I killed my daughter's rapist!
Kim Cunningham shot her daughter's rapist.
Thursday 2nd October 2008
I held my 14-year-old daughter, Amanda, tightly. 'It's going to be OK,' I promised, as her body shook with sobs. But it was a useless thing to say. We both knew life was never going to be the same again. Amanda had just confessed my sister Rhonda's partner, Coy Hundley, 38, had raped her twice when she was 9. My little girl…
I'd first found out something was wrong four months earlier, in June 2003, when Amanda had overheard me telling her sister, Jodi, 15, about the birds and bees.
'You're a whore if you do that!' she'd yelled, then burst into tears and told me someone had molested her. Horrified, I'd demanded to know who. I'd reeled off a list of teachers, friends… I'd even asked if it had been her dad, my husband, Johnny, 35.
'No,' she'd insisted.
Thank God. But she'd refused to say any more. Sickened, we'd reported it to the police, but with no one to charge, there was nothing they could do. I was terrified. Somehow, an unknown monster had crept into our life and hurt our little girl. What if he came back?
I have to protect my kids, I vowed.
As well as the girls, I had Shane, 12, so I did something shocking. I bought a gun.
They're legal in our hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee.
To scare him off if he comes back, I told myself, stashing it in my bag.
In truth, I feared we'd never find out who'd attacked Amanda. But at 8 o'clock this morning, after her dad had left for work, Amanda had burst into my room and named her attacker.
Coy. I was stunned. He'd been with Rhonda, 34, for 18 years, and they'd babysat when the kids were little. These past few years though, Coy had been dabbling in drugs, so
we'd kept our distance, only seeing them at Christmas or family parties.
But it had been too late for my little girl.Now, I swallowed hard, as Amanda told me how he'd attacked her while babysitting.
'He started to touch me,' she sobbed. 'Then he forced me onto the settee and pushed my legs apart…'
A switch flipped in my head. Suddenly, I could see nothing but Coy on top of my little girl, his hands pawing her 9-year-old body.
'He said you'd be angry,' she whimpered. 'He said you'd think I was dirty.'
My mind swirled with rage.
The minute the kids had gone to school, I climbed into my car and sped across town to the tool firm where Coy worked. I saw him as soon as I pulled up. Jumping out of the car, I ran over.
'You raped Amanda!' I shrieked.
I searched Coy's face for signs of shock or remorse. He just laughed.
'Yeah, what are you going to do about it?' he sneered.
Suddenly, my hand was in my bag, my palm clutching cool metal. Eyes tightly clenched, my head was a mess of twisted images. Coy raping my Amanda. Over and over.
What I was going to do about it? This…
I fired the gun. Again. And again. When I opened my eyes, Coy was lying in a pool of blood, four bullets in his head, four more in his body. But watching his life drain away, it was Amanda's pain I felt, not his. Calmly I put my gun back in my bag and drove to the police station.
'There's been a shooting,' I said.
I told them everything and was charged with murder. As I was locked, sobbing, in a cell,
I couldn't think of anything but those twisted images of Coy and Amanda. Did I care that I'd killed a man? That I'd shot the man my sister loved? No. In shock, I didn't care about anything. Not eating, not washing, not even seeing my family.
Poor Amanda needed her mum more than ever, but I was so out of my mind, I hardly felt human. After a week, the fog that had engulfed me gradually started to lift, and I was desperate to see them. But I couldn't hold my children. Instead, I had to look at their heartbroken faces through a screen.
'I can't believe I pulled the trigger,' I said to Johnny. 'I was out of my mind.'
'I'd have done the same,' he said, tightly hugging Amanda, who was shaking with sobs.
'If I'd never told you what Coy did, you wouldn't be in prison,' she wept.
My poor baby blamed herself. Devastating.
That night, I couldn't sleep, as the reality of what I'd done came crashing down on me. Desperate to protect Amanda, I'd killed Coy. But what had it achieved? I was now separated from my family, unable to give my daughter a hug. Who knew how long for. And it wasn't just my family I'd hurt. Coy may have been a monster, but he was still my sister's husband.
The father of her children. While Rhonda and I weren't close, I couldn't bear knowing I'd torn my sister's family apart, just like my own.
Scared and alone on the hard prison mattress, a new fear overwhelmed me. Would she ever forgive me? I didn't find out until two months later, when I was released on bail.
I wasn't home long, when Rhonda called. 'I had no idea what Coy did to Amanda,' she croaked. 'I'm so sorry.'
I was stunned. She forgave me? We both cried our eyes out, not just for what I'd done, but for the end of our own relationship as sisters. Yes, she'd forgiven me, but she had her own kids to consider. How could she support their dad's killer? Though it was unsaid, I knew she and I would never be the same again.
I had my hands full trying to hold my family together.
'Mum, will you go to jail?' Amanda cried, climbing into bed beside me one night.
I couldn't lie, but how could I tell her the truth when she'd been through so much already?
'Try not to dwell on it,' I said. If only I could listen to my own advice.
Jodi and Shane were worried, too, but they tried so hard to be brave. I knew how hard it was, especially as the story was all over the news and everyone was talking about it.
'Will you still be here when I'm growing up?' Shane asked one day.
It was almost unbearable.
'I'll do my best,' I said, blinking back frightened tears.
I couldn't give any of them an answer until my trial in October. At a hearing in April 2005, a jury at Blount County Court had already cleared me of first-degree murder but I could still be found guilty of second-degree murder or the lesser sentence of voluntary manslaughter.
I faced years in prison. Who knew what I'd miss out on. Shane leaving school, Amanda's wedding, holding Jodi's firstborn… Those precious hopes were all I could cling to as I stared at the jury, imploring them to understand…
'We find the defendant guilty of voluntary manslaughter.'
As the judge read out my sentence, four-and-a-half years, I caught Johnny's eyes and my heart broke.
But my lawyer had a plan.
'Some jail time is inevitable,' he said. 'But we can appeal it now, and you can go back home tonight.'
I thought back to Shane's plea. He needs me. They all do.
'I'll do it,' I said.
Before we got in the car, I gave all the kids and Johnny a squeeze. I have to get back to normal, I thought. So, hard as it was, I made sure we ate together at the table, and I helped Shane with his homework. It was nearly two years on, in September 2007, that the appeal came through and I was given a reduced sentence of six months.
'It'll be over before you know it,' I said, determined to be brave. 'Just remember how much I love you.'
I gave them each a long cuddle. The memory of that last hug was what got me through my time in jail. In the end, my sentence was cut to two months for good behaviour. A year on, life is getting back to normal, but I'm not foolish enough to think we'll ever get back to where we were completely. Johnny and I have split up, our marriage unable to take the strain. It hit me hard, and knowing how much I've hurt my sister is a pain that'll never go away. But how my kids have coped has proved just how strong my family is. Jodi is married, Shane is joining the Air Force and Amanda, now 19, is a caring mum to her own daughter, 1-year-old Ava-Lynn. I still don't think Coy deserved to live after what he did to Amanda, but I know it wasn't my place to see to it. As I fired that gun, all I wanted to do was protect my family, but I ended up damaging it instead. That's my only regret.
Kim Cunningham has not been paid for her story