Baby Be Mine Page 14

  “When this Amber Alert came out—that’s the greatest thing that ever happened to law enforcement and to our children. We took an anonymous tip that came from several states away from here that gave us some information that led us to Kansas and this location. And we may have not ever gotten that; we may not ever recover the little baby if the Amber Alert system was not put in place.

  “It’s hard for me to accept this. Nobody here could ever perceive this taking place—to have a fetus taken out of someone’s womb and then doing an Amber Alert to try to find the child.

  “It’s inconceivable. I’m overwhelmed with the fact that we’re going to be able to get this baby back.”

  Sergeant Sheldon Lyon, spokesman for the Missouri State Highway Patrol, stepped up to the mike after the sheriff ceded his place. “This is a great day for law enforcement in northwest Missouri,” he said.

  The case was now in the hands of United States Attorney Todd Graves of the Western Missouri District of the federal court system. Graves was a Northwest Missouri local. He grew up on a farm in Tarkio in Atchison County.

  After completing his undergraduate work at the University of Missouri at Columbia, Graves earned a law degree and a master’s degree in public administration from the University of Virginia in 1991.

  His legal experience included service as an assistant attorney general for the state of Missouri, followed by a short stint in private practice before he was elected in 1994 as prosecutor for Platte County—whose boundaries encompassed a portion of Kansas City, Missouri. In this capacity he was the youngest full-time prosecuting attorney in the state. He was re-elected four years later.

  On July 30, 2001, President George W. Bush nominated Graves as the top federal law enforcement official for the Western Missouri District. He was confirmed by the Senate in October. In this position he was responsible for a district covering more than 40,000 square miles with an approximate population of 2.4 million. He oversaw the functions of three offices with a full-time staff of fifty-five attorneys and sixty other employees.

  Although high-profile criminal prosecutions drew the most attention, the bulk of the office’s work involved civil matters—defending the federal government against legal claims made by individuals and groups and serving as collection agents for debts owed to the government.

  Graves lived with his wife and four children north of Kansas City on a 270-acre homestead. The farm had been passed down through generations of his family since 1867.

  Zeb Stinnett saw his infant daughter for the first time on Friday evening. He gave her the name he and Bobbie Jo agreed upon—Victoria Jo Stinnett. The meaning of Victoria—winner or conqueror—made it a prophetic choice for this survivor.

  Medical personnel checked and double-checked the health of the baby in the neonatal intensive care unit. DNA tests confirmed her parentage. Zeb returned home to northwest Missouri with his baby girl on Monday, December 20.

  Zeb did not, however, return to Skidmore and the cozy bungalow on Elm Street. He could not bear to live in the house where his young wife died. He moved in with his mother in the nearby town of Maitland in Holt County. There, Victoria Jo slept in a crib once used by her 10-year-old uncle, Tyler Harper.

  Zeb took a twelve-week paternity leave to adjust to his new role as single father and to grieve for the loss of his wife. He found homes for some of Bobbie Jo’s rat terriers, but he kept her two favorites, Belle and Tipsy.

  In Melvern, Lisa’s coworker at Casey’s General Store was stunned by the news of what had happened. She felt betrayed—after talking with Lisa for hours about her pregnancy, she believed it was real. Now she knew it wasn’t, and to make matters worse, she heard about Lisa’s contention that this pregnancy started as a pair of twins, and other false claims.

  She was surprised that she’d fallen for Lisa’s lies. She knew the family and was well aware that truth was not their-constant companion. If Lisa seemed to be telling the truth, the coworker said, maybe that was because she had also convinced herself. Lisa, she said, had thought that Kevin wanted—and needed—another baby. After that, it was easy for Lisa to delude herself into believing that she would deliver one to him.

  For two days straight, the FBI questioned Kevin Montgomery. They tried every method they knew to break down his story, trip him up or catch him in a compromising contradiction. Finally, they were convinced. Kevin really was as clueless as he claimed.

