Cedric Ricks Executed After Stabbing Kids 25 Times and Killing Their Mother | Final Meal & Words

A North Texas man was executed for the murders of two people in Bedford years ago. 51-year-old Cedric Ricks was sentenced to death for the May 2013 murders of his girlfriend and her 8-year-old son.

On the evening of March 11th, 2026, inside a quiet execution chamber at the Huntsville Unit in Texas, a 51-year-old man named Cedric Allen Ricks was put to death by lethal injection. At 6:55 in the evening, he was pronounced dead. No drama, no last-minute rescue, just a clock, a needle, and 12 years of waiting finally coming to an end.

But here is the thing: before that moment, there was a crime so brutal it shook an entire community. There was a trial where a child, just 12 years old, sat in a courtroom and looked the man who nearly killed him straight in the eye. There were 12 years of legal fights, appeal after appeal, all the way up to the highest court in the United States. And at the very end, there were final words spoken directly to the people whose lives Cedric Allen Ricks had destroyed forever.

And then there is the question almost everyone asks when they follow a death penalty case: What did he eat as his last meal? The answer might genuinely surprise you.

This is the full story of Cedric Allen Ricks. The crime, the courtroom, the long road through death row, and the final moments of his life. Hit that subscribe button and stay with me because we are going to walk through the whole story start to finish in a way that makes sense.

Before the Tragedy: Who Was Cedric Allen Ricks?

Let’s go back to where it all began. Before we get into what happened on that terrible day in May, let’s talk about who Cedric Allen Ricks actually was. Because behind every case like this, there is a real person with a real life, and understanding that matters.

Cedric Allen Ricks was born on September 8th, 1974, in Cook County, Illinois. He was a Black male, 5 ft 7 in tall, 172 lbs, with black hair and brown eyes. He completed 12th grade, which means he finished high school. Up until the events that would change everything, he had no prior criminal record and no listed occupation.

At some point, Cedric made his way to Texas. By the time of the crime, he was living in Bedford, a mid-sized suburban city in Tarrant County, right in the heart of the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. Bedford is the kind of place where families settle down. Quiet streets, apartment complexes, neighbors who wave at each other in the morning. Not the kind of city you immediately associate with violent crime.

There, Cedric was in a relationship with a woman named Roxanne Sanchez. They were common-law partners, meaning they lived together and functioned as a couple, even though they were never legally married. Roxanne was a Hispanic woman, and she had two sons from a previous relationship: Anthony Figueroa, who was 8 years old, and Marcus Figueroa, who was 12. Cedric and Roxanne also had a child together, a 9-month-old baby boy.

So, on the surface, this was a blended family living a fairly ordinary life in a fairly ordinary Texas suburb. A man, a woman, three kids under one roof. But here’s the thing about surfaces: they do not always tell the full story. Underneath what looked like a normal household, something was very wrong, and it would not stay hidden for much longer.

The Warning Signs

On paper, this looks like a regular family in a regular Texas suburb. But under the surface, things were already going wrong. From the outside, Cedric and Roxanne looked like a normal couple. They shared a home, they were raising children together, and they had built a life in Bedford. But what happens behind closed doors is not always what the outside world sees.

The relationship between Cedric and Roxanne had a history of tension, and it was not just arguments. It had already turned physical. Before the events of May 1st, 2013, Cedric had been charged with assaulting Roxanne. This was not a rumor or an accusation that came later. It was already in the court system.

In fact, the day before everything fell apart—April 30th, 2013—Cedric had appeared in court on that very charge. Let that sink in for a moment. One day in court for assaulting the woman he lived with; the very next day, everything escalated beyond anything that could be undone. This was not a random attack by a stranger. This was not a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. These were people who knew each other, lived together, and had a history. And that history was about to reach a breaking point.

May 1st, 2013: The Attack

It was May 1st, 2013, a Wednesday. The apartment on the 1400 block of Park Place Avenue in Bedford, Texas, looked like any other home in the neighborhood. The kind of place where kids do homework at the kitchen table and fall asleep watching television in the evenings.

That day, an argument broke out between Cedric and Roxanne. We do not know exactly what was said or how it started. What we do know, from court testimony and police records, is what happened next. At some point during the argument, Cedric walked to the kitchen. He came back with a knife. What followed was a violent attack that would take two lives and leave one child permanently scarred.

Roxanne Sanchez was attacked first. She suffered fatal stab wounds to her neck, the back of her neck, her chest, her hands, and her face. She did not survive.

8-year-old Anthony and 12-year-old Marcus were in that apartment. They saw what was happening to their mother. And according to evidence presented at trial, those two boys—children—tried to intervene. They tried to stop it.

