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The Dallas Morning News
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Saturday, January 8, 2022
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Millionaire Found Dead Outside Dallas Home
BY GRANT LATHAM
Staff Writer
Dallas police are investigating a deadly shooting after local millionaire and philanthropist Eric Hanson was found outside his home in the Preston Hollow neighborhood yesterday. Police were called to the 9800 block of Walnut Park around 9:00 p.m. after a neighbor reportedly heard shouting and “something like firecrackers.”
Officers said they found Mr. Hanson lying face down in his backyard with multiple gunshot wounds. Dallas Fire-Rescue pronounced him dead at the scene.
A neighbor, Francine Whitaker, called 911 when she heard noises coming from the victim’s backyard. “I thought it was kids playing with leftover fireworks from New Year’s. I was worried they were going to start a fire.” Ms. Whitaker added, “This kind of thing just doesn’t happen around here.” Home to at least five billionaires, several pro athletes, and the forty-third president of the United States, Preston Hollow is typically characterized by its high-ranking private schools and low violent crime rates.
In a statement to the community late last night, spokesperson for the Dallas Police Department, Alicia Williams, said, “We intend to use the full force of the law to convict the perpetrator and bring justice for this family.” Williams noted police have already identified a suspect, who has been located and taken into police custody for questioning. Because the suspect is a minor, the Dallas Police Department is not providing their identity at this time.
OCTOBER 15, 2022
Dear Maya,
You asked if I was okay last time I saw you. I know I told you I was, but that was a lie.
You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this letter instead of texting, but the thing is, I’m in trouble. And not like the kind you were in before. I know you probably figured something like this would happen—you told me so and all that—and maybe you don’t even want to hear from me right now. But I don’t know where else to turn.
I’m in juvie. Please don’t be mad.
I get that it’s been a while since we talked. Almost 13 months. And I know a lot has happened since then. But Mr. Tate (he’s my new lawyer) thought it would be a good idea for me to write to someone. He said, “It might help you remember what happened before if you talk to a friend.”
It’s funny how a guy with puffy eyes and a comb-over can slice my life up like that. “Before” and “after.” Like the day the cops caught me is some giant knife.
I don’t really understand why the public defender’s office sent Mr. Tate except that the other lawyer was a real prick. He didn’t believe me when I said I couldn’t remember everything that led up to that day, so I was like, forget it, I’m not answering this stuck-up asshole’s questions. So they sent Mr. Tate. Now he’s saying the prosecutor wants to move me to the women’s jail, where the real sickos are. I figured he was just trying to scare me. I thought they have to keep me in juvie because I’m only 15. But it’s kind of freaking me out.
Ever since Mr. Tate said I need to remember, I’ve been thinking about that time we went to the party at Bachman Lake. Remember that? I didn’t know anybody because school hadn’t started yet. But you told me to stick with you and I’d be fine, and I was. I’d never met anyone like you. I guess I really screwed that up, didn’t I?
Mr. Tate is making me see a social worker tomorrow. He thinks maybe I’ll talk to her, give her something to help him “prepare my defense, just in case the prosecutor is serious about trying you as an adult,” he said. But you know how much I hate social workers. I’m not talking to anybody.
You may be saying, “Then why are you talking to me?” That’s fair. Especially after everything I said to you the last time I saw you. But I need someone on the outside to know where I am. And to know that prosecutor has it in for me. It’s been 10 months since they arrested me and suddenly the prosecutor is wanting to throw me in jail with a bunch of psychos? That’s bullshit. I hope this new lawyer gets me off.
Maybe I’ll keep writing and you can decide if you open my letters. Or you can throw them away or burn them or whatever. But that doesn’t seem like something you would do. You always were a good listener. At least before I told you to fuck off.
Anyway, I’m glad everything turned out okay for you. Really, I am.
Your friend (I hope),
Ruby
MEMORANDUM
Dallas County District Attorney’s Office
TO: Nick Vanelli, Assistant District Attorney
FROM: Audrey McCaslin, Fall Intern
DATE: October 17, 2022
Question presented:
Whether a minor may be tried as an adult and charged with capital murder in Texas?
Facts:
Fifteen-year-old Ruby Danielle Monroe is currently awaiting trial in the Dallas County Juvenile Detention Center for the alleged murder of a local businessman, Eric Hanson. On January 7, 2022, the thirty-two-year-old was found dead on the grounds of his Preston Hollow home after having suffered multiple lacerations and gunshot wounds. At the time of Monroe’s arrest, the police discovered she had stolen Mr. Hanson’s wallet and truck.
