In a glaring abuse of free speech, veterinary Ron Hines was busted for giving online and telephone advice to help sick and wounded animals across a purported 10-year crime spree. He was fined and his license suspended, all with a legal threat of more penalties and a year in jail if he continued to dispense advise.
However, in a historic victory for the First Amendment following 13 years of roller-coaster litigation, Hines prevailed in court, represented by Institute for Justice, preserving the right of pure speech.
In a case marked by remarkable contradiction, the state of Texas insisted it was legal for medical doctors to give advice to humans by email or telephone, but woe to Hines, who dared to dispense the same with dogs or cows. Telehealth for humans ok; telehealth for animals forbidden.
“There’s so many animals and owners out there that need help, and it’s a crying shame what the big vet organizations and Texas Legislature tried to do, but they didn’t get away with it,” says Hines, 82. “They’re ostriches with their heads in the sand, pretending like the Internet age never arrived.”
Silencing the Good Samaritan
Raised in Brownsville, Texas, along the northern bank of the Rio Grande, Hines, neck-deep in veterinary work since his teens, carries a past almost impossible for fiction. In 1966, with a doctorate in veterinary medicine from Texas A&M University, he enlisted for the Vietnam War.
Instead of Saigon or Da Nang, the U.S. Army recognized Hines’ veterinary training and sent him to Maryland, where he served at the National Institute for Health (NIH). While adjusting machinery at an NIH station, Hines tumbled into a pit of equipment and crushed multiple vertebrae, severely hampering his mobility for life.
Upon exit, despite his condition, he opened an animal hospital in San Antonio, flourishing 10 years before pulling stakes for Sarasota, Florida—winter home to the shacks and trailers of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. Working on a menagerie of animals from dancing bears to sea lions to monkey troops to pet tigers, all while rubbing elbows with the human cannonball and Flying Wallendas.
Work in the Middle East and Arabia followed. Leopards in Dubai. Camels in Jordan. Breached calves in Bedouin encampments. Clients in South Africa, Australia, and a host of other countries. Stints at SeaWorld. Animal hospitals in Florida.
“I went wherever I could help animals and people,” Hines describes. “I wasn’t very money-oriented, and if I made enough to buy food with a roof over me, I was pretty happy. Since I was a kid, I always wanted to measure up to the Good Samaritan. Maybe that’s what got me in trouble with the state.”
Free Speech be Damned
Age and disability took a heavy toll. In 2002, with most sensation gone below his waist, Hines retired. Forgoing clinic practice, he took up the keyboard.
“The internet was still pretty new, at least to me, and I saw a chance to help somebody out there. I never, never imagined, not for one second, that the government would come after me.”
Hines built a website (2ndchance.info) and filled it with posts on animal health and pet care. “Pretty soon, I started getting emails and telephone calls from around the world and the U.S., with questions from people who were either too poor to go to a vet or didn’t have access to a vet for a variety of reasons.”
He responded with advice via keyboard or phone. He prescribed no medications; gave no injections; and performed no operations. He did deliver communication—based on his veterinary career—in an exchange of pure speech.
“I gave my opinion. I never gave anyone medicine or prescribed medicine and I never offered to treat any animal. They asked me questions, and I answered based on my past. Plain and simple. These were hurting animals and pets across the globe. Name the country and I likely helped some owner or family in that nation.”
The number of requests jumped from scores to hundreds to thousands. Collating the volume, Hines began charging a flat fee of $8.95, later raised to $58. “I was trying to deal with a flood of emails, and trying to take care of the toughest cases first. Please understand, I wasn’t making any real money and I refunded anyone I couldn’t help. On top of that, if someone simply couldn’t pay, then I did it for free.”
For a decade, from 2002-2012, Hines answered emails and calls with advice. As noted in court records he never earned over $2,800 per year from the website. “None of that mattered,” he recalls. “Texas came after me. Free speech be damned.”
The Poster Child
In 2013, the Texas Board of Veterinary Medical Examiners punished Hines for giving veterinarian advice online. Specifically, he was disciplined for not physically examining animals prior to giving advice.
“Think about how irrational it was,” Hines says. “In this computer and telephone age, where telemedicine is legal, and radio shows, and call-in shows are legal, Texas came after me for giving advice on how to take care of a sick cat in Scotland. It’s way past mind-blowing.”
There were no complaints from animal or pet owners. There were no allegations he harmed a single animal. Yet, how did he slide into the Texas Board’s crosshairs?
“We’re not certain,” says Institute for Justice attorney Jeff Rowes, “but one of the people Ron Hines was helping was a guy in New Hampshire who had lost both of his legs in an industrial accident and was living on disability insurance. The only thing he had in the world was his dog, but he couldn’t afford to take the dog to the vet.”
“Ron asked the New Hampshire Veterinary Medical Association if someone could provide the guy with free veterinary care,” Rowes continues. “We believe one of the associated veterinarians reported Ron to the Texas Board and said that by giving advice to this double amputee, Ron was practicing veterinary medicine in New Hampshire without a license.”
The Texas Board suspended Hines’ license, fined him, and forced him to retake a portion of the licensing exam.
