For the most part, gang banging is a glorified pyramid scheme. A gang's leaders--the five percent at the top--reap most of the financial benefits, while the 'shorties,' as the younger members are known, and the foot soldiers take most of the physical risks but see very few rewards.
I typically try to avoid acknowledging a street gang by name. Simply mentioning a particular band of malcontents may provide the impetus for street credibility. Too many Hollywood films lionize organized crime figures and do society a great disservice in the process. Yet, like the gang leaders themselves, the producers of these movies are generally interested in one thing: making money.
On the other hand, some creative types dare to see the gang subculture for what it is: a collective of wannabe block bullies. One such person is Mitchell Nevin, author of The Cozen Protocol. The e-book's disclaimer states that The Cozen Protocol is a fictional book about two gangs--the Latin Maniacs and Los Dominicanos--battling over drug turf. But for those of you interested in true crime, Nevin's book, at least from my perspective, contains much more fact than fiction.
As a former homicide detective, several scenes from The Cozen Protocol ring a familiar bell, particularly the murder of a young man on the steps of a Catholic Church and the execution style slaying of a rival gang member inside a barbershop.
In 1998, 15-year-old Israel Rodriguez was gunned-down on the steps of St. Anthony's Catholic Church on Milwaukee's near south side. A Latin King assassin screamed "Mexican Posse Killa" before firing nine rounds into a group, one of which struck and killed Rodriguez. After investigators scrapped the 15-year-old's body from the pavement, a half a dozen arson fires ensued, which authorities attributed to the homicide. This brazen killing on the steps of a place believed to be a community sanctuary set-off a rash of retaliatory shootings.
The Cozen Protocol's barbershop homicide is ripped right from the headlines of the 1997 slaying of Latin King Frank Garza. Jordan Mueller, a 21-year-old former honor student, was given instructions to whack Garza, who had a falling out with the hierarchy of his own gang. "I walked to where Frank was getting his hair cut," testified Mueller, who wore a ski mask as he entered the barbershop. "I put a gun to his head and fired."
Mueller, who is white, grew-up in a middle-class neighborhood on Milwaukee's southwest side. Seventeen months prior to the barbershop execution, officers from the Milwaukee Police Department's gang unit stopped a car driven by Mueller. Brain Turner, a leader of the Junior Latin Kings, was inside. Immediately after the stop, the gang officers went directly to Mueller's home and spoke to his parents, both of whom didn't seem overly concerned about the company Jordan was keeping. "We explained, in fairly good detail, who Jordan was hanging with," said one of the officers, "but his parents seemed aloof."
In the months between the gang officers' traffic stop and the barbershop homicide, Mueller received a ritual beating and became a member of the Junior Latin Kings. In July 1996, Mueller, Brian Turner, and another of the gang's members spotted a group of rivals seated in a car. "I ran out of the bushes," Mueller testified in federal court, "and pointed the gun in the direction of the driver and I started shooting." Mueller then went to the passenger's side of the car. "I just shot and kept shooting until I didn't have any bullets left." A 17-year-old boy and a 20-year-old man succumbed to bullet wounds and a third person was seriously injured.
The underlying motives for these gangland crimes are similar to the those committed in The Cozen Protocol -- street gangs take their drug turf seriously. But like the Latin King robots all too willing to take orders from above, the thugs in The Cozen Protocol soon discover that the real meaning of the acronym D.O.P.E. is death or prison eventually. In the interim, the gang leaders at the top of the pyramid--those who have others recruit the likes of Jordan Mueller--are all to willing to sell their stories of glorified dysfunction to anyone careless enough to listen.
______________________________________
Steven Spingola is a former Milwaukee Police Department homicide detective and author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler.
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Thr Machett Investigation, Part II
On October 31, 1980, two young boys, Daniel and David Laabs, stumbled upon the body of 10-year-old Brad Machett in a town of Grafton cornfield. After contacting authorities, Ozaukee County Sheriff's deputies searched the area and located the young boy's remains.
Law enforcement officers immediately cordoned-off the area just west of N. Port Washington Road and north of Lakefield Road, about three quarters of a mile west of I-43. Footprints were visible near the body; however, joggers frequented the area. A tire mark left at the scene suggested that a vehicle sped off after the corpse was discarded.
At the center of the crime scene, Brad Machett's head pointed to the north, while his feet faced Lakefield Road to the south. The young boy was attired in a blue nylon jacket, tan pants, and tennis shoes -- the same clothing he wore on the evening of October 25. The tan trousers were undone, as the killer hastily pulled them upward after a sexual assault. Machett had bruises on his face, an indication his abductor employed blunt force trauma to subdue and control his victim.
The drop site was not an isolated area. Herbert Matthews, who owned the land where the body was discovered, told the Milwaukee Sentinel that Lakefield Road is heavily traveled. Matthews told investigators that he went to bed at 11 PM on October 30 and did not notice anything out of the ordinary.
