“An advocate is someone who speaks up for those who cannot speak for themselves, standing firm in the face of adversity, and fighting for justice even when the odds are against them.”
I dedicate this publication to those who were once effective advocates and activists, as well as to those who aspire to make a difference but may not yet know how. Advocacy is not simply a title or a hobby—it is a commitment, a dedication to a cause, and a responsibility that requires unwavering belief in one’s mission. There is no job description for advocacy; you either do it or you don’t. It is not about grandstanding or seeking personal recognition. It is about the people you serve, the cause you fight for, and the integrity you uphold.
The Misconceptions of Advocacy
Too often, advocacy is mistaken for symbolic gestures—refreshments at meetings, social gatherings, or public displays of concern. But advocacy is not about bringing a plate of cookies to a meeting. That approach is outdated and ineffective. Real change requires strategy, persistence, and genuine concern for those affected by the system. The criminal justice reform movement, in particular, has become inundated with nonprofits claiming to advocate for the incarcerated, but how many of these organizations truly effect meaningful change? In Colorado alone, particularly in the Denver metro area, the number of nonprofits focused on criminal justice reform is staggering. Yet, when it comes time to testify before legislative committees or attend policy discussions, it’s often the same faces, repeating the same rhetoric, while real progress remains elusive.
The Problem with Self-Serving Advocates
One of the greatest flaws in modern advocacy is the rise of self-serving advocates—individuals who claim to champion a cause but are primarily focused on their own legacy. Some are more concerned with ensuring their name is never forgotten than with achieving real, tangible change. Take, for instance, organizations like the Second Chance Center. While it purports to be about second chances for the formerly incarcerated, in reality, it often seems more focused on promoting its leader, Hassan Latif, than on the individuals it claims to serve.
Similarly, the Colorado Criminal Justice Reform Coalition (CCJRC) brings figures like Kyle, a so-called director of policy, into the advocacy space. While Kyle presents himself as a professional, arriving at the Capitol in a suit and carrying a briefcase, his advocacy often seems self-centered, filled with personal anecdotes rather than substantive policy discussions. “When I was in jail… when I had to pay my restitution…”—the narrative is always about him. Is this advocacy, or is it simply a way to ensure his own story is remembered?
Stagnation in Advocacy
Many activists have been engaging in the same tactics for years, yet they wonder why they see no progress. The reality is, their approach has expired. They are trapped in an endless loop of repeating the same failed methods while expecting different results. True advocacy requires adaptation and innovation. It requires stepping back, evaluating what works, and being willing to change tactics when necessary. But for some, the identity of being an “advocate” is too deeply ingrained in their self-image for them to step aside or make room for fresh perspectives.
Finding a New Cape
The roles of Superman, Superwoman, and Batman are already taken. If you want to be an effective advocate, you need to find your own superpower—something that truly contributes to change rather than just inflating your own importance. Effective advocacy is not about making sure people remember your name; it is about making sure your cause moves forward. If you are not willing to put in the work without the expectation of recognition, then perhaps advocacy is not for you.
The movement needs dedicated individuals who understand that advocacy is not about personal gain or perpetual self-promotion. It is about the people you serve, the policies you influence, and the real, measurable change you create. If you truly want to be an advocate, commit yourself fully. If not, step aside and allow those who genuinely care to do the work that needs to be done.
The Evolution of Advocacy: Why It’s Time for Change
For years, I was part of a group of advocates focused on reforming laws related to sex offenses. This type of activism is not easy. It requires standing in front of legislative committees, testifying for bills that are often poorly written, incomplete, or misrepresented. The process can be frustrating, especially when emotions override logic, and passionate testimonies fail to address the core issues at hand.
I spent a few years attached to these advocacy groups, believing in their cause and efforts. However, over time, I came to a stark realization—I had nothing in common with the old-school approach they adhered to. Many of these advocates have been doing this work for decades, with an average age between 70 and 80. While experience is valuable, I found their methods to be outdated and ineffective. They seemed unwilling to embrace new strategies or incorporate fresh perspectives. If someone proposed an innovative approach, they were met with resistance, often accused of being disruptive rather than progressive.
