I met Richard in the early 2000s after a discussion we had on, of all things, an Internet UFO forum. Whatever it was that I said there interested him enough that he wanted to talk on the phone, I agreed, and we immediately struck up a lasting friendship, a friendship that came to mean a great deal to me.

Richard was teaching special needs kids at the time, but I soon learned he was an accomplished stage and screen actor. He had starred in a popular soap opera and made appearances on several prime-time television shows. He appeared in commercials and movies as well, most notably, "Midway" in 1976. He was an incredibly accomplished and talented fellow. He was also co-hosting a popular paranormal talk show with his long-time friend Don Ecker at the time. Something he continued to do almost to the very end.

As we got to know each other through countless phone calls and correspondence, we discovered we both wanted to turn our interest in UFOs and other strangeness into something tangible. We decided to try our hand at developing a television show, not unlike the X-files, which would use UFO and paranormal lore as a basis for characters and situations in an episodic series. Since Rich had experience as an investigator for UFO magazine with an in-depth knowledge of the subject and Hollywood as well, it seemed like a natural thing to do.

Richard visited me in Texas, and I flew to California a couple of times and met his wonderful family, Nicki, Matt, and his wife Gloria. He was also gracious enough to arrange for me to meet some of his friends while I was out there. He was an inclusive person, and I want to talk about that more than anything else. I want to talk about the real Richard Sarradet. The man I knew and loved—the inclusive Richard Sarradet.

Sure, he was a lot of things: an Army officer, a consummate actor, a paranormal investigator, a radio show host, and a teacher. But those were just things he did along the way. Those things weren't who he was. He was a father, a husband, and a friend—a true friend to so many people. I was privileged and lucky to be counted among them. But Richard, at his core, was also something else; he was a seeker. He was a seeker of truth. In seeking that truth about himself and reality, he was an open person. Open to new ideas, but most importantly, open to people. He embraced humanity in every sense of that word.

You only had to be around Richard for a little while to realize everyone that met him seemed to like him immediately. There wasn't much not to like. He made people feel welcomed, important, and needed. He encouraged people to be their best, and he led by example. He encouraged me to write. As I said, we wrote a screenplay together, which isn't possible without a great deal of encouragement. We continued to work on story ideas and on that script up until he just couldn't do it any longer. The fact that we had been at it for a decade didn't seem to diminish his enthusiasm for it. As he got sicker, I could see that it was something that he looked forward to, something he could put energy and hope into instead of dwelling on the sickness that had him in its grip. I was happy to be a part of that. His company in the process was rewarding enough.

Our conversations weren't always about UFOs, the paranormal, or writing. We spoke a lot about how we saw the world and why, about metaphysical subjects, and our stumbling steps toward some sort of elusive enlightenment. I would often say to him, "You know, I can't talk about these things with anyone else." He would laugh and recount some unusual experience he had had and some insight he felt he had gained. Our mutual condition as seekers had taken us down some strange and interesting paths. We shared the lessons we had learned along the way about ourselves. We would often agree to disagree; I was growing to be more and more a skeptic; he was, like I said, more open and inclusive in his thinking than myself.

Richard understood that the Universe is just one big thing. Everything in it, including ourselves, interconnected in ways we cannot fully perceive or hope to understand, and that our separateness is just an illusion. He celebrated that connectedness, that inclusion. He embraced it. He loved it.

Richard often spoke to me of his love for his friends and family, how he would not allow political, spiritual, or petty differences to separate him from anyone else. He was inclusive and accepting to a fault. That's how I remember, my friend, Richard. A decent, kind, and most importantly, genuine human being. We would all do well to follow his example. He deserves a standing ovation.

Rest in peace, my friend. Rest in that state of perfect peace and happiness untouched by desire or suffering. At last, Nirvana.

Love,
Ricky