SURVIVING VIOLENT CRIME a very personal story about picking up the pieces and learning to live well...again

2008-12-18T14:11:51Z

An Open Letter to The 2009 Alabama Board of Pardons and Paroles:

This letter is to help you understand the impact Munk Caselow Willis' violent behavior has had on my life. Out of respect for the privacy of my friend, who was also a victim in this case, I will refer to her as Emily.

THE KIDNAPPING

In May of 1986 I was twenty-one years old. I worked full time for a clinical laboratory and was a student at University of Alabama at Birmingham. On the night of May 14, I was at home, caring for a 2-week old kitten whose mother had been run over by a car. I was looking forward to a job interview the next morning for a position as a surgical technician at UAB.

Emily, a new friend from school, was on her way to my house. Early in the evening I answered a knock on my door. There was Emily smiling at me. Immediately 3 men appeared behind her. Pushing her into my apartment, they began screaming and threatening us. They were armed with guns and knives. They ransacked each room, grabbing jewelry, our purses and car keys. At gunpoint, they forced us out of my apartment to show them where our cars were parked. Threats of violence were constant.

Separating us, two of the men took Emily and the third took me. There was a brief encounter with more men in a third vehicle. As they pulled our cars up next to each other on the street, I remember the look of terror on Emily's face. I remember thinking that I needed to do something to try and help her. This was not a brave or heroic thought. I am sure the fear that showed on my face evoked similar feelings for her.

I was confused and terrified. As he drove, I kept talking, trying to get information. His constant barrage of verbal attacks paralyzed me. He told me that if I didn't do everything he wanted he would kill me, and Emily. Because my captor kept a gun pointed at me, I never felt as though I had the opportunity to try and get away. I thought of grabbing the steering wheel, opening the car door while we were moving and just jumping...but that gun and the mounting fear I felt left me helpless.

We had to stop at a crosswalk in front of the Civic Center. Hundreds of people, leaving a concert, crossed the street. They were all around us, laughing and happy. How could none of them see me? Eventually he pulled into an alley in an unfamiliar area. I kept hoping someone would walk down the street, come out of a house, drive by in a car...how could no one notice that this was happening when my brain was screaming so loudly for help? And Emily, where was Emily?

He took me into a house. I was stunned to see, amidst the littered floor, children's toys and clothes. There were more weapons. Drugs were scattered on a coffee table. He grabbed a shotgun that was leaning against a wall and told me to take off my clothes. I just stood there, in utter fear and shock. Immediately he came across the room screaming at me and put the shotgun to my head. I will spare you the next few hours, but for a few asides.

The other men brought Emily into the house soon after. We were repeatedly raped by all three men. When one of us did not do as we were told, we were beaten and threatened. There were constant threats of death. Eventually, they loaded us into a car and drove to a trash-strewn, water-filled quarry. They told us to get into the water. Swimming as quickly as we could, Emily and I kept talking to each other. Then the gunfire started.

They were shooting at us. (Investigators told us criminals often go to that quarry to sink stolen cars, weapons used in crimes, and other things they never want found. Emily and I were just 'things' that they never wanted found). By the time we were in the middle of the quarry the gunfire had stopped. We stayed in the water for what felt like an eternity, talking about what we should do. We thought the men had driven away. We decided that they had just wanted time to get away. We thought our night of terror was over. We were wrong.

Swimming towards the lights of distant store took us to the opposite side of the quarry. We started to run towards safety. All three men emerged from the darkness. Chasing us down, they overpowered us again. They had driven to the other side of the quarry with the lights off on the car, and waited for us.

One of them yelled that he was going to get rope. I began to plead with the man who held me. "You don't want to do this, we just want to live. We won't tell anyone, just let us go." The response, as he put the gun against my head, was "I don't care about you, bitch!" and he shot me. Point blank.

I remember being knocked off my feet and landing on my back. There was a roaring noise, like the ocean. I lay very still as the noise and nausea washed over me. Hands grabbed my arms and legs. As they dragged me, something sharp cut into my back and I flinched. "This bitch ain't dead" one of them said. A hand went to my chest, then to my face. I held my breath. "She will be soon" was the answer. Then they dumped me into the water.

A moment later, something huge and heavy landed on me, sending pain through my belly and legs. I must have been laying on some kind of debris in the shallows of the water. I could barely keep my mouth above water, I didn't dare open my eyes.

I was later told, the noise of the gunfire when I was shot startled the man holding Emily. She was able to break free from her captor and get back into the water. Eventually she swam to another end of the quarry, where there was a trucking company. She was chased by guard dogs, but was able to scramble up onto a large truck where a security guard found her. She was transported by ambulance to UAB's emergency room. Out of respect for Emily's privacy, I will not relate to any more of her part of this story. Suffice it to say that her life has been profoundly affected by the actions of all three men that night.

