The Last Man Standing: Is Jack Daniel McCullough

A QUESTION OF GUILT

Forward by Aphrodite Jones

After sifting through thousands of court documents, after conducting fascinating conversations with Jack McCollough himself, author Alan Warren proves just how difficult it is for a wrongfully convicted American to get justice.

When Jack McCollough was convicted of kidnapping and murdering 7-year-old Maria Ridulph in 2012, there were cheers from the gallery of a criminal courtroom in Illinois. This case had gone unsolved for five decades and at the time of his conviction, prosecutors boasted that they’d solved the coldest murder case in the nation’s history. 

This books takes us on a journey with Jack as he spends endless nights being violated and threatened by fellow inmates. It takes us back to 1957, on the snowy night when little Maria Ridulph disappeared in Sycamore, Illinois, and covers the subsequent investigation after Maria’s body was discovered in April of 1958. Back then, dozens of FBI agents arrived to the town of Sycamore and interviewed hundreds of people, among them, Jack McCollough. The case became so high profile that at the time, both President Dwight Eisenhower and J. Edgar Hoover had taken an interest in it. 

A break came in the case came 50 years after the crime, when in 2008, a call for the public to come forward with any information about Maria Ridulph’s murder was announced. It was one of Jack McCollough’s sisters, Janet Tessier, who emailed the Illinois State Police tip line, telling law enforcement that their mother, on her deathbed, claimed that her son, John Tessier (who later changed his name to Jack McCullough) was Maria Ridulph’s killer. 

That was the answer they’d been waiting for -- and Illinois police shifted into high gear. One of their first calls was to Kathy Chapmen, Maria’s childhood friend who’d last been seen with the seven-year-old. Chapman was brought into police headquarters and was shown a line-up of six men. Though it had been five decades since Maria’s death, Chapman pointed to Jack McCullough as the culprit. 

In 2012, McCullough was convicted of Maria’s murder. But was he guilty as charged? A few weeks after his conviction, a new State Attorney, Richard Schmack, was elected who had his own doubts about how the prosecution was handled. Working with attorneys from The Exoneration Project, Schmack looked into the case, scouring thousands of pages of evidence, including seeking missing evidence.

What he discovered about the conduct of the prosecution team and the police was shocking. He was persuaded that they’d convicted the wrong man.

In the end, McCollough’s conviction was overturned, his name was cleared, and the finding of his innocence would allow him to qualify for compensation from the State of Illinois.

This book proves that (while, yes, the American justice system is still one of the best in the world) it is also a system that can be guilty of setting people up for a murder conviction.

It also leaves us wondering about the best efforts of law enforcement and about how many people have gotten away with murder and are still out there among us? Unfortunately, in the murder of Maria Ridulph, the case has been put back on ice, back into the cold case pile.

In this riveting account of guilt versus innocence, the author begs the question: how many other innocent people are currently serving time for crimes they didn’t commit?

FROM THE AUTHOR

When I took on this book project, it started out similar to every book I had written before: find all of the court and police records and contact everyone who was still alive who had been involved in the crime. Throughout the writing from time to time, something deep inside was there that shouldn’t have been. When I first met Jack McCullough, the road I was on reporting on this story changed quickly. During our conversation, Jack told me that the most important thing to get across to people was that what happened to him could happen to anybody. It was also very important to Jack that it not bring up any dirt, and the focus remain on how he lost his freedom and how it could happen to anybody who read his story. That nobody was safe.

It took me about two years to actually know what Jack was referring to about keeping the dirt out of the story. You see, it was about that feeling deep inside, of Jack and all his family who became involved in this story. Something happened to create the catalyst that threw Jack out of his day-to-day life and into prison (which would make most people I know very angry), and I knew it would be the main focus in a book talking about Jack’s life. But he wouldn’t have it. This was what created a great conflict in me. On the top of it, I was going to tell the truth—the story and everything that people needed to know—or so I thought. But the feeling that something wasn’t right worked its way out every time I wrote another chapter.

I have rewritten this book several times, and I just couldn’t get it right. Until now. There’s a part of the story that needs to be told, and though Jack doesn’t want it in the book, I need to let the readers know. Not because of the salacious nature, but because it’s the primary reason there is a story. So, I will only discuss Jack’s sister where it’s necessary only, as I need the readers to know that it’s not because of embarrassment or shame, it’s because he didn’t want it to be the focus.

In the spring of 2012, Jeanne Tessier, half-sister to Jack McCullough, testified in court that Jack and two of his friends sexually assaulted her back in 1962 after giving her a ride in his new convertible car. Jack was charged with rape in DeKalb County for the alleged incident. Jack was acquitted after the two-day bench trial by Judge Robbin Stuckert, who said the prosecution failed to meet its burden of proof. McCullough showed no emotion during the trial, but cried afterwards when he was out of the public eye.

