After her husband beat her and slashed her throat eight years ago, Tracey Motuzick fought back, winning new legal protection for battered women and a landmark lawsuit against the police who failed to protect her. But when she limped into Superior Court on Wednesday, she was powerless to stop her attacker's release from prison. Charles Thurman will be released on good behavior from Somers State Prison on April 12 after serving just over half a 14-year sentence. "As long as he's out I'm going to be scared for the rest of my life," said Motuzick, whose story was told in a 1989 TV movie, A Cry For Help: The Tracey Thurman Story. Judge Wendy Susco ordered Thurman, 29, to have no contact with his ex-wife or the couple's 9-year-old son and to submit to a psychiatric examination and accept any recommended treatment, including medication or hospitalization. Tracey Motuzick, then Tracey Thurman, was seeking a divorce when Thurman nearly killed her in 1983. He stabbed her 13 times in the face, throat and body and kicked her in the head. The assault continued even after police arrived. Motuzick sued Torrington police, claiming they failed to protect her from her husband, who had stated publicly he planned to kill her. A federal jury awarded her $2.3-million in 1985. She eventually settled for $1.9-million. The case, the first of its kind in a U.S. district court, established the constitutional right to police protection of victims of domestic disputes. It also led to a 1986 Connecticut law making domestic violence a crime that must be prosecuted whether or not the victim chooses to press charges. Motuzick escaped with her life. Lisa Bianco wasn't as lucky. "I bartered for my life yesterday," Bianco told an Indiana prosecutor's office back in 1987, her face freshly swollen with purple wounds after another beating by her ex-husband. "I'm afraid if he does get ahold of me again, I'm not going to be able to talk him out of it." She succeeded in getting Alan Matheney sentenced to five years in prison. But he often phoned her from prison to tell her what he planned to do to her when he got out, and each time, Bianco would report it to prison officials. They agreed to her written request to inform her if he ever got out, even on a short furlough. They didn't. When Matheney got an eight-hour pass on March 4, 1989, he headed straight for Bianco's home in Mishawaka, Ind., 150 miles away despite orders to remain in the Indianapolis area. Matheney broke into his ex-wife's home, their 10-year-old daughter told police, and Bianco fled the house screaming, clad only in panties. Bianco, 29, was bludgeoned to death on the sidewalk outside a neighbor's home with the butt of a gun. The force of the 20 blows broke the gun into three pieces. Matheney was sentenced to death in Bianco's murder. Such killings occur somewhere in this country every six hours and account for almost one-third of women murdered, studies have shown, and rarely do they happen without warning. Almost always, the women leave their stories in a police file somewhere. Motuzick, 29, is still scarred and partially paralyzed from her 1983 attack. She fears the worst if Thurman is released from prison. On Wednesday, Thurman, his legs shackled together, said nothing in court except to answer "yes" when the judge asked if he understood the terms of his probation. He never faced his ex-wife but glared briefly at her new husband. "I feel as though my lawyer did the best job that he could," Motuzick said, fighting back tears, as she left the courthouse. The woman's lawyer, Burton Weinstein, described Thurman as a "borderline defective" who may be incapable of controlling himself and following the terms of his probation. Citing court documents, Weinstein said Thurman has the maturity of a child and is prone to explosive outbursts. The judge approved Thurman's request to serve his probation in Kentucky, where his father lives, an arrangement that must be approved by officials in Kentucky. State's Attorney Frank S. Maco said the state would try to arrange Thurman's transportation to Kentucky immediately after his release so "he will not be out on the streets of Connecticut." "I'm concerned about keeping as much distance between Mr. Thurman and the victim as possible," Maco said. Weinstein said he will request, as an additional safeguard, a protective order to keep Thurman away from his ex-wife. Such an order could lead to faster punitive measures against Thurman if he tries to contact Motuzick, Weinstein said. The Motuzicks still live in Torrington. Michael Motuzick said police there have been cooperative recently, but his wife still fears for her safety. He said she has not slept soundly since she learned earlier this month of Thurman's impending release. "It's taking a heavy toll on her mind," he said. "She's deathly afraid of him. . . . She'll never feel safe if he's out." _ Information from Times files was used in this report.