In San Antonio, a Marine veteran named Jimmy Friesenhahn — already paralyzed and voiceless from a shooting sixteen months ago — now faces a septic blood clot that may prevent him from testifying at the trial of the man accused of firing into his neck. His story sits at the intersection of personal sacrifice and systemic failure: a man who survived war abroad, undone at home by a wound that need not have happened, in a case that asks how a man with active warrants and removal orders remained free long enough to pull a trigger. The courtroom waits, as does a family that has learned to measure ho
Marine vet paralyzed in shooting hospitalized before trial testimony
Jimmy Friesenhahn was shot three times, left permanently paralyzed, unable to speak, and requiring full-time medical care, with family stating he will never walk again or have a family.
There is no recovering from an injury like this
Mark
So Jimmy Friesenhahn was doing his job—working security—and he spotted a gun. That's what started this?
Mimi
Yes. He saw Ortega carrying a firearm and tried to prevent him from entering the bar. They struggled, and Ortega fired multiple times. Two rounds hit Friesenhahn's vest. One hit his neck. That's the one that paralyzed him.
Luke
And Ortega was arrested immediately after?
Mimi
He was arrested, yes. Charged with aggravated assault against a security officer and illegal entry. He's also in federal immigration proceedings.
Mark
The family's real anger seems to be about how Ortega was still free to do this. He had prior arrests?
Mimi
Multiple arrests going back years. DWI in 2020, probation violation in 2023, two arrests for failing to appear in court. He had active warrants. He missed court dates. The family says he should have been turned over to ICE under removal orders.
Luke
But we don't actually know what happened in the DA's office or why those removal orders weren't executed. That's the family's claim, but the DA declined to comment.
Mimi
That's fair. We know the facts of his arrest record. We know he had a court appearance in March 2025 and was shot in May. The family is saying the system failed. We don't have the official explanation for why it did or didn't.
Mark
And now Friesenhahn can't testify because he's hospitalized?
Mimi
He was supposed to testify next week. He had surgery in August, developed a blood clot, and was hospitalized for at least a week. His sister said he was in rehab for three weeks before that. The trial may have to proceed without him, or be delayed.
Luke
Do we know if the blood clot is related to the original injury, or is it a separate complication from the surgery?
Mimi
His sister said it was a complication from the August surgery. We don't have medical details beyond that.
Mark
What does the family want now?
Mimi
They want the case prosecuted fully. They're also coming to terms with the fact that Jimmy's injuries are permanent. His sister said there's no recovery from this—it's a lifelong fight. He'll never walk again, never marry, never have children.
Luke
That's the human cost, and it's real. But it's also worth noting that we're hearing all of this from the family. We haven't heard from Ortega's side, and the DA won't comment. There's a full legal process ahead.
The Pulse
- Jimmy Friesenhahn, paralyzed and unable to speak since May 2025, was hospitalized with a septic blood clot just days before he was scheduled to testify at his shooter's trial.
- The accused, Wilmer Vladimir Ruiz Ortega, had been arrested multiple times — for DWI, probation violations, and repeated failures to appear in court — yet remained free on bond in San Antonio under active removal orders.
- Family members are demanding accountability from the Bexar County DA's office, arguing that a handoff to ICE after Ortega's March 2025 court appearance could have prevented the May 4th shooting entirely.
- Friesenhahn's sister has stated plainly that her brother will never walk, speak freely, marry, or raise a family — framing the case not as a path to recovery but as the start of a lifelong ordeal.
- The trial has begun jury selection, but whether the victim himself will be well enough to face his accused shooter in court remains an open and painful question.
In San Antonio, a Marine veteran named Jimmy Friesenhahn — already paralyzed and voiceless from a shooting sixteen months ago — now faces a septic blood clot that may prevent him from testifying at the trial of the man accused of firing into his neck. His story sits at the intersection of personal sacrifice and systemic failure: a man who survived war abroad, undone at home by a wound that need not have happened, in a case that asks how a man with active warrants and removal orders remained free long enough to pull a trigger. The courtroom waits, as does a family that has learned to measure hope in very small increments.
Jimmy Friesenhahn was supposed to testify next week. Instead, he was back in the hospital — a blood clot had turned septic following surgery, adding another crisis to a life already reshaped by catastrophe. The Marine veteran had been paralyzed sixteen months earlier, shot in the neck while working security at an El Patio Sports Bar in San Antonio. That single bullet took his ability to walk and to speak. Now his body was failing him again, just as the courtroom was finally ready to hear him.
On May 4, 2025, Friesenhahn attempted to stop Wilmer Vladimir Ruiz Ortega — a 29-year-old Honduran national — from entering the bar while armed. A struggle followed. Two rounds hit his vest. The third found his neck. Ortega was subsequently charged with aggravated assault and illegal entry into the United States, with federal immigration proceedings also initiated. Trial was set to begin the week of September 20, but by late September, Friesenhahn had spent a week hospitalized and three weeks prior in inpatient rehabilitation. His sister, Becky Borjon, told reporters the situation had taken a difficult turn.
