Jacqueline Montanez

Jacqueline’s childhood was filled with drugs, violence and abuse, and at a very young age she received a sentence of life without the possibility of parole following a double murder conviction. After over 3 decades in prison, Jacqueline is now home due to changes in the law. She takes full responsibility for her past actions, but she wants people to understand that she has matured. “As human beings we are built to make mistakes. We are also built to grow up. …. People can change. Don’t be quick to lock somebody behind bars and throw away the key … I am not the same person I was at the age of 15. I did what they said I did, but I’m not who they say I am. I grew up, I matured.” As she continues her post-incarceration journey, she wants to use her story to help other young people rise above difficult circumstances and become successful.

A Troubled Childhood

Jacqueline grew up on the West Side of Chicago in an abusive home, with extensive exposure to drugs and street gangs. As she recalls, “My stepfather was a gang lord; my mother was the wife of the gang lord. … I grew up around domestic violence, I had an abusive stepfather, who abused us, physically and sexually.” Her mother tried to leave, but came back because she felt she had few alternatives. She continues, “When we left, my sister and I kept crying for my stepfather because even though he did abuse us the way he did, we never lacked; we were very spoiled kids.”

Jacqueline was initiated into the culture of her stepfather’s gang at a young age. “I was always the fighter. My stepfather saw potential in me, so he wanted me to learn the life of the gang,” she explains. She abhorred the initiation process, which was difficult and traumatizing. “My stepfather beat me; I was abused and raped.” To escape her stepfather’s grip, she joined a rival gang.

Jacqueline’s involvement with the gang ultimately led to her arrest and subsequent murder convictions, and she now sees how these adverse childhood experiences derailed her trajectory in life. “I dropped out of school in seventh grade. … It was hard to grow in an environment like that. I always thought I would become a police officer to clean the streets of Chicago, but I ended up being one of the bad guys. It was a life that was forced on me, not a life that I chose.”

Jacqueline was tried as an adult and sentenced to life without the possibility of parole for crimes she committed as a 15-year-old. She became the youngest incarcerated person at Dwight Correctional Center, a now-closed women’s prison, when she arrived there following her sentencing at age 17. After 22 years of incarceration, she was transferred to Lincoln Correctional Center and then requested a transfer to Florida after her resentencing hearing, where she served the rest of her sentence. 

Jacqueline still has vivid memories of her experience as a child in an adult prison. The first years were scary. “For a long time, I had watched people get shamed, raped and beaten… and I didn’t want to be a victim in prison just like I had been outside.” To protect herself, she wore several masks. “I had to play crazy so people wouldn’t mess with me. I fought officers, I stabbed someone so that others would know I was not to be played with.” In spite of her efforts, Jacqueline’s age made it nearly impossible to escape abuse. “I went through being raped in prison, I went through a pregnancy, and I lost the baby,” she laments. The physical conditions of Jacqueline’s incarceration also left a lasting impact: “I can never forget trying to sleep on cement. That was such a dramatic thing for me. I was sleeping in the cold…”

Jacqueline also struggled with depression after witnessing tragic events while in prison. “I have watched my friend hang herself to death. I’ve watched them bring her body out of the cell. I have watched another person jump over a rail and kill herself. … Depression in prison is real. I lost so many friends,” she laments. The lack of mental health resources made her experience even more challenging. “Mental health was always about medication. They didn’t want to give counseling, they didn’t want to hear someone talk about their situation. They just wanted to drug ladies; they would rather we walked around like zombies,” she explains.  

Being A Woman in Prison

For Jacqueline, growing up in prison was mostly a painful and bitter experience. She remembers her struggles as a woman, as she faced assault and abuse. Barriers to menstrual hygiene and reproductive health worsened the situation. In retrospect, Jacqueline better understands the long-term effects of her basic needs being overlooked in prison. “They took my youth, my womanhood, everything. They didn’t allow me to be a woman there. I was never a woman.” 

