Introducing Ice Cold Case
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Madison began investigating the unsolved 2002 murder of her father after discovering as a teenager that everything she'd been told about his death was a lie. What I admire most about Madison is her unwavering courage. She took something traumatic and turned it into something powerful, a platform for justice, healing, and truth.

Through Ice Cold Case, Madison doesn't just share a story. She invites listeners into a deeply personal journey with empathy, insight, and integrity. Madison is one of the most resilient and intelligent women I've met, and I'm honored to share her show with you.

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Upfront payment of $45 for three-month plan equivalent to $15 per month required. New customer offer for first three months only. Speed slow after 35 gigabytes if network's busy. Taxes and fees extra. See mintmobile.com. Cold cases are a dime a dozen. There are 270,000 unsolved homicides in America. I spent my childhood watching America's Most Wanted, cold case files, and unsolved mysteries, wondering how painful it must feel to live without answers.

without closure, without justice. I felt oddly compelled and captivated by these stories. It wasn't until I was 16 that I found out I was living in the middle of a mystery. On July 11th, 2002, my dad was murdered in the doorway of his home in Belmont County, Ohio. To this day, the case remains unsolved. You could say I fell into a cold case, but this one is different.

This case isn't just cold. It's as cold as ice. Belmont County 911, what's your emergency? I'm at five. What's going on? My dad just got shot. I don't know who it was. Someone's been shot down there. What's going on? Somebody got shot? My dad got shot. By who? I don't know.

Around 6.40 in the morning, my half-sister, Alyssa McGee, was woken up by the sound of a gunshot and a loud thud hitting the floor. That's when I smelled that smell and I was like, what is going on?

Before she realized what was happening, her adrenaline kicked in and she grabbed nunchucks and ran into the living room to find our dad lying lifeless on the floor. The door was literally swinging, the front door, and there's this big hole in the wall, which I'm assuming is from the doorknob. When they kicked the door in, it put a big hole. I can't see anything except this haze in the air.

And I go into the living room and I'm looking for dad. I'm yelling for him and I see blood down the wall. I see him laying there and I run over and try to, you know, I don't know. He was gone. He was gone. When I went to push his head over to do mouth to mouth, I noticed that it was in his head. And I told her, I was like, his eyes are open and I don't think I'm going to be able to bring him back. I was like, I don't think, I think he's gone.

On July 11th, 2002, John Cornelius McGee, lovingly referred to as JC, was shot and killed. He was inside his home in Bridgeport, Ohio. His daughter, Alyssa, made that heartbreaking 911 call. But there was a second 911 call by someone who doesn't seem as concerned with the gunshot that swept through the neighborhood that morning.

Belmont County 911, do you have an emergency? Uh, yeah, my neighbor says he's being robbed right now. We're at the end of Berkeley Avenue here in Boydsville. Yeah, we have people going down there now. Yeah. Hey, is it the McGee's? They got my mom. They got my mom and my girl. They got my mom and my girl. I've got another 911 call, okay? Who? There's three dudes. If you don't hurry up, they're gonna kill them. Okay, we've already got a number of people. What's your name? Omar. Omar, do you know who it is? Who is it?

At 6.44, that second 911 call was made by Omar Faustin. Omar is my dad's nephew and lived in the house next door. This call never mentions a gunshot, a murder, or any concern for my dad's safety. He does mention his mom and his girl and says they're going to kill them.

What happened on the morning of July 11, 2002? That's what I've spent the last five years trying to figure out. California. What's that? Find California. Is there a car out there that you can see that they're in? It's black. Can you see the license plate? Like a black van. They had me hushed. They went outside and I got away. And I got away. I jumped over the fence over here. I scratched myself up a little bit.

Do you know any? Can you recognize the plate? It's an Ohio plate. Hold on one second, Omar. According to the police reports, Omar and his girlfriend Kim Smith were at the home of Pearl Faustin. Pearl is Omar's mother and my dad's sister. She lived next door to my dad. Around six in the morning, three black men kicked in the door and pointed guns at Omar and Kim.

They pulled Pearl out of her bed and brought her into the living room and pushed her to the ground. They were obviously looking for money. And according to Kim, specifically looking for a safe. I was laying down. They put a blanket over me, but I could still feel the gun from the side of the thing. They was looking for a safe with money. Omar was a local drug dealer. And the police had a theory.

That's all they were doing, drug dealers, rolling drug dealers, knowing the victims weren't going to call. It was assumed that Omar was just a target on their list. They tied the three of them up with phone cords, ransacked the house, and poured alcohol on them, threatening to light them on fire if they didn't hand over the money.

