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Life with purpose
-by Ted Pearson
Montell Johnson is one of those men who wins your trust and friendship after only a few moments. He is young and handsome, his smile is infectious; but his eyes are what really do it. When he speaks he looks right at you, and when you speak he listens the same way. It seems impossible that this young man could be anything less than sincere.
I visited Johnson, with his mother Gloria Johnson-Ester, on May 2, 2005. He speaks effectively and articulately, although his speech is often slurred by the progressive multiple sclerosis that afflicts him, and has paralyzed him
so that he can neither walk nor stand. He can’t bath himself, change his own clothes, get in or out of bed, or use the toilet without help. He can’t feed himself, except for “finger food” that requires no utensils,
Montell Johnson lives in the “condemned unit” at Menard Correctional Center, in Menard, Illinois. Johnson has been convicted of first degree murder, in Illinois and in California. His death sentence was commuted to 40 years by former Gov. George Ryan.
During our visit we were locked into a tiny room. On the other side of a very thick glass panel, Johnson was locked into an equally tiny room, sitting in a wheelchair, with his hands and legs shackled. A microphone and speaker was the only connection between us, except for the visual cues as we talked.
In spite of the fact that he can neither stand nor walk, Johnson is designated a “High Escape Risk.” His counselor at Menard, Bob Hoffman, explained that the designation is a result of the fact that he carries lengthy prison sentences from two states. The glass separating him from visitors is because of this designation. The tiny room is used for consultations between inmates and their attorneys. In Johnson’s case it’s because he has fallen out of his wheel chair on previous visits, and the small quarters prevent that.
Johnson spends every hour of every day in bed. For the past six months or more, he has been in “segregation.” Even in the infirmary, this means that he has no contact with any human beings except for prison guards, who occasionally look in on him or bring him food, which he mainly can’t eat. He has requested “finger food,” but Menard CC doesn’t prepare such food. He is in segregation because, Hoffman said, he has threatened the guards and has thrown things at them. Because he is in segregation, his books and personal papers were taken from him. Two months ago, his Bible was taken, although his mother was able to send him another one, later.
There are significant questions about whether Johnson is guilty of the 1994 murder for which he was accused, tried and sentenced to death over 6 years later, even if there are no questions about his involvement in the crime. Johnson is Black. The victim of the crime was a white woman, who was pregnant. His death sentence was delivered by a judge. Johnson acted as his own attorney, and told the court that he had committed several murders, but not the one for which he was being tried. He told the judge that he would rather be executed than spend his life in prison.
There are enough questions about his conviction and sentencing that Gov. Ryan, instead of commuting Johnson’s sentence to life in prison without possibility of parole, sentenced him instead to 40 years, with a possibility of parole in 20. Terry Hoyt, is the mother of the victim, Dorianne Warnsley. She pleaded with Gov. Ryan to reduce Johnson’s sentence. She reminded the governor that another man had confessed to the murder, and had received only 15 years in jail in exchange for testifying against Johnson, and that a third person who was an accessory received no sentence at all.
But none of these questions concern what has happened since the sentencing. The sentence actually being carried out on Montell Johnson is a sentence of torture for life, not because any court ever passed this sentence, but because the Illinois Department of Corrections bureaucracy has no room for a case like Johnson’s. The rules require that he be held in a maximum-security prison, and although he should be receiving medication and physical therapy for his condition, he receives none because the maximum-security facility at Menard is not equipped to provide them. The guards at Menard are not even equipped to take care of his most basic needs.
What social or other purpose is served by keeping Montell Johnson in a maximum-security prison under conditions that can only be described as torture? At what point does this question become relevant?
When our hour was up, and we were on our way out, we passed two other cubicles in which inmates were visiting with their families. They too, were separated from their families by the same heavy plate glass and microphone-speaker setups.
It is really impossible to describe the look on the inmates’ faces as their wives and young sons, one two and one ten, one Black and one Latino, were saying their goodbyes. It was not just Montell who looked as though these visits were the only thing in life for which they lived. Their faces, and their children’s and their wives, radiated joy and love, and longing and something else – a feeling that it was these visits that made life worth living.
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Cards and letters can be sent to Montell Johnson at
Montell Johnson, Dixon Correctional Center, 2600 N. Brinton Ave. Dixon, Il 61021
Call, write, email Illinois Department of Corrections Superintendent, Roger Walker, and Gov. Rod Blagojevich and ask them why Montell Johnson is denied treatment.
Roger E. Walker Jr., Director Gov. Rod Blagojevich
Illinois Department of Corrections 207 State House
1301 Concordia Court Springfield, IL 62706
P.O. Box 19277 (217) 782-0244
Springfield, IL 62794-9277 or (312) 814-2121
217-522-2666, ext. 2008 [TTY (888) 261-3336]
info@idoc.state.il.us http://www.illinois.gov/gov/contactthegovernor.cfm
