Drizzt
December 26, 2001, 11:41 AM
Gun-case jurist's wife once held by gunman
12/26/01
Bill Sloat
Plain Dealer Reporter
Cincinnati
- Staring down the barrel of a gun made Tia Ruehlman shiver, even on a warm spring day.
The young wife of a Cincinnati judge had just snuggled up to nurse her infant daughter. She and the baby were in a Dodge minivan parked outside a strip-mall camera shop when a kidnapper jumped in.
"He pointed it at the baby's tummy, then he hit me over the head," she recalled. "I thought, 'Oh, God, maybe I'm going to die.' "
Dazed and bleeding, she didn't black out. She clutched her daughter Elizabeth tighter as the gunman ordered, "Drive!" Slowly, she steered the van through the lot. As she eased the vehicle onto the highway, she grew more desperate. In a flash, she opened the door and dived out with her baby. "I figured it was my last chance," she said.
It worked. Ruehlman and her daughter escaped. Police captured the gunman almost immediately. His semi-automatic pistol was still cocked. Locks of Ruehlman's blond hair were tangled in the firing mechanism.
That terrifying event happened more than 12 years ago - on May 17, 1989 - but its significance may still loom large for Ohioans.
Within a few days, Tia Ruehlman's husband, Hamilton County Common Pleas Judge Bob Ruehlman, will rule on whether Ohio's ban on carrying concealed weapons is constitutional.
He finished hearing the challenge to the law earlier this month.
Tia Ruehlman, now 47, acknowledges that a gun probably wouldn't have helped her overcome her assailant, who is currently serving up to 25 years for kidnapping, aggravated robbery and using a firearm in the commission of a felony.
But she said she is firmly in the camp of those who think Ohioans ought to be able to arm themselves against crooks.
"I've thought about this a million times," she said.
"Personally, I feel a law-abiding citizen should be able to get a registered handgun for their own personal protection," she said.
Yes, she said, the judge knows about her opinions.
"I could never influence him, though," she said. "And he isn't consulting me for advice."
Nor will Judge Ruehlman drop any hints about his plans. Ruehlman, 49, said judicial ethics won't allow him to discuss the current case before he announces his decision, due shortly after Jan. 1.
In Cincinnati, he is known as a conservative who hands out tough sentences - and sometimes tough lectures. Anti-gun groups admit they're worried about Ruehlman.
"If he were to strike down this law, it would be overturning more than 100 years of Ohio history. The impact would be huge," said Jonathan Lowy, a senior lawyer with the Brady Center to Prevent Gun Violence in Washington. "All of a sudden, anyone allowed to possess a gun in Ohio would be allowed to carry it concealed.
"They could bring to it to day-care centers, to bars, carry in football games. This would be the only state in the country with no regulations," Lowy said. "There has never been an experiment like that in modern American history, and the people of Ohio would be the guinea pigs."
Lowy is a co-counsel in the case and represents those seeking to preserve Ohio's ban on carrying concealed weapons. Assistant Hamilton County Prosecutor John Arnold, also a co-counsel, said Ohio officials would appeal immediately any ruling easing access to firearms.
Police groups have urged Ruehlman to preserve the ban on concealed weapons, but some lawmen think it is archaic and oppressive.
"To suggest that an armed, law-abiding citizenry presents a real threat to law enforcement officers smacks of paranoia and is a serious insult to our populace," said Clermont County Sheriff A.J. Rodenberg Jr., who has written letters to the editors of Cincinnati's newspapers asking for the law to be invalidated.
If courtroom precedent is a guide, the ban may be in trouble. In a prior case, Ruehlman sided with the gun industry.
He threw out Cincinnati's lawsuit against gun manufacturers two years ago. Ruehlman said at the time that people, not guns, cause crime.
The city has appealed, arguing that handgun manufacturers should pay millions in damages to cover health care costs from gun injuries.
Lawyers in Cincinnati say he gives the impression of having little doubt about himself or his political views, which lean conservative. His wife puts it this way: "There is nothing in his makeup that is a shrinking violet. No way, no how."
The Ruehlmans have been married for 26 years and have seven children. At first, he didn't think there would be any.
"I got mumps in college. The doctor told me I'd probably never be able to have kids. He said he'd never seen a case that bad. Boy, he was way off," Ruehlman said.
