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For suggested phone numbers for confidential support and for a more detailed list of content warnings, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. The morning of Tuesday September 1 2015 started out like any other for Lieutenant Charles Joseph Glinowitz. The 52-year-old, who went by Joe, climbed into his squad car and began making his way towards the Fox Lake Community Center in Northern Illinois.
Joe had important business to attend to. He ran a program called the Fox Lake Explorers, which was a collaboration between the Boy Scouts of America and the Fox Lake Police Department. Geared towards 14 to 21 year olds, the explorers gave youths who had an interest in law enforcement hands-on experience with different aspects of policing.
The young men and women who trained under Joe's guidance were educated on everything from traffic stops to safe firearm use to crime scene investigation. And who better to teach them than Joe Glinowitz? A 30-year veteran of the force, Joe had dedicated his entire life to law enforcement. After leaving high school, he spent four years in the United States Army before rising through the ranks within the Fox Lake Police Department.
He took on every role available, from canine officer to member of the SWAT team. He continued to serve in the Army Reserves, amassing a long list of military and department medals. But for all his achievements, Joe's biggest source of pride was his work with the Explorers. Within a year of taking over the post in 1987, Joe had turned the program into something special. His trainees revered him.
If you were in Joe's squad, you were considered a badass. Joe had recently been tasked with completing an inventory of all the explorer's assets. He headed to the post to get an early start, making a quick stop at a gas station at around 7:05am. Despite being fit and strong, Joe was also a heavy smoker, and he always kept two packs of cigarettes tucked in his car's sun visor.
He stocked up his supply and resumed his journey. But as Joe made his way to the post, he took a detour past Honing Road, a rural stretch approximately one and a half miles from the community centre. At 7:52am, he picked up his police radio and contacted dispatch to report some suspicious activity. Joe told the operator,
I'm going to be out at the old concrete plant checking on two males, white, one male black. Although Joe wasn't technically yet on duty, there had been recent reports of vandalism in the area, and he had agreed to keep an eye on things. Besides, he was the kind of officer who considered himself on duty any time he was in town. The dispatcher asked Joe if he needed backup. Joe responded, Negative at this time.
Three minutes later, at 7:55am, Joe radioed in again. He told the dispatcher the men had taken off towards the swamp and he was pursuing them on foot. He gave his location as the gravel road that ran between the cement plant and Honing Road. Although he sounded cool and calm, the dispatcher once again asked if he wanted backup. This time, Joe responded, "Go ahead and send somebody."
Three police cars were quickly dispatched to the area, arriving on Honing Road at 8.01am. Lieutenant Joe Glinowitz's squad car was parked near the old cement factory, but Joe himself was nowhere to be seen. The backup officers headed into the surrounding woods and battled their way through the marshy bog and thick scrub.
The scrub was dense with green vegetation, making it near impossible to see through. The dispatcher radioed Joe asking for his current status. There was no response. They radioed for a second time. Still nothing. The dispatcher asked the other officers, "Fox Lake units on Honing, check status on 6740." One officer responded, "We don't have him right now. We're looking for him."
Suddenly, a loud bang rang through the air. There was no mistaking the sound. It was a gunshot. The officers charged further into the woods towards the swamp, trying to follow the direction of the noise. The dispatcher continually tried to radio Joe, but to no avail. Calls were placed to Joe's cell phone, but those too went unanswered. The minutes ticked by as the officers battled onwards.
Then, at 8:09, one officer pushed their way through the scrub and came to the bank of the swamp. A little further into the woods, lying face down, was the body of Joe Glinowitz. The officer rolled him over. Blood was coming from his nose and seeping out from above his collar. The officer radioed the dispatcher, announcing, "Officer down." It was a devastating sight for the first responding officers.
One in particular became overwhelmed with emotion, touching Joe's hand and wailing, "Why Joe, why? Joe! No, no, no!" Another said, "He's gone. Get your gun out and call out anything you see." Joe Glinowitz had been shot twice. The first bullet struck him in the right hip where he kept his mobile phone. Joe was wearing a ballistic vest which prevented the bullet from entering his body.
But his luck stopped there. The second bullet had been shot downwards into Joe's vest, striking him in the chest and penetrating his pulmonary artery. Such an injury meant he would have bled to death within minutes. Evidence at the scene indicated a struggle had taken place. Scattered around the ground were several of Joe's belongings, including his pepper spray with its safety tab removed. A little further away lay Joe's baton and glasses.
