ABSTRACT
My introduction to cold case homicide investigation began one afternoon in the early 1980s in a rural village on the north coast of California as the result of a chance conversation on a street corner while on patrol. A woman had recently died and, before passing, recanted her accusations of rape against a young Native American six decades before. If true, it meant a man had gone to prison for crimes he did not commit and justice had not been served. Everyone knew Jack Ryan was railroaded, I was told. If this was true, I wondered, did he deserve to have his name cleared?
