In Memory Of Tara Rose Munsey

Tara Rose Munsey, 16 years old, 5'5", 110 pounds Last seen leaving Taco Bell in Fairlawn (Radford), Virginia, 7:30 p.m., Tuesday, January 25, 2000, wearing a navy blue Taco Bell uniform.

Murder Trial Won't Come to Winchester

By Daniel M. Telvock
The Winchester Star

A capital murder case out of Pulaski won't be heard in Winchester Circuit Court after all.

Sandy Dowdy, a deputy court clerk in Pulaski County Circuit Court, said Jeffrey Allen Thomas' jury trial was cancelled last week.

“He pleaded no contest and got life without the possibility of parole,” she said.

Thomas, 32, was charged with the capital murder and attempted rape of Tara Rose Munsey, 16, in Radford.

The murder happened more than two years ago.

Munsey was shot four times, and her body was found in a ditch 16 days after her disappearance from her job on Jan. 25, 2000.

It would have been the fourth jury trial transferred to Winchester from another locality in 26 years, Winchester Circuit Court Clerk Mike Foreman said.

The trial was to last at least two weeks and was to be heard in Winchester because the Supreme Court overturned the verdict.

The court ruled Pulaski County Circuit Judge Colin Gibb erred when he didn't grant a change of venue request made by the defense due to considerable news coverage about the event.

Mother prays to spare daughter's killer

By NAN COBBEY
Episcopal Life staff

A vigil for healing and reconciliation at Grace Episcopal Church in Radford, Va., requested by the mother of a murdered teenage girl, could help spare the life of the man convicted of her killing.
      Kitty Irwin still grieves for the daughter who disappeared Jan. 25, 2000. Tara Munsey, found two weeks later, had been shot four times and rolled down a ravine in a neighboring town. The man accused was a family friend, Jeffrey Allen Thomas. He was convicted and sentenced to die this past March. The formal sentencing by the judge is set for July 9.
      Irwin does not want to see Thomas die. She does not want to see him released, but she sees no value in taking another life, in hurting another family.
      "Hating somebody for doing something to someone you love so much really doesn't accomplish anything," she says. "It certainly doesn't accomplish what Jesus tried to teach us ... that we should love one another and try to forgive one another. There's no exception to that. It even should be for people, like Jeff, who have done something so terrible."
      Irwin's certainty about sparing Thomas' life is somewhat of a surprise to her. It was a definite surprise to the Pulaski County Circuit Court last March. On the day of Thomas' conviction, when she rose to make her victim's statement, Irwin addressed both Thomas and the jury.
      "I wanted to tell you, Jeff, that I do forgive you and that I do hope someday you will be able to forgive yourself. I know inside that you're hurting very much," she said, according to the Roanoke Times. Many on the jury, made up mostly of men, had to remove their glasses to wipe tears from their eyes as she spoke.
      Irwin begged the jury not to impose the death penalty, according to the Times report, and said that despite the brutality of the crime and the loss of her daughter, she believed everyone, including Thomas, deserved to be treated with respect.
      The defense attorney, Mike Barbour, told jurors that nothing the defense could present would be more compelling than the words of Munsey's parents. The Times quoted Barbour as saying, "Their comments are the product of a level of grace and passion that is not only rarely seen in these types of cases, but is also unexpected and, quite often, undeserved."

A change of heart

     "Two years ago, had somebody mentioned to me that I would be an advocate against the death penalty, especially concerning my daughter, I probably would have told them they were crazy," Irwin says now.
      "But the events that followed her death really made me more aware ... opened my eyes. We say that a tragic death of someone close to you really changes you. It truly does. The night Tara disappeared, about 2 o'clock in the morning, I knew she was dead. I prayed. I said 'I know I can't change things, but please help me be able to accept whatever it is I have to accept.' I believe God has shown me this path."
      The path included another major bump. In the midst of her grieving, Irwin learned she had breast cancer. She has since had a mastectomy and received chemotherapy and radiation. Her healing has brought her closer to the church and to God. "Towards the end there were times when I had definite conversations [with God] saying. 'What about this forgiveness thing?' I really felt I was asked to come forward and make a stand on it."
      The plea to the jury was a first step. Visiting and writing to Thomas in jail was another. She speaks of him with sympathy and understanding, explaining his family's long history of schizophrenia, a disorder from which he suffers as well.
      The reconciliation service, which she and her priest at Grace Church, the Rev. Kris Kramer, are calling "A Vigil and Service for Hope, Healing and Reconciliation," is the most recent step. She called the sister of Jeffrey Thomas and asked her to help invite his family and friends. Irwin wanted to encourage all participants to pray for Thomas and to write letters to Judge Colin Gibb of the Pulaski County Circuit Court asking him to spare Thomas' life.
      "It is the thing we need to do as a society, to have that element of forgiveness for other people. ... We don't tolerate very much. We are not a very tolerant group of people. This is probably one of the hardest things, and yet, I felt it was important for Tara's friends to see that it was important to me to forgive this person."
      Bishop Neff Powell of the Diocese of Southwestern Virginia encouraged clergy at their recent conference to attend the service. "I am very impressed and moved and proud of the congregation that they are doing this," he said.
      Irwin's friend Kathy Putnam, director of the Office on Youth in Radford, says southwestern Virginia needs more people like her. "I don't think I would have it in my heart to forgive like she has done. ... She's one of the most spiritual and moral people I know. I would like to be more like her."
      Kramer, her priest, echoes that sentiment. "I have such respect for Kitty. She doesn't have any of that knee-jerk reaction, that desire for blood." He describes her compassion as "amazing, almost unnatural. It reminds me of Christ."