Today was bittersweet.

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.

Artwork by Ramiro Gonzales
Artwork by Ramiro Gonzales

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.”

-Thomas Merton

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:


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.

I have been holding off writing a blog post about Ramiro’s change of date because it’s not exactly clear why it happened.  The previous three Texas execution dates had been stayed.  Ramiro’s was simply rescheduled.  Perry Williams, who was set to be executed on July 14th, received a stay when state officials failed to meet a deadline for obtaining results on the purity of the drugs that were to be used to kill him.  The next scheduled execution after Perry Williams was Ramiro, so it’s possible there is some connection.

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.

Screen Shot 2016-08-05 at 4.59.02 PM

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…

Source: PsychCentral

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.

See you in Texas.




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.

Respectfully submitted,


Bri-anne Swan
Toronto, Canada


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”