Two shell casings were also recovered a short distance apart. This meant the gunshots had been fired from two different locations within the crime scene. The shell casings matched the .40-caliber service pistol carried by Joe Glinowitz. However, his holster was empty and the pistol itself was nowhere to be seen. This raised the harrowing probability that the men Joe had been pursuing were now on the run with his stolen gun.
A police bulletin immediately went out, warning that the trio were armed and dangerous. 400 heavily armed officers from across Illinois sped towards Fox Lake, a small village of less than 11,000 residents. They sealed off the two-square-mile radius surrounding the crime scene, focusing the hunt for the shooters within. It wasn't an easy place to search.
The designated kill zone consisted of heavily wooded areas, waterways, homes and businesses. It was also a hot day and the swampy landscape generated harsh humidity. Officers wearing heavy tactical gear and carrying rifles began passing out from the heat. But investigators were taking no chances.
Joe Glinowitz was the first officer to be fatally shot in the line of duty in Lake County since 1980, and the first ever to be killed in Fox Lake. Furthermore, the Labor Day long weekend was just four days away, a holiday that attracted thousands of tourists to the area. Apprehending those responsible was of the highest priority.
A SWAT team and 45 canine units were brought in, while five helicopters and a fixed-wing aeroplane searched overhead. Some businesses were closed while schools were put on lockdown. The local trains were stopped and residents were urged to stay indoors. One sniffer dog successfully picked up a scent. It was followed until the scent was lost with no discoveries. Word of what happened spread quickly in the close-knit community.
Lieutenant Joe Glinowitz was somewhat of a local celebrity, known for his trademark outfit consisting of fatigues, combat boots, and military hat. Combined with his tattooed, muscly arms and tough persona, he'd earned the nickname of G.I. Joe. Residents were shocked to learn that G.I. Joe, of all people, had been gunned down. But none were as shocked as Melody Glinowitz, Joe's wife of 26 years.
When she was delivered the news by Mayor Donnie Schmidt, Melody collapsed and became physically ill. Mayor Schmidt told CNN, The whale that went out of her mouth then will stay with me forever. The manhunt for Joe's killers intensified. All investigators had to go by was the vague description Joe had given the dispatcher, two white men and one black.
This made it near impossible to narrow down the suspect pool. One call came through from a concerned citizen who reported they'd seen the three suspects loitering near the treatment plant. Another became suspicious when they saw an unknown man running into a vehicle. Other calls came through, with locals eager to help in any way they could, but nothing emerged that identified the shooters.
With no arrests made by nightfall, helicopters fitted with thermal cameras flew overhead. Police obtained dashcam footage from a truck driver who was in the area around the time of the shooting, as well as recordings from traffic cameras and security footage from a local homeowner. The footage was examined, but no immediate leads emerged. The search resumed at first light on Wednesday morning.
Schools in the district remained closed as a safety precaution, but with the thermal scanners failing to detect anything, it was deemed unlikely that the killers were still in the area. The search expanded beyond the two-mile kill zone, with investigators turning their focus to tip-offs while they waited for forensic analysis of the crime scene.
The commander of Lake County's Major Crimes Task Force, George Falenko, fronted a press conference appealing for help from the public to catch the shooters, whom he described as "extremely dangerous." He urged residents to remain vigilant, saying, "All it takes is one tip or one good lead to break a case wide open." Falenko made it clear that the manhunt would continue until Joe's killers were apprehended, stating,
"I have a murdered colleague, a police officer, and we're not going to stop." What investigators didn't reveal was that a significant piece of evidence had already been recovered. Within an hour of scouring the crime scene, a forensic examiner was scanning the ground about two and a half feet from where Joe Glinowitz's body was found. There, lying in the tall grass between two trees, was Joe's gun.
Analysis revealed the presence of DNA from someone other than Joe, giving investigators their first substantial clue. The Fox Lake community wasted no time in showing their support for the fallen officer. Many viewed Joe Glinowitz's death as a sign of the increasing dangers faced by police. Some were quick to blame the Black Lives Matter movement for encouraging citizens to fight out against excessive law enforcement.
Mostly, residents simply couldn't comprehend that this had happened to an officer that many viewed as one of the best Fox Lake had ever seen. Members of the Explorer program were particularly troubled. Over the years, hundreds of youths who were trained by Joe went on to have successful careers in law enforcement or the military. Many of them viewed him as a mentor and father figure.