After about 30 minutes or so, police believe they took Omar outside and went over to my dad's house. Because I could hear what they were saying. I was laying there. We were still covered up. And they drug him out. And he was with them. I guess that was his way to try to escape when they went over there. The men kicked in the door. And my dad was in between his room and the front door. And they shot him at point-blank range with a shotgun.

The men never entered the house, ran down the steps, and disappeared. Omar ran away to the end of the street and into a break shop, where he made his 911 call. Pearl and Kim were left in the house next door while the men took Omar outside. They were tied up, laying on the floor face down, with blankets over their heads. They were unsure if the men had taken Omar close by or if they had left.

And I know laying there, I was tied up, but I wasn't tied that tight. Where after I didn't hear any noise or anything, I jumped up and I ran into the kitchen and I hit the alarm because they had a house alarm. But I still kept on running and I got back underneath the blankets because I thought that they were still around. The home alarm was the very first contact made to the police station. About 45 seconds later, Alyssa made her 911 call.

When the police arrived, they didn't go to my dad's house first, the house with reported shots fired and a possible dead victim. Instead, they went to Pearl and Omar's house, where the two of them were explaining this home invasion to the police. I was just panicking and scared because now I'm alone, you know, and they're asking me on the phone, is there anyone in the house?

I'm like, I don't know. I don't know if anyone's here. No, I don't think so, but I don't know. When they finally sent a second team to my dad's house, they found three footprint markings on the door, and the door was open about an inch. The police walked in with guns up and found my sister sitting over my dad's body, still on the phone with 911.

We got there and once there was enough of us to make entry and ask if the shooter was still inside. Myself, three other units went in. We found your dad. He was there at the door. Cleared the rest of the house. No one else there. Police were coming up the steps and they were like, just you have to leave. I had to run out of there. She was escorted next door to our Aunt Pearl's house. We went back over to your Aunt Pearl's, checked it. We found the house was pretty much ransacked.

This is when the Belmont County Sheriff's Department realized they were now looking at a murdered victim. An investigation, if you can even call it that, was about to begin. If this account sounds a little weird to you, you're not alone. But this is what lives in official reports. This is the starting point for an inconclusive investigation. This is what you'll be told if you ask, What Happened to J.C. McGee?

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I often think about what happens when we die. Who will show up to my funeral? What will they say? I've lost friends at a young age.

And it made me question why I saved all my kind words and admiration until they weren't around to hear it. He was loved by many, many people. He did a lot of good for people. He was always so sweet to us. You know, when somebody gives love, they touch your heart and it doesn't go away. He's very charismatic. He had turned so many people's lives around. Honestly, the best one out of all of them.

People told me a lot of wonderful things about JC. They say he was extremely generous, had the most incredible sense of humor, and could sing better than just about anyone. I wonder if they told him that when they had the chance. John Cornelius McGee was born on May 4th, 1957 in Wheeling, West Virginia. He spent his life living in the greater Wheeling area, which covers Belmont County.

where central Ohio meets northern West Virginia. This is a very unique part of the country. The entire population of the county is 65,000. 93% of that is white, 4% black. Only 16% of the population has an education beyond high school. In 2022, the median income was $28,000 a year.

It's pretty rural, and back in the 50s and 60s, people were doing whatever they could to survive. My mom lived in Wheeling for a little while in the early 90s. That's when she met my dad. You know, JC grew up in the projects, and when he was a kid, his dad was in a really bad accident and was in a complete body cast.

at which time his mother did whatever she had to to feed all those kids. My dad dropped out of school after eighth grade, which is unfortunately common in this area. The poverty level is high, the education level is low, and the substance abuse problem sweeps across the Appalachian region. But J.C. always figured it out. He wasn't very educated in books and stuff, but he was very street smart.

He worked for many years at an aluminum plant until he was injured and forced to leave that line of work. He had six kids on record. Kathy Giboney was born when my dad was a teenager. Then he had Joel and Yolanda Washington, who share a mother. I had his first kid, like, I think he was 14 or 15, and then had another one right after. In 1986, he had Alyssa McGee. She's the daughter of Barbara McGee and the sister I knew as a young child.

My dad loved Alyssa more than anything. He didn't have much of a relationship with his children until Alyssa was born and felt he was finally able to do right by a child and be there for her. He took the responsibility of being Alyssa's dad very seriously. But when it came to us, the younger three, he tried. He tried. Alyssa was 16 when our dad was killed. She was in the prime of her teenage rebellion stage.