MAKING IT TO THE HOSPITAL

Some time passed before I felt safe enough to open my eyes. The noise in my head was deafening, and the nausea took over as soon as I started to move. I couldn't bring myself to touch my head or face, for fear of what I would feel. Crawling, I was able to climb to the top of a fence and fall over it. Eventually making it up to the highway. Every time I tried to stand, I fell. Hard.

I must have looked like a drunk woman trying to flag down a car. Eventually a man stopped and put me in the back of his truck. I have never learned the identity of this kind soul. He left me at the entrance to a downtown hospital. I was transported by ambulance to UAB's emergency room.

Soon after, my mother arrived to be at my side. She had to go upstairs to the UAB Operating Room suites and speak with the O.R. supervisor, to tell her I would not make my job interview that was to take place in only a few hours. I was being admitted to intensive care as a patient in the same hospital where I had hoped to work.

In the days that followed, before they were arrested, I vividly remember the terror I felt. Those three men were going to find me and finish what they had intended. My bed was in sight of the ICU entrance. Every time a door opened, I knew it would be them. No one was going to be able to stop them. I stared at that door for 4 days and nights, waiting to die.

A nurse was removing debris embedded in my hair and skin when two police officers arrived at my bedside to tell me all three men had been arrested. When they left, the nurse returned with another tub of water. I remember her bathing me and talking softly; and I lay there crying tears of relief because I no longer had to watch the doors. I felt safe again. I finally slept.

ONGOING MEDICAL ISSUES

SURVIVING a gunshot wound is a never ending battle for me. The bullet fragmented on the petrous portion of the right temporal bone. One fragment severed both the auditory and facial nerves on the right side of my face. To others, this the most obvious sign of damage. I have a right facial paralysis. I am deaf in the right ear, as not only the nerve was severed, but the entire inner ear was destroyed. There have been more than 10 surgeries over the years to "patch" the damage.

Though it has been 22 years, I still have chronic infection from several bullet fragments lodged within the bone of my skull, and because of their location, those areas can never heal. Three surgeons have declined to attempt removal of these fragments because of their close proximity to the carotid artery.

I must have frequent checks on those areas of chronic infection. There is constant risk of damage from bacteria that erode bone, which unchecked, could lead to much more serious, even life threatening, problems.

There is more, regarding the physical damage. My medical charts could fill the trunk of a car, but it is too much for my purpose here. I will always require close medical supervision as the physical wounds will never heal.

THREE MEN

About the three men. Patrick Earl Thomas (ais #145109) and Munk Caselow Willis (ais #145097) were both seventeen years old when they were arrested. They were on escape status from a Birmingham juvenile detention facility. Joe Brown, Jr. (ais# 145096) was eighteen.

They were each charged with kidnapping, armed robbery, aggravated grand theft,rape and attempted murder. A Grand Jury passed the case forward for trial. Two weeks before trial we were presented a plea bargain.

Since their initial arrest, two of the three men had been identified and charged with the rape of a young girl. To spare us (and this girl) the distress of going to trial, it was proposed that all three men plead guilty to lessor charges of rape-I and attempted murder.

They did this (knowing what their sentence would be.) They were each sentenced to serve two concurrent life terms, fifteen of those years served before they became eligible for parole.

PLEA TO THE PAROLE BOARD

Many times that night, Munk Willis had the opportunity to stop what he was doing to us. He could have walked away. But he came back again, and again. Munk Willis has never,in twenty-two years, expressed remorse for his actions. He has not completed either a violent offender, or sex offender treatment program. In twenty-two years there has been no effort to change the fundamental behavior or thought processes that led to his violent and deviant behavior. There is no benefit to society in releasing this violent sex offender. Statistics will support that the recidivism rate for the untreated violent offender is high. Statistics show that a sex offender is also a poor candidate for release. Munk Willis is both. Though prison overcrowding is a real problem, there are other non-violent, non-predators that would be better suited for consideration for release into society.

I have slept soundly every night since Munk Willis was arrested. If he were released, I would never sleep again. Imagined, or real, Munk Willis would be waiting in every shadow and dark corner. He would be coming to get me. He would be waiting for my children.

There are many dangers in the world. I can do things to make myself and my family safer, and still function in the world. But If Munk Willis is ever released, then in my world, monsters will come to life and I will never be free.

Please do not release violent sex offender, Munk Caselow Willis.

Petition protesting the parole of Munk Willis

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an interesting look into the conditions that Megan's Law has created through the eyes of a therapist who has worked with sex offenders for over 23 years, and a woman who's son has been imprisoned after his sentence was served ten years ago, yet is still incarcerated

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offender at Brave New Films

SURVIVING VIOLENT CRIME a very personal story about picking up the pieces and learning to live well...again

GA Must Fix Its Sex Offenders Laws

Don and Nancy Part3

Don and Nancy Part1

Don and Nancy Part2

Genarlow Wilson