The reality is that these veteran advocates have reached their expiration date in this fight. It is time for them to pass the torch to a younger generation that understands modern advocacy—how to leverage social media, craft compelling narratives, and engage the public in meaningful ways. The world has changed, and activism must evolve with it. Advocacy is not about bringing refreshments and cookies to meetings; it is about action. Yet, many of these gatherings felt more like social clubs, full of complaints and finger-pointing rather than tangible solutions.
One defining moment for me was when I invited a guest speaker from Veterans Affairs to one of these meetings. This person had invaluable insights, answering questions that had long been ignored. Instead of recognizing the importance of this perspective, many in the group seemed more concerned with their personal connections and social engagements. They boasted about having lunch with a senator or meeting with officials, but these interactions meant nothing without results. I do not care about your lunch meetings—I care about whether a bill is signed, whether reforms are enacted, and whether we are making real progress in reducing the registry and changing the system.
The cycle of stagnation in advocacy needs to end. The movement requires passionate, forward-thinking individuals who focus on outcomes, not optics. It’s time to shift away from traditional, ineffective methods and embrace modern activism that prioritizes strategic action over endless discussions. The future of advocacy depends on it.
The Stagnation of Advocacy: A Reflection on Advocates for Change
Two weeks ago, I received an email about an upcoming meeting for an organization called Advocates for Change. This group, supposedly working in collaboration with CURE—a broader criminal justice reform organization—had scheduled a meeting to discuss issues related to advocacy. Unlike CURE, which primarily focuses on issues like murder convictions, life without parole, and broader justice reform, Advocates for Change is expected to include advocacy for sex offense cases. However, my expectations for this meeting were not met, and the experience only reinforced my belief that much of the advocacy movement remains stuck in ineffective and outdated practices.
One of the more amusing aspects of this gathering was the involvement of Rick and Tammy—self-proclaimed leaders of an advocacy group. Their legal standing remains unclear, as I could not find any official registration for them under the Colorado Secretary of State’s records. I assume they intend to operate as a nonprofit, but there is little transparency regarding their structure or mission.
Despite my skepticism, I was intrigued by the fact that they had invited a high-profile guest: Lauren, the director of a specialized treatment program for individuals dealing with sex offense-related issues and substance abuse. When bringing in a speaker of this caliber, one would expect a significant turnout—at least 30 engaged participants ready to learn, ask questions, and contribute meaningfully to the discussion. Instead, what I witnessed was a disappointing and predictable cycle of the same faces, the same rhetoric, and the same stagnant advocacy efforts.
Arriving at 6:30 PM, I sat in the parking lot, anticipating a crowd. The meeting was scheduled to begin at 7:00 PM and last until 8:30 PM. As attendees trickled in, I counted a total of only 15 people, including the guest speaker. Among them were Rick, Tammy, their close associates, and just a handful of new faces—perhaps four in total. The low turnout was a glaring failure, especially for an organization that has been around for years and should have a well-maintained mailing list capable of mobilizing a significant audience.
A well-run nonprofit should have its affairs in order: an updated website, clear leadership structure, and an engaged base of supporters. However, a visit to Advocates for Change’s online presence reveals outdated information, a website that has not been meaningfully updated since 2019, and a lack of transparency about its leadership and membership. This raises serious questions about the legitimacy and effectiveness of their operations. Having recently established my own nonprofit, I now understand the legal and structural requirements that organizations must follow. Based on my observations, many so-called advocacy groups should be audited and potentially shut down for failing to comply with basic nonprofit regulations.
The core issue here is that organizations like Advocates for Change refuse to evolve. Despite their name, they resist actual change. They cling to old methods, refuse to pass the torch to younger, more effective advocates, and continue holding meetings that serve more as social gatherings than platforms for meaningful action. The opportunity to engage with influential figures like Lauren was squandered due to their inability to mobilize support, communicate effectively, and adapt to modern advocacy strategies.
Advocacy should be about action, not empty meetings. It should be about influencing policy, mobilizing communities, and pushing for tangible reforms. Until groups like Advocates for Change recognize their own inefficiencies and step aside for new leadership, they will continue to be nothing more than a stagnant relic of the past—advocates for change who refuse to change.
The Illusion of Advocacy: Why Some So-Called Advocates Are Hurting More Than Helping
Many of you with loved ones behind prison walls—whether for sex offenses or other crimes—naturally seek out people who call themselves advocates. You think, maybe they can help with my loved one’s case. Maybe they have connections in the public defender’s office, or maybe they work closely with legislators who could push for legal reforms. The assumption is always that they have good relationships with local authorities and can influence change. But let me tell you how this really works—because the reality is quite the opposite.