Anthony Figueroa, just 8 years old, was stabbed and killed.

Marcus ran. He made it to his bedroom and hid in the closet. He even tried to call the police, but Cedric found him. Marcus Figueroa was stabbed 25 times in his hands, his neck, the back of his neck, and his chest. I want to pause here and be respectful. We are not going to dwell on every detail, but what this 12-year-old boy endured in those moments is almost impossible to put into words.

And then Marcus did something remarkable. Bleeding and terrified, he made a split-second decision. He played dead. He mimicked the sounds of someone who was already gone, and it worked. Cedric stopped. He left the room.

Before leaving the apartment entirely, Cedric did not harm the 9-month-old baby. He placed the infant in a crib. Then he took Roxanne’s car and drove away. Two people were dead. One child was barely alive. And one man was now on the run.

The Escape and Arrest

After leaving the apartment, Cedric Allen Ricks drove away in Roxanne Sanchez’s car. He was heading out of Texas, putting as much distance between himself and Bedford as he could, but he made a decision that would seal his fate.

From the road, Cedric called a family member, and according to court and TDCJ records, he told that family member what he had done. He admitted to killing Roxanne and the children. That family member contacted law enforcement.

At the same time, police were already working to find him. Authorities traced the call made from his cell phone and were able to pinpoint his location. Cedric Allen Ricks was arrested in Garvin County, Oklahoma. He had not made it far. And now there was nowhere left to run. Ricks was taken into custody and brought back to Texas to face what was waiting for him.

The evidence was already building. There was a crime scene. There were two victims who had lost their lives. There was a surviving witness. And there was a man who had fled across state lines after calling a family member to say what he had done. From the moment of his arrest, the path was pointing in one direction. The physical violence had stopped that night on Park Place Avenue. But for Marcus Figueroa, for the family of Roxanne Sanchez, and for everyone connected to this case, the story was only just beginning.

The Legal Process: Capital Murder Charges

Once Cedric Allen Ricks was back in Texas, the legal process moved quickly. He was brought to Tarrant County, the same county where the crime had taken place, and formally charged. The charge was Capital Murder.

Now, if you are not familiar with how Texas law works, let me break that down simply. Not every murder charge in Texas is a capital murder charge. Capital murder applies in specific situations. Two of those situations applied directly to this case:

First: More than one person was killed in the same criminal episode. Roxanne Sanchez and 8-year-old Anthony Figueroa both lost their lives that day.
Second: One of the victims was a child under the age of 10. Anthony was 8 years old.

Both conditions were met. That is why this was capital murder and not a lesser charge. The word capital is important here. It means the death penalty is on the table. From the moment those charges were filed, Cedric Allen Ricks was facing the possibility of execution.

It is also worth noting that there were no co-defendants in this case. No one else was charged alongside him. This was entirely about the actions of one man on May 1st, 2013. The victims, Roxanne Sanchez and her son Anthony Figueroa, were both Hispanic. That is part of the official record and worth noting as factual background to the case. There was no ambiguity about who was responsible. The evidence, the confession call, the surviving witness—all of it pointed to one person. From that point on, every step of the legal process was moving in one of only two directions: life in prison or a death sentence.

The Trial and Heartbreaking Testimony

The trial of Cedric Allen Ricks took place in 2014 in Tarrant County, Texas. It lasted approximately 2 weeks, and by the end of those 2 weeks, there would be very little left to debate.

The prosecution came prepared. They presented physical evidence from the crime scene, findings from the medical examiner confirming the cause and nature of the victims’ injuries, and the phone call Cedric made to a family member after fleeing, in which he admitted to the killings. They also brought in his prior assault charge against Roxanne Sanchez, showing the jury that this was not the first time violence had entered that household. It was a pattern.

But the most powerful moment of the entire trial did not come from a forensic report or a police record. It came from Marcus Figueroa.

By the time the trial happened, Marcus was a teenager. He had survived being stabbed 25 times. He had watched his mother and his little brother die. And now he had to walk into a courtroom, sit in front of a jury, and tell the whole story out loud.