The location of the scene suggests a randomly selected dump site. Since the area is well-traveled, the killer is probably not indigenous to the Grafton area. Instead, the suspect likely drove north, away from the area he generally frequents. In 1980, the Grafton area was relatively undeveloped and was probably the first patch of rural area that the killer encountered as he traveled north on I-43. The body, physically transported a short distance from the vehicle, was likely dumped under the cloak of darkness. Within five minutes, the perpetrator was likely back on I-43 heading south towards the Milwaukee area.
A neighbor of Brad Machett's, Valencia Drew, told the Milwaukee Sentinel that the young boy "was the type of child who wouldn't meet strangers. He was too wise a child to do that." This information, coupled with the severe bruising to the face, indicates that the victim resisted. The Riverwest area is highly urban with many homes and businesses. In the five blocks between N. Weil and E. Center Streets and his grandmother's tavern -- The Aid Station -- Brad Machett may have taken a short cut through an alley, where he was snatched or coaxed into a vehicle.
Besides the unidentified footprints and the tire track left at the scene, head hair from the killer was located on Machett's chest. Earlier this year, investigators once again searched DNA databases for possible suspects, but a matching profile is not in the system.
On November 7, 1980, the Milwaukee Sentinel ran a composite drawing of "a man being sought in connection with the slaying of Brad Machett. The man is described as 5 feet 10 inches to six feet tall, 30 to 40 years old, with shoulder length brown hair." An article on the next page listed the suspect as "white, 5-foot-7, with dark brown, collar length hair."
At one point, investigators turned their attention to a man from out of state--a convicted sex offender--who stole the identify of a psychologist. If my recollection is correct, this man later obtained employment at a Wisconsin prison and actually treated sex offenders. Investigators believe that this man was in Milwaukee the day Brad Machett disappeared.
For the next twenty-eight-and-a-half-years, the Machett case ran cold. Then on March 23, 2009, Greenfield police arrested Daniel Acker, 61, a swim coach in the Milwaukee suburb of West Allis. A man, now in his 40s, made a complaint that Acker had sexually assaulted him from 1971 to 1976. Investigators then searched Acker's abode. "Police found an immaculate home when they entered Daniel Acker's off-white, two-story Waukesha condo," reporters from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel wrote. "He had hidden his darker secrets in the basement."
Inside a model police precinct Acker had constructed, detectives discovered several photos of abducted and murdered children slapped on the walls. "It's bizarre," Greenfield Deputy Inspector Bradley Wentlandt told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. "No agency has seen anything like it before."
One of the twelve pictures on the walls of the model police precinct was that of Brad Machett.
Greenfield police believe Acker molested at least 28 boys between 1972 and 2005. According to the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, Acker admitted "details about the 19-year-old and about five victims in the 1970s" but did not provide any additional information. In September, Acker entered a no contest plea to molesting two boys.
Now that Acker is a convicted felon, Wisconsin law requires the submission of a DNA sample.
A photograph taken of Daniel Ackert in the 1980s, published on WISN Channel 12's Web site, bears some resemblance to the composite sketch published in the Milwaukee Sentinel. The man in the sketch has sideburns, an oval face, and hair that exposes the ear but is longer in back.
"The mortician's brush," wrote reporter Joe Manning, as he covered Brad Machett's funeral for the Milwaukee Sentinel, "hid the bruises inflicted on his face and throat. He died of strangulation."
Prior to retiring from the Milwaukee Police Department, I received a telephone call from a member of the Machett family. Sandra Morrical, Brad's mother, was in poor health. The relative stated that it was Sandra's dying wish to see her son's killer brought to justice. Unfortunately, this wish never became a reality.
Brad Machett's body rests is an upper level vault at Wisconsin Memorial Park. While the 29th anniversary of the young boy's tragic death is only a few days away, detectives from Ozaukee County and the Milwaukee Police Department continue to work behind the scenes to bring his killer to justice.
_____________________________________
Steven Spingola is a retired Milwaukee Police Department homicide detective and the author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler.
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
Law enforcement officers immediately cordoned-off the area just west of N. Port Washington Road and north of Lakefield Road, about three quarters of a mile west of I-43. Footprints were visible near the body; however, joggers frequented the area. A tire mark left at the scene suggested that a vehicle sped off after the corpse was discarded.
At the center of the crime scene, Brad Machett's head pointed to the north, while his feet faced Lakefield Road to the south. The young boy was attired in a blue nylon jacket, tan pants, and tennis shoes -- the same clothing he wore on the evening of October 25. The tan trousers were undone, as the killer hastily pulled them upward after a sexual assault. Machett had bruises on his face, an indication his abductor employed blunt force trauma to subdue and control his victim.
The drop site was not an isolated area. Herbert Matthews, who owned the land where the body was discovered, told the Milwaukee Sentinel that Lakefield Road is heavily traveled. Matthews told investigators that he went to bed at 11 PM on October 30 and did not notice anything out of the ordinary.