These so-called advocates don’t actually advocate for change. In fact, when they testify, they often do more harm than good. Their testimonies are 90% emotion and only 10% fact. Instead of addressing actual issues and presenting viable solutions, they use people’s personal stories to make dramatic emotional appeals. The problem is, no one in power takes them seriously. Every time I attend a testimony with them, I know exactly what to expect—repetitive, ineffective speeches that achieve nothing. It’s the same thing, over and over again.
One major problem lies within the Public Defender’s Office, particularly its Sex Offense Unit. There’s a woman named Laurie who works closely with these so-called advocates, and she should be the one guiding them on how to testify effectively. Instead, she’s just as emotionally charged as they are. During testimonies, she screams and yells, making a scene that is more embarrassing than persuasive. And this is the person who represents the Public Defender’s Office?
Laurie claims she educates public defenders on how to properly handle sex offense cases—whether taking them to trial or negotiating plea deals. But if that’s true, then why do her statistics paint a completely different picture? The overwhelming majority of cases handled by the Public Defender’s Office result in convictions and lengthy prison sentences. What exactly is she teaching them? Is she just another government employee enjoying a cushy job, pretending to be productive while doing nothing of actual value?
The real failure of advocacy lies with people like Laurie. If she truly understood the legal process and wanted to make a difference, she would sit these so-called advocates down and educate them on how to testify properly. She would teach them that their emotional rants don’t help—it actually hurts the very people they claim to be fighting for. The way they currently approach testimony is completely ineffective and counterproductive.
So, let me answer the big question: do these advocates actually work with key players like district attorneys, victim advocates, or legislators in any meaningful way? No. They don’t want to work with anyone outside of their own small circle. They don’t want to collaborate or find common ground. They want to remain in their bubble of bitterness, lashing out in passive-aggressive ways while accomplishing absolutely nothing. Their idea of advocacy is having lunch with some legislator who doesn’t even care what they think. That’s not advocacy—that’s just socializing.
If we want real change, we need real advocates—people who understand strategy, negotiation, and the power of facts over emotions. Until then, this cycle of ineffective advocacy will continue, and the people who need help the most will keep paying the price.
The Truth Behind Tami Floyd & Rick Ostring: Questioning Their Role in Advocacy
Many individuals claim the title of advocate or activist, but what does it truly mean? Advocacy should be rooted in dedication, integrity, and genuine support for those in need. However, some people take on this role for personal gain, using their influence to manipulate vulnerable individuals. Tami Floyd and Rick Ostring are two such figures who claim to fight for the rights of those convicted of sex offenses, yet their actions raise serious concerns about their credibility and motivations.
A Pattern of Power-Seeking Behavior
Tami Floyd has been involved with multiple advocacy organizations, but her presence has often led to internal turmoil. Initially, she was involved with Susan Walker’s organization, which focused on sex offense-related cases. However, when Susan refused to relinquish control to Tami, conflicts ensued. Accusations flew—Tami claimed financial mismanagement, alleging that Susan had multiple checkbooks and lacked proper oversight of funds. The drama escalated, drawing others into legal disputes and nearly leading to a defamation lawsuit.
When her attempt to take control of Susan’s organization failed, Tami moved on to another group, Advocates for Change. This pattern of jumping from one organization to another suggests a hunger for power rather than a genuine commitment to advocacy. Instead of working collaboratively, she has consistently sought dominance, often creating division and chaos in the process.
The Troubling Past of Rick Ostring
Rick Ostring, Tami’s current partner in advocacy, has an even more alarming background. Unlike those who have served unjust or excessive sentences, Rick never even set foot inside a prison despite committing a serious crime. In December 2015, Rick was caught in an undercover sting operation in Aurora, Colorado. He believed he was communicating with a 12-year-old girl online and initiated explicit conversations about sexual activities. When he arrived at a prearranged meeting, he was immediately arrested.
Rather than serving time in prison, Rick received intensive sex offender probation, a sentencing outcome that raises significant concerns. Many individuals convicted of similar crimes end up with indeterminate sentences—decades or even life in prison. Yet, Rick avoided incarceration entirely. He frequently testifies against sex offender treatment programs, portraying himself as a victim rather than accepting responsibility for his actions. His history of arguing with probation officers and resisting treatment shows a pattern of defiance, not rehabilitation.