(The Texas Board of Veterinary Medical Examiners did not respond to Agweb interview requests regarding the Hines case.)
“The actions of the state of Texas were entirely ridiculous. I was astonished both as a citizen and as a constitutional lawyer that Texas would order Ron to stop having conversations with grown-ups across the country and around the world just to help their pets. Ron had people in India, for example, emailing and saying, ‘I’m trying to help a stray dog that got ran over,’ or ‘What can I do to help a wild bird injured in my yard?’ Texas was telling Ron, ‘If you dare to answer those emails and if you keep answering those emails, we’re going to take your veterinary license away.’ What interest did Texas have in preventing Ron from talking to somebody to help an injured dog in India?’”
Texas was hellbent on Hines and willing to pursuit him even to the Supreme Court of the United States. But why?
The Texas Board was afraid of the internet, Hines contends, and concerned that telecare would impact brick-and-mortar traffic.
“I was their poster child of wrongdoing,” Hines says. “The Texas Board, backed by the Texas Legislature, and backed by the American Veterinary Association, viewed me as a threat.”
“On paper, I was the perfect guy to make an example of. But guess what? Appearances can sure as hell be deceiving.”
Indeed. An old man with a big limp living on a disability pension. The old man can’t fight long. Surely.
“That’s when Institute for Justice took up my case and changed the entire game,” Hines explains. “Texas never dreamed that Institute for Justice would step in. I was willing to fight for as long as it took to get a decision to help other veterinarians long after I’m gone.”
Hines sued the Texas Board, claiming a First Amendment right to give veterinary advice online. A massive free speech case spilled into court.
Call Off the Dogs?
Hines sat on a bouncing seesaw. His fight would require 11 up-and-down judicial rulings to reach an end.
In 2015, the 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled against Hines. His speech, according to the 5th Circuit, was regulated by occupational licensure. Translated: It was not protected by First Amendment.
However, in 2018, a U.S. Supreme Court (NIFLA v. Becerra) decision put wind in Hines’ sails again by ruling that occupational speech was protected. Additionally, a year prior, in 2017, Texas passed a law enabling medical doctors to practice telemedicine on humans without in-person exams.
Once again, Hines went back into the legal grinder. This time, the 5th Circuit acknowledged Hines had engaged in protected speech and sent him to trial court. The trial court gave Hines a green light: His actions were safeguarded by the First Amendment.
During the deposition process, the state’s position unraveled, explains IJ attorney Jeff Rowes. A colleague of Rowes’, IJ attorney Andrew Ward, discovered that one of the state’s experts—Lori Teller, president of the American Veterinary Medical Association and a professor at Texas A&M Veterinary School, had given veterinary advice via the airwaves.
“She had a call-in show,” Rowes says. “She gave veterinarian advice on the show and it seemed to be the height of hypocrisy. When we were asking her questions under oath about her opinions as an expert, we showed her the transcripts of her own show, but we didn’t tell her it was her.”
“I don’t remember the exact words of the exchange, but we asked, ‘Is this person violating the law by giving advice without having first examined the animal in person?’ She responded, ‘Yes. Absolutely. This person is violating the law.’”
“At some point, I then asked her, ‘What if I told you that this is you and these are your words?’”
“It was clear,” Rowes adds. “The state’s position was absurd.”
Yet, Ron lost in the trial court again and went back to the federal court of appeals for a third time. The third trip, however, was the proverbial charm. He won a landmark victory. “It is,” Rowes describes, “one of the best free speech decisions in the country.”
Didn’t matter. Texas was not about to call off the dogs. Texas dragged Hines, a 10-year outlaw in the state’s eyes for answering phone calls and emails about sick animals, to the U.S. Supreme Court.
The Digital Age
To no avail. The U.S. Supreme Court declined the case on April 20, 2026, leaving Hines’ final First Amendment victory in place.
Hines’ 13 years of litigation, spearheaded by Institute for Justice, mark a seismic free speech decision essential for the internet age. “Thanks to Ron, who never wavered, this is a landmark decision in favor of people who share advice and wisdom one-one-one,” Rowes concludes. “And this case is also significant for two other reasons: One, our precedent ensures people have First Amendment rights across state and international borders. Two, there are lots of people who, when they retire, like Ron, still have a tremendous amount of knowledge to share. Our precedent ensures that any senior can continue to participate fully in the life of this country.”
As for Hines, he remains active in helping animals, maintaining a sanctuary for injured birds at his home, and performing wildlife rehab for USFWS at no charge.
“We were actually at a place where doctors could provide telemedicine online for people, but vets were banned from giving advice to pet owners, and they’d be prosecuted if they refused to stop,” Hines concludes.
“That tells me that some vet boards should have an ostrich, head in the sand, as their official mascot. They deny that we live in a digital age and they’re afraid of free speech. This whole affair was never complicated: All I wanted to do, with Institute for Justice, was help people and animals, and get a court decision that might help other veterinarians in the future. I believe we did.”
For more from Chris Bennett (@ChrisBennettMS or cbennett@farmjournal.com or 662-592-1106), see:
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