The location of the scene suggests a randomly selected dump site. Since the area is well-traveled, the killer is probably not indigenous to the Grafton area. Instead, the suspect likely drove north, away from the area he generally frequents. In 1980, the Grafton area was relatively undeveloped and was probably the first patch of rural area that the killer encountered as he traveled north on I-43. The body, physically transported a short distance from the vehicle, was likely dumped under the cloak of darkness. Within five minutes, the perpetrator was likely back on I-43 heading south towards the Milwaukee area.
A neighbor of Brad Machett's, Valencia Drew, told the Milwaukee Sentinel that the young boy "was the type of child who wouldn't meet strangers. He was too wise a child to do that." This information, coupled with the severe bruising to the face, indicates that the victim resisted. The Riverwest area is highly urban with many homes and businesses. In the five blocks between N. Weil and E. Center Streets and his grandmother's tavern -- The Aid Station -- Brad Machett may have taken a short cut through an alley, where he was snatched or coaxed into a vehicle.
Besides the unidentified footprints and the tire track left at the scene, head hair from the killer was located on Machett's chest. Earlier this year, investigators once again searched DNA databases for possible suspects, but a matching profile is not in the system.
On November 7, 1980, the Milwaukee Sentinel ran a composite drawing of "a man being sought in connection with the slaying of Brad Machett. The man is described as 5 feet 10 inches to six feet tall, 30 to 40 years old, with shoulder length brown hair." An article on the next page listed the suspect as "white, 5-foot-7, with dark brown, collar length hair."
At one point, investigators turned their attention to a man from out of state--a convicted sex offender--who stole the identify of a psychologist. If my recollection is correct, this man later obtained employment at a Wisconsin prison and actually treated sex offenders. Investigators believe that this man was in Milwaukee the day Brad Machett disappeared.
For the next twenty-eight-and-a-half-years, the Machett case ran cold. Then on March 23, 2009, Greenfield police arrested Daniel Acker, 61, a swim coach in the Milwaukee suburb of West Allis. A man, now in his 40s, made a complaint that Acker had sexually assaulted him from 1971 to 1976. Investigators then searched Acker's abode. "Police found an immaculate home when they entered Daniel Acker's off-white, two-story Waukesha condo," reporters from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel wrote. "He had hidden his darker secrets in the basement."
Inside a model police precinct Acker had constructed, detectives discovered several photos of abducted and murdered children slapped on the walls. "It's bizarre," Greenfield Deputy Inspector Bradley Wentlandt told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. "No agency has seen anything like it before."
One of the twelve pictures on the walls of the model police precinct was that of Brad Machett.
Greenfield police believe Acker molested at least 28 boys between 1972 and 2005. According to the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, Acker admitted "details about the 19-year-old and about five victims in the 1970s" but did not provide any additional information. In September, Acker entered a no contest plea to molesting two boys.
Now that Acker is a convicted felon, Wisconsin law requires the submission of a DNA sample.
A photograph taken of Daniel Ackert in the 1980s, published on WISN Channel 12's Web site, bears some resemblance to the composite sketch published in the Milwaukee Sentinel. The man in the sketch has sideburns, an oval face, and hair that exposes the ear but is longer in back.
"The mortician's brush," wrote reporter Joe Manning, as he covered Brad Machett's funeral for the Milwaukee Sentinel, "hid the bruises inflicted on his face and throat. He died of strangulation."
Prior to retiring from the Milwaukee Police Department, I received a telephone call from a member of the Machett family. Sandra Morrical, Brad's mother, was in poor health. The relative stated that it was Sandra's dying wish to see her son's killer brought to justice. Unfortunately, this wish never became a reality.
Brad Machett's body rests is an upper level vault at Wisconsin Memorial Park. While the 29th anniversary of the young boy's tragic death is only a few days away, detectives from Ozaukee County and the Milwaukee Police Department continue to work behind the scenes to bring his killer to justice.
_____________________________________
Steven Spingola is a retired Milwaukee Police Department homicide detective and the author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler.
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Machett Investigation
October 1980 was a very interesting month.
Fellow television sports commentators Brent Musberger, then 39, and Jimmy "the Greek" Snyder, 61, almost came to blows at a mid-town New York watering hole. Authorities in Atlanta requested the assistance of New Jersey psychic Dorothy Allison to assist in the serial murders of young boys, later pinned on Wayne Williams. In Jefferson County, Wisconsin, investigators discovered the skeletal remains of Timothy Hack and Kelly Drew, both 19 years-of-age, in an Ixonia field.
On the Milwaukee crime front, October of 1980 was a bizarre month as well. Police arrested Former county supervisor and city building inspector William Nagel for indecently touching an under cover officer during a sting at Estabrook Park. With violence on the rise, Police Chief Harold Breier sought 45 additional police officers. From my perspective as a relatively new officer working the graveyard shift at District Five, events proved the chief's request timely indeed.