I originally thought that the false rape charge brought on by Jack’s half-sister would have been a sore spot and something that would have created an anger that would drive Jack to going after her, using every opportunity he had to return the hurt she had given him through the course of the trial. But over the past two years, Jack not only never even suggested such a thing, but also never said a bad word about Jeanne.

I didn’t know and had never met Jeanne, but learning about her life some, I will only say that I now believe the allegations that she made against Jack were false. She led a life of hurt and probably had great pain, and had made the same allegations on other occasions against other men. I only hope now that she found the peace that she probably searched for her whole life.

Jeanne Tessier died of breast cancer on January 10, 2018, in Louisville. She was 70 years old.

PREFACE

Every day, I leave my house to go to work, like all of you. On my drive, I always find myself drawn to a telephone pole that boasts a poster on it. I’m not sure why; the poster appears to be nothing special. In fact, it looks very old and faded. So much so, there is no way I could see anything that was on this poster. Perhaps it’s the fact that I don’t know what is written on this poster that keeps me fascinated?

It’s the same every day, whether I’m totally engrossed in listening to The Howard Stern Show on Sirius XM or grooving to a great song. As I approach the location where the poster is, my mind goes straight to that poster and the thought of what could possibly be on it.

Finally, one day when it was not busy on the road and I had left early enough to have the time to stop at the telephone pole with the faded poster on it, I did. As I walked closer to it, I saw what looked like several dead flowers piled in front of the pole. They looked like they had been there for a long time. Long enough that the flowers were just dried up stems.

I looked at the poster, trying to see what had been on it. The years of rain and weather had torn, devoured, and faded most of the picture and writing, but on the lower left side, you could see that it had been a tribute to a young boy who had been killed somewhere close to this location, probably by a car; perhaps a drunk driver?

After reviewing the area as best as I could, I got back into my car and headed for work. I started thinking about how the events that led up to this tribute poster had happened. The young man must have been on the side of the road, perhaps riding his bike home from school, when a car recklessly drove by him, hitting and killing him. The details of this story couldn’t be known unless I researched back through newspaper articles to try and find out about the death.

By this time, you are probably wondering why I’m putting these thoughts into the book. The whole two plus years that I have spent on this case, I have compared all the events in my life to that of this case. You see, every detail involved in our day-to-day life is important. Jack had lost his freedom and could no longer live in the freedom that we all do.

In the event of this youth who had been killed, the poster and dead flowers laying in front of the pole were what was left of his memory of being alive. Somewhere over the time since his death, his memory, which had been still alive in the family and/or friends who placed this poster and came to it to place flowers, was now gone. Whether they had died or simply moved on to continue living their own lives, I don’t know. But it was that simple, and surely the same could be said about Jack.

From the time Jack stood in front of the judge to be pronounced guilty and taken into custody to now, the memory of his life has been slowly dissipating to nothing. As the people who surrounded the murder of Maria Ridulph in 1957 to now had all died, the frenzy created by the newspapers and TV at the time had moved on to the new stories of the day, the few distant survivors had started over in their new lives without Maria, and Jack was to sit silently in prison.

When we have nobody left on our side to remember what really happened and there is nothing left but faded pictures and memories, who is left but the last man standing, Jack Daniel McCullough?

At the end of my writing this book...

Finally, at the close of this book and after sending it to my publisher, I found myself returning to my home and driving on the same road as I have so many times before. Knowing that I have mentioned it in this book early on, I had great anticipation of seeing the poster of the boy who had lost his life when he was still so young. The wide range of emotions I felt throughout the process of getting Jack’s story on to pages had made me extra sensitive to everything around me, and I had found myself buying some fresh flowers to leave at the telephone pole that bore the poster of the youth’s life.

This time as I approached the site, I could see something was different. It was enough of a change that it had attracted my eyes immediately and was so strong I couldn’t look away. The poster was gone. I could feel my heart pounding fast now and started to panic. Where had the poster gone? What happened?

As I pulled over at the pole, I got out and walked to the place where the old flowers had been left before. Everything had been cleaned up, cleared away. Was it that easy to walk away, and nobody was left to keep the memory alive? I slowly walked back to my car and sat in the front seat, staring ahead of me and not seeing anything.

After about five very long minutes, I took the flowers I had purchased earlier out of my car and walked toward the pole, where I placed them down on the ground in front of where the boy’s picture used to be. It was then that I knew what Jack meant when he said no dirt. I’m not sure what it was that he felt in his heart, but it certainly wasn’t hatred; the people and the places that had caused such pain and difficulty in his life he had forgiven, and he just wanted to live with whatever he had left in his life.

PROLOGUE

At the time of Jack McCullough’s 2012 trial and conviction, the case was subject to several news documentaries, including an episode of 48 Hours on CBS, CNN, as well as a book written by Charles Lachman called Footsteps in the Snow in 2014, which became the basis of a Lifetime Movie Network documentary of the same name. This is where I became involved in this case, as I am one of the hosts of the popular true crime radio show called House of Mystery, heard on KKNW 1150 AM in Seattle, and our guest was the author, Charles Lachman.