Prosecution: Where were you when that happened? Marcus: I was on the floor. Prosecution: Were you close to your mom? Marcus: Yeah. Prosecution: He pushed you down? Marcus: Yes. Prosecution: Then what happened? Marcus: He sat on me. Prosecution: Where did he sit? Marcus: On my neck. Prosecution: Why did he have to put that on your neck? And how did he… How did he do that? Marcus: He held my head. Prosecution: Why did he say you made a noise? Marcus: He said I made a noise. Prosecution: What noise did you make? Marcus: I was saying the noise Anthony made. Prosecution: What kind of noise was it? Marcus: A burning noise. Prosecution: Why did you make that noise? Marcus: Because when Anthony was getting hurt…

With Cedric Allen Ricks sitting just a short distance away, think about what that takes. Not just courage, something deeper than that. Marcus testified clearly and in detail. He described the attack on his mother. He described what happened to Anthony. He described hiding in the closet, trying to call for help, and then being found. And he told the jury about the moment he made the decision to play dead, to mimic the sounds of someone already gone, just to survive. His testimony was described by those present as deeply impactful.

Then Cedric took the stand. He admitted he had anger issues. He claimed that when Anthony and Marcus tried to intervene, he had acted in self-defense. And then he said something that is hard to forget. He said he was upset, that things happened that he did not fully understand his own rage, and that he wished he could bring them back right now. Those were his words.

The jury had now heard everything. The evidence, Marcus’s testimony, and Cedric’s own account of what happened. They deliberated for less than 1 hour. Less than 60 minutes to reach a unanimous verdict of guilty on the charge of capital murder. When a jury comes back that fast, it usually means one thing. The evidence was not close. It was clear.

The Sentencing and Death Row

The guilt phase was over. But the most consequential decision—what to do with Cedric Allen Ricks—was still ahead. In a capital murder case in Texas, the trial does not end with the guilty verdict. There is a second phase, the sentencing phase. And this is where the jury has to answer one of the heaviest questions in the entire legal system: Should this person live or die?

The two options were life in prison without the possibility of parole or the death penalty. The jury heard additional arguments from both sides before going away to deliberate. This time, it took them approximately 7 hours. Their decision was death.

On May 16th, 2014, Cedric Allen Ricks was formally sentenced to death. He was 39 years old. He was transferred to the Polunsky Unit in Livingston, Texas, which is where the state of Texas houses its death row inmates. And there he would stay for the next 12 years.

Now, 12 years is a long time, and it is worth explaining why it takes that long. The death penalty is irreversible. Once it is carried out, there is no correcting a mistake. Because of that, the legal system in the United States builds in multiple layers of review. Appeals, petitions, court hearings—inmates and their legal teams are given the opportunity to challenge their conviction and sentence through every available channel. That process takes years, sometimes decades.

For Cedric, those 12 years were spent in conditions that most people never think about. Death row inmates at the Polunsky Unit are held in single-person cells for the vast majority of the day. Limited movement, structured routines, very little physical contact with other people. It is a life defined by waiting. He entered that system at 39 years old. He spent his entire 40s inside those walls. Every birthday, every passing year lived out in a cell on death row. He would not leave the Texas prison system until March 11th, 2026. And by then, he was 51 years old.

The Appeals Process

After sentencing, Cedric Allen Ricks and his legal team did what most death row inmates do. They fought. Through every legal channel available to them, they challenged the conviction and the sentence. Here is how that played out:

Appeal One: The first set of appeals raised two arguments. The first was that Cedric had not received effective legal representation during his trial. In the United States, every person charged with a serious crime has a constitutional right to a competent attorney. If that right is violated, it can be grounds to challenge a conviction. The second argument was that certain evidence presented to the jury should have been suppressed. Suppressed simply means kept out of the courtroom. The idea is that if evidence was obtained or used in a way that violated a person’s legal rights, the jury should never have seen it in the first place. Both arguments were reviewed by the courts. Both were denied.
Appeal Two (2024): Ricks’s legal team took a new argument to the United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit. This one was serious. They claimed that during jury selection at his original trial, prosecutors had deliberately removed two potential Black jurors from the jury pool because of their race. This matters because the United States Constitution guarantees equal protection under the law. Using race as a reason to exclude someone from a jury is a violation of that guarantee. It undermines the fairness of the entire trial. The Fifth Circuit reviewed the claim carefully. In the end, it was denied.
Appeal Three (2025): A new appeal went directly to the United States Supreme Court. This time, the argument was about shackles. Ricks’s legal team claimed that during his trial, particularly during the sentencing phase, Cedric had been visibly shackled in front of the jury. The concern was that seeing a defendant in chains could cause jurors to view him as more dangerous before they had even begun deliberating on his punishment. The Supreme Court has previously ruled that visible shackling can be prejudicial and must be properly justified. Ricks’s team argued that standard was not met in his case. The Supreme Court reviewed the petition and denied it.

As his execution date approached, Ricks’s team submitted a formal request to the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles asking either for his sentence to be reduced to life in prison or for a 90-day reprieve. Both requests were denied.