At 10:30 PM on October 25, Sandra Morrical contacted the Milwaukee Police Department regarding her 10-year-old missing son, Brad Machett. Two of the young boy's friends last saw Machett near the corner of N. Weil and E. Center Streets at about 6:30 PM, five blocks south of the young boy's destination -- his grandmother's tavern, The Aid Station, located at the corner of N. Bremen and E. Burleigh Streets.
Even though Machett had previously ran away from home, Inspector Kenneth Hagopian told the Milwaukee Sentinel that detectives began working the case "as soon as the report came over the teletype at 12:24 AM" on October 26. The young boy was 4 feet 5 inches tall, weighed 80 pounds, had long blond hair, and was last seen wearing a blue jacket and tan trousers.
Officers and detectives fanned out to search the vicinity, known as the Riverwest neighborhood. The winding Milwaukee River borders this area to the south and to the east. Hagopian told the Milwaukee Sentinel that officers searched the river's shoreline but the department would not deploy divers unless "we have something more solid to go on."
Officers at District 5 roll calls received a two-year-old black and white photo of Brad Machett. Over the years, I held on to this photo of the smiling young boy sporting a white and black sweater. A picture in the October 28, 1980 Milwaukee Sentinel depicted the boy with longer hair and a slightly mature face.
The search for Brad Machett quickly turned cold. For the next six days, officers continued to search the area and pounded on doors in an effort to locate the boy.
Then, on Halloween, two brothers, Daniel and David Laabs, cut through a field on their way to school in the Town of Grafton -- 20 miles north of Milwaukee -- and stumbled across a body. The boys, ages 13 and 8, raced home and contacted the Ozaukee County Sheriff's Department at about 9:15 AM.
"I saw the little fellow," Ozaukee County Deputy Leroy Dahm told the Milwaukee Sentinel. "I hated like hell to see him there. His head was in the field and his feet were facing the road." The body of Brad Machett was found about 50 feet north of Lakefield Road. Deputy Dahm reported that a tire mark at the scene indicated that a car had accelerated quickly.
Next: the twists and turns of the Machett investigation.
_____________________________________________
Steven Spingola is a retired Milwaukee Police Department homicide detective and the author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler.
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
Fellow television sports commentators Brent Musberger, then 39, and Jimmy "the Greek" Snyder, 61, almost came to blows at a mid-town New York watering hole. Authorities in Atlanta requested the assistance of New Jersey psychic Dorothy Allison to assist in the serial murders of young boys, later pinned on Wayne Williams. In Jefferson County, Wisconsin, investigators discovered the skeletal remains of Timothy Hack and Kelly Drew, both 19 years-of-age, in an Ixonia field.
On the Milwaukee crime front, October of 1980 was a bizarre month as well. Police arrested Former county supervisor and city building inspector William Nagel for indecently touching an under cover officer during a sting at Estabrook Park. With violence on the rise, Police Chief Harold Breier sought 45 additional police officers. From my perspective as a relatively new officer working the graveyard shift at District Five, events proved the chief's request timely indeed.
At 10:30 PM on October 25, Sandra Morrical contacted the Milwaukee Police Department regarding her 10-year-old missing son, Brad Machett. Two of the young boy's friends last saw Machett near the corner of N. Weil and E. Center Streets at about 6:30 PM, five blocks south of the young boy's destination -- his grandmother's tavern, The Aid Station, located at the corner of N. Bremen and E. Burleigh Streets.
Even though Machett had previously ran away from home, Inspector Kenneth Hagopian told the Milwaukee Sentinel that detectives began working the case "as soon as the report came over the teletype at 12:24 AM" on October 26. The young boy was 4 feet 5 inches tall, weighed 80 pounds, had long blond hair, and was last seen wearing a blue jacket and tan trousers.
Officers and detectives fanned out to search the vicinity, known as the Riverwest neighborhood. The winding Milwaukee River borders this area to the south and to the east. Hagopian told the Milwaukee Sentinel that officers searched the river's shoreline but the department would not deploy divers unless "we have something more solid to go on."
Officers at District 5 roll calls received a two-year-old black and white photo of Brad Machett. Over the years, I held on to this photo of the smiling young boy sporting a white and black sweater. A picture in the October 28, 1980 Milwaukee Sentinel depicted the boy with longer hair and a slightly mature face.
The search for Brad Machett quickly turned cold. For the next six days, officers continued to search the area and pounded on doors in an effort to locate the boy.
Then, on Halloween, two brothers, Daniel and David Laabs, cut through a field on their way to school in the Town of Grafton -- 20 miles north of Milwaukee -- and stumbled across a body. The boys, ages 13 and 8, raced home and contacted the Ozaukee County Sheriff's Department at about 9:15 AM.