A portion of the proceeds of Lachman’s book was being donated to the Maria Ridulph Memorial Fund, which was originally used to pay for a memorial map and later used as a scholarship, compassion, and summer camp fund for local children in need.

These works had been published before Jack McCullough’s conviction was vacated, so they all presumed that the case had been successfully solved. So, when I interviewed Lachman, I found him to be very confident that McCullough not only kidnapped and murdered Maria Ridulph, but that he had also raped his half-sister, Jeanne Tessier, as well.

But throughout the interview, I found myself unconvinced of Jack’s guilt. Lachman had presented no solid evidence—nothing physical, no DNA or witnesses. How could this man have been convicted of the kidnapping and murder of a 7-year-old who had gone missing back in 1957 with no real evidence?

I finished the interview thinking it was crazy not only to have a book on the murder but also a movie that totally dramatized the story and left the viewer with absolutely no doubt that Jack McCullough was guilty. It had, however, left me with way too much doubt.

It was about a month after the interview aired that I received a message on my Facebook account from a man named Casey Porter. I didn’t recognize the name, but opened the message anyway. He told me that he was Jack McCullough’s son-in-law, had heard the interview I did with Charles Lachman and really liked it, as I hadn’t just presumed Jack did it with the evidence that Lachman had presented. He then told me more of the story, and that is where it all began.

Within two years, Jack McCullough’s convictions of murder and abduction were vacated and he became a free man again. He returned to the Seattle area, where he had lived at the time of his arrest.

After Jack’s release from prison, the first thing I thought was that somebody needed to tell the true story behind this case, what had happened behind the scenes, and what I meant were the facts. Not the feeling or emotions, but the facts. I knew then that I was the man to do the job, being a just the facts kind of writer. When I approached the publisher, the first response I got was the story has already been done, there’s even a movie about Jack! My answer was quick. Those books, the movie, and the TV news reports were all written on the basis that Jack was guilty, and that makes them wrong. There needs to be one that tells the truth. The real story. I also need to mention that I know for a fact the previous author, Charles Lachman, as well as the news programs that did shows on Jack from before the convictions were overturned, will not amend their stories and write a new edition to set the record straight. The true, full story from beginning to end.

Why authors like Charles Lachman won’t amend their story, even when there is now sufficient evidence that has come out about the case, is an unknown. From Jack’s side, you hear about the corruption and wrongdoings of law enforcement who handled this case (which we will discuss later on in this book), and Lachman just gets lumped in with that group.

My thoughts are that people like Lachman have pride in their work, and therefore quite often do not want to admit or change their work as it might cause some credibility issues in the future when they go to release a new book on another crime. It reminds me of some of the talk I heard about Jack’s case that perhaps the police really believed that Jack was guilty, and therefore not only looked for evidence to help convict him but also fudged the evidence to make it work (we cover this theory and why it’s not likely later on in this book as well).

No, it was by the end of researching and interviewing for this book that I came to the conclusion that it was simple pride in Lachman’s case. It brings to mind when I needed to go in for my annual eye exam just a few weeks back. Everything went as it usually did, and for the most part, my prescription lenses stayed the same. So, when I went to the front desk afterwards and they asked if I wanted to pick new frames or keep the old ones, I decided to keep the old ones. After all, they were only a year old and I had never worn them once since I had bought them. You see, I do this every year; get a new updated pair of glasses for my eyes and as soon as I get home with them, I put them on my desk in front of my computer where I write so that I won’t have to look for them when I need them. The only thing is, I never need them (or so I think). But each year that goes by, I can remember times where I have read something wrong. I read the item wrong because I couldn’t see it correctly. It seems that each year I have more of these incidents, but I still don’t wear my glasses. Why?

Of course, it keeps happening until I finally get told by a friend or somebody that I really need to start wearing my glasses or my eyes will just get worse. Why is it that we do things to ourselves that make life a little bit harder? It makes total sense to wear what my eyes need, but I don’t. I know I’m not the only one who does this kind of thing, and we all do it with various things in our lives.

It’s about our pride and our beliefs. If in our heart we really truly think something is true, no matter what we hear, we just won’t accept anything else. Everyone has different levels of this behavior, from slight to extreme, such as all the conspiracy groups that have come alive as of late, like the Flat Earthers and the people who believe that we’ve never really been to the moon.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

JACK MCCULLOUGH

There is no possible way to know what Jack knows or feel what Jack feels, as I’ve never walked in his shoes. The life he has lived could not be captured in one simple book or movie. A person’s life is so much more than what could ever be written.

We are all under the same sky, which gives us so many weather patterns. Such are our lives. It is only with great respect for Jack and the life that he has lived and shared with all of us, and only to make our lives better for knowing