She endured the torture for almost five years, trafficked across multiple states and 27 strip joints.
But Cassie Hammond survived to testify at a Montana Criminal Justice Oversight Council hearing this month on the state of human trafficking.
The session, arranged by Penny Ronning, co-founder of the Yellowstone Human Trafficking Task Force—herself the daughter of a trafficking victim—lasted two gripping hours.
“I knew that if I didn’t get out, I was going to die.”
Legislators, judges, district attorneys, criminal defense attorneys and other officials listened as Cassie and other trafficking victims shared their stories of being groomed, sold, isolated, beaten and raped.
And they advocated. Cassie explained how she was treated by law enforcement, her situation continually misunderstood and misinterpreted, even once she was rescued: “No officer ever made me feel comfortable enough to disclose what was really happening in my life. I was treated as a criminal—just another addict, another problem, when in reality I was someone’s daughter being sold.”
The solution, they urged, is to train law enforcement on the signs of human trafficking and, even more vital, how to rescue victims, many of whom are terrified of any hand—even a helping one—reaching out to them.
“That fear kept me silent,” Cassie said. “Officers need to recognize the signs of exploitation and how to respond in a way that makes victims feel safe.”
Currently, Montana requires just four hours of human trafficking training for officers—four hours of education on how to recognize and save vulnerable lives.
The consequences are staggering.
Human trafficking in Montana has surged 1,900 percent—from just seven cases in 2015 to 143 in 2023. Since 2022, the Montana state hotline logged nearly 400 trafficking tips.
Traffickers pocket between $3,800 and $18,000 a month per victim, and studies show nearly 90 percent of sex trafficking victims are women.
Cassie entered the human trafficking world through what’s known as Romeo-style grooming. “It feels new, exciting, glamorous,” she said. “It feels like someone has come along like a white knight to fix all your problems, but not everything that glitters is gold. And in this case, what looked shiny and glamorous was in reality dark, violent and gruesome.
“His violence escalated so badly over the years that I knew that if I didn’t get out, I was going to die,” she said. “And at that moment, I decided that the risk of telling my mom the truth was less than the risk of staying. My mom bravely befriended my trafficker, and after six months of building his trust, she convinced him to let me come home temporarily to care for my grandfather. Once I was past airport security, I felt like I could breathe for the first time since October 6, 2011.”
Most victims are not as fortunate. For every Cassie Hammond who escapes, thousands remain in sexual slavery. Awareness of these and other warning signs are crucial, otherwise victims stay invisible:
- Hesitant to talk; avoids eye contact, especially with men; appears exhausted, malnourished or abused.
- Uncertain of their name or location—identities and whereabouts are changed frequently.
- Inappropriate clothing for the season or setting (e.g., summer clothes in winter).
- No control over money, ID or belongings; may carry only a few items in a bag.
- Accompanied by a dominating or mismatched companion who induces fear.
After the survivors concluded their testimony, the chair of the council thanked them and said, “By legislators and the leadership of the criminal justice system, know that you have been heard.”
Encouraging words, but the coming weeks and months will reveal whether Montana’s leaders convert testimony into action, whether law enforcement receives real training and whether more victims are rescued while traffickers are brought to justice.
Penny Ronning, who has spent nearly a decade advocating, pushing and persisting, is hopeful.
“With all my heart,” she says, “I believe that when a survivor speaks, mountains move, the Heavens open and angels fill the room.”
