Russell Webb

Russell Martin Webb-criminal defense attorney, world-record skydiver, photographer,

filmmaker, cat trainer, relentless tinkerer, father, brother, and a man who never encountered a

toilet that couldn't be improved with a bidet-was finally slowed down & stopped on August 12,

2026, in Amarillo, TX. It was a 19-month battle with glioblastoma. He was 75.

Born November 25, 1950, in Corpus Christi, Texas, to Rebecca Martin and Thomas Powers

Webb. The oldest of four, he spent much of his childhood in Ras Tanura, Saudi Arabia; later

attending Allen Military Academy, El Paso Burges High School, Sam Houston State University,

and earning his law degree from Texas Southern University. He passed the bar on his first try,

but we're more impressed that he sat in a chair long enough to do so.

Russell was a 10 year old boy who dreamed of having his own science lab...and later became

a 70 year old man who lived in one. His bedroom was a computer lab, darkroom, workshop,

hardware store, legal archive, and equipment storage facility all at once. He was endlessly

fascinated by photography, filmmaking, time-lapse photography, computers, tools, science,

cameras, microscopes, and anything that could be investigated, modified, recorded, dismantled,

magnified, or plugged into something. He left behind a dozen Craftsman cabinets full of tools,

zip ties, razor blades, electrical cords, and anything else a 10 year old boy might dream of

owning in excess. A room so full that the bed was shoved in a corner, wedged between filing

cabinets and mini fridges. The walls covered in decades worth of his own photos that had been

developed and printed at home; ranging from grisly car wrecks to "local models".

He spent years working for the Texas Department of Corrections and as a parole officer before

becoming a defense attorney and helping people from that side. He was passionate about your

individual rights and took pride in getting clients out of jail. For years, he also served informally

as photographer for the Harris County Criminal Lawyers Association Christmas Party.

Apparently, even a room full of defense attorneys needed photographic evidence of what

happened.

Russell was a collector. If he needed 1 thing, he'd buy 100. This wasn't limited to objects,

though, and included people. He never burned a bridge. He kept in touch with old friends,

classmates, colleagues, ex-girlfriends, and even women he'd met while online dating. He found

great joy in pulling up a photo he'd taken of someone when they were a kid, tracking them down

across the country, and making them recreate the same pose as a senior citizen; the sort of

thing that's more endearing posthumously than in the moment.

He loved a road trip and would use an eclipse or skydiving boogie as the perfect excuse to

recreate those moments. His final log book showed 5,116 jumps and those adventures took him

around the world, including a jump over the pyramids of Egypt. From 2000 to 2010, he was a

tandem instructor examiner at Skydive Houston. At age 60, he broke a world record as part of

Skydivers Over Sixty in Lake Elsinore, California. When he drove to Wyoming in 2017 for the

solar eclipse, he brought nine cameras. His 2007 Ford Freestar minivan - featuring a 6' long

half-naked mermaid on one side - had three GoPros mounted to it because America didn't have

enough footage of its interstates.

Russell loved making videos and dreamed of going viral. He frequently demanded that family

members, waitresses, and anyone who'd listen subscribe to his YouTube channel and tell all

their friends. His fascination didn't end there, though, as he once announced that he'd watched

every cat video there was. Most people accept that as the end of the internet. Russell saw a

content gap. He trained his cat to yawn on command and then took close to 800 daily

photographs of it. He knew this would be the break he was waiting for.

It wasn't.

He started luring wild raccoons into his townhome with the promise of hot dogs and attempting

to train them. He would leave food outside for timelapse videos of ants... or installing new

hardwood floors in his rental units. (Intentionally plural.) Russell remodeled rented apartments

with the confidence of a man who considered a lease a list of suggestions as opposed to a

binding contract. He acquired enough Ryobi power tools to open his own hardware store. He

put casters on every piece of furniture so he could rearrange his place at a moment's notice.

Russell was also the world's greatest advocate for bidets. Every toilet needed one. Even hotels.

Somewhere there is a hotel maintenance worker who has questions that will never be

answered.

Russell committed intensely to anything that interested him. In his final weeks, this included

eating Church's Chicken for 45 days straight. Through his life, he survived a heart attack,

melanoma, and crashing into a parachute that was opened beneath him. He frequently boasted

how he'd never broken a bone while skydiving. (What actually broke both his arms was trying to

impress a girl by pole-vaulting with two sticks.) There's some irony that the thing that finally took

him down was something like brain cancer and not something more directly related to his

chaotic lifestyle.

Those who knew Russell are invited to remember him not simply for how his life ended, but for

the extraordinarily curious, unconventional, and comical way he lived it. There is also one final

piece of unfinished business. Russell spent years sharing his content with others. It seems

appropriate to honor that one more time.

Smash that like button and subscribe:

https://youtube.com/@russellmwebb

Blue skies, Russell!

Online condolences may be shared with the family by visiting MillerFamilyFuneralHome.com.