She also talks about the emotional burden she had to carry. The rejection from most of her family was particularly disheartening. “For me, it was hard being a woman in prison and not being around my family, whether a good or bad family. Not being able to be touched or cared for, that was hard.” She adds that she couldn’t help but feel jealous when others received mail and she didn’t; when they talked about their families supporting them while hers wasn’t there for her.

Jacqueline emphasizes that it was particularly difficult to handle the weight of solitary confinement. “Being incarcerated and being in confinement is like being behind double locks. It’s like being in jail inside of a jail. I could cry all day,” she says. While she concedes that it was the only time she didn’t have to wear a mask and act out, she acknowledges that it was emotionally draining nevertheless. “In solitary confinement, I had nothing to do but think. So in order not to become crazy, I built a fantasy in my head. I had a whole life in my head. I envisioned myself married with kids, having a job, going to the store, driving my car. I lived my fantasy.” 

What Jacqueline found helpful was the bond between incarcerated women, a love that helped her carry on when she was downcast. “As a child, I was never taught to love. So coming to prison and being around older women who cared for me like a mother should care for her child was priceless. I was spoiled.” Being part of such a community positively impacted her life: love, kindness, and compassion from these women uplifted her, and their support helped her overcome anxiety. These women made Jacqueline feel connected and less lonely behind bars. 

Unlike other family members who never reached out, Jacqueline’s mother was as supportive as she could be, given that her health was failing. “My mother would come through thick and thin. She never missed a visit day. She made sure that I was there and that she saw me. She was definitely there to comfort me.”

Summarizing her prison experience, Jacqueline states, “Incarceration was an emotional roller coaster. One minute I was happy, the next minute I was sad and I wanted to kill myself.” When people describe her as a strong woman who was able to survive three decades in prison, she cannot help but think about the reality of those dark days. “People say I was strong … I was not strong at all. I broke down several times at night. I went without eating, without talking to others because of the fact that I was a woman and I didn’t know how to adapt to being away from my family.”

The pain of separation grew when Jacqueline’s mother passed away in 2008, an event that became a turning point in Jacqueline’s life. “At the beginning, I didn’t care about education. The first 16 years I was fighting, gang banging, and I spent time in segregation. When my mom passed, it turned my life around. It made me think … I knew that my mother gave up because she felt the need to go to heaven and talk to God so he would help me get released,” she recalls. 

“So after 16 years of incarceration, I received my GED, I went to college, got a dog grooming license and a dog training license. I studied mathematics and religion. … I just started forcing myself to do more and learn more.” She continues, “My mother died without seeing Jacqueline, the woman. So I was determined to change my life. I gave up the gangs and the relationships. I gave up fighting. I went to school. I started praise dancing. … In the process of doing it for my mom, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the new me; I enjoyed meeting the new Jacqueline. I became a woman!”

As Jacqueline matured, she reflected on her childhood, and on the circumstances of her incarceration. Precious Blood Ministry of Reconciliation supported her efforts to reconcile with the past. With spiritual guidance from Sr. Donna Liette and Fr. David Kelly, she prepared herself to make amends with the victims’ families. She took responsibility for her actions, asked for forgiveness from others, and also learned to forgive herself. “I prayed every day. I begged God for forgiveness; I asked my victims for forgiveness. I wanted them to know that I wasn’t the same person and that I was ready to spend the rest of my life in prison to redeem myself. … I also learned to forgive myself and to move on with life.” 

Jacqueline had the opportunity to move on when she filed for clemency. Her petition was supported by Amnesty International, and the then-governor Pat Quinn received numerous letters. When she had the chance to meet the governor during a prison visit, he lauded her selflessness. She still remembers his words. “You are such an amazing woman. You never once asked me to free you. You are asking me to free other people.”

While Jacqueline’s clemency petition was under consideration, the Supreme Court’s Miller v. Alabama declared that mandatory life sentences for people under 18 at the time of the offense was unconstitutional. With Northwestern Bluhm Legal Clinic’s assistance, she was resentenced to 63 years to be served at 50 percent (that is half of the actual time imposed). Jacqueline’s hope for release became reality. 