Based on the horrific nature of the crime, the State would like to certify Monroe as an adult in order to transfer her case from the juvenile system to the adult system and charge her with capital murder.
Law:
Under Texas law, a juvenile may be certified as an adult if they were fourteen years old or older at the time of the capital felony. See Tex. Fam. Code §54.02. The Juvenile Court will hold a certification hearing and make the determination whether the accused should be certified as an adult.
Conclusion:
Because Ruby Monroe was fourteen years old at the time of the offense and the murder was committed during the commission of a robbery, the crime meets the requirements of capital murder. See Tex. Code of Crim. Pro. §19.03. Thus, the State may seek certification of Monroe as an adult. See Tex. Fam. Code §54.02. The process can take several months, so I recommend requesting a certification hearing as soon as possible.
Mtg scheduled 10/18/22, 3:15 p.m. via Brian Tate
Ruby Monroe (Inmate #22-TX2873)
@ Dallas County Juvenile Detention Center
** Reserve Rainbow Room
Possible transfer: juvenile detention to adult jail
DA under pressure—victim’s family has $$$
*Ruby
—Charged w/ capital murder
—15 yrs. old (14 at time of murder)
—CPS file requested
—Tate need help w/ viable defense
—Trauma likely
—Previous psych eval?
*Victim: Eric Hanson
—32 yrs. old
—$$$
—Family history?
—Connection to girl?
Motive???
OCTOBER 18, 2022
The girl stares up from her bunk bed to the water spots on the ceiling. She inhales the scent of fresh Pine-Sol, and within seconds, misshapen faces materialize in the brown stains overhead. She shudders and squeezes her eyes shut, willing the faces to disappear.
“Ruby Monroe,” a woman’s voice barks.
The girl quickly turns her head to the side, the cheap fill of her pillow deflating under the weight of her head. She peeks through the slits in her eyelids.
It’s just the guard, the white one everyone calls “Mama.” Ruby manages a breath.
“What on earth are you doing up there?” Mama asks. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Mama’s hands are perched angrily on her wide hips, but Ruby still can’t help noticing that she looks relieved. Mama is a big softy, inside and out, unless you push her too hard. Do that, and she won’t hesitate to drag a girl from the top bunk and beat her ass. Not that Ruby has seen her do it in the ten months she’s been in juvenile detention, but that’s what the other girls say.
“Don’t just lay there smiling at me.”
Ruby sits up and quickly judges the slipperiness of the floor she’s just mopped before she jumps. She skids a bit, catching herself on Mama’s fluffy arm.
“Good grief, girl. You’re going to kill us both.”
“Sorry,” Ruby says, quickly letting go. Mama’s only a tiny bit taller than Ruby’s five-foot-even frame, but she still commands respect. Ruby quickly gestures to the floor. “I finished early, so I thought I’d take a break.”
“You mean you thought you’d skip class again. When you weren’t in the rec room, I was worried maybe . . .” Mama shakes her head.
Ruby knows exactly what Mama was worried about. It’s why they won’t let her have anything sharp in her room. Why Mama made sure they let her sleep with the door open to the hallway even though it drives her roommate, Ashlyn, nuts with the light always streaming in.
But it’s the only way Ruby can sleep. If she sleeps.
Ashlyn is getting released today, and Ruby was hoping to say goodbye. After all, it was Ashlyn who shared her Flamin’ Hot Cheetos when Ruby was equal parts scared and hungry and already deep in the shakes from withdrawal when she arrived that cold day in January. Ashlyn’s been looking out for Ruby ever since. She reminded Ruby of Maya that way.
“The social worker is here,” Mama says.
Ruby’s nose wrinkles.
“Don’t give me that face. She’s here to help, and from what I hear, you could sure use it.”
Ruby’s hands clench at her sides. She hates that the guards are always all up in her business. “I just wanted to see Ashlyn one more time.”
A squeak against the clean floor startles them both. Mama spins and points to a lanky Black girl who is attempting to sneak into her room. “Freesia, you better be going to class.”
Freesia turns and smiles guiltily. Her gum pops as she gives a dramatic salute. “Was just going,” Freesia says in a singsong tone.
Ruby laughs. She could definitely learn a thing or two about lying convincingly.
“And you better have finished your essay. Ms. Carter isn’t going to give you another extension.”
Freesia grabs a worn notebook from her room. “Was just getting it,” she says, and then retreats back the way she came.
When she’s gone, Mama turns to Ruby, her expression soft. “No time for goodbyes, honey. Dr. Ware is here. I’m sure Ashlyn will understand."
“But—”
Mama raises her hand.