In 1987, Hamilton County voters made him a Common Pleas judge in his first race for public office. At 34, the onetime rock band rhythm guitarist was the state's youngest judge. He still likes to sing - often Sinatra songs - in the shower.
He's the president of a nonprofit center that teaches poor people how to read. Over the years, he has asked some defendants to make $500 contributions in lieu of fines, a practice that has drawn criticism. Responded Ruehlman: "You teach people how to read, they're not going to be looking in your windows and breaking in. I believe, teach them how to read, they'll get a job."
He also has developed a reputation for being outspoken.
When he sentenced former Ambassador Marvin Warner, the millionaire horse farmer who bankrolled Jimmy Carter and other top Democrats, for a 1980s savings and loan scandal, Ruehlman said, "When I get done with you, the only horse you will be riding will be one of those little horses you see outside a Kmart."
He still spouts off at defendants.
Recently, he complained that murder was caused by a breakdown in society related to legalized abortion. Last month, he lectured two women caught shoplifting at a Dillard's department store that they abused government assistance programs such as Social Security and welfare to have too many kids.
"We pay you $721 per month to lay around and have sex," he said. "What right do you have having kids? You're living off the public and stealing."
Ruehlman said he believes it's his duty to sound off in court.
"I really believe there are certain defendants you need to yell at," he said. "It's a catharsis for the community."
But he has been chewed out, too.
Last year, the Ohio Supreme Court dressed him down for driving a juror home during a death-penalty case. The juror had missed the last bus out of downtown Cincinnati and a storm was coming. "This lady was sitting all by herself in a bad part of town," Ruehlman explained.
And an appeals court judge once wrote an opinion comparing him to Roy Bean, the hanging judge from the Texas frontier who called himself the "law west of the Pecos."
Ruehlman didn't like that comparison. But he does idolize another judge who is anethema to liberals - Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas.
"He kind of stands against the wind," Ruehlman said. "That makes me like him a lot."
Contact Bill Sloat at:
[email protected], 513-631-4125
http://www.cleveland.com/news/plaindealer/index.ssf?/xml/story.ssf/html_standard.xsl?/base/news/1009362604369313.xml
12/26/01
Bill Sloat
Plain Dealer Reporter
Cincinnati
- Staring down the barrel of a gun made Tia Ruehlman shiver, even on a warm spring day.
The young wife of a Cincinnati judge had just snuggled up to nurse her infant daughter. She and the baby were in a Dodge minivan parked outside a strip-mall camera shop when a kidnapper jumped in.
"He pointed it at the baby's tummy, then he hit me over the head," she recalled. "I thought, 'Oh, God, maybe I'm going to die.' "
Dazed and bleeding, she didn't black out. She clutched her daughter Elizabeth tighter as the gunman ordered, "Drive!" Slowly, she steered the van through the lot. As she eased the vehicle onto the highway, she grew more desperate. In a flash, she opened the door and dived out with her baby. "I figured it was my last chance," she said.
It worked. Ruehlman and her daughter escaped. Police captured the gunman almost immediately. His semi-automatic pistol was still cocked. Locks of Ruehlman's blond hair were tangled in the firing mechanism.
That terrifying event happened more than 12 years ago - on May 17, 1989 - but its significance may still loom large for Ohioans.
Within a few days, Tia Ruehlman's husband, Hamilton County Common Pleas Judge Bob Ruehlman, will rule on whether Ohio's ban on carrying concealed weapons is constitutional.
He finished hearing the challenge to the law earlier this month.
Tia Ruehlman, now 47, acknowledges that a gun probably wouldn't have helped her overcome her assailant, who is currently serving up to 25 years for kidnapping, aggravated robbery and using a firearm in the commission of a felony.
But she said she is firmly in the camp of those who think Ohioans ought to be able to arm themselves against crooks.
"I've thought about this a million times," she said.
"Personally, I feel a law-abiding citizen should be able to get a registered handgun for their own personal protection," she said.
Yes, she said, the judge knows about her opinions.
"I could never influence him, though," she said. "And he isn't consulting me for advice."
Nor will Judge Ruehlman drop any hints about his plans. Ruehlman, 49, said judicial ethics won't allow him to discuss the current case before he announces his decision, due shortly after Jan. 1.