  While Kevin sat in the hot seat, crime-scene investigators hunted for clues in Lisa’s red Toyota. They found a three-inch serrated paring knife they suspected was used to perform the amateur caesarean. They also seized a black ski mask with red-and-white trim, a pair of work gloves, latex exam gloves, a dirty dish towel, a bottle of surgical prep solution and a photograph of a squirming litter of newborn rat terrier puppies.

  * * *

  Hardened crime-scene investigators returned to their headquarters in St. Joseph—their professional shells shattered in the wake of this horrendous, intimate homicide. On the scene they suppressed their emotions, but back at the station their reactions tumbled out. They talked about the case for hours—easing the stress of an investigation that hit too close to home.

  The media plunged into the history of caesarean abductions. Many were shocked at the number of cases that went unnoticed in the years before. They also struggled with the linguistics of the story. Should they describe the unborn child taken from Bobbie Jo Stinnett 25 a fetus or a baby? And at what point did the transformation take place? And how?

  Amber Alerts were for children, yet editors were insisting on the use of the word “fetus” to describe the subject of the Amber Alert. The Associated Press managed to wrap the whole process up in one linguistically confusing sentence:

  Montgomery, 36, confessed to strangling Bobbie Jo Stinnett of

  Skidmore, Missouri, on Thursday, cutting the fetus out of her

  body and taking the baby back to Kansas.

  Pro-life spokespersons and columnists made the most of the confusion. They scolded the media—whom they suspected of pro-choice sympathies—for wanting to have it both ways. Either the fetus was nothing more than a clump of cells to be destroyed at the whim of a woman, or the fetus was a baby—a human life with value and meaning. They also used the opportunity to chastise organizations who opposed legislation granting protection to “in utero children” by allowing assault and homicide charges to be levied in their name.

  Pro-choice advocates pointed out the importance of choice—Bobbie Jo’s choice—to have a baby. Feminists proclaimed that Lisa Montgomery’s actions demonstrated the pervasive pathology of a society where a woman was only valued for her role as a breeder.

  While some nitpicked over life-and-death matters, others used the crime as fodder for sarcastic humor, usually aimed at Kevin Montgomery. The Pitch—a Kansas City weekly alternative newspaper—devoted its first “Kansas City Strip” column after the crime to “providing tips to help rural Kansas men figure out whether their wives are really pregnant.”

  The writer, Tony Ortega, expressed mock sympathy for Kevin’s cluelessness. He wrote that they understood how Kevin “had no freakin’ idea that something was terribly wrong about his wife Lisa’s ‘pregnancy,’ while the whole time she was not really expecting but rather plotting how to pay an allegedly murderous, baby-takin’ visit to Bobbie Jo Stinnett.

  “After all, there’s a lot on the mind of the average rural Kansas man.

  “Winterizing his car. Wondering why the Chiefs sucked this year. Playing the Lotto.”

  He also ridiculed Lisa’s choice of the Long John Silver’s parking lot to meet her husband with the baby: “even the most distracted Kansan would know that such an occasion calls for a meeting in the parking lot of a Red Lobster, at the very least.”

  What this essay ignored and what many people did not understand was that Kevin was not alone in his ignorance. Many men—from highly educated engineers to backwoods farmers—have accepted the claim as an article of faith when their wi
ves informed them that they were expecting children.

  The history of infant abductions was riddled with men who were intelligent, but naive about pregnancy and the mysteries surrounding birth. At the same time, these men were manipulated by women who could read them very well—each one a woman who knew her man would react in the manner he did and stay by her side.

  Another reason their pregnancy ruses were effective and easily maintained over months was that the relationship was already dead. When interviewed after abductions, the men expressed no affection, no love, no physical passion for their spouses. It was all duty—their responsibility to stay with the woman until the baby came.

  If she did not want to be touched or seen naked during her supposed pregnancy, that was fine with him. He had no more sexual desire for his partner and, therefore, couldn’t careless.

