Victim of rapist has thoughts for others

When Kathy picked up the phone, she was not speaking as the frightened 15-year-old who was raped by John Montgomery in 1974.

Nor was she speaking to express the outrage felt by victims and their families in the wake of a decision by the N.C. Supreme Court -- delayed by Gov. Bev Perdue on Thursday -- that would put at least 20 of the worst offenders in the prison system back on the streets.

Rather, said Kathy, who is now 50, she wants her message to be heard by others who were victimized and never stood to face their attacker.

"I know there are other victims out there who have never seen justice," she said. "It's important for them that they see justice, even if it's only for a time, even if it's only for 30 years."

Sentence cut by half

Kathy doesn't want so much to talk about the past as she does about the present and the near future. But in order to better understand what she has to say, it's instructive to know something of the past. (Kathy's not her real name. The Journal doesn't identify victims of sexual assault.)

The afternoon of July 6, 1974, she was attacked by a man who approached her and two friends with a story about helping him find his lost dog.

A witness saw Montgomery, who was in his early 20s at the time, near the scene and wrote down his license plate number and the make and model of his car. Kathy and the friends she was with that day later identified her attacker in a photo lineup.

Montgomery, now 58, was arrested nearly a year later in New York state.

He was put on trial, found guilty of first-degree rape on Jan. 16, 1976, and sentenced to die in the gas chamber. Subsequent U.S. Supreme Court rulings about the use of the death-penalty led to hundreds of prisoners nationwide, including Montgomery, having their sentences modified from death to life imprisonment.

Earlier this month, the N.C. Supreme Court determined that the law as it was written in the 1970s equated a life sentence with 80 years. Under N.C. Department of Correction policy at the time, inmates could shave significant time off their sentence if they piled up credits for good behavior and the like.

So under those guidelines, 20 inmates -- including Montgomery -- convicted of murder, rape and robbery were ordered released from prison by the end of this month.Perdue intervened late Thursday, ordering those inmates held until their so-called good-time sentence reductions could be reviewed by the state attorney general's office.

"He got one day of his sentence taken off for every day he sat on his hands instead of fighting with the guards," Kathy said. "His sentence was cut in half. That's not right."

Speaking up for others

During the trial, Kathy found herself the center of much unwanted attention. The debate over the constitutionality of the capital punishment was at full pitch.

"There was a lot of noise in the media at the time about the death penalty, whether the state had the right to carry out that sentence," she said. "I wasn't sure. I was carrying a burden that my testimony might bring about this man's death."

The attention on her grew even more intense with wide-ranging suspicions that Montgomery was a serial rapist. Somebody with a description similar to his and who used the same lost-dog story to lure his victims was suspected in at least eight similar attacks.

Kathy, just 16 during the trial, had to not only face Montgomery in open court, she also carried the burden of expectation. Notes of encouragement written by other victims and their family members were passed to her in the courtroom.

"I went forward with the idea that I could stop him, that I could keep him from doing it to other people," she said. "I felt I had to speak up for the other girls, too."

At the end of the trial, a deputy with the Forsyth County Sheriff's Office said that Montgomery had been charged with rape and attempted rape in Davidson County, attempted rape in Salisbury, attempted rape in Iredell County, a rape in Cabarrus County and kidnapping in Randolph County.

The status of those charges was not clear Friday.

Investigators and prosecutors are scrambling to find answers in hopes that they can revive the other cases and find a way to keep Montgomery locked up.

Since Montgomery has been in prison, he has been cited for disciplinary infractions, including one for possession of a weapon.

The mere fact that the Supreme Court paved the way for his release forced Kathy to rethink and relive the trial. "At the time, I felt I had no choice," Kathy said about testifying. "I couldn't stop it. It was like a train coming.

"If it had been up to me, I might never have said a word. But for the grace of God, it might have killed me by now if I had to live with it."

What was lost

Kathy didn't volunteer much about her life between 1976 and today. It's safe to say that she's enveloped by a loving and protective family, a few close friends, and that she's worked very hard to heal.

"I've been able to overcome and lead a more or less fairly normal, happy life," she said.

She's still somewhat leery of strangers, and is reluctant to discuss certain things. She said that at times she feels the need to reassure those she loves that she trusts them, too.

"I've tried to explain to people that I'm pleased they have no point of reference with somebody saying ‘I'm going to kill you' and you believe it that another human being has the ability and the desire and can erase your entire existence in a moment.

"I guess that's where my innocence was lost. That's what was taken from me, an ability to ever really trust anybody again.... It's hard to describe how humiliating (rape) is to someone who has never experienced it."

As distressing as it seems today, the law and policies as written in the '70s and '80s were clear. Life imprisonment meant 80 years, and Department of Correction policy liberally cut time from active sentences.

The feelings of the victims seemed to be a secondary consideration.

"I felt like they gave me the death penalty," Kathy said of the Supreme Court's decision. "What am I? A sacrificial lamb? I paid my taxes for 30 years to keep him safe and warm and fed.

"I felt as if the state was my attorney and I had their full power standing behind me. Today that's turned all the way around and they're standing behind him now."

Perdue's action was welcome, but the fact that the Supreme Court rules in favor of the prisoners severely damaged the surviving victims' fragile sense of security.

"All I can do is pray and try to give myself whatever illusion of security I can create," Kathy said.

Older and stronger

Kathy has been given plenty of advice since the court ruled. Put locks on the windows. Get an alarm system. Have a security plan in case of a threat.

"Unless there are bars or wire on the window, all the alarm systems and cell phones in the world don't matter," she said. "It doesn't lend a lot of security. A ‘no trespassing' sign won't have me sleeping better at night."

Besides, if she does all those things, who's in prison then? Whose freedom suffers the most, victim or attacker?

"I guess it goes without saying that I'm terrified," Kathy said. "He's had 30 years of ruminating in a jail cell and I'm the one who put him there."

So we can forgive Kathy if she doesn't get her hopes too high that Perdue's actions will somehow undo the Supreme Court's decision. To her, the best approach would be to have Montgomery's life sentence mean just that.

Failing that, the next best thing -- for her and for other victims -- would be for justice to be served for all crimes no matter how long ago they were committed.

"The only thing I can do is plead with the public that if anybody out there has been victimized, bring it forward, do anything they can to keep them off the streets," she said. "We have got to help each other.

"It's not so much that I need to make my side of it known. It was 30 years ago ... I was 15 and I sure didn't feel very significant then. I'm not much more significant today, but my voice is much stronger now."

ssexton@wsjournal.com
727-7481