My dad wanted more for Alyssa than the life he had, so he was pretty strict with her. But in the end, she knew it was all out of love. He loved both of us so much. I mean, I think he loved all his kids a lot. In 1995, I was born in Wheeling, West Virginia. My dad swore I was his last. But in 2001, my little brother Shane was born. His mother, Deneen, had custody of him, and that broke my dad's heart.

He was fighting for Shane, quite literally, until the day he died. But J.C. had some kind of appeal and women just loved him. My mom tells me he loved three things: his kids, his Cadillac, and women. His burgundy Cadillac had gold rims and gold detailing. And I even have some early memories riding in the backseat to pick up Alyssa from school and listening to the Space Jam soundtrack.

I Believe I Can Fly was my dad's favorite song. My dad's reputation preceded him. Almost all of his children have a different mom, and that came with complications. He really couldn't help himself, but people were aware of his antics. He really did try to help people, sometimes unconditionally and sometimes with strings attached, just depending on the situation. He attended Narcotics Anonymous and tried to follow the program.

He would stay clean for long periods of time. The newcomers saw him as a role model. He owned a few homes in Wheeling and would let people stay for free during their recovery. I was just thinking about some of the guys, they're probably passed away by now, but he would give them a place to stay. All of his apartments were furnished. They weren't the best, but he would have furniture in them and they would stay there if they had nowhere to go.

But there was a darker side to him. Listen, JC was the shadiest motherfucker I know, I'll tell you. If you're attending Narcotics Anonymous, you probably have a drug dependency. And for my dad, that was coupled with a history of drug dealing. When I met him, he was clean and sober. He wasn't using. He did relapse. I don't know if he was using drugs at the time when all this happened, but I do know that...

He didn't have a crazy criminal record, but he was embedded in the wheelings and dealings of the area. So much so that my dad was brought on as a voluntary police informant. J.C. worked for the Belmont Sheriff's Department for a long, long time. Voluntary might be a bit of a stretch.

An informant is usually someone who is or was involved in criminal activity, but is granted immunity in some way in exchange for giving up information. In most cases, your back is up against a wall. You have to decide if it's going to be you or someone else. My dad had an ear to the streets and used that to his advantage. This created a turbulent relationship between himself and the sheriff's department.

One that I'm not sure my dad ever really benefited from. There was a lot of drug activity happening in certain parts of Belmont County at the time. But even now, the lead investigator for the Sheriff's Department deals with a lot for such a small town. If you take the county and divide it down the middle, to the west,

is more rural and there's less people. And it's kind of a country type people. Then you get on the other end of the county and there's still some rural areas there, but you get more of the river towns. Some of these towns used to be, I guess, I hear stories like Molaire. Apparently it was just a wonderful town 30, 40 years ago. It's not now. It's high amounts of drug abuse. Everything's falling apart.

part that's where you got a lot of crime there you got the river right there and wheeling there's a lot of drugs coming from cleveland and columbus it's quiet till it's not

But see, Wheeling was in a great proximity for drug dealing because it's Columbus is only a few hours away and Pittsburgh's a few hours away. So you get a lot of drugs coming in from bigger cities. And, you know, at that time, you know, crack was super cheap and you could cut that shit up in a small little town like Wheeling and Bridgeport and quadruple your money. Years of doing the cops dirty work can start to weigh heavy on your conscience.

J.C. really meant well. I just think he was tortured inside. My dad was fighting a lot of demons. He had pretty severe depression and anxiety, and towards the end of his life, became quite paranoid. But he knew somebody was going to get him. He just felt it. He used to tell me it all the time that he was going to get killed. The official report of what happened on July 11, 2002, is suspicious. Even the initial witness testimonies seem off.

But there's someone who stands out as sketchy at best. I see what the problem is. Omar. I had a lot of questions after my first round of reading through these case files. More specifically, the transcript of Omar's 911 call. Omar, do you know who it is? Did Omar actually know these guys? They got my mom. They got my mom and my girl. They got my mom and my girl.

This is a strange call coming from someone worried that his mom and his girlfriend were still in the house. And if he knew who was there, why wouldn't he say names or give context? If you don't hurry up, they're going to kill them. And if they were in that kind of danger, what coward runs to a brake shop to call 911 and leaves them in the house? The gunshot was heard through the whole neighborhood.