What haunts the family as much as the shooting itself is the question of why Ortega was free to commit it. Court records revealed arrests dating to 2020 — for driving while intoxicated, probation violations, and multiple failures to appear in court. His last court date was March 2025. He had active warrants. He was subject to immigration removal orders. Yet he remained in San Antonio, free on bond, until the day he walked into that bar with a gun.
Brother-in-law Emmanuel Martinez laid out the timeline with quiet fury, noting that the DA's office should have transferred Ortega to ICE after his March appearance — two months before the shooting. Borjon was equally direct: she said she holds no opposition to immigration itself, but that a process exists for a reason, and that process was not followed. The family's grief is not abstract. Borjon described her brother's future without softening: he will never walk again, never marry, never raise children. A man who deployed into combat and came home intact had been permanently undone in a parking lot in his own city.
The Bexar County District Attorney's Office declined to comment. The trial would proceed. Whether Friesenhahn would be present to face his accused shooter — to be seen, even if he could not speak — remained uncertain. His family waited. The courtroom waited. And in a hospital bed, a veteran fought yet another battle he had not chosen.
Jimmy Friesenhahn was supposed to testify next week. Instead, he was back in the hospital, fighting a blood clot that had turned septic after surgery. The Marine veteran, paralyzed from a shooting sixteen months earlier, had been preparing for the trial of the man accused of firing into his neck—a wound that left him unable to walk or speak. Now his body was failing him again, and the courtroom would have to wait.
Friesenhahn was working security at El Patio Sports Bar in San Antonio on May 4, 2025, when he noticed Wilmer Vladimir Ruiz Ortega, a 29-year-old Honduran national, carrying a firearm. He moved to stop Ortega from entering. What followed was a struggle that ended with Ortega firing multiple rounds. Two bullets struck Friesenhahn's bulletproof vest. The third hit his neck. That shot severed something irreversible. He became paralyzed, lost his voice, and entered a world of full-time medical dependency.
Ortega was arrested and charged with aggravated assault against a security officer and illegal entry into the United States. He also became the subject of federal immigration proceedings. The trial was set to begin the following week, with jury selection starting on September 20. Friesenhahn's family had been preparing him to testify. Then, in late August, he underwent surgery. Complications followed—a blood clot that required hospitalization. By late September, he had spent a week in the hospital and three weeks before that in inpatient rehabilitation. His sister, Becky Borjon, told reporters the situation had "taken a turn." The family still hoped he would be able to testify, but the timeline was now uncertain.
What made the case burn in the family's mind was not just the shooting itself, but the question of how Ortega had remained free to commit it. Court records showed a pattern of arrests stretching back years. In October 2020, he was arrested for driving while intoxicated. In August 2023, he was arrested for a probation violation. He was arrested twice more for failing to appear in court, including once in November 2024. His last court appearance before the shooting was in March 2025. Ortega had active warrants for repeated offenses. He had missed court dates. He should have been turned over to Immigration and Customs Enforcement under removal orders. Instead, he remained in San Antonio, free on bond, until the day he walked into a sports bar with a gun.
Emmanuel Martinez, Friesenhahn's brother-in-law, laid out the timeline with precision: "His last court appearance was in March 2025, and Jimmy was shot on May 4, 2025. At that point, the DA's office should have complied with removal orders and turned him over to Immigration and Customs Enforcement." Borjon echoed the frustration. "I'm not opposed to immigration, but there is a process set in place for a reason," she said. "This guy was arrested multiple times, released on bond, and never reported. He had active warrants for repeated offenses while missing court appearances. Those warrants should have been acted upon, and maybe we wouldn't be here today."
The family's anger was rooted not in abstract principle but in the concrete reality of what had happened to Jimmy. Borjon spoke about his future in language stripped of hope. "Unfortunately, we don't see this as a road to recovery because there is no recovering from an injury like this. We see it as the beginning of a lifelong fight. My brother will never walk again. He will never be able to get married or raise a family." A Marine who had deployed multiple times overseas, who had survived combat, had come home to a different kind of wound—one that would reshape every day of his remaining life.
The trial would proceed. Whether Friesenhahn would be there to testify remained an open question. The Bexar County District Attorney's Office declined to comment on the case's status. The courtroom waited. The family waited. And in a hospital bed, a paralyzed veteran fought another battle his body had not chosen.
Notable Quotes
My brother will never walk again. He will never be able to get married or raise a family.— Becky Borjon, Friesenhahn's sister
This guy was arrested multiple times, released on bond, and never reported. Those warrants should have been acted upon, and maybe we wouldn't be here today.— Becky Borjon, on Ortega's prior arrests and the criminal justice process
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