One teen told CNN that Joe's death felt like losing a family member. As the search for Joe's killers escalated into a full-scale FBI investigation, a vigil was organized by village locals on the evening after the shooting. 1,200 people attended, with officers riding on horseback past mourners wielding handheld signs showing words of support, such as "Police Lives Matter" and "We Stand With Blue."
Joe Glynowitz was remembered as an American hero. His wife Melody stood before the crowd, comforted by the couple's four adult sons, as she said through tears: "Joe was my best friend, my world, my hero, the love of my life for the last 26 and a half years. He was the most wonderful, caring and loving father to our boys.
The former police chief, Michael Bayon, who had spent 30 years working alongside Joe, delivered a poem he wrote in his comrade's honour. It read,
A soldier and a policeman, he knew what it could cost. Tonight, a piece of America we have lost." Later that evening, at around 9:30pm, 30-year-old nanny Kristen Kiefer called police to report a bizarre incident. Kristen said she was driving down Route 12 in Volo, a small village just five miles south of Fox Lake, when she started experiencing car trouble.
Kristen pulled over on the side of the road and stepped outside with a flashlight to see what was going on. Suddenly, two men wearing hoodies appeared out of nowhere. One was white and one was black. They asked Kristen if she was heading to Wisconsin, 130 miles away, and if they could get a ride. They then tried to steal her car. Kristen managed to jump back inside her vehicle and lock the doors.
As she dialed 911, the two men fled into the cornfields at the back of a nearby garden center. For investigators on the Glinowitz case, this was a major breakthrough. Nearly 100 members of law enforcement quickly descended on the area, setting up a roadblock around the search perimeter. Thermally equipped helicopters scanned overhead as 11 K9 units aided the ground search. One dog soon picked up a scent.
It led officers through to the Volo Bog State Natural Area, a dense nature reserve containing woodland and open swampland. But it didn't lead to the men. Instead, it turned out the canine had mistakenly tracked a deer. The helicopters also failed to detect any movement or heat sources. By 2:30am, no trace of the two men was found.
Given how quickly investigators had acted, it seemed incredible that the men could have evaded detection, particularly given they were on foot. Kristen Kiefer was pressed for more information. She eventually admitted she made the entire story up in a bid to get attention from the family she worked for. Kristen was charged with disorderly conduct.
She pleaded guilty, resulting in two years probation, 250 hours of community service, and a restitution fine of $20,000 for the expenses incurred during the search. The Labor Day public holiday became a day of mourning as thousands gathered in Fox Lake for Joe's funeral.
A public viewing of his casket was held at a local high school before a five-mile procession made up of over 1,000 police vehicles made its way through the streets lined with mourners. The governor ordered that all United States flags at government buildings be flown at half-mast until that evening. Speaking at his service, a friend and fellow officer said: "When we were growing up, we all knew Joe as a hero.
But now the nation knows he's a hero. Meanwhile, the locally-based Motorola Solutions Company offered a $50,000 reward for information that led to an arrest. FBI agents reviewed the various CCTV footage taken from the area on the day Joe Glinowitz was killed and identified three men matching the description of the ones the lieutenant was pursuing.
A sequential video was pieced together and a search kicked off immediately to track the trio down. Eight hours later, police found the men in question. The trio claimed they had nothing to do with the shooting and were eating breakfast at a nearby diner at the time. Investigators obtained footage, receipts, and witness statements to confirm this.
With their alibi checking out and no other leads emerging, questions were raised about whether this could have been a targeted attack. Joe Glinowitz hadn't given the dispatcher any clear reason why he'd decided to pursue the three men out near Honing Road, or what exactly they'd done that he deemed suspicious. This raised the question: What if someone had a personal vendetta against Joe and had lured him out there?
Analysis of the GPS unit in Joe's squad car recorded him as arriving at the old cement factory at 7:25 AM. The first call he'd placed over his police radio was at 7:52 AM. This meant he spent almost 30 minutes in the area before contacting dispatch. So what happened during that time? With all possibilities needing to be considered, investigators turned to Joe Glinowitz's personnel file.
The 264-page folder dated back to 1985. It was packed with accolades from business owners, civilians, and members of numerous police departments commending Joe for his outstanding work during various incidents. Whether assisting in a serious criminal case or helping individuals out of a jam, he was praised for being professional, friendly, and courteous.
For the sensitive way Joe dealt with the victim's family, one police chief said: "Compassion and understanding are not something that can be taught in a classroom or learned in a textbook." One couple described the lengths Joe went to to help them when their car broke down, writing: "Patrolman Glinowitz is a perfect example of a gentleman. But as investigators combed through every page, it became clear that all was not as it seemed."