With a sigh, Ruby steps onto the edge of the bottom bunk, pushing up on her toes and swiping her hand across the mattress until she can reach the far corner of her bed, where she retrieves a small bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. It took her a whole week of mopping to afford it. “I got these out of the vending machine as a going-away present.”
“I’ll tell her you left them,” Mama says. “Now, come on. You know it’s time for my break.”
Ruby gently places the small bag on Ashlyn’s bed, already stripped and ready for the next girl.
“Don’t make me miss my break,” Mama threatens, “or you’ll be doing a lot more than mopping.”
Ruby decides not to test Mama’s patience and lifts her hands in surrender. She carefully tiptoes across the remainder of the wet floor. When she reaches the dry linoleum where Mama stands, they move into the stream of traffic.
Girls in the same faded V-neck T-shirt and sweatpants run toward their classrooms. If they’re late, it can mean anything from revoked privileges to added chores. The bell rings, signaling the start of afternoon classes, and there are a few squeals as girls duck behind doors.
“You better hurry,” Mama says to the stragglers.
Out of view from everyone except the security cameras, Mama and Ruby’s pace slows to a stroll, arms swinging freely by their sides. “You’re going to be meeting with Dr. Ware in the Rainbow Room,” Mama says.
Ruby rolls her eyes. Someone painted the story of Noah on the walls of the Rainbow Room, probably thinking it would give the girls hope. Maya once told Ruby the rainbow is a symbol of God’s promise after the flood to never destroy man again. At the time, Ruby thought that was a pretty fucked-up promise. If anyone should know man would do a fine job of destroying themselves, with or without His help, it was God. Ruby sometimes wonders if that was the plan all along.
Ruby’s Crocs squeak quietly against the shiny floor next to the thud of Mama’s boots until they reach the last yellow door on the left. “You be polite now, understand?” Mama takes a step back.
Ruby raises her hand to knock, but then hesitates. Maybe she can fake a stomachache and Mama would take her to the infirmary instead. Lying on a cot for an hour has to be better than sitting with some social worker.
But before she can say anything, the door opens in front of her.
“Ruby?”
The woman is tall, dressed in a blue suit, with wavy hair cropped close to her face. Her skin is so pale under the fluorescent light, Ruby can see the tiny veins in her forehead. A flowery silk scarf wraps around the woman’s long neck from the base of her throat up to the knot at her jaw. It reminds Ruby of a noose.
The social worker smiles slightly. “I was starting to wonder if they’d lost you.”
Mama huffs her disgust. “No, ma’am,” she says, her gaze unwavering. “I know where my girls are.”
Ruby bites down
a smile, not daring to mention Mama admitted less than five minutes ago that she didn’t know where to find Ruby.
“Well, you’re here now,” the social worker says, looking to Mama. “Will you be right outside?”
Mama shakes her head. “I’m on my break now, but this one won’t cause you trouble.” She glares at Ruby to make sure she understands. Trouble means no more open door at night. “When you’re done, you can call for a guard on this phone.” She points to the one on the wall nearby. “Just lift the receiver and someone will answer.”
“All right, then.” The woman pushes the door again, holding it open. “Ruby, won’t you sit down?”
Ruby leaves Mama behind and moves into the bright room. The mural has been chipped in several places where people have knocked chairs against the walls. She yanks back one of the plastic chairs from the table, smashing another dent into Noah’s face before sitting.
The door slams shut as the social worker lowers herself into the chair opposite Ruby. “My name is Dr. Cadence Ware. Please call me Cadence. I’m the forensic social worker who has been called in to assist with your case.”
Ruby folds her arms over her chest.
“You’re from Northwest Dallas, is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“That can be a rough neighborhood.”
“What do you know about it?”
“I grew up there.” Cadence smiles. “A few blocks off Stemmons Freeway.”
Ruby smirks. “What, you think that’s going to make me want to talk to you? Let me guess: Next you’re going to tell me how much you want to help. Because you genuinely care. Then you’re going to follow up that bullshit with a bunch of open-ended questions. Nothing too personal, just enough to get me to start talking.”
If Cadence is surprised, she doesn’t show it. “I take it you’ve spoken with a social worker before.”
Ruby shrugs.
“All right, Ruby.” Cadence leans across the table, her smile gone. “Since it seems like you’re someone who likes to get to the point, I’ll be straight with you. I’m here because Brian—Mr. Tate—asked me to be. I believe he’s told you that the prosecutor on this case has asked the court for a hearing so that he can argue that you should be tried as an adult. It’s called a ‘certification hearing.’”