"I saw the little fellow," Ozaukee County Deputy Leroy Dahm told the Milwaukee Sentinel. "I hated like hell to see him there. His head was in the field and his feet were facing the road." The body of Brad Machett was found about 50 feet north of Lakefield Road. Deputy Dahm reported that a tire mark at the scene indicated that a car had accelerated quickly.
Next: the twists and turns of the Machett investigation.
_____________________________________________
Steven Spingola is a retired Milwaukee Police Department homicide detective and the author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler.
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Idzi Revisited
In response to my last post, The Library Detective, several readers had questions regarding the case of the youthful bomber, Idzi Rutkowski. The majority of the comments focused on the motive for the 1935 Milwaukee bombings.
To obtain more information, I visited the downtown Milwaukee Public Library. The November 6, 1935 edition of the Milwaukee Journal sought to identify the motives of Idzi Rutkowski and his sidekick, Paul 'Shrimp' Chovonee. Following-up after the deadly blast, Milwaukee police detectives learned that Rutkowski applied for admission to a depression era CCC camp, but was denied employment due to bad teeth.
"The [CCC Camp] incident," said Dr. Samuel Plahner, a prominent local psychiatrist at the time, "probably marked the turning point in Rutkowski's behavior." But Milwaukee's Chief of Police, J.G. Laubenheimer, cited "undue leniency" by the courts as a major factor. Revenge was also a motive, as the bombers procured the stolen explosives from the same Estabrook Park CCC camp that denied Rutkowski entry.
After the fact, Milwaukee's City Comptroller, William H. Wendt, claimed to have "thwarted the terrorist" as Rutkowski placed a package under a steam radiator in the area of [City Hall's] North Market Street entrance on November 2.
The $5,000 reward -- a small fortune in the depths of the Great Depression -- was authorized by the Milwaukee Common Council. Moreover, in the blast's aftermath, eighth ward Alderman Matt Mueller managed to obtain $1,500 from the city's contingency fund to bury nine year-old Patricia Mylnarek.
NEXT: I will discuss a 29 year-old unsolved Milwaukee homicide. Is the killer sill alive and walking the streets among us?
_______________________________________________
Steven Spingola is a former Milwaukee Police Department homicide detective and the author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
To obtain more information, I visited the downtown Milwaukee Public Library. The November 6, 1935 edition of the Milwaukee Journal sought to identify the motives of Idzi Rutkowski and his sidekick, Paul 'Shrimp' Chovonee. Following-up after the deadly blast, Milwaukee police detectives learned that Rutkowski applied for admission to a depression era CCC camp, but was denied employment due to bad teeth.
"The [CCC Camp] incident," said Dr. Samuel Plahner, a prominent local psychiatrist at the time, "probably marked the turning point in Rutkowski's behavior." But Milwaukee's Chief of Police, J.G. Laubenheimer, cited "undue leniency" by the courts as a major factor. Revenge was also a motive, as the bombers procured the stolen explosives from the same Estabrook Park CCC camp that denied Rutkowski entry.
After the fact, Milwaukee's City Comptroller, William H. Wendt, claimed to have "thwarted the terrorist" as Rutkowski placed a package under a steam radiator in the area of [City Hall's] North Market Street entrance on November 2.
The $5,000 reward -- a small fortune in the depths of the Great Depression -- was authorized by the Milwaukee Common Council. Moreover, in the blast's aftermath, eighth ward Alderman Matt Mueller managed to obtain $1,500 from the city's contingency fund to bury nine year-old Patricia Mylnarek.
NEXT: I will discuss a 29 year-old unsolved Milwaukee homicide. Is the killer sill alive and walking the streets among us?
_______________________________________________
Steven Spingola is a former Milwaukee Police Department homicide detective and the author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Library Detective
Stop by any police district during the day shift. It won't take long before a veteran officer blurts out a remark about 'these young coppers nowadays.' The City of Milwaukee established its police force in 1855, four full generations before I was born. By 1875, I would be willing to bet, some crusty constable at day shift roll call probably scoffed about 'these young coppers nowadays.'
In reality, however, each generation of men and women in blue continues to improve. Today's younger officers are substantially more educated than the crew of the day shift at District 5, where I was assigned as a rookie officer in the late 1970s. Each generation of law enforcement improves by coupling new technologies and new techniques with the experiences gleaned from their predecessors.
As generations of detectives pass along, some interesting cases collect dust, and over time, slowly fade from memory. An old episode of the television series Homicide: Life on the Street, entitled Finnegan's Wake, chronicled the story of a young girl murdered in the 1930s. The case investigator, who had long since died, had passed the file to his younger colleague, Detective Tommy Finnegan, who doggedly pursued all leads but never solved the crime. Believing that the killer likely died of old age, Finnegan took the file home when he retired in the 1970s. When a firearm used in the 60 year-old homicide turned-up in a nearby lake, the current generation of Baltimore homicide detectives located their elderly predecessor, who had the reports stashed in his basement.