Casefile will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors. Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. For all the praise he received, Lieutenant Joe Glinowitz's professional record was far from untarnished.
Back in May of 1998, a Lake County Sheriff's deputy was driving down Route 49 when they found a pickup truck idling on the side of the highway. Joe Glinowitz was behind the wheel, passed out drunk with his foot pressed down on the accelerator. Oil was leaking from the engine. The deputy tried to wake Joe, but he wouldn't budge. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
The deputy called a Fox Lake police detective who came to collect Joe and organised to have his truck towed. The next morning, Joe couldn't remember a thing. Unable to recall where he left his truck, he reported it stolen, only to learn the truth about what had happened. When questioned by his superiors, Joe claimed that he'd worked a long day before playing volleyball after his shift.
He'd drunk six beers and several shots, causing him to black out. Several months later, Joe failed to report to work after a night out drinking, a decision that cost him a two-day unpaid suspension. Joe admitted he had a drinking problem, but assured the police chief that he was handling it. The next few years were relatively uneventful, save for a few warnings about being late or failing to report for duty.
Then, in 2000, an officer named Denise was appointed to help Joe run the Explorer's post. Denise had joined the force in the 90s, making her the only woman in the all-male Fox Lake PD. Denise loved her job, but before long, Joe began making her feel uncomfortable. He demanded that she wear a tighter uniform and ordered that she accompany him to the bathroom while he urinated.
On Valentine's Day of 2000, Joe told Denise to meet him at a hotel. There, he gave her a box of chocolates and began rubbing her shoulders. Joe allegedly told Denise there was a lieutenant on the squad who didn't like female officers. He offered to protect Denise and help her rise through the ranks on the condition that she provide him with sexual favours.
Denise was a single mother who feared she'd lose her job if she didn't comply. Over the next eight months, she performed oral sex on Joe on five separate occasions, allegedly making it clear she didn't enjoy it. Denise eventually resigned from the Explorers, no longer able to work under Joe Glinowitz, but she kept the details about his conduct to herself.
In 2001, she attended a workshop about sexual harassment, after which she felt she could no longer remain silent. Denise told one of her superiors about Joe's behaviour and he was subsequently questioned about it. Joe admitted that the two had an inappropriate sexual relationship but denied Denise's claim of coercion. He was suspended for 30 days with the recommendation that he receive counselling for sex addiction.
But, according to Denise, from that point on she was put under constant scrutiny from her colleagues. She eventually quit her job and moved interstate. Denise later told the New York Daily News: "It was a good old boys club. If I didn't play along, then I was not going to stay." In 2005, Denise filed a lawsuit against the Fox Lake PD. It was ultimately thrown out when she failed to meet court requirements.
Regardless, it cost the village tens of thousands of dollars in legal fees. Meanwhile, Joe Glynowit continued to rise through the ranks and was eventually promoted from sergeant to lieutenant. Denise wasn't the only one embittered by this. In 2009, the then mayor of Fox Lake, Cindy Irwin, received a two-page anonymous letter that started:
"We, the members of the Fox Lake Police Department, wish to inform you of certain situations which have occurred and require attention." The latter complained that morale within the department was at an all-time low, due in part to the ongoing reprehensible misconduct by Lieutenant Joe Glynowitz. In addition to Denise's claims, a police dispatcher complained that Joe had sexually harassed and threatened her.
Other personnel had seen Joe out and about with different women who weren't his wife. Various complaints had been made by women who claimed Joe had inappropriately groped their breasts during work Christmas parties. According to the letter, Joe's drinking was still an ongoing problem. Security guards at various establishments around the village had complained that Joe was becoming a nuisance and overstaying his welcome.
There had been several instances where bouncers had to escort him out for being too intoxicated. He'd also allegedly failed to pay a bar tab of more than $300. Then there was the abuse of power. Joe had reportedly used a gift certificate that was donated to the police department to get a tattoo while on duty. He'd also used his squad car to take his family on interstate holidays.
As for the explorers, the latter complained that Joe was seriously breaching protocols. He'd given trainees unsupervised access to the police department, allowed them to operate department vehicles, and permitted them to wear official garments that misrepresented them as actual police officers.
According to the letter, complaints regarding these issues and many others had been made to the then Chief of Police Michael Bayen, but nothing had been done. It was well known that Bayen and Joe Glinowitz were close friends. The anonymous group concluded, "Chief Bayen's head-in-the-sand attitude to dealing with Lieutenant Glinowitz can no longer go on. It is our sincere hope that you will address this matter.
