Author of book on escaping poverty is again trying to climb out

By Mitch Mitchell

mitchmitchell@star-telegram.com

FORT WORTH -- The year Jerrold Ladd spent in the Tarrant County Jail was very nearly a death sentence.

Depression, a heart condition and inmates, he said, all took their shot at killing him. But like many other things that almost ruined Ladd -- poverty, violence, drugs -- he outlasted them.

Now the 41-year-old Ladd, the author of a nationally recognized book about growing up in the violent housing projects of west Dallas, is once again struggling to escape the bonds of poverty.

Ladd was jailed after being accused of sexually assaulting a former case manager at Metrocare Services, a Dallas-based mental-health provider where he was a patient.

After two days of trial testimony, the Tarrant County district attorney's office dismissed the case, characterizing the decision as prosecutorial discretion. Ladd's attorney in the case, Jim Renforth, said the accuser missed a trial date and was not honest with prosecutors about why she was absent.

To Ladd, the charge cost him more than just time.

While he was in jail, he said, his physical and mental health deteriorated. He was in two jailhouse fights, one of which put him in the hospital for four days, and his relationships with his children and other relatives dwindled to nonexistent in the year he was away, Ladd said.

"Now I have nothing and no one," he said. "I live with a relative for whom I have to pay the bills and take responsibility for the house. I have had to borrow money from my friends and attorney. ... I go hungry and have to go to food pantries. I miss doctor appointments because I can't afford the bus fare."

'Out of Madness'

"The spring of 1978 I walked home and I didn't tell anyone what happened between those two dark buildings. It wasn't the first time some rapist had tried that and it wouldn't be the last. I went back to the safety of my closet among the lifeless clothes. I hated living here, among all the bullies, noise and murder. I hated starving, hated cleaning like a maid and washing out panties in the bathroom face bowl. I hated my father for abandoning me with an eight-year-old's hate, which, of course, never really lasted long. Just because he left my mother didn't mean he had to leave his children too." -- Out of the Madness: From the Projects to a Life of Hope

Ladd found success in 1994 with his book about his experiences growing up in the west Dallas projects. Out of the Madness: From the Projects to a Life of Hope was critically acclaimed. The Washington Post described it as "a valuable book about the mental, physical and spiritual hardships of America's worst ghettos." It was also praised as a poignant story of an African-American who escaped the violent and gang-ridden inner-city projects.

The book brought him a six-figure advance and dramatically changed his life.

After its publication, Ladd embarked on a three-week tour and had many radio and TV interviews. He used some of the book proceeds to begin a recording company and produced his own album.

He started the Out of the Madness Charity, a pilot program that provided tutoring for about 80 randomly selected middle school girls in south Dallas with the goal of increasing their chances of graduating. Ladd said 71 of them graduated from high school.

But Ladd said he used most of the money to support friends and relatives.

"He became so successful, but he still went to the areas where he came from so he could feel connected," said Markesha Beal, Ladd's ex-wife. "When a person has money to spend like that, people come from everywhere. The friends who said they were down with him, they were really sucking him dry. He never seemed to understand that you cannot help everyone."

His travels to promote his book also separated him from his wife and two daughters when they needed him to be there, he said. He and his wife separated in 1999, got back together but never reconnected, he said.

What sent Ladd reeling was the slaying of his mother in 2001, he said. Carol Hudspeth was found in a field in south Dallas, nearly decapitated. The case remains unsolved.

At the same time, his health was beginning to fail; he said he was diagnosed with a heart condition in 2006.

Ladd's divorce became final on his wedding anniversary in September 2008.

He was engaged to be married in 2009, but problems in the relationship drove him deeper into depression, he said. That March, Ladd attempted suicide, swallowing several handfuls of pills. "I took about 40 beta blockers and I knew they would stop my heart," Ladd said. "It was just a matter of time."

His fiancee called for help, and police took him to Parkland Memorial Hospital.

As he was loaded into the patrol car, Ladd said, he heard his fiancee's screams become faint and then felt his body slump into the back seat. Ladd described a feeling of being lifted and at the same time descending into a black, glistening darkness.

After waking in the hospital two days later, Ladd blamed himself for miscalculating the path to his demise. His depression deepened.

"It was the most poisonous, helpless feeling that I've ever had in my life," Ladd said. "I laid on the couch. I could not sleep. I could not eat. I could not get up. The feeling of not being able to do anything dominated my life. Thinking was burdensome. I tried to fight it, tried to get started again, but it became pervasive."

Sex assault accusation

Ladd sought help at Metrocare, formerly called the Dallas County Mental Health and Mental Retardation Center.

His caseworker there became his lifeline and his friend, Ladd said. He told her about his book and his struggles to help his family. She talked to him about her problems with her boyfriend, her job and her parents, he said.

During their last visit at Ladd's Grand Prairie apartment in July 2009, he said, they went into his bedroom to look at chapters from a book he was writing about how men and women use sex to deal with depression. They had sex and afterward, Ladd said, she was regretful and cried, saying her boyfriend would not understand. Then she left.

The caseworker, whom police identified by the pseudonym Michelle Gonzalez, later told police that she was sexually assaulted, that she had told Ladd to stop and he did not, according to a report written by Grand Prairie police officer Dennis Lepak.

"The defendant disregarded the complainant's pleas to stop," according to a case report supplement written by Grand Prairie Detective T. Hinson. The report also says the woman cried and begged for Ladd to stop as they struggled.

Ladd told a Grand Prairie police officer that "she said no a lot, but never said stop," according to a supplemental report from Kevin Cox, another Grand Prairie officer. Ladd said he intentionally engaged Cox in conversation because police were not listening to his side of the story but says Cox misquoted him. Grand Prairie police have said that if Ladd questions the truthfulness of their officers, he should file a formal report so an investigation can begin.

Gonzalez could not be reached for comment and an official from Metrocare declined to comment because of confidentiality issues. Ladd says the sex was consensual.

Time in jail

Ladd turned himself in Aug. 19, 2009, after police visited his fiancee's home and tried to pry his location from his children, he said.

He said that he was depressed when he was charged with sexual assault and that his mental state hampered his ability to help his lawyers mount a credible defense.

Ladd initially came up with bail money but was sent back to jail because he missed a court appearance after being hospitalized for depression and because he did not tell his lawyers and the court why he missed the date, his lawyer said. He was also hospitalized for a while for his heart condition, his attorney said.

Ladd was released from the Tarrant County Jail on April 16 after the charges were dropped but was transferred to the Dallas County Jail because of child support payments that became delinquent while he was locked up. He was released May 4 after meeting with a judge who said she hoped he could get his life back together, Ladd said.

In August, he sued for damages from Metrocare and Gonzalez. Metrocare denied all the suit's allegations and is asking that Ladd's claims be dismissed because Metrocare is a government entity immune from liability.

Ladd said that before the arrest, he was adapting to his life's new challenges. He and his fiancee had worked out their problems, shared an apartment and had a well-equipped home office, credit cards and reliable transportation.

All that is gone now, including his fiancee, who broke off their engagement after his arrest.

"I'm tainted for the rest of my life," Ladd said.

Mitch Mitchell, 817-390-7752

Looking for comments?