A False Advocate
Rick’s self-proclaimed role as an advocate is problematic. He speaks at legislative hearings, pushing the narrative that sex offender treatment is unfair and overly harsh. However, his complaints stem from his personal failures in the program, not systemic issues. His inability to follow rules and his repeated violations of probation conditions nearly resulted in revocation multiple times.
Moreover, Rick’s professional involvement with organizations like the Second Chance Center and sober living programs further complicates his credibility. He was once a source of insider information about corruption at Second Chance Center but later turned defensive when those revelations were published. If he wanted to remain anonymous, he should have never spoken out in the first place. His actions demonstrate opportunism rather than a sincere commitment to justice reform.
The Bigger Picture: Advocacy Should Be About Justice, Not Personal Agendas
Sex offense advocacy is a delicate and critical issue. There are individuals who have been wrongfully convicted, those who received excessively harsh sentences, and those caught in legal gray areas such as Romeo and Juliet laws. The fight for fair treatment in the justice system is legitimate and necessary. However, people like Tami Floyd and Rick Ostring undermine that fight by making it about themselves.
True advocacy is about presenting facts, offering solutions, and working collaboratively with policymakers, legal experts, and affected families. It is not about seizing power, stirring up unnecessary drama, or deflecting personal responsibility. The involvement of individuals with questionable backgrounds only discredits the movement and makes it harder for legitimate advocates to be taken seriously.
Be cautious about who you trust in advocacy circles. Not everyone who calls themselves an advocate has pure intentions. Some are in it for power, others for personal redemption, and some simply enjoy the attention. Tami Floyd and Rick Ostring exemplify why we must scrutinize those who claim to speak on behalf of others. Their history of manipulation, power struggles, and questionable credibility should serve as a warning: Not all advocates are truly fighting for justice.
The Dark Side of Sex Offender Advocacy: Entitlement, Manipulation, and Control
For over 20 years, I have worked with individuals convicted of sex offenses. In that time, I have observed a pattern of entitlement, manipulation, and explosive behavior among those who have committed truly heinous crimes—particularly those involving children. These individuals are often self-centered, believing that the world owes them something. If you challenge them, you instantly become their enemy. Their passive-aggressive tendencies quickly escalate into hostility, and their sense of victimhood overshadows any real accountability.
This behavior extends beyond individual offenders and into the so-called advocacy groups that claim to fight for their rights. Organizations such as Advocates for Change, led by figures like Tami Floyd, Rick Ostring, and others, are not necessarily focused on meaningful reform. Instead, they are riddled with internal power struggles and questionable alliances. However, one name ties them all together—Roger Kincaide.
Roger Kincaide: The Puppet Master of Sex Offender Advocacy
Roger Kincaide, an elderly man approaching 80, holds the reins of many of these advocacy efforts. But let’s be clear—Roger is not just another advocate. He, too, is a registered sex offender with a conviction involving a child. Despite the severity of his crime, he never served time in prison and was instead placed on intensive probation. This has only reinforced his sense of entitlement, making him a vocal leader in these advocacy circles.
At first glance, Roger presents himself as intelligent and highly educated, even boasting an MBA. However, intelligence on paper does not translate to wisdom or integrity. His leadership within these groups has stifled progress, turning advocacy meetings into social gatherings rather than platforms for real change. Instead of lobbying for legislative reform or working with policymakers, these meetings focus on refreshments and meaningless discussions. The moment someone challenges Roger’s authority, he orchestrates a smear campaign against them, using his influence to manipulate others into doing his dirty work.
My Experience with Roger Kincaide
I once trusted Roger, believing that he had good intentions. That was my mistake. When I refused to conform to his ideology and resisted his manipulations, I became his primary target. In retaliation, Roger had one of his associates conduct a background check on me. Then, with audacity only a manipulator of his caliber could muster, he confronted me with the information at a meeting—attempting to use it against me.
Let’s take a step back and consider the absurdity of this situation: A convicted sex offender, whose crime involved a child, conducting a background check on someone advocating for meaningful reform. The hypocrisy is staggering. His behavior didn’t stop there—he resorted to stalking, using his influence to turn others against me and attempting to silence my voice.