We can no longer stand by and watch Lieutenant Glynowitz violate the rules and regulations, policies and procedures, and remain silent." If action wasn't taken, the group warned they'd have no choice but to contact the media or escalate the issue to the relevant investigative agency. The discovery of this information left investigators scratching their heads.
These records provided a stark contrast to the glowing reputation Joe Glynowitz had so far been memorialized for. It was also unexpected that an employee with such a blemished record would hold a lieutenant position. Mayor Donnie Schmidt, who considered Joe a close friend, was adamant that he was unaware of Joe's personnel file. He said he'd never heard a single complaint against Joe in the two and a half years he'd served as mayor.
But when investigators questioned other officers on Joe's squad, it quickly became apparent that there were mixed feelings towards Joe Glynowitz. One of the female officers who had found Joe's body was aware of his history of sexual harassment. She claimed Joe once told her that he wasn't allowed to be alone with any of the police women. According to this officer, Joe was considered a golden child within the department.
She believed he must have had some dirt on one of his colleagues to be allowed to stay on. With Joe's unsavoury history coming to light, it put extra weight on the possibility that he could have been killed by someone seeking vengeance. Investigators working the homicide case also had to consider whether Joe's death could have resulted from some other unknown secret. But there was another theory entirely.
From the outset of the investigation, some questions had been raised about the crime scene. Despite the scattering of Joe's weapons, there were no other signs that a struggle had taken place. Joe's clothing was in pristine order, other than a bit of mud on his pants. The heavily vegetated, swampy area was also relatively undisturbed.
Forensic examination had revealed that the fatal gunshot had been administered two inches under the top of Joe's bulletproof vest. Joe Glinowitz was a tough officer with decades of training in all matters of law enforcement. So how did a perpetrator get close enough to shoot him with his own gun without causing any other injuries, or at the very least, leaving Joe disheveled?
There was also the question of why the shooter would leave Joe's gun at the scene. Why hadn't they taken it with them or disposed of it in the nearby swamp? The officer who had discovered Joe's body noted that Joe's hand had been tensed in a position that indicated he might have been holding a gun. These details, along with the mystery as to why Joe had been in the area for close to 30 minutes before calling the dispatcher, led to an uncomfortable question.
Was it possible that the lieutenant had killed himself? Those close to Jo instantly shut this theory down. Jo was a larger-than-life character who had never shown any signs of depression or expressed a desire to self-harm. Even the responding officer who had her own concerns about Jo's behaviour denied the possibility. She told investigators that Jo was too vain to attempt suicide.
What if he missed and ended up paralyzed for life? She didn't think Joe would risk it. Another officer who attended the scene wrote in their statement: "There were no obvious signs or evidence to draw any conclusions, including suicide." Forensic pathologists said there was nothing unusual about the tense positioning of Joe's hands.
Hands can naturally curl up post-mortem, and there was nothing about the way Joe's hands were found that indicated suicide. The pathologist who performed Joe's autopsy said it was highly unlikely that someone who was going to kill themselves would shoot themselves twice. Even though the bullet to the hip didn't penetrate his skin, it still would have been incredibly painful. Some likened it to the same force as being hit with a sledgehammer.
Also, for skeptics of the suicide theory, if Joe had killed himself, how did his gun end up several feet away from his body? Furthermore, Joe had stocked up on his usual supply of cigarettes that morning. Why would he do that if he knew he wasn't going to be around to smoke them? On the Friday after Joe's death, the coroner's office received a call from a blocked number.
The anonymous male caller claimed to be a retired Chicago police officer. Convinced that Joe Glynowitz had shot himself, the caller threatened to violently harm the coroner and one of the task force investigators unless Joe's death was declared a suicide. The call was traced back to 54-year-old Joseph Battaglia, a divorced father of three who retired from the force in 2012.
Further investigation revealed he'd also called various media outlets in a bid to spread the suicide story. Battaglia was ultimately charged with disorderly conduct. He pleaded guilty and was sentenced to one year of supervision, marking the second conviction in the Joe Glinowitz investigation that had nothing to do with the crime itself. Regardless, the coroner made a public statement on television, declaring:
"I can't rule out a suicide. I can't rule out an accident. I can't rule in a homicide. I can't issue a manner of death until law enforcement gives me everything they have." The Glinowitz family was outraged at the implication. According to them, Joe had never had a single suicidal thought in his life.
