privilege of only knowing the best of Ramiro, while the family of Bridget Townsend has only been exposed to his worst.Ramiro murdered Bridget when he was only two months past his 18th birthday.While the crime he committed was heinous, the man who is set to be executed is not the same boy who killed Bridget 15 years ago.18 year old Ramiro was broken, hopeless and severely addicted to drugs — substances he turned to as a teenager to cope with the loss of a beloved aunt and years of sexual abuse by a male relative.33 year old Ramiro is a gentle and kind man who has a deeply spiritual life.He has created artwork for my four year old son.He has listened and provided advice during my own life’s challenges.He continues to positively touch the lives of those with whom he corresponds around the world.
Ramiro speaks of an almost unbearable regret and remorse for his actions.This is not because he fears death, but because of the devastating impact his crimes have had on his family and the family of Bridget.Ramiro deserves to be punished, but he does not deserve to die.He is a good person who committed a terrible crime.Killing him will not rectify the tragedy of Bridget’s death.It will not keep the public safe.It does nothing to kill Ramiro in Bridget Townsend’s name.
But it will break my heart. My son doesn’t know his friend Ramiro is in prison and he certainly doesn’t know that he is scheduled to die in less than a month. Someday, when he is old enough to understand, I will have to explain to my child why the State of Texas killed his friend—a friend who sends him gifts of artwork and poetry and words of kindness and love.
Pope Francis has declared this year a Jubilee of Mercy and has asked for a moratorium on executions worldwide.I optimistically hope, and humbly beg, that you might take the time to reflect on the fact that Ramiro’s death would only augment an already existing tragedy with no discernible good.There is no benefit to snuffing the life out of somebody who now shines light into the world.
A couple of weeks ago I asked Ramiro Gonzales if he would like for me to post something on his behalf.
This is his offering.
There was a man who had four sons. He wanted his sons to learn not to judge things so quickly, so he sent them each on a quest, in turn, to go and look at a pear tree that was a great distance away.
The first son went in the winter, the second in the spring, the third in the summer and the youngest in the fall.
When they had all gone and returned, he called them all together to describe what they had seen. The first son said that the tree was ugly and bent and twisted. The second son said, no, it was covered with buds and full of promise. The third son said, I disagree. It was laden with blossoms that smell so sweet and looked so beautifully, it was one of the most graceful things I had ever seen. The last son disagreed with all of them. He said that the tree was ripe and drooping with fruit full of life and fulfillment. Continue reading “THE PEAR TREE”→
Ramiro Gonzales is not the only person who failed Bridget Townsend on January 15, 2001.
My inbox has been busy. I’ve been receiving a lot of email related to this blog post about my correspondence and friendship with Ramiro Gonzales, an inmate currently on Death Watch in Texas.
Many of the emails and comments have been very kind, and if you are somebody who sent such an email—thank you. I’ve been very touched by the support offered by my friends, acquaintances and strangers.
I’ve also received many angry emails and negative comments. I’ve had people write to me and say they’ve been listening to my music for years but now will never listen to my albums ever again. “What about the victims?” has been a common theme. “Please stop this garbage from filling up my newsfeed” is another. I’ve also received a few messages telling me what Ramiro did that led to his conviction and death sentence, as if maybe I didn’t already know. Perhaps he never told me? Maybe I don’t know how to use Google? It’s puzzling. Continue reading “THERE IS PLENTY OF BLAME TO GO AROUND”→
Unless he is granted a reprieve, Ramiro Gonzales will be executed by the State of Texas on August 10th.
Two years ago, while I was pregnant with my second child and experiencing a period of chronic insomnia, I found myself in a late night web surfing marathon reading article after article about capital punishment in the United States. It wasn’t a particularly cheery exercise, and it certainly didn’t help with my sleep.
Continuing on the theme of my poor judgement, I began reading the comments left at the end of these news articles. These comments varied widely, from those asserting these (mostly) men “got off too easy”, to general outrage at the continued use of the death penalty, to suggestions of alternate methods of execution that would be cheaper and more effective (the firing squad, hanging and altitude chambers being popular choices). Continue reading “TEXAS IS GOING TO KILL MY FRIEND”→
This was our dinner tonight. I’m glad we have friends who are more creative cooks than I am taking this challenge. The idea for this meal came from our friend Heather. See those patties? They’re fish cakes made from our can of salmon, crushed up soda crackers and one of our two remaining eggs. I also used the last of the pepper Jasonswiped borrowed from a local chain restaurant. It actually felt like I was makingsomething! The rice in the photo is really Rice-A-Roni. I know, I know…It doesn’t really look like Rice-A-Roni at all. That’s because I’m the only person I know who has managed to completely screw up cooking Rice-A-Roni.
While speaking with my cousin tonight, we were trying to figure out exactly when the last time was that we ate Rice-A-Roni. Neither of us could remember. For me, I suspect it was at least 10 years ago. I know I’ve made it before. But stuck within the brain fog that’s been consuming me for days, I just glanced at the back of the box and managed to misread the instructions. Actually, the instructions had pictures, kind of like IKEA furniture. They should have been impossible to misinterpret. Jason and I have assembled a lot of IKEA furniture over the past couple years. I’m always telling him to look at the instructions “C’mon. How hard can it be?” he says. He does always manage to get the furniture put together, but keeps insisting IKEA sends “extra” screws “just in case”.
You know what wasn’t in the instructions on the Rice-A-Roni package? Boiling the rice and vermicelli directly from the package. I was supposed to fry them up with butter first. Oops. I couldn’t throw it out, so were were going to have to eat boiled Rice-A-Roni. Then I looked for the seasoning packet and couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere but I couldn’t see it – until I looked in the garbage. No idea why I thought to throw it out before actually emptying it. Brain Fog. I retrieved it. It wasn’t too soiled and at no point did it share the garbage can with a poopy diaper.
Just so everybody knows I’m not a completely incompetent cook, take a look at this shepherd’s pie I made for the Grey Cup a few years ago. It was when Saskatchewan lost to Montreal (the second time).
I’ll just say it one more time: I messed up Rice-A-Roni.
Jason and I have both been in some physical pain that has only increased over the last two days. Jason has problems with his ankle; likely repetitive strain since he literally walks for 900km at a time. I have problems sometimes with my lower back and the small joints in my hands and wrists have caused me minor suffering since giving birth. In November, Jason and I went on an eight week “anti-inflammation cleanse”. We lasted six weeks. It wasn’t a miraculous improvement, but my hands did feel better towards the end. My back has been relatively okay for a while. But today I could feel the tell tale signs that it was close to spasming. My hands have been so sore it’s been difficult to hold Isaiah. Jason’s ankle has been giving him problems for days. Is it nutrition related, or merely coincidental? I have no idea. Am I just being a drama llama in thinking that this week has hurt our bodies so much? I hope so. I just can’t believe it’s possible for this all to happen so quickly. The compassion I feel for those who do this week in and week out without end is overwhelming.
Here is what I ate today:
1 packet of instant oatmeal
Water with a slice of lime
½ fish cake
¾ cup of poorly made Rice-A-Roni
Coffee Crisp chocolate bar
I woke up with legs cramps last night for the first time in ages. This is likely from a lack of magnesium. Or I might just be acting like a drama llama again.