‘We relive Airlie’s last moments every day’: Anguished parents
The parents of Airlie Montgomery, a six-year-old with autism who died after wandering off a cliff, want to honour their daughter by starting a charity to help other families like their own.
NSW
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The comforting scent of little Airlie Montgomery still lingers through her untouched room. Her drink bottle prepared for school the next day still sits in the fridge. On the porch, her tiny thongs rest in a perfect line beside her siblings’ shoes – silent echoes of a life paused.
On the surface, little has changed at the home of the six-year-old since she wandered barefoot from her front yard towards the cliff walk at the Grotto Reserve overlooking the banks of the Shoalhaven River, where she fell to her death at a lookout.
Airlie had severe autism.
Her parents Katie Amess and Corey Montgomery faced sickening trolling online in the wake of Airlie’s death, with heartless keyboard warriors criticising them over their little girl wandering off while they weren’t looking.
But the couple want to speak out about their love for their daughter, and tell the world how their lives had been meticulously built around her demanding needs and routine. To honour her, they have revealed they want to create a charity in her name to help other parents who have a child with autism.
“Our lives will never be the same,” Katie, 39, said, tears falling down her face.
“People say it must be easier not having to look after a child with a disability – but it’s harder, for the fact that she is not here any more, the grieving … the things she misses out on.
“It’s hard having a child with a disability because all your time goes into her, she wanted me to do everything, bedtimes were a 20-step process.
“For bath times, she’d climb on my back and we’d play trains so I could get her to the shower, I’d be the carriage and she’d climb on my back … the kids would do the same and follow.
“All of our lives revolved around Airlie, it was really hard at times, but I’d take it all back in a heartbeat.
Corey interjected: “She was the centre point of our lives. You couldn’t have it any other way.
“She was bold. You knew she was home when you pulled up out of the car and stepped out. “You’d hear her laughing her head off hysterically giggling or screaming.
“She was on the severe side of the spectrum but she did speak, in phrases. She was improving.
“She knew all the planets, all the dinosaurs and animals of Africa, could count to one thousand and then back down. For a six-year-old who was essentially two, she amazed us.”
Of the trolls who question how Airlie could have wandered off, Corey said: “We don’t dismiss those comments, but don’t you duck out to the toilet sometimes? Don’t you come out and see your child opening the kitchen drawer about to grab a knife?
“We carry guilt, we have hindsight.
“Practicality means you can’t be there every second. That’s why I want to change things.”
Corey, 39, an underground fitter in the mines, is registering a charity to support and help navigate the NDIS system for parents of children with autism so his daughter’s death is not in vain.
They support Kiama MP Gareth Ward’s plea in parliament in the wake of Airlie’s death for funding to build a sensory playground giving disabled children a place to play at Drexel Park behind the family home in North Nowra.
“More than 1000 people came to look for Airlie that day, we welcome the idea of a park, we want to give something back to the community,” Corey said.
“We’ve considered moving, to Newcastle, where I’m originally from, to be near family.
“But, for now, we need to stay close to Airlie.”
While many relationships collapse under the strain of raising a disabled child, Airlie’s parents were determined to stay a family when their daughter received a delayed diagnosis, aged four, of the most severe level two/three autism.
The delicate daily routine of sleeps, mealtimes, and bath times could be thrown into chaos at any moment if she had a meltdown.
She would not walk 50m to school and would insist on driving around the shops, around the roundabout – and if a wrong turn was made “she’d have meltdowns that were heartbreaking and you’d have to start again,” Katie said.
The lack of immediate support and the subsequent efforts of balancing work and family is the driving force behind the new charity.
“That diagnosis process took a year, it needs to be sped up, it’s time-critical,” Corey said.
“We walked out of the clinic having been told our child is severely autistic with just a handful of pamphlets and broke down in the carpark. We were told to expect a call from plan managers to get us on NDIS.
“We have guilt over Airlie, we go over what went wrong, how did we lose her, how could it have been prevented?
“Resources are available but the onus is on parents to find them.
“The energy of raising an autistic child is tenfold, you need to be proactive.
“I want to help parents like us, we had no idea how to raise an autistic child, and learnt on the go.
“I’ve got to fill the gap since Airlie left, and I know I never will, but if I don’t do something in her memory, I’ll go the other way.
“People say you have two other reasons at home to keep going, I correct them and say it’s three. Airlie is still with us there are signs she’s still here.”
Speaking haltingly, Katie, a Coles customer service worker, said: “The night she died, we were sitting on the couch, we couldn’t sleep, and at midnight, exactly, it rained. It had been a hot day, around 40 degrees. Rain is Airlie’s middle name.”
Every day she relives her last moments with Airlie in a bid to figure out what could have been prevented.
“Because Airlie has a disability we were trolled, parents commented saying they’re never two feet away from their child.
“She had played there countless times, she had never walked out of school alone, Airlie knew the boundaries,” Katie said in tears.
Airlie, the middle of three siblings, who adored her older sister Arya, eight, and brother Lawson, 18 months, had been playing in the front yard in a pink dress and wandered into the street, crossed a busy road, and walked into bushland 800m from her front door, where she met her death. It was sheer misfortune that no one saw her.
Corey was working at a mine site five hours away when his fiancee called to say Airlie had gone missing around 2pm, having searched for her for 20 minutes.
More than a thousand locals, police, riverboats and two helicopters scoured the area for her. Her body was found by a couple visiting the area.
Airlie had been to the site where she died several times, with her family and grandfather Robert Montgomery, for family walks, where she liked throw rocks into the water, held tightly by her parents.
“She always liked to throw rocks and see where they landed,” Katie said.
“But I don’t understand, she ran that day and she’s not a runner, Lawson is, not Airlie. And we hadn’t been to that place for more than six months.
“That day was a good day, she was happy, she had played on her own on the gravel at the front countless times before.
“She knew the boundaries, to not go on roads, to always play with Arya at the front. Why that day did she decide to take off from home?”
Every night the family goes out to look for stars.
“Lawson puts on his gumboots and says ‘Stars, Airlie’ and he looks for the brightest one,” Corey said.
What actually happened to Airlie the family cannot bear to know.
“I don’t want to know if she tried to make her way somewhere else after she fell, we told the coroner to leave the details off the death certificate,” Corey said.
“To us, she went to a quiet place that she loved and she’s still playing.”
Originally published as ‘We relive Airlie’s last moments every day’: Anguished parents