•Names have been changed to protect privacy.
When the phone call came, Pat* was on a trip out East with his son. A police officer had stopped by his home and left a message to call back. Soon after, he was served. A no-contact order. A criminal complaint – Criminal Sexual Conduct. Pages of allegations that landed like a punch to the chest.
“I knew this was not good,” Pat remembers.
He did what many people in that moment do. He reached for the first solid thing he could find. For Pat, that was a name he’d heard on the radio, Ryan Pacyga. He dialed Ryan’s office as soon as he got home.
“I felt like he was truly in my corner,” Pat says. “He wanted to understand me, defend me, and get to the bottom of it. I knew I had an advocate.”
The Long Road to September 4
The legal process stretched on for years. There were stretches of quiet, then bursts of motion: filings, hearings, preparation, strategy sessions. Throughout, Ryan kept communication steady and straightforward.
“He told me everything I needed to know, and he didn’t sugarcoat anything,” Pat says. “No unrealistic promises, just the truth and a path forward. I needed hope, but I also needed honesty.”
The case went to trial. On September 4, 2024, the jury returned its verdict: Not Guilty.
“I call it my rebirth day,” Pat says. “It literally felt like being given a new life.”
“You don’t just get Ryan as your attorney. You get the whole firm, and the network he’s built, standing with you.”
More Than a Defense
What Pat didn’t anticipate was how deeply Ryan and the firm would invest in Pat the person, not just Pat the case.
One of Ryan’s core beliefs is that the legal process can and should be a catalyst for growth. He invites clients to engage in meaningful self-work, both because it is the right thing for their lives and because it can matter in a courtroom. With Ryan’s encouragement, Pat volunteered for a 16-week therapeutic group. Most participants were court-ordered. He was not. He completed multiple evaluations and participated in intensive preparation sessions designed to surface the human story beneath the legal one.
“It helped me learn to look at myself from the outside,” Pat says. “I realized there were boundaries, internal and external, I never really understood or enforced. That had to change.”
He changed. Tangibly. He stopped drinking and has remained alcohol-free for more than three years. He strengthened relationships. He kept going to therapy. He grew.
“Ryan says he wants to help you become a better person through the process,” Pat recalls. “He followed through on that.”
The Buffalo on the Table
In the days before trial, Pat sat with Ryan at the conference table, walking through the hardest parts of the case. On the table sat a small wooden buffalo. A photo of a buffalo hung on the wall.
“We talked about what it meant,” Pat says. “Buffalo turn toward the storm. That idea, born for the storm, has stayed with me. You put your head down and face it.”
That image became a touchstone, a way to move through fear, shame, and uncertainty, toward truth, toward trial, and toward healing.
“There’s no light switch after a not-guilty verdict. It’s not on or off. It’s a very slow dimmer. But you keep moving toward the light.”
The People Around the Table
Ask Pat what stands out most, and he will not only talk about legal strategy. He talks about people.
Ryan. The team. The way the office staff checked in. How paralegal Pam became a steady presence. The way shared spiritual language, Ryan had given him a devotional book, offered comfort without judgment. The sense that everyone in the firm saw him as a whole person.
“You’re not just getting Ryan,” Pat says. “You’re getting the web of people around him, experts, mentors, colleagues, good people he trusts. They all worked to defend me.”
What the Jury Saw
Pat believes his work outside the courtroom mattered inside it.
“Ryan drew out the good in me, the real me, and helped show that to the jury,” he says. “Of course the facts of the case mattered. But who I had become mattered, too.”
The verdict confirmed it: not guilty.
The After
Here is what no one tells you. A verdict does not make the past disappear. Even with “not guilty,” there are losses. Friends who drifted away. A move. Practical costs and personal scars.
“It’s humbling,” Pat says. “There’s trauma. There’s shame you have to work through. But my life has improved, emotionally, physically, spiritually. And not just mine, my kids’ lives, too.”
His sons, now 20 and 16, watched their dad face something unthinkable and choose integrity, humility, and growth. They watched him keep going when it would have been easier to hide. They watched him tell the truth.
“That’s been a gift to them,” he says. “They saw what’s possible.”
A Shoreline in the Storm
If you are reading this because you or someone you love has been charged, Pat has advice:
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Improve what you can control. Do anything you can to make your life better right now. It is hard, but it pays off.
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Be humbly honest. Ryan can only help with what you give him. Show your work. Show your growth.
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Don’t go it alone. Have someone who can see you when you cannot see yourself.
For Pat, that someone was Ryan.
“Ryan can be your shoreline,” Pat says. “When you are out there and you do not know where you are going, he is the steady line you can move toward.”
Moving Forward
Today, Pat is back to the work he loves as a construction project manager. He checks in with his therapist. He enforces healthy boundaries. He shows up for his partner and his kids. He sometimes texts with the team at the firm, because he misses them.
Most of all, he keeps choosing what the buffalo taught him.
Turn toward the storm. Keep walking. Let the light get a little brighter, day by day.
“I feel forever indebted,” Pat says. “The best way I can repay it is by how I live.”
If You Need Help
If you or a loved one is facing charges and you are looking for both relentless defense and whole-person care, Ryan Pacyga Criminal Defense is here to listen, to tell the truth, and to walk with you through the storm and into the light.