  It had always been easy to love a baby, and the wife used that to her advantage. She involved her husband in her nesting activities—buying clothing and diapers, decorating the nursery, reading passages aloud to him from baby books. She urged him to touch her belly and feel the baby move. He was averse to physical contact with this woman, so he touched quickly and then retreated, accepting her word that he felt the growing life inside her. Each step bound him closer to a child whom he thought was his own.

  Before Reverend Wheatley knew that a young woman’s death in Missouri would leave a trail of blood that went through his church, he prepared his Sunday sermon. The title of his message, “A Baby Changed Everything,” would prove to be eerily prophetic. The message, however, had nothing to do with the tragedy that unfolded over the next couple of days; it was about the birth of Jesus in a stable in Bethlehem. He did not alter his speech to include the nightmare that crept into their community that weekend. It was the last Sunday before Christmas and he wanted the service to be a time of worship and praise to the Lord for his gift of his only son. Even in the face of the horrible news, Reverend Wheatley wanted to maintain the integrity of that special day. He wanted his parishioners to remember—now more than ever—the real reason for the season.

  On December 19, with a numb mind and aching heart, Kevin Montgomery attended the First Church of God in Melvern with his parents and three of his stepchildren: Desiree, Chelsea and C.J. He handed a written statement to Reverend Wheatley.

  In the pulpit, Wheatley read Kevin’s statement to the congregation:

  As everyone here knows, this hasn’t been a very good week. This is going to be a long and difficult road for these families to walk down, but if we look and hold out our hands, God is there to lead the way. Please keep Lisa, the kids, and I in your prayers. Our sympathy also goes out to the family of Bobbie Jo Stinnett.

  Except for this missive from Kevin, Reverend Wheatley avoided any mention of the tragedy in their midst. But when a congregant rose and took his place at the front of the church to deliver the meditation for communion, it was obvious that he was inspired by recent events. The passage he read was all about forgiveness.

  As the choir sang “The First Noel,” Desiree buckled over and shook as she sobbed. Moisture gathered in Chelsea’s eyes, but she refused to allow the tears to fall. Parishioners gathered around the Montgomery clan after the service. They offered enveloping hugs and whispered words of encouragement in their ears.

  Skidmore Christian Church was an emotional quake zone that day, too. The congregants spent the service alternating between tears of sorrow and of joy. They grieved for Bobbie Jo and rejoiced for Tori Jo. They lifted prayers to the heavens for them both.

  The same day that Victoria Jo returned to her home state, Lisa Montgomery made her first appearance before a judge in federal court for the Kansas District. The moment Lisa had crossed the Missouri state line into Kansas with the baby, her offense became a federal crime. Kidnapping was the primary charge—the murder of Bobbie Jo was committed in the commission of that crime. For that reason, she faced charges in federal court for the Kansas district. She looked drained and pasty in her blue jumpsuit and oversized glasses.

  Two public defenders, Charles Dedmon and Ron Wurtz, represented her. They told Magistrate Judge David Waxse that their client would oppose moving the case to federal court in Missouri. Since the crime originated in one of the sixty-six counties covered by the Western District Court’s jurisdiction, the prosecutors needed to try the case there.

  The defense team demanded a preliminary hearing and an identity hearing in Kansas District Court first. They also asked for a gag order. The judge denied that last request with a reminder to attorneys on both sides that it would be prudent to limit their comments to the media.

  Judge Waxse read Lisa her rights and the list of charges against her. He informed her that she could be sentenced to death or to life in prison, and could be fined as much as $250,000.

  Except for one brief glance at Kevin, Lisa hung her head low and kept her eyes focused on the federal complaint lying on the desk in front of her. Even knowing what she had done, it had to be shocking and mind-numbing to a woman who had no criminal record to read the heading on the document before her. “United States of America, Plaintiff v. Lisa M. Montgomery, a/k/a Darlene Fischer a/k/a Fischer4kids, Defendant.” The odds in that contest must have seemed daunting—she had to feel as if she stood alone against the whole world. And she had to know that out of all the documents created to date, the most damning passage was the penultimate paragraph of the eight-page FBI affidavit:

  After being advised of her constitutional rights and having waived those rights, Lisa Montgomery thereafter confessed to having strangled Stinnett and removed the fetus. Lisa Montgomery further admitted the baby she had was Stinnett’s baby and that she had lied to her husband about giving birth to a child.

