Ricardo "Ric" Montiel

A lifelong resident of Salt River Pima Maricopa Indian Community and an enrolled member of the Pascua Yaqui Tribe, Ric was a husband, father, grandfather, and friend—a man of honor and uncommon kindness. He touched more lives than he ever knew. His memory lives on in the warmth of the fires he tended, the meals he cooked, the homes he built, and the stories he shared. The measure of his life is in the people he cherished and the difference he made simply by being himself.

Ric met hard times with courage, dignity, and a steady resilience that gave others something to lean on. In his final days, he spoke candidly about sobriety and moderation. Hoping to spare those he loved what he had faced, he asked his family to seek annual liver health screenings. Even then, he was thinking of their future.

For more than 54 years, Ric helped build places meant to last. His work spanned commercial inspection, casino and resort construction, custom homes, and tribal housing, including grant-funded rehabilitation and new enterprises within tribal communities. He brought hands-on leadership, a careful understanding of regulations, and enduring craftsmanship to every project. Across those decades, he helped create places where people could live, work, and build futures of their own.

Ric was also the Indian Cowboy, at home with horses, ranching, and the outdoors. A horse whisperer—and, by many accounts, a snake whisperer too—he caught, broke, and trained horses for the rodeo, though he never competed himself. He never met a horse he couldn’t train. Later in life, he ran a horse rescue, giving second chances to animals that needed them. And if you couldn’t find him, chances were he was sitting under a tree.

At home, Ric could usually be found watching the GRIT movie channel, especially the westerns of Randolph Scott and Glenn Ford. He read the dictionary for fun, gathering words that found their way into the stories he told in his deep, unmistakable baritone. He hunted down grilling recipes on TikTok, but his own culinary adventures were already family legend—from making snake tacos to eating scorpions to shock the kids, with video evidence to prove it. Above all, one of his favorite meals was meat pies made by his brother Ramon's wife and/or a good prime rib, and he would fight you for the last slice of pecan pie.

He lived in Wranglers and boots, and George Strait was his man. His children agree that “Amarillo by Morning” will always be Dad’s song. A gifted country dancer, Ric even taught ballroom for a time, wore out more than a few partners, and had to fend off a few admirers. There was rhythm in him, humor in him, and always another story to tell.

Ric leaves behind his wife, Beth Cascaddan; his children Theresa, Michiel, Jason, Anna, David, Daniel, Kristina, Monica, Keana, and Cree, all of whom bear his surname, Montiel; and his grandchildren Vanessa, Silas, Grace, Elora, Gianna, David, De’anna, Iden, and Addie. The fifth son of Juan Montiel and Maria Isabelle Martinez, he was a brother to TEN siblings and was a part of a wide circle of hundreds of extended family members, chosen family, and dear friends whose days were brighter for knowing him.

There will be an emptiness where Ric’s presence once filled a room. But his love remains—in the shelter of what he built, in a George Strait song, and in a story told again around a campfire or a table. Those who loved him will carry the sound of his voice and the warmth of his laughter with them. He will be deeply missed.

As he wished, Ric will be cremated, and his ashes will be dispersed in the manner he chose.

A celebration of life will be held in late December at the Montiel Family Long House, with the date to be announced soon. Those wishing to help the family with funeral expenses may contribute through Ric’s GoFundMe.