The Toxic Influence of Roger and His Followers
Roger is not alone in his tactics. He surrounds himself with individuals like Tami Floyd and Rick Ostring—people who claim to be advocates but are more interested in power and control than actual change. Tami, for instance, has a history of trying to dominate every advocacy group she joins, having previously clashed with Susan Walker, another long-time figure in sex offender advocacy. When she couldn’t take over Susan’s organization, she moved on to Advocates for Change. Her methods? Slandering and discrediting those who stand in her way.
Rick Ostring, on the other hand, is a convicted sex offender who never served time behind bars. His crime? Attempting to arrange a sexual encounter with what he believed to be a 12-year-old girl. Instead of accepting responsibility, he has spent years complaining about the conditions of his probation, portraying himself as a victim of the system. And now, he wants to be seen as an advocate?
What Needs to Change
As long as people like Roger Kincaide remain in control of these advocacy groups, there will be no real progress. These groups will continue to be about personal vendettas, power struggles, and self-preservation rather than actual reform. If advocacy is to be effective, it must be led by individuals who genuinely care about the cause—not those who are simply trying to rewrite their own narratives or seek validation for their past crimes.
Sex offender advocacy should be about addressing wrongful convictions, advocating for fair sentencing, and ensuring that rehabilitation programs are effective. It should not be about giving individuals with a history of predatory behavior a platform to manipulate others and exert control. Until there is a leadership shift, these so-called advocacy groups will remain nothing more than echo chambers for entitled offenders who refuse to take accountability for their actions.
The sooner the advocacy community recognizes this problem, the sooner we can move toward real, impactful change.
Beware of Performative Advocacy: A Call for Genuine Activism
Some of you reading this may wonder why I’m writing this. Maybe you think I’m bitter because I wasn’t accepted by certain advocacy groups. Maybe you think I have a different approach and have distanced myself as a result. But that’s not it. The real reason I’m writing this is to warn those who want to put their heart, soul, and time into advocacy and activism.
Be very cautious about who you choose to align with. Do your research. Look beyond the surface. Just because someone claims to be fighting for justice doesn’t mean their intentions are pure. Some of these so-called advocates are not in it for real change—they’re in it for the networking, the social gatherings, the refreshments, and the cookie plates. They are no different from ineffective public defenders who merely go through the motions of their jobs without any real impact.
What’s even more disheartening is that men and women in prison believe that these advocates are actually fighting for them. They hold onto hope that someone is truly out there battling for their rights, for their dignity, for their freedom. But the reality is that many of these organizations are hollow. They don’t show up where it matters. They don’t push for meaningful legislation. They don’t challenge the system in a way that would create lasting change.
There are exceptions—great organizations exist in places like California and Florida. But here in Colorado? The advocacy landscape remains stagnant. Nothing changes because the people in charge of these organizations aren’t willing to do the hard work. They won’t take risks. They won’t push back against legislators. They won’t draft bills or fight for crucial funding like gate money or increased DOC budgets. Instead, they attend breakfasts and luncheons with lawmakers, patting themselves on the back for their “efforts” while accomplishing nothing of substance.
The last time I saw some of these so-called advocates was in March 2024, when they showed up at a Sex Offender Management Board meeting. Why? Because that’s when they could cry about how unfair life is—but only when it affected them. They don’t think about those who have already served their time. They don’t think about those still behind bars. They don’t think about those about to be sentenced.
Advocacy is not about comfort. It is not about prestige. It is about fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves, even when it is inconvenient, even when it is unpopular, even when it is dangerous. If you truly want to be an advocate, don’t fall for the illusion of activism that exists only for self-promotion. Find people who are truly in the trenches, doing the real work. And if you can’t find them—become them.
Disclaimer:
The content of this publication is based on personal observations, professional experiences, and publicly available information. All opinions expressed are solely those of the author and do not reflect the views of any affiliated institutions or organizations. This publication is intended for informational and educational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice. Any statements regarding individuals, agencies, or events are made in good faith and are supported by factual evidence or personal witness accounts. The author has taken reasonable steps to ensure accuracy, but makes no guarantees regarding completeness or future developments. Any resemblance to persons or situations beyond what is expressly stated is purely coincidental. If any party believes that any content is inaccurate or misrepresented, they are encouraged to contact the author for clarification or discussion.
Justice Unlocked. 
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