  The judge approved Lisa’s move from Wyandotte County Jail in Kansas City, Kansas, to the federal detention facility in Leavenworth. She was due back in court in three days—on Thursday, December 23.

  Outside of the courthouse, a bewildered and distraught Kevin Montgomery spoke to the media: “I had no idea. My heart ain’t just broke for me and Lisa and her kids. It’s them, too,” he said referring to the Stinnett family a state away. “My family has suffered a tragedy, but I am not the only family. This has to be as hard or harder on them as it is on me. I sure hope they get as much support from their church and community as I have, because we are all going to need it. That was a precious baby. I know.”

  23

  Family and friends helped Zeb make arrangements for a funeral service on Tuesday, December 21 at 2 P.M. at the Price Funeral Home in Maryville. The night before, TV satellite trucks converged on the funeral chapel, picking out prime positions to park their vehicles overnight. They wanted to be as close to the action as possible, even though the media was banned from entering the funeral home or driving into the cemetery.

  At midday, the mourners began to arrive—hundreds of them—dressed in Kawasaki jackets, brown work clothes, cowboy hats and jeans, and in more typical funeral dress clothes.

  By 1:45 that afternoon, all the folding chairs the funeral home possessed were in use. Even though reporters and news photographers were kept away, there was an overflow crowd that filled two rooms, spilled into the entry, down the stairway and out into the biting wind and 20-degree temperatures. The solemn crowd shifted places every few minutes to allow everyone a turn near the sanctuary.

  Surrounded by a bounty of blooms, the rosy bronze casket was adorned by a simple garland of lilies. Bobbie Jo rested on a bed of creamy satin, in a purple dress with a tiny angel pin fastened to the wrist of her right sleeve. Her angelic face—no longer filled with the cheerful animation it once possessed—radiated a peace and serenity unmarked by the pain she had endured at the hands of her attacker.

  The logistics of accommodating 400 mourners caused a delay in the commencement of the service. The overflow crowd was silent—a silence so still it pierced your ears. The heavy quiet was punctuated by subdued sobs and sniffles. The service opened at 2:15 with a selection of o
rgan hymns.

  Bobbie Jo’s baby was not in attendance at her mother’s funeral, but everyone there had seen the photograph of the peaceful infant sound asleep—her pink cheeks aglow, her baby lips drawn up like a Christmas bow.

  Reverend Hamon approached the pulpit and read the Twenty-third Psalm. He said, “This is one of those times in life when you would like to have the right words, but I don’t know what to say. This is one of those times when you can’t figure it out at all, and words fail. I’ve been a preacher for fifty years, and I’ve seen some terrible things. But this has got to be the apex.”

  He then turned everyone’s attention to the happiest day of Zeb and Bobbie Jo’s life—their wedding day. He pulled out the note Bobbie Jo wrote thanking him for officiating at that service and read it out loud.

  He quoted from Isaiah 55:8–9: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Then he added, “God did everything he did because he loves us. Bobbie Jo gave her life for her baby because she loves her.”

  He recalled a friend of his who hung on to scaffolding suspended nine feet above the ground, clinging with all his might with just his fingertips. There was nothing he could do but ask for God’s help before his fingers lost their grip and he plummeted to the ground. “And there comes times in life when we have to externally seek help. This is one of those times, because now, this family has been dropped off of a 900-foot cliff.”

  He asked that everyone say a prayer for Zeb Stinnett and his baby girl. “There won’t be a day or a night that they don’t miss Bobbie Jo. The only explanation I can think of is that God has a special place for her.”