Courtroom Tangle Hobbles Horses In Legal Limbo -- Nobody Is Winning `The Case From Hell'

PROSSER, Benton County - There's no hiding the hometown pride in the sign on the outskirts of this Yakima Valley town: "Prosser. A pleasant place with pleasant people."

But a few folks might disagree, given the contentious, four-year battle with a local horse rancher that shows no signs of ending soon.

It's probably the largest animal-abuse case in state history, and it has all the drama of a three-act play:

-- A herd of 151 horses and mules confiscated by Benton County, which claimed they were harmed.

-- The woman who lost the horses and was convicted of animal abuse but blames it on a witch hunt and is using every legal means possible to get the horses back.

-- The people who are caring for the horses, nursed them back to health, and may lose them if the woman wins her legal battle - or even if she doesn't.

"It's the case from hell," said Robert Thompson, an attorney in the case.

No one involved in this bizarre tale disagrees with that assessment - not the sheriff, not the prosecutor, not the families who adopted the horses, not even Gladys Tarnavsky, the woman at the center of it all.

The case is detailed in five volumes of legal documents, stacked 8 inches high in the Benton County Courthouse in Kennewick.

It began in 1992, when county authorities seized 33 horses from Tarnavsky's ranch north of Prosser, alleging she was abusing the horses by starving and neglecting them.

A year later, 118 more horses, many so emaciated the skin hung from their ribs, were seized. Eight of the horses were so ill they had to be destroyed, said Benton County Sheriff Jim Kennedy.

"You could just smell the death among those animals," he said. "It was a real tear-jerker."

Tarnavsky, 52, who raised the horses for breeding and to produce a fertility serum, was convicted of six counts of animal cruelty and the horses were put up for adoption.

But that was hardly the end of the story.

Following her last trial in 1994, she was told by the court that she could have no large animals. Today, just dust and sagebrush surround her Gem Meadows ranch, a once-thriving enterprise that inexplicably went bad.

Because of legal costs and the loss of the money she earned from her horses, Tarnavsky's ranch has been foreclosed - although she's appealing that, too. Her defense is being handled through court-appointed attorneys.

"I've been witch-hunted. Pure, unmitigated witch-hunted," said Tarnavsky, who is convinced she'll eventually get her horses back. "I have zip for money. I've been living destitute for three years because they destroyed my livelihood."

She does not deny that her horses were ill, but blames it on poison, not neglect.

Prosecutors disagree. "Some of the horses had hooves so long . . . they couldn't walk," said Stephanie Croll, the deputy prosecutor who tried the case. "When they tried to walk out of the barn, they fell down with pain. If you don't cry, you're not human."

Many valley residents were so moved by the pictures of the gaunt horses they agreed to take the animals and nurse them back to health. Eventually, they were told, the horses would be theirs to keep.

But Tarnavsky has appealed her convictions, tossing the horses and their 93 caretakers into a legal limbo that may take years to resolve.

Because the case is ongoing, the caretakers can't neuter the horses, can't breed them and can't even take them away from their homes to be trained.

For some, patience has run so thin, and the cost of caring for the horses so high, they have returned the animals to the county.

"Everyone's taking them back," said Allen Ashley, a Sunnyside resident who adopted one of the horses, an appaloosa, and recently returned it to the county. "We're tired of the expense. The courts aren't doing anything. We can't sell the horses, we can't break them, we can't breed them.

"This case should have been resolved long ago. It's a no-win situation," Ashley said. "More than likely the horse will end up at a slaughterhouse before it's over."

Kennedy figures Benton County is spending $2,000 a month to care for the 13 horses that are being boarded at a Prosser stockyard. Last year, his office received a $10,000 budget supplement to care for the horses and he said he will ask for another one this year.

"I really feel sorry for the people who adopted these horses. It's dragged out since 1992. Their patience is absolutely unbelievable," said Kennedy, who is retiring in three years and hopes the case will be resolved by then. "I also feel sorry for Gladys. It's been a tremendous loss for her."

Thompson, the attorney who represented Tarnavsky in her last abuse case and is handling one of her appeals, said the woman has lost her horses and her livelihood - a loss he estimates at $1 million - for misdemeanor convictions.

"This is a little overkill," said Thompson, who argues that the horses were illegally seized and that errors were made by police investigators. And he asserts that even if Tarnavsky eventually loses the case, the horses would have to be sold, not given to those who adopted them.

He has filed a 49-page brief with the state Court of Appeals in Spokane, raising a dust cloud of constitutional issues.

Tarnavsky argues that the horses were poisoned, possibly by chemicals in streams that ran through the property.

In rambling conversation, she talks of conspiracies, of corruption and even asserts that people wanted her horses to use for drug-running.

"I am totally, helplessly dependent on the foster-care givers for the safety and protection of my 30 years of lifetime efforts and only assets of my livelihood," said Tarnavsky, in court documents.

"This case is fraught with constitutional issues," said Thompson, who said if Tarnavsky lost her case before the Court of Appeals, he would recommend she take it to the state Supreme Court. "This is the wildest case I've had in numerous years."

Like many of the caretakers, Deana Morrow was so struck by the story of Tarnavsky's horses that she lined up with hundreds of other people to offer a new home.

She picked "orphan Annie," a tiny appaloosa with hooves so overgrown she could stand for only 20 minutes at a time. The horse's back was so thin her ribs poked through her skin. When offered hay, Annie poked her head through the corral and nibbled sticks.

When they got Annie, they figured she was 9 months old. Instead, she was twice that age.

"I felt so sorry for her I knew I had to take that one. She looked so sweet," said Morrow, a Grandview resident. Annie is still wild, but Morrow doesn't want to invest the money to train the horse unless she knows it's hers to keep. "At least she can live her life happy in this big green pasture.

"I feel confident she'll be ours but, at the same time, I don't want to give our kid false hopes. We have to concentrate on the years we had her happy and healthy," Morrow said.

Mary Alaniz, a Prosser veterinarian, also adopted one of Tarnavsky's horses, an appaloosa she named Candy. She keeps the horse in a pasture by her clinic. Only now will Candy allow Alaniz's children to sit on her.

"I felt it would be about a year's commitment," said Alaniz. "I didn't realize she'd be able to drag it out this long."

Dick Root, another veterinarian who adopted one of the horses, an Arabian, has no doubt the animals were starving.

He, like many of the caretakers, say he's spent far more money caring for Tarnavsky's horses than if he'd simply bought a horse.

"Deep in my heart, I'm really sorry for this lady. These horses were her whole life," Root said. "But I feel worse for the horses.

"Juries in both trials believed she was abusing these animals. I don't begrudge anyone their lawful defense, but I still believe she's guilty. Ultimately, I'm convinced her convictions are going to be upheld."