By the time of Omar's 911 call, my dad had been shot, but Omar never mentioned a gunshot. Yeah, my neighbor says he's being robbed right now. Omar chillingly refers to his uncle JC as his neighbor. It feels inorganic to call a relative that you have a nickname for your neighbor. It also just sounds weird to say that someone told you they are being robbed, unless they wanted you to call the cops for them.

But my dad was dead, and they didn't enter the house or steal anything. If Omar was near my dad's house when he heard the gunshot, he would have had four minutes to get to the break shop before making that 911 call. I can tell you this, okay? Omar has done nothing but lie. But what about the police? They got a call about shots fired and a separate call about a home invasion.

For some reason, they went to the house that was broken into first. That doesn't make sense. You're probably assuming that when they did finally go inside my dad's house, the police gathered evidence at the scene. Surely they could test that now for DNA. But there wasn't any evidence collected. The lead investigator at the time, Detective Nipper, worked with Sergeant Duvall, who was currently working as a traffic cop.

His shift started at 7 a.m. The call came in at 6.41 when he was on his way to work. So Nipper sent him straight to the scene. Because I come on shift at 7 o'clock. I left my house. It was about 20 after 6. Met the other sergeant that I relieved, and then we got the call. When it comes to handling more complex cases, specifically drug-related, near the Ohio-West Virginia border, the feds take over. And the county police move on.

After reading through everything a second and third time, I had even more questions, not just about Omar, but the other people there. If this home invasion story is true, there would have been at least a few other people there that morning. I needed to identify who they were and why they were there for Omar and his money or for my dad. When you trim all the fat,

I need a suspect and a motive. And the rest of the details have to back that up. The story I am going to tell you is a combination of my firsthand experience and information I have collected from friends, family, and officials. Some agreed to go on the record. Some did not.

Some initially agreed, and a month before the release of this show, told me that the years of interviews I had collected could not be used. And that's kind of how some of these people involved in this situation are. Not that I'm saying they had anything to do with the murder, but I'm sure they don't want their names brought up right now because they're living their lives and maybe had nothing to do with J.C.'s murder. Nothing. And they just don't want to be involved in the...

I spent thousands of dollars on travel and hiring a crew to speak with family members who at the very last minute changed their minds. Because of those shifts, you're going to hear me tell you what people said a lot. You might hear interviews with distorted voices to preserve people's identities.

See, the thing is, is with some people, they get in the lifestyle and they might not be this bad, horrible, but they still don't want to tell. So before I continue, you need to know something. I put my life in extreme danger to close this case. Knowing who to trust when everyone I was talking to was a stranger to me was difficult.

On the phone, some people seemed really excited to meet me and eager to talk. But when I met them in person, I could tell something was off. Some people wanted to know what I knew so they could decide what lies to tell me. I learned to rely heavily on my intuition to navigate these situations. Family dynamics are weird when you didn't know your family at all growing up.

Until this point, I hadn't made much of an effort to get to know them, but they hadn't made any effort to get to know me. I got this strange feeling that some people I talked to knew a lot more than what they were telling me. It makes you question people's motives and intentions, but why would they lie? I assumed everyone in the family wanted to solve this.

But that isn't necessarily true. And he told me, he was like, don't trust anybody, Alyssa. Not even family. Just don't trust anybody. Because so many things happened to him over the years. People just lying on him, manipulating him. I am not a journalist. I am not an investigator. I'm a daughter. I have done and I'm still currently doing everything in my power to learn more about this case.

I am walking a very fine moral line. Throughout this series, I will be doing everything I can to protect my family. But my top priority is to find out what happened to my dad on July 11th, 2002. There are many accounts of what happened that morning. Small towns render some of the biggest rumors. And this town is about as small as it gets.

In 2002, the population of Bridgeport, Ohio was 2,112 people. And it feels like there are 2,112 different versions of this story. They need a rumor squad. Some of the rumors make more sense than the documented "facts." And I'm using air quotes here. How does someone sift through the noise to find the real story?

How does someone solve a 21-year-old cold case? How does someone get anyone to care? This is my attempt to do all three. It doesn't get more personal than this. Next time on Ice Cold Case. We didn't tell her the truth. Nobody wanted her to hear all the details. There was no way I was going to be able to, you know, sugarcoat this.

Ice Cold Case is brought to you by Yes. It's written and produced by Madison McGee. Also produced by Jeremy Bembo. Recorded by Danny Sellers. Mixed by Cody Campbell. Our music is by Matt Bettinson. With creative direction by AJ Christensen.

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