During my travels, I haven't had the good fortune to speak with a retired homicide detective a generation or two removed from the job. Then last fall, I reviewed The Library Detective -- an essay written by a local high school senior in support of her application to a prestigious private college. During a visit to the Milwaukee Public Library, this young woman stumbled upon the book Strange People, published in 1961 by Frank Edwards. Inside she located The Case of the Psychic Detective; a story based on the predictions of Arthur Price Roberts, a local Milwaukee man with "strange talents."
On October 18, 1935, the 69 year-old Roberts offered this eerie warning to officials from the Milwaukee Police Department (MPD): "Going to be lots of bombings -- dynamitings! I see two blanks blown up and perhaps city hall. Going to blow up police stations. Then there's going to be a big blow-up south of the river and then it'll be over."
Roberts apparently had some creditability, as the MPD's Detective English immediately contacted his supervisors. The department beefed up patrols, but, just six days later, the bombings began. The village hall in the "small, gold coast suburb" of Shorewood became the first target. Then, on October 27, two bombs exploded outside Milwaukee banks. The culprits later detonated several sticks of dynamite on the doorsteps of two Milwaukee police precincts.
Stunned by the accuracy of these predictions, Detective English rushed to find the aging psychic. Roberts provided this final caveat: "On Sunday, November 4th, there'll be a big one south of the Menomonee [River], and that'll be all."
English quickly contacted the department's brass. Officers soon flooded the "Menomonee District" with orders to shoot first and ask questions later. Then, on the afternoon of November 4, a large blast ripped through Milwaukee's south side, the force of which was felt eight miles from its epicenter. Investigators found the body parts of 21 year-old Idzi Rutkowski and 19 year-old Paul Chovonee spread over several blocks after the 50-pound bomb they constructed unexpectedly detonated.
Curious for more details, the high school senior searched the library's newspaper microfiche.
"Federal agents, deputy sheriffs, and all available members of the police force," said an article in the October 28, 1935 edition of the Milwaukee Journal, "joined Monday in a search for the gang of dynamiters..."
In some instances, unfortunately, law enforcement is its own worst enemy. On November 2, 1935, the Milwaukee Sentinel ran the story Path from Crime to Crime Cleared with Siren, suggesting the bombers procured a police cruiser from the parking lot of a suburban police station to escape detection.
The big news came on November 4. Tragically, the blast also killed nine-year-old neighbor Patricia Mynarek, whose bedroom rested "only a few feet adjacent to the decimated garage" occupied by the bomb makers. The Milwaukee Sentinel quickly identified Rutkowski as a leader of a shadowy south side street gang.
The day after the blast, the Milwaukee Journal published a photograph showing scores of well-dressed men with brimmed hats standing three deep on the sidewalk. "Thousands of curious Milwaukee people," the caption reads, "continued Monday to visit the 2100 block of W. Mitchell Street, where a terrific dynamite blast Sunday afternoon wrote the fatal end to the depredations of Idzi Rutkowski, youthful bomber."
Over the course of time, some things never change. Seventy-four years later, south side gang violence is still in the news, and curious gawkers continue to mill around crime scenes. But unlike the detectives from Homicide: Life on the Street, I never had an opportunity to compare death investigation notes with a throw back like Tommy Finnegan or the MPD's Detective English, even though a high school senior's essay made me wish I had.
__________________________________________
Steven Spingola is a former Milwaukee Police Department lieutenant and author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler.
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
In reality, however, each generation of men and women in blue continues to improve. Today's younger officers are substantially more educated than the crew of the day shift at District 5, where I was assigned as a rookie officer in the late 1970s. Each generation of law enforcement improves by coupling new technologies and new techniques with the experiences gleaned from their predecessors.
As generations of detectives pass along, some interesting cases collect dust, and over time, slowly fade from memory. An old episode of the television series Homicide: Life on the Street, entitled Finnegan's Wake, chronicled the story of a young girl murdered in the 1930s. The case investigator, who had long since died, had passed the file to his younger colleague, Detective Tommy Finnegan, who doggedly pursued all leads but never solved the crime. Believing that the killer likely died of old age, Finnegan took the file home when he retired in the 1970s. When a firearm used in the 60 year-old homicide turned-up in a nearby lake, the current generation of Baltimore homicide detectives located their elderly predecessor, who had the reports stashed in his basement.
During my travels, I haven't had the good fortune to speak with a retired homicide detective a generation or two removed from the job. Then last fall, I reviewed The Library Detective -- an essay written by a local high school senior in support of her application to a prestigious private college. During a visit to the Milwaukee Public Library, this young woman stumbled upon the book Strange People, published in 1961 by Frank Edwards. Inside she located The Case of the Psychic Detective; a story based on the predictions of Arthur Price Roberts, a local Milwaukee man with "strange talents."