Joe had been set to retire in the months leading up to his death, but had recently applied for various police chief positions. The fact that he was planning for the future proved to them that he wasn't planning to take his own life. Joe's wife Melody told Crimewatch Daily, "'There were things that were happening in our life that people who were going to commit suicide would never do. We lived for these things.'
She said she wholeheartedly believed that her husband was murdered. The Glinowitz family called the suicide allegations "disrespectful, hurtful, and irresponsible." They, along with the investigators, slammed the coroner for his statement, with the release of sensitive information putting the entire case at risk. Joe's son, DJ, told the Arlington Heights Daily Herald:
I know my father, my family knows my father, and his closest friends know him well. He's not someone who ever contemplated suicide, he never had suicidal tendencies or anything like that. That's just a rumor, and that's that." But there was something else raising questions. When Joe Glinowitz's body was found, an examination of his mobile phone revealed that all of his text messages had been deleted.
Investigators were growing more confused about what to make of it all. With the days passing with no breakthroughs in the case, they sent Joe's phone to the FBI. In late October, a 6,500-page report came back. All of Joe's text messages had been successfully retrieved. Case file will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors.
Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. In March of 2014, a new village administrator named Anne Marron was appointed to Fox Lake. Anne had years of experience in the government sector, including public finance, and a large part of her job was to focus on the village budget. This also prompted a change in the village's leadership,
Text records revealed that this presented an ongoing problem for Joe Glinowitz. He viewed Ann Marin as a power monger who was trying to control everything in the village. He soon started making inquiries about whether it was possible to separate his "Explorers" post from the Fox Lake Police Department and to another sponsor. In March 2015, Joe texted a higher-up contact saying:
Between you and I, I'm having a great deal of problems with our new village administrator. I've had a talk with the chief and he agrees with me. We are all looking at our PD retirement options and I need to move the post out of that spin of control at least till this person's contract is up.
Joe's contact advised that the explorers didn't need to be chartered by the village and suggested he contact another organization that might be interested in sponsoring the program. Texts indicated that Joe put wheels in motion to make this change, but it was shut down by officials. In mid-April, he texted his wife Melody to complain about Anne Maron. Joe wrote...
"As long as we are sponsored by the PD and after she makes the village structure change, she will have the means and ability to do as she wishes." Melody responded: "Maybe we need to hide the funds somehow." A month later, Joe once again texted Melody to air his grievances about Marin, writing: "She hates me and I've never said more than three sentences to her in the year she's been here.
She hates the explorer program and is crawling up my ass. If she gets a hold of the checking account, I'm pretty well fucked." Melody responded, "Hopefully she decides to get a couple of drinks in her and she gets a DUI." Joe texted back, "Trust me, I've thought through many scenarios, from planting things to Volo Bog. For investigators, these text messages raised some serious concerns.
When they'd first searched Joe Glynowitz's desk following his death, they found a small package of cocaine in an unmarked evidence bag. It couldn't be linked to any active case. With Joe's talk of planting things, investigators wondered if he intended to use this against Anne Maron. But this wasn't quite as concerning as Joe's mention of the Volo bog,
The natural area just four miles south of Fox Lake contained an extensive system of waterways known as the Chano Lakes. Joe's reference raised the question of whether he was referring to the bog as a potential dumping ground for a body. This wasn't a far-fetched possibility.
Investigators extracted a private Facebook conversation between Joe and another woman in which Joe said he was being forced to retire by the village administrator. He wrote: "Work has been a living hell the last two months. Close to entertaining a meeting with a mutual acquaintance of ours with the word 'white' in their nickname."
Investigators believed they knew exactly who Joe was referring to - a high-ranking member of an outlaw motorcycle gang. They questioned the woman Joe was messaging. She confirmed that Joe discussed the possibility of hiring someone to conduct a hit. A meeting was arranged between law enforcement and the gang member thought to be the person referred to as "White".
White admitted he was familiar with Lieutenant Joe Glinowitz, but firmly denied that Joe had ever approached him about a contract killing. When Ann Marin was told about the recovered text messages, she was astonished. Her conversations with Joe had always been pleasant and she had no reason to think there was any bad blood between them.
Investigators could find no further evidence to suggest that Joe had seriously considered hiring a hitman to remove Marin from the equation. It was possible his comments were just distasteful attempts at dark humor. Regardless, Joe's intense dislike for the new village administrator raised the obvious question: What was he trying to hide? As a police lieutenant, Joe Glinowitz received an annual salary of $96,000.
