The James Hydrick Story: A Life of Civil Commitment
James Hydrick's story begins on the Savannah River in Aiken County, South Carolina. From a childhood marked by horrific abuse, his life spiraled through clandestine government operations, wrongful conviction, and ultimately, a lifetime sentence under a controversial law. The following is his account, a chilling look inside the system of civil commitment.
That intervention wasn't a rescue. It was a trade. At nine years old, I was placed in Whitten Village, an institution in Clinton, South Carolina, where I would spend the next decade of my life. This is where my story, and my fight, truly began.
The Path of the Warrior
In 1964, while with my father on a chain gang, I saw Bruce Lee on a prison TV. In that moment, I knew. Martial arts would be my salvation, my way to protect my siblings and myself. Back in Whitten Village, a child psychologist named Robert Fletcher saw a spark in me. He introduced me to the world of "empty hand" combat. I was a natural. My traumatic childhood had given me a rare gift: the ability to read people—their body language, their eye movements, their intentions. In combat, this was my superpower.
My skills grew, and I fell under the tutelage of legends like Grandmaster Ed Parker Sr., who took a profound interest in me. My body became a temple, and martial arts became my religion. It was a discipline that gave me strength and a purpose beyond the pain of my past.
A Journey into the Shadows
After leaving the institution, I traveled across the country, eventually landing in Hollywood. Life was a whirlwind. One night in 1977, an 18-year-old kid with no money, I got into a van with some guys for a party. That night ended with us robbing male prostitutes, a crime that landed me in the notorious LA County Jail for four years.
But jail was where my life took its most unbelievable turn. I was recruited by a drug enforcement officer, Lieutenant Michael Ruppert, into a clandestine world of black-ops. He brought me into Operation Boomerang, which later evolved into Operation Pegasus and Operation Watchtower. He told me I was part of an effort to expose the CIA's involvement in the Iran-Contra affair, specifically how cocaine was being funneled into the U.S. through street gangs. My friends and I were used as assets in dangerous missions, one of which, in El Salvador, ended with my friends being killed due to bad intel. We felt betrayed and used.
The Setup and the Sentence
Disillusioned, I returned to civilian life but couldn't escape the adrenaline. I started running cocaine in Huntington Beach, using street-smart kids as runners because they could evade police far better than adults. It was stupid, but it was an adventure.
Then, the trap was sprung. The authorities weren't interested in the drugs. They coached one of my young runners to accuse me of inappropriate touching. I was arrested not for drug running, but for a lie.
The system came down on me with its full weight. After a bizarre extradition attempt from Georgia that was thwarted by an Arkansas sheriff who saw the warrant was invalid, I was sent to Orange County jail. There, a doctor declared me a threat and began a six-month regimen of forced medication—40 milligrams of Haldol injected every few days. Drugged and disoriented, my attorney convinced me to change my plea from not guilty to guilty. The moment I did, the medication stopped.
I was sentenced to 17 years in prison. I served 10 of them, surviving multiple attempts on my life in the harshest prisons, including Pelican Bay. I thought that once I served my time, I would be free. I was wrong.
The Forever Sentence: Civil Commitment
On the day of my release, my wife, who was dying of cancer, was waiting to pick me up. I never saw her. Instead of walking out a free man, I was taken directly from prison to Atascadero State Hospital.
"They're not locking me up for a crime I committed. I already served my time for that. They're locking me up in punitive conditions for a crime I might commit in the future." - James Hydrick
The state had retroactively applied the Sexually Violent Predator (SVP) law to my case—a law that didn't even exist when my crime occurred or when I was sentenced. Just like that, my prison sentence transformed into a potential life sentence through civil commitment. I was no longer being held for a crime I had committed, but for a crime the state decided I might commit in the future.
It's pre-crime detention, just like in the movie Minority Report. I have been in this "shadow prison" for over 20 years, fighting for a civil trial that is supposed to happen within a year. It took them 18 years to get me to one. My first trial ended in a hung jury, with jurors agreeing I didn't meet the criteria. The second trial, with crucial evidence and testimony blocked by the judge, ended with a guilty verdict.
A Glimmer of Hope in the Darkness
Today, I am still here. This facility is not a hospital; it's a dungeon where violence is rampant, and the staff is sometimes more dangerous than the patients. There have been 45 deaths here in the last two years alone. The "treatment" they offer is a sham, a money-making scheme that costs taxpayers nearly $400,000 per patient per year with no real path to release.
But after all these years, a light has appeared in the darkness.
The very same victim who was coached to lie all those years ago has come forward. He's a Christian now, and his conscience can no longer bear the weight of the lie. He has given a deposition to my attorneys, Scott Taylor and Rudy Kraft, admitting that detectives told him what to say and that he lied. He told them I was innocent back in 1988, but they didn't care. They just wanted a conviction.
This fight has been the longest and hardest of my life. Through it all, my girlfriend, Jen, has been my rock. She is wonderful, my everything. Her support gives me the strength to keep going.
My case is now heading back to the courts. After decades of being locked away for a crime I didn't commit and for a future crime I haven't committed, the truth is finally coming out. This story is a warning: if they can do this to me, they can do it to anyone.
