The legacy of Rene Ramos lives on along the blocks and blocks of Hispanic businesses in north Oak Cliff that he championed for over 30 years. One in an occasional series
MICHAEL MULVEY/DMN
Mr. Ramos labored day and night in the West Jefferson Boulevard photography studio that bears his name, producing stunning images of births, baptisms, quinceaeras, weddings and graduations.
Three years after his killing, friends and family still find it hard to believe that he is gone.
"We all still think he's on vacation," said his widow, Hilda Ramos, 67.
Time has provided no answers to why the 63-year-old father of four was fatally shot in his vehicle just blocks from his home on a July night in 2005.
"I just wonder," said his best friend, Jesus Elizondo. "Just wonder, because ... he didn't have no enemies."
The case eats away at Dallas police Detective Eddie Ibarra.
"It bothers me because I haven't been able to bring any closure to his family," Detective Ibarra said. "This is still an open wound for them.
Schepps Dairy has agreed to reinstate a $10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and indictment of Mr. Ramos' killer. The reward will remain in place for six months.
Nicknamed 'Daddy'
Mr. Ramos was born in Montemorelos, Mexico, where he took up photography as a boy, his family said. Years later, on his return visits to the area, residents called him "Daddy" because of his reputation for taking care of those in need.
He left for the U.S. in 1963, spending time in San Antonio and Corpus Christi before settling in Dallas, where he launched Rene Photography in the 1970s.
Part of what made Mr. Ramos unique, friends and family say, is that he had a vision not only for his studio to thrive, but for other Hispanic-owned businesses to succeed. He is credited with changing the face of his section of Oak Cliff, luring bridal shops, bakeries and other businesses.
Many photographers who worked for him eventually opened their own studios nearby.
"In the Hispanic community, over there on Jefferson, he was a leader," said Paul Fuller, founder of Full Color Inc., who did business with Mr. Ramos for many years. "I know a lot of Hispanic photographers who got their start from him setting the path for how to live."
His own life was cut short suddenly.
Shot on way home
As he did every Tuesday night, Mr. Ramos spent July 26, 2005, with Mr. Elizondo at the movies. They saw The Island at a northern Dallas theater and then walked out chatting about where they would take their wives for dinner later in the week, Mr. Elizondo said.
Mr. Ramos called his wife on his way home, and she reminded him to pick up some milk.
As he drove his Lincoln Navigator along North Madison Avenue, minutes from his home, a car stopped in front of him and a gunman stepped out, police say. Blocked from driving forward, Mr. Ramos put the car in reverse. The gunman fired, striking Mr. Ramos once in the head.
He died a short time later at Methodist Dallas Medical Center. Police found a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread in the back seat of his SUV.
Investigators aren't certain about the killer's motive. Detective Ibarra said the thinks it might have been a carjacking or robbery attempt, although nothing was stolen. A sizable reward was offered for information in the case, but to no avail.
"A lot of times, the reward will stimulate people to come forward," the detective said. "In this case, it didn't, which was surprising."
J.R. Ramos, 41, the youngest of Mr. Ramos' four sons, says he's gone over possible scenarios of the killing in his head again and again.
'Wasn't a fighter'
"My dad wasn't a fighter," he said. "I don't think he had any enemies."
J.R., who runs his father's studio now, says he remains hopeful that he will one day learn who took his best friend and father.
He misses the man who would greet him at the studio every morning with two cups of coffee and three donuts - one and a half for each of them.
He misses their morning "stupid talk" in which they'd toss around random business ideas, often telling each other jokingly, "You're right, that is stupid."
Still, being around the studio that Mr. Ramos worked so hard to build is what brings the family comfort.
"I wanted to come here. I wanted to be here," J.R. Ramos said. "This is where I feel his presence."