But she had mixed feelings at the prospect of going home. “To tell the truth, it was so scary. Knowing that I was actually going to be free. …. I was like, oh my god, how does this work? What am I going to do? How am I going to earn a living? How do I survive? Because in prison, I had food, clothes, a bed and a roof over my head without paying.” Jacqueline also acknowledges that she was excited, having missed so many milestones during her time in prison. “I had never been to a zoo or to an amusement park. I had never walked into a high school or been to prom. I had never eaten lobster or steak. … I was excited because there were lots of things that I knew I was about to experience.” She concludes, “I was in prison longer than I ever was in the free world.”

Post-Traumatic Stress

Jacqueline has had the opportunity to try many new things since her release in 2022. Some of these experiences led to memorable mishaps that she still finds hilarious. For instance, when trying new foods for the first time, she accidentally ate shrimp shells and struggled to extract lobster meat. 

Jacqueline credits a few stalwart friends and family members with playing a key role in her post-incarceration success. She wasn’t sure where she was going to live when she got out, but a friend found her an apartment and paid the deposit and rent for her before she was released. Others helped her with food and clothing so she did not have to struggle with the basics while learning to adjust to life outside prison. 

Jacqueline’s reentry journey has not been without challenges. She reports that post-traumatic stress resulting from incarceration has been a significant roadblock. “For a whole week, I couldn’t sleep. Each time a car passed by my window, the light would illuminate the room and I used to think somebody was coming to kill me.” The psychological scars of imprisonment were profound and overwhelming: “I couldn’t eat with metal silverware. In restaurants, I would always ask for plastic forks. Even in my apartment, I would buy plastic plates and forks. Months after my release I was still calling my living room a ‘day room.’ I was still telling myself ‘it’s count time, get up it’s count time.’ Or if I had to use the bathroom, I was still waiting for an officer to come by so I could go. And I had to tell myself ‘you don’t have to do that anymore’.” 

Reconnecting with family was another difficulty. “When I came home, I wanted my mother’s side of the family because I wanted to feel close to my mother. And I thought being around her sisters would be a good way to achieve that.” Unfortunately, the family reunions that Jacqueline has attended haven’t met her expectations. “People think that when they come home, they can get back right with their family. … Even if you didn’t burn bridges with them, sometimes family just moves on. And that was a hard thing for me to understand and accept.” 

Finding a job has also been an uphill climb. This is a common issue among people who have been imprisoned for a long time, due to hiring restrictions primarily directed at people with criminal records. “It’s hard for me to get a job. I have had three jobs since I came home, but when the background check came in, I was fired,” she laments. 

 Sharing Love

Although Jacqueline has not completely overcome the burden of a lengthy incarceration, she has been able to rise above the stigma of conviction. “I tell myself if I could survive 31 years in prison, I can survive this.” Today she is a motivational speaker who wants to inspire young people and help them become successful. “I take children on my motivational trips. I want them to learn from my story, and I want people to realize that it takes a village to raise a child … When a child commits a crime and goes to prison, he/she is living off people’s taxes. So therefore, people have to come together to help the child before the crime is committed.” In addition to her mentoring work, she volunteers across the city to feed the homeless and is in the process of starting “Future for Tomorrow’s Youth,” a nonprofit organization whose primary aim is to keep young people away from gangs and drugs through dog training and grooming. “These children can come and learn how to train and groom a dog for free. I want to help them, and I pray that somebody that I help will help someone else,” she says. 

Jacqueline has also extended a helping hand to the women she left behind by volunteering in prison. She wants to perpetuate the love that she once experienced inside and that she continues to receive outside from women who have also been released. These women are her “prison family.” They witnessed and facilitated her transition to adulthood and taught her about life. Since she came home, they have encouraged and advised her and they continue to lift her up as she moves forward in her reentry journey.