On October 18, 1935, the 69 year-old Roberts offered this eerie warning to officials from the Milwaukee Police Department (MPD): "Going to be lots of bombings -- dynamitings! I see two blanks blown up and perhaps city hall. Going to blow up police stations. Then there's going to be a big blow-up south of the river and then it'll be over."
Roberts apparently had some creditability, as the MPD's Detective English immediately contacted his supervisors. The department beefed up patrols, but, just six days later, the bombings began. The village hall in the "small, gold coast suburb" of Shorewood became the first target. Then, on October 27, two bombs exploded outside Milwaukee banks. The culprits later detonated several sticks of dynamite on the doorsteps of two Milwaukee police precincts.
Stunned by the accuracy of these predictions, Detective English rushed to find the aging psychic. Roberts provided this final caveat: "On Sunday, November 4th, there'll be a big one south of the Menomonee [River], and that'll be all."
English quickly contacted the department's brass. Officers soon flooded the "Menomonee District" with orders to shoot first and ask questions later. Then, on the afternoon of November 4, a large blast ripped through Milwaukee's south side, the force of which was felt eight miles from its epicenter. Investigators found the body parts of 21 year-old Idzi Rutkowski and 19 year-old Paul Chovonee spread over several blocks after the 50-pound bomb they constructed unexpectedly detonated.
Curious for more details, the high school senior searched the library's newspaper microfiche.
"Federal agents, deputy sheriffs, and all available members of the police force," said an article in the October 28, 1935 edition of the Milwaukee Journal, "joined Monday in a search for the gang of dynamiters..."
In some instances, unfortunately, law enforcement is its own worst enemy. On November 2, 1935, the Milwaukee Sentinel ran the story Path from Crime to Crime Cleared with Siren, suggesting the bombers procured a police cruiser from the parking lot of a suburban police station to escape detection.
The big news came on November 4. Tragically, the blast also killed nine-year-old neighbor Patricia Mynarek, whose bedroom rested "only a few feet adjacent to the decimated garage" occupied by the bomb makers. The Milwaukee Sentinel quickly identified Rutkowski as a leader of a shadowy south side street gang.
The day after the blast, the Milwaukee Journal published a photograph showing scores of well-dressed men with brimmed hats standing three deep on the sidewalk. "Thousands of curious Milwaukee people," the caption reads, "continued Monday to visit the 2100 block of W. Mitchell Street, where a terrific dynamite blast Sunday afternoon wrote the fatal end to the depredations of Idzi Rutkowski, youthful bomber."
Over the course of time, some things never change. Seventy-four years later, south side gang violence is still in the news, and curious gawkers continue to mill around crime scenes. But unlike the detectives from Homicide: Life on the Street, I never had an opportunity to compare death investigation notes with a throw back like Tommy Finnegan or the MPD's Detective English, even though a high school senior's essay made me wish I had.
__________________________________________
Steven Spingola is a former Milwaukee Police Department lieutenant and author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler.
Copyright, Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Evidence in the Eye of the Beholder
Lifted from Benjamin Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac, a motto of the Hells Angels proclaims, 'Three men can keep a secret if two are dead.'
Silencing a victim or a witness is certainly a motive for murder. Absent the mystic talents of television's Allison Dubois -- the central character of NBC's Medium -- dead persons supposedly tell no tales. If you are ever a suspect in a homicide and your accomplice utters this statement, be prepared to spend a sizable portion of your life in prison.
In a literal sense, homicide victims can no longer speak for themselves. Figuratively, however, dead human bodies often tell very candid tales. Whether it's skin under the finger nails, a small amount of crusty semen, defensive wounds, gunpowder tattooing, or the torn entrance of a body canal, the deceased and the surrounding crime scene have something to say.
To memorialize the final chapter of a victim's life, investigators carefully and methodically photograph major crime scenes. But there is one particular thing that photographs cannot capture -- the odor of death. Some detectives carry cigars, while others prefer to make use of nasal vaporizers. These items help dilute the smell, although nothing fully suppresses the stench of rotting human flesh.
Most Americans have never experienced the smell of death. For those of us who have, this is a scent not soon forgotten. Having worked more than my fair share of death investigations, I can't even begin to fathom the odors at the Nazi death camps, although video footage graphically depicts battle hardened American troops cringing.
Yet as it relates to putting the pieces of a homicide investigation puzzle together, rotting flesh isn't just a terrible odor -- it's the smell of evidence. Evidence is the impetus for proof, proof may lead to charges, and charges generally result in convictions.
It is difficult, but not impossible, to prove a case of homicide absent a dead human body. Last week, the Oregon man convicted of the 2004 kidnapping and killing of 19 year-old Brooke Wilberger led police to the former Brigham Young honor student's body. Benton County District Attorney John Haroldson told ABC News, "that he [Joel Courtney] hid her body in such a way that it was unlikely it would ever be found." Five years earlier, investigators found Wilberger's flip-flops in an apartment complex parking lot. A green van linking Courtney to two earlier botched abductions sealed the killer's fate.
