VANCOUVER, British Columbia — Bobby Shane Stevenson awoke to a nightmare on Oct. 30, 1997.

The 10-year-old had fallen asleep shortly after returning from attending a Philadelphia Flyers game the night before. He went to bed upstairs not knowing his life would change forever in the next few hours.

He didn’t hear his dad — insurance company owner Robert Stevenson — storm into the family home in Cherry Hill, drunk, looking for his mother, Melody. Stevenson was sure his wife was taking drugs.

Their only child didn’t hear the screams and the panic. He didn’t see the bizarre chase down the street into a neighbor’s house. His father, an amateur boxer, ripped the door off the hinges and whaled away at the love of his life, causing her to bleed from her mouth and sending her to Cooper University Hospital in Camden for four days with four broken ribs, a fracture to her skull and a punctured lung.

Robert Stevenson was charged with attempted murder and five other felony counts. He tried to obtain a passport using the name of a dead baby before jumping bail. He fled to Canada and his wife, who had forgiven him, and his son later joined him.

Robert Stevenson and his son changed their names and lived under assumed identities and the family lived on the lam.

Today, the boy who protected his family’s dark and complicated secret for much of his life is a pivotal part of the U.S. Olympic hockey team that faces Canada.

The name on the back of his hockey jersey is different from the one he was born with, but Bobby Ryan realized he needed to tell the truth and no longer hides from it.

"I didn’t feel like I really had an identity," says the 22-year-old star of the National Hockey League’s Anaheim Ducks. "I knew I had to tell my story."

And his father has never forgotten how that one night long ago changed three lives so dramatically.

"I regret it every day," he says. "This is mine for the rest of my life. Fortunately, I have two people that put me in a position to be able to make it up to them."

'YOU'RE BOBBY RYAN'

On the run, he combed parts of Canada and Alaska, looking for good junior hockey programs for his son. Bobby had a gift that needed to be cultivated.

The fugitive’s scouting trip ended in El Segundo, Calif., just outside Los Angeles, where an elite hockey feeder system was in place.

Before his wife and son arrived, Stevenson changed his name. Bob Stevenson became Shane Ryan, an alias created after watching the movie "Saving Private Ryan."

His son changed his name, too.

Bobby Stevenson disappeared.

"My parents made it clear," he says. "They were serious, so I only had to be told once: ‘You’re Bobby Ryan to anybody who asks. No exceptions.’â"

While the father became a professional gambler, his son’s game on the ice flourished under an assumed identity.

The family had repaired the wounds, even if they were still living with their secret.

Then one day in February 2000, Bobby Ryan was sleeping on a couch on the first floor of their home when his world changed again.

It was 4:45 a.m.

Federal marshals burst into the house and took away his father at gunpoint. The man who had set in motion a new life for his family 3,000 miles from his crime had made one critical mistake: He used an old credit card to rent a movie at Blockbuster.

Law enforcement tracked him down shortly thereafter.

The ruse was over.

A SON'S CROSSROADS

Ryan was extradited to New Jersey, where he pleaded guilty to aggravated assault and jumping bail. He was sentenced to five years in a Camden prison.

The father has legally changed his name to Bob Ryan and works at Bob Clarke’s Gym in Cherry Hill, owned by the Flyers’ former star and current executive. Bob Ryan says he regrets what he did 13 years ago but he doesn’t regret his decision to flee from New Jersey.

"It probably makes absolutely no sense to 95 percent of the people," he says. "I’m not saying that what happened was good. I’m saying what happened had positive changes for Bobby."

The kid rocketed up the youth rankings in Michigan and thrived in the Ontario Hockey League in Canada. The father saw none of it.

"I missed more games than I care to count," Bob Ryan says. "I couldn’t travel to Canada because the parole department wouldn’t permit me to. But I wouldn’t trade any of those things for where he ended up."

As the 2005 NHL Draft approached, Bobby Ryan reached a crossroads. He didn’t want to hide behind the family secret anymore.

"It wasn’t easy by any means," the player says. "I didn’t want to have people ask about my parents and have to lie. If you hide it, it’s more than likely going to come out at some point. Then you’re going to have to deal with the repercussions of not being honest in the first place."

So Ryan exposed his complicated past before the Ducks selected him with the No. 2 overall pick, just after the Pittsburgh Penguins drafted Sidney Crosby. "Through it all, I became more independent," Ryan says. "I certainly don’t have any skeletons in my closet."

IN THE STANDS

The couple inside the house on Merchant Street in Cherry Hill lives a simple life now. Bobby Ryan and Melody (who has kept her married name, Stevenson) are still together. They’ll both be in the stands today to cheer for their son.

"Does he have scars? Probably," the father says. "But he’s a good kid. He’s honest. He’s forthright. He’s genuinely good to other people. He took the right path."

The name stretched across the back of his son’s jersey is no longer an anchor.

"Stevenson was just going to bring about turmoil," Bobby Ryan says.

A 6-foot-2, 210-pound forward with a blend of speed and power, Ryan has flourished in his first two seasons in the NHL. In 2009, he finished second in the voting for the Calder Trophy, awarded to the league’s top rookie.

"He’s a guy that can change a game by himself," said Team USA architect Brian Burke, who was Anaheim’s general manager five years ago when he drafted Ryan. "This guy can break a game open."

Last Monday, the day before he scored Team USA’s first goal of the Olympics, the young star stood inside Canada Hockey Place, retracing his strange road and sharing a family saga that somehow emboldened him.

Bobby Ryan stopped hiding long ago.