Ruby shrugs again, but her insides are churning. Late yesterday, Mr. Tate stopped by to let her know the prosecutor had made a decision: a hearing has been scheduled for the end of December. He said if the prosecutor wins, she will be moved to the adult jail to await trial there. And if the prosecutor wins again at trial, she could get life in prison.
“I’ll ask Brian to go over it with you again so everything is clear,” Cadence says as she pulls a lined notepad and a pen from her messenger bag. “But there’s no time to waste. I’m going to be taking some notes to help me remember everything. Is that okay
with you?”
Ruby looks everywhere but at the social worker’s waiting expression. The yellow door. The bars of fluorescent light overhead. The rainbow over Cadence’s shoulder. The box on the floor beside the social worker’s chair. She wonders what’s inside.
“Do I have your permission to take notes?” Cadence asks again.
Ruby pulls her gaze from the box. “I guess.”
She scratches something on her notepad. “Thank you. It helps when I go back and write my report for the judge.” Cadence tilts her head, examining Ruby. It’s all Ruby can do not to squirm. “Brian did tell you I was coming, right?”
“He said something about it.”
Cadence nods her approval. “I think you’ll like him. If you can get past his horrible taste in ties.” She laughs to herself. “But more importantly for you, he’s a really good lawyer.”
Ruby smiles for the first time. “You’re dating.”
Cadence doesn’t give her the satisfaction of looking offended. “What makes you say that?”
“Hooking up,” Ruby tries again.
“We’re colleagues.”
“Whatever.”
Cadence scribbles something else before propping the notepad on her lap. “I’ve started reading through your files and—”
“Files?” Ruby asks, her gaze returning to the box.
“Your case files. I’ve read your court file, of course. I haven’t had a chance to go through everything yet, but I asked Brian to request all of the records Child Protective Services had on you as well.” Cadence pulls the lid off the box and removes a large stack of folders. She spreads them across the table like a dealer daring Ruby to pick a card.
Ruby’s muscles tighten.
“Looks like you’ve been through a lot.” Cadence holds her pen above her pad expectantly.
Ruby presses her lips together.
“Listen, Ruby, we want to help you.”
There it is, Ruby thinks. “We?”
“Brian and I,” Cadence says. “I know it might not be easy to trust us yet, but we’re on your side.”
Ruby shakes her head.
“Can you tell me what happened with Eric Hanson?”
She tries not to think of the contents of those files. “I thought you were here to tell me what to say at the hearing.”
“I don’t know why you’d think that.” Cadence uncrosses and recrosses her legs. “I’m here to discuss what happened on January seventh, 2022, and the events leading up to that day. It will be much easier if you’re willing to give us your side of the story.” She taps her pen against her notepad. “It will be better for your case.”
Ruby huffs. “Like you give a shit.”
Cadence doesn’t blink. “I can understand why you don’t believe me. You have every
reason to be cautious—”
“Just because you read some file doesn’t mean you know me.” Ruby pushes away from the table, banging her chair into Noah’s crumbling face.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Cadence stands.
Ruby moves toward the door. She doesn’t want to think about what’s in those files, especially when it has absolutely nothing to do with what happened to Eric.
“Are you hungry?” Cadence moves from her chair and comes close. Too close.
Ruby’s right fist clenches, but then her stomach growls, betraying her.
“Because I can get you something to eat.”
Her hand loosens.
“A Coke? Some Oreos?” Cadence suggests.
A Coke and Oreos? It would probably take Ruby two weeks to earn enough for that. But she knows this woman has an angle. Everyone has an angle. “I don’t like Oreos,” she lies.
“No Oreos, then,” Cadence says. “I think I saw some Twizzlers in the vending machine last week.”
Ruby considers a moment. Even if the woman buys her food, it doesn’t mean she has to talk. It doesn’t mean anything. She shrugs. “It’s your money.”
“Good,” Cadence says with a satisfied smile. “Let me get those for you, and then we can talk a little more.” She returns to her messenger bag, grabbing her phone and wallet, and then opens the door, carrying her pen and notepad with her. “I’ll be right back.”
When her footsteps fade, Ruby contemplates going back to her room to wait for Ashlyn. But then her gaze catches on the faded rainbow stretching across the wall. She looks from the rainbow to the files and back again.
She doesn’t know how much time passes before she hears footsteps. Ruby shakes her head. She can’t trust anyone. Especially not a social worker who says most of the same things all the other ones did.
Even if she does bring her food.
Cadence returns to the Rainbow Room, dropping into her seat and placing the Twizzlers and soda on the table between them. She gestures to the candy. “You know the second thing Neil Armstrong said after landing on the moon? ...
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