Brooke Wilberger's tragic death resulted in a homicide conviction absent the proof the young woman was deceased, which brings me to one of the most troubling cases I have ever investigated: the disappearance of seven year-old Alexis Patterson.
According to Alexis' stepfather, LaRon Bourgeois, he last saw the young girl crossing the street to Hi-Mount Elementary School in the spring of 2002. "Bourgeois," writes Jesse Garza of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, "who received immunity for his involvement in the 1994 bank robbery that resulted in the fatal shooting of Glendale Police Officer Ronald Hedbany, angrily denied any role in the girl's disappearance."
To date, the body of Alexis Patterson remains missing. I have no doubt foul play was involved and that this young girl's soul is no longer with us. As one of the primary investigators, I have my own beliefs as to what transpired. There are, in my opinion, at least two people who know what led to Alexis' demise.
Fortunately, there is no statute of limitations for homicide. As was the case with the North Side Strangler, detectives, I am sure, will use every new technology available to obtain the evidence necessary to bring Alexis Patterson's killer to justice. That being said, during this investigation, I was present when the body of this young girl figuratively spoke on her behalf. Alexis, I believe, left investigators with a clue, if only a particular someone would have listened.
_______________________________
Steven Spingola is a retired Milwaukee Police Department lieutenant and author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler
Copyright Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI, 2009
Silencing a victim or a witness is certainly a motive for murder. Absent the mystic talents of television's Allison Dubois -- the central character of NBC's Medium -- dead persons supposedly tell no tales. If you are ever a suspect in a homicide and your accomplice utters this statement, be prepared to spend a sizable portion of your life in prison.
In a literal sense, homicide victims can no longer speak for themselves. Figuratively, however, dead human bodies often tell very candid tales. Whether it's skin under the finger nails, a small amount of crusty semen, defensive wounds, gunpowder tattooing, or the torn entrance of a body canal, the deceased and the surrounding crime scene have something to say.
To memorialize the final chapter of a victim's life, investigators carefully and methodically photograph major crime scenes. But there is one particular thing that photographs cannot capture -- the odor of death. Some detectives carry cigars, while others prefer to make use of nasal vaporizers. These items help dilute the smell, although nothing fully suppresses the stench of rotting human flesh.
Most Americans have never experienced the smell of death. For those of us who have, this is a scent not soon forgotten. Having worked more than my fair share of death investigations, I can't even begin to fathom the odors at the Nazi death camps, although video footage graphically depicts battle hardened American troops cringing.
Yet as it relates to putting the pieces of a homicide investigation puzzle together, rotting flesh isn't just a terrible odor -- it's the smell of evidence. Evidence is the impetus for proof, proof may lead to charges, and charges generally result in convictions.
It is difficult, but not impossible, to prove a case of homicide absent a dead human body. Last week, the Oregon man convicted of the 2004 kidnapping and killing of 19 year-old Brooke Wilberger led police to the former Brigham Young honor student's body. Benton County District Attorney John Haroldson told ABC News, "that he [Joel Courtney] hid her body in such a way that it was unlikely it would ever be found." Five years earlier, investigators found Wilberger's flip-flops in an apartment complex parking lot. A green van linking Courtney to two earlier botched abductions sealed the killer's fate.
Brooke Wilberger's tragic death resulted in a homicide conviction absent the proof the young woman was deceased, which brings me to one of the most troubling cases I have ever investigated: the disappearance of seven year-old Alexis Patterson.
According to Alexis' stepfather, LaRon Bourgeois, he last saw the young girl crossing the street to Hi-Mount Elementary School in the spring of 2002. "Bourgeois," writes Jesse Garza of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, "who received immunity for his involvement in the 1994 bank robbery that resulted in the fatal shooting of Glendale Police Officer Ronald Hedbany, angrily denied any role in the girl's disappearance."
To date, the body of Alexis Patterson remains missing. I have no doubt foul play was involved and that this young girl's soul is no longer with us. As one of the primary investigators, I have my own beliefs as to what transpired. There are, in my opinion, at least two people who know what led to Alexis' demise.
Fortunately, there is no statute of limitations for homicide. As was the case with the North Side Strangler, detectives, I am sure, will use every new technology available to obtain the evidence necessary to bring Alexis Patterson's killer to justice. That being said, during this investigation, I was present when the body of this young girl figuratively spoke on her behalf. Alexis, I believe, left investigators with a clue, if only a particular someone would have listened.
_______________________________
Steven Spingola is a retired Milwaukee Police Department lieutenant and author of The Killer in Our Midst: the Case of Milwaukee's North Side Strangler
Copyright Steven Spingola, Milwaukee, WI, 2009
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