However, photos posted to his social media accounts suggested he lived a more lavish lifestyle than his salary would support, with vacations to Hawaii and frequent dinners at upscale restaurants. Text messages recovered from Joe's phone indicated exactly where this money was coming from. On June 22 2015, Joe messaged his wife Melody to say:
used the explorer account for flight, $624.70. It can wait for a while. Their account is sitting at $3,000-ish now. A few days later, a frantic Joe texted his son DJ about unidentified expenses totalling over $2,000. "You are borrowing from that other account," Joe wrote. "When you get back you'll have to start dumping money into that account or you will be visiting me in jail."
The next day, he texted DJ again, saying, "I'm sticking my neck out there." He mentioned thousands of dollars he'd lent DJ to fix his truck and pay for a summer vacation. According to Joe, this meant there wasn't enough money left in the explorer's account to pay for upcoming expenses. He needed DJ to pay the money back so that if anyone asked, he could explain that explorer participants were given loans from time to time.
Joe wrote: "This village administrator hates me and the Explorer program. This situation right here would give her the means to crucify me if it were discovered." Shortly before Joe's death, Fox Lake Police Chief Michael Bayan retired from the force pending an investigation into the department's handling of an unrelated incident. The change in leadership prompted a review of the department's procedures and equipment.
On August 31, 2015, the day before Joe's death, Ann Marin paid a visit to the Explorer Post. After a year and a half in the village administrator role, she still didn't know how much money the Explorer program brought in. For insurance purposes, she also needed an inventory of all the Explorer's assets. The clubhouse in the basement of the community center was packed full of cardboard boxes.
Looking through them, Marin was shocked to discover that they held official military gear, including gas masks, bulletproof vests, combat boots, gun belts, and manuals on SWAT tactics and sniper training. This was the kind of equipment reserved for experienced police departments, not teenagers. In fact, some of the most bonafide police departments couldn't even get their hands on this type of gear.
Marin approached Joe Glinowitz and requested that he provide her with a full inventory by 2pm that day. She told him, "I want your invoices, your procurement, where your authorization came from." Joe responded, "Yes ma'am." He then texted former police chief Michael Bayen, "She has now demanded a complete inventory of Explorer Central and a financial report. Fuck my life."
The truth was, it was impossible for Joe to provide Anne Marin with the documentation she had requested because he'd obtained the gear fraudulently. Joe had forged the chief's signature to obtain the gear from an army surplus program, knowing it wasn't supposed to be used with the explorers. But that wasn't all.
A deep dive into Joe Glinowitz's financial records revealed that for the past seven years, he had spent tens of thousands of dollars of the explorer's money to bankroll his own personal expenses. Joe had used the account to pay for everything from his mortgage, to gym memberships, to online pornography. He used it for travel expenses, coffee, and to pay over 400 restaurant bills.
With all this new evidence coming to light, investigators had no doubt about it. Joe Glinowitz feared his time was up. He likely believed he had two options: be exposed for embezzling charitable funds or go out a hero. If Joe was going to pull his plan off, he knew that everything needed to play out exactly like a regular day.
Therefore, on the morning of September 1, 2015, he drove to the gas station to buy his usual supply of cigarettes before heading out to the area surrounding the old concrete factory. It was a location Joe knew well, having facilitated sniper training for the explorers out in the forested surroundings. He arrived at the site and spent the next 30 minutes staging a crime scene. It was something he'd done many times before as part of the explorer program.
He then radioed the dispatcher and fabricated the story about chasing three suspicious males. After calling for backup, he took his gun out of his holster and shot himself in the hip, knowing it wouldn't be fatal. The shot would have been incredibly painful, but necessary if anyone was going to believe his story. Joe then shot himself downwards into his bulletproof vest, purposely hitting the pulmonary artery but avoiding his heart.
This would have given him up to two minutes before bleeding to death, enough time for Joe to throw his gun between the two trees and to then stumble away to create distance between himself and the weapon. After nine weeks of investigation, Commander George Falenko fronted a press conference to announce that the murder of Lieutenant Joe Glinowitz hadn't been a murder at all, but a carefully staged suicide. Falenko said:
We have determined this staged suicide was the end result of extensive criminal acts that Glinowitz had been committing. There are no winners. Glinowitz committed the ultimate betrayal to the citizens he served and the entire law enforcement community. The facts of his actions prove he behaved for years in a manner completely contrary to the image he portrayed. Members of the gathering media were outraged.