Then, on the morning of March 11th, 2026, just hours before the scheduled execution, one final emergency appeal was filed with the United States Supreme Court. The court issued a single brief order: Denied. At that point, every legal door had been tried, and every one of them was shut.

The Last Meal Myth in Texas

Let’s talk about something that almost everyone wonders about when they follow a death penalty case: the last meal. There is something about it that people find deeply human. The idea that a person facing execution gets to make one final choice, one last request before everything ends. It has become one of the most talked-about details in any capital punishment story.

So, what did Cedric Allen Ricks request as his last meal?

Nothing. And not because he chose to make a statement by refusing food, but because in Texas, that choice does not exist anymore.

Here is what happened. For many years, Texas allowed death row inmates to request a special last meal. The state would do its best to fulfill whatever they asked for. Some inmates requested elaborate spreads. Others asked for simple, familiar food. It became well-documented and widely reported.

But in September of 2011, Texas abolished the practice entirely. The decision came after a high-profile case in which an inmate requested an extensive last meal and then reportedly showed no remorse whatsoever. A Texas state senator publicly criticized the tradition, and the Department of Criminal Justice ended it shortly after. From that point forward, every inmate executed in Texas received the same standard meal served to the general prison population that day. No special menu, no final request, no last choice.

So if you were wondering what his last meal was, there is no interesting answer. And that is actually part of the story of how Texas carries out its executions.

Execution Day: March 11th, 2026

The Huntsville Unit, known by those familiar with the Texas prison system simply as “the Walls,” is one of the oldest prisons in the state. It sits right in the middle of downtown Huntsville, Texas. A large red brick building that from the outside looks almost unremarkable. But inside those walls, more executions have been carried out than in almost any other facility in the Western world. This is where Cedric Allen Ricks was brought to die.

In the days leading up to March 11th, 2026, Cedric was transferred from the Polunsky Unit in Livingston, where he had spent 12 years on death row, to the Huntsville Unit. This is standard procedure in Texas. Inmates are moved to Huntsville in the period before their scheduled execution. During that time, they are typically given the opportunity for final visits and access to spiritual counseling.

The method used for executions in Texas is lethal injection. The protocol involves a single drug, pentobarbital—a powerful sedative administered in a lethal dose. It is the same method Texas has used for years, and it is designed to render the person unconscious before death occurs.

Witnesses are present for every execution in Texas. They watch from behind glass in separate viewing rooms. On one side, representatives for the family of the victims. On the other, representatives for the family of the inmate. Selected members of the media are also present to document the proceedings.

On the evening of March 11th, 2026, Cedric Allen Ricks was brought into the execution chamber. He was 51 years old. He had entered the Texas prison system at 39. He was leaving it more than a decade later, having spent every one of those years behind bars.

He was strapped to the gurney. The lines were placed. The warden read the death warrant. Then, the pentobarbital was administered. At 6:55 in the evening, Cedric Allen Ricks was pronounced dead. He was the second person executed by the state of Texas in 2026. At the time of his execution, three other men on Texas death row already had scheduled execution dates, with the next one set for April 30th.

Final Words and Conclusion

The process was over, but there was still one final moment that needed to happen before it did. Before the execution was carried out, Cedric Allen Ricks was given the opportunity to make a final statement. Not everyone chooses to speak. He did.

He addressed the family of Roxanne Sanchez and Anthony Figueroa directly. He said he was sorry for taking them away, that he could not imagine the pain it had caused, and that he hoped they could one day find forgiveness in their hearts—not for his sake, but so they would not have to carry that pain forever.

Then he spoke specifically to Marcus. He said he had always thought about him. He apologized for taking his mother and his brother. He said he hated that Marcus had to experience what he did, that he was truly sorry, and that he wished him peace and joy. He ended with three words: “I’m sorry.” And then he was gone.

This is not a case with unanswered questions. The facts are clear. The verdict was unanimous. The appeals were exhaustive. But it still sits with you because Roxanne Sanchez and 8-year-old Anthony Figueroa did not get to grow old. Their lives ended on May 1st, 2013, in an apartment in Bedford, Texas.

And then there is Marcus, a 12-year-old boy who survived something unsurvivable, who carried that weight through his teenage years and into adulthood. No court ruling brings back what he lost. No execution erases what he lived through. We hope, wherever he is today, that he has found some version of peace.

Cedric Allen Ricks: born 1974, executed 2026. Roxanne Sanchez and Anthony Figueroa: gone since 2013. Marcus Figueroa: still here, still living with it.

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