In Cincinnati, he is known as a conservative who hands out tough sentences - and sometimes tough lectures. Anti-gun groups admit they're worried about Ruehlman.
"If he were to strike down this law, it would be overturning more than 100 years of Ohio history. The impact would be huge," said Jonathan Lowy, a senior lawyer with the Brady Center to Prevent Gun Violence in Washington. "All of a sudden, anyone allowed to possess a gun in Ohio would be allowed to carry it concealed.
"They could bring to it to day-care centers, to bars, carry in football games. This would be the only state in the country with no regulations," Lowy said. "There has never been an experiment like that in modern American history, and the people of Ohio would be the guinea pigs."
Lowy is a co-counsel in the case and represents those seeking to preserve Ohio's ban on carrying concealed weapons. Assistant Hamilton County Prosecutor John Arnold, also a co-counsel, said Ohio officials would appeal immediately any ruling easing access to firearms.
Police groups have urged Ruehlman to preserve the ban on concealed weapons, but some lawmen think it is archaic and oppressive.
"To suggest that an armed, law-abiding citizenry presents a real threat to law enforcement officers smacks of paranoia and is a serious insult to our populace," said Clermont County Sheriff A.J. Rodenberg Jr., who has written letters to the editors of Cincinnati's newspapers asking for the law to be invalidated.
If courtroom precedent is a guide, the ban may be in trouble. In a prior case, Ruehlman sided with the gun industry.
He threw out Cincinnati's lawsuit against gun manufacturers two years ago. Ruehlman said at the time that people, not guns, cause crime.
The city has appealed, arguing that handgun manufacturers should pay millions in damages to cover health care costs from gun injuries.
Lawyers in Cincinnati say he gives the impression of having little doubt about himself or his political views, which lean conservative. His wife puts it this way: "There is nothing in his makeup that is a shrinking violet. No way, no how."
The Ruehlmans have been married for 26 years and have seven children. At first, he didn't think there would be any.
"I got mumps in college. The doctor told me I'd probably never be able to have kids. He said he'd never seen a case that bad. Boy, he was way off," Ruehlman said.
In 1987, Hamilton County voters made him a Common Pleas judge in his first race for public office. At 34, the onetime rock band rhythm guitarist was the state's youngest judge. He still likes to sing - often Sinatra songs - in the shower.
He's the president of a nonprofit center that teaches poor people how to read. Over the years, he has asked some defendants to make $500 contributions in lieu of fines, a practice that has drawn criticism. Responded Ruehlman: "You teach people how to read, they're not going to be looking in your windows and breaking in. I believe, teach them how to read, they'll get a job."
He also has developed a reputation for being outspoken.
When he sentenced former Ambassador Marvin Warner, the millionaire horse farmer who bankrolled Jimmy Carter and other top Democrats, for a 1980s savings and loan scandal, Ruehlman said, "When I get done with you, the only horse you will be riding will be one of those little horses you see outside a Kmart."
He still spouts off at defendants.
Recently, he complained that murder was caused by a breakdown in society related to legalized abortion. Last month, he lectured two women caught shoplifting at a Dillard's department store that they abused government assistance programs such as Social Security and welfare to have too many kids.
"We pay you $721 per month to lay around and have sex," he said. "What right do you have having kids? You're living off the public and stealing."
Ruehlman said he believes it's his duty to sound off in court.
"I really believe there are certain defendants you need to yell at," he said. "It's a catharsis for the community."
But he has been chewed out, too.
Last year, the Ohio Supreme Court dressed him down for driving a juror home during a death-penalty case. The juror had missed the last bus out of downtown Cincinnati and a storm was coming. "This lady was sitting all by herself in a bad part of town," Ruehlman explained.
And an appeals court judge once wrote an opinion comparing him to Roy Bean, the hanging judge from the Texas frontier who called himself the "law west of the Pecos."
Ruehlman didn't like that comparison. But he does idolize another judge who is anethema to liberals - Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas.
"He kind of stands against the wind," Ruehlman said. "That makes me like him a lot."
Contact Bill Sloat at:
[email protected], 513-631-4125
http://www.cleveland.com/news/plaindealer/index.ssf?/xml/story.ssf/html_standard.xsl?/base/news/1009362604369313.xml