With suicide mentioned as a possibility from early on, they wanted to know why over two months had been spent on a homicide investigation. They felt the public had been duped. Commander Filenko assured them that the investigation team had genuinely believed they were looking at a homicide and were equally shocked to discover the truth.
The Glynowitz family issued a statement requesting privacy, saying that the findings had brought another day of deep sorrow as they coped with the loss of a beloved father and husband. The public weren't so quiet. In the wake of Joe's death, a non-profit organization that assists survivors of officers killed in the line of duty had donated $15,000 to the Glynowitz family. The group asked for the money back.
Motorola Solutions also withdrew their $50,000 reward for information but said they would instead donate it to the Explorers who were grappling to come to terms with the reality of Joe's death. The mother of one of Joe's devoted trainees said: "You never thought he was this kind of man. It had a crushing effect on locals with one man telling the press: 'It's breaking my heart,
The mystery of Jo's death was over, but that didn't necessarily mean that the case was closed. From the text messages and other evidence, it was clear to investigators that Melody knew her husband was misappropriating the explorer funds. Melody admitted that Jo sometimes took money from the explorer's account, but she insisted that those funds were always paid back,
She said she had no idea that her husband was co-mingling funds and denied having any part in it. A forensic accountant failed to find a clear link to prove that Melody was directly responsible for any of the transactions. Regardless, in late January 2016, Melody was indicted on six counts, including money laundering and dispersing charitable funds without authority and for personal benefit.
She was released after posting a $50,000 bond with a statement released by her lawyer declaring, "'Melody has suffered greatly over the past few months and continues to move her family forward after the emotionally traumatizing events of September 1, 2015.'" Considering Melody's cooperation with law enforcement, she is devastated by the decision to bring charges against her.
Melody is a victim of her husband's secret actions and looks forward to her day in court to show the world her innocence. In February 2022, Melody Glinowitz pleaded guilty to one felony count of deceptive practices in exchange for all other charges being dropped. However, she told the court, "'I want to make it clear I never took a cent from the Explorer Fund, no matter what's being reported.'"
The judge sentenced her to 24 months of probation, saying there was "no question" as to her guilt. No charges were laid against Joe's son DJ as it couldn't be ascertained that DJ knew the funds were stolen until after his father demanded he pay the money back. The state attorney said: "This entire matter has been a sad and tragic saga for the village of Fox Lake.
My hope is that we will be able to close this unfortunate chapter and move forward with ensuring a professional and transparent police department dedicated to the citizens of Fox Lake. After the truth about Joe's suicide was exposed, the Fox Lake explorers temporarily disbanded.
According to the Chicago Tribune, the program was revealed to have been so poorly mismanaged that some adult volunteers hadn't even undergone background checks or training. The military-style approach and use of forceful weapons was also in direct violation of Boy Scout regulations, as was the fact that some trainees were sometimes paid to direct traffic and conduct security detailing.
It was so problematic that it was easier to start the program from scratch than try to fix the issues. Many of the explorers who had trained under Joe Glynowitz struggled to comprehend the truth about their revered leader. A young woman who had trained under Joe for six years told CNN: "You don't know how to feel. You feel so pissed off and you feel so betrayed. You don't understand it. That makes it very difficult to miss him."
But the explorers weren't the only ones who suffered. According to the Daily Herald, the hunt to find Joe's fake killers cost more than $300,000 in overtime and other costs. Joe's lie about one of his pseudo-attackers being a black man also fuelled ongoing racial tensions in the Fox Lake community, where black people were a minority.
Local black resident Vernon Randolph III claimed that Joe Glinowitz had been harassing him for a year due to his race. After Joe killed himself, investigators searched Vernon's house, took his DNA, and allegedly pointed a gun at his three-year-old child, actions that caused Vernon ongoing anxiety.
He filed a federal lawsuit against the police department, claiming that Joe Glynowitz put a target on his back and of his fellow African Americans. The lawsuit was eventually settled outside of court for $65,000, although the department denied any wrongdoing. In the wake of Joe's death, a memorial had been established outside the Fox Lake Police Department with a banner displaying Joe's face along with the words,
"A hero remembered never dies." When the truth about his suicide was revealed, vandals quickly altered the sign, drawing an L on Joe's forehead and changing the words to read "A hero forgotten." Other signs in support of Joe were removed from around the village, with the words "G.I. Joe" changed to "G.I. Joke." Commander George Falenko told CNN:
Joe Glinowitz dishonored what we all swore an oath to uphold. He betrayed not only our profession, but his entire community. It was the first time I could actually tell you in my